The Dead Room dm-3

by Chris Mooney

  ‘I’m surprised your mother didn’t smell anything.’

  ‘We buried them deep and covered them with lime.’

  ‘Burke… I remember the mother. Dianne. She moved out of town, what, a year or so after her daughter disappeared?’

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘Whatever happened to her?’

  ‘We buried her next to her daughter.’

  ‘Lovely.’

  ‘How about we skip the trip down memory lane and get down to business?’

  ‘Have you talked to Jack?’ Peter asked.

  ‘No. I decided to lay low, wait for you guys to call me. Where is he?’

  ‘Watching the house. Tell me what you saw last night.’

  ‘I wasn’t anywhere near the house. I was parked up the road, on Claremont. When Kendra’s Honda pulled on to Walton, I called Ben and gave him a heads-up. Then I sat in the car and waited for the call. Next thing I know there’s a squad car pulling on to the street. What did Tony have to say?’

  ‘Not much. When he called, he said someone shot their way inside the house. Got hit twice in the chest and was bleeding out. He thought the shooter was a woman.’

  Jamie blinked the sweat from her eyes and flipped the switch on the Glock to semi-automatic fire.

  No, not yet. Wait. Listen.

  ‘I wouldn’t put too much stock in it,’ Peter said. ‘The guy was delirious from blood loss. He called again to tell me he was in the woods. By the time Jack and his team arrived, Tony was dead.’

  ‘He didn’t say anything about Ben?’

  ‘No. Has he called you?’

  ‘Not yet. You?’

  ‘Neither Jack nor I have heard from him. We need to find his body.’

  ‘Ben’s alive.’

  ‘What makes you say that?’

  ‘There’s a puddle near the front door, and the basement light is on. I turned it off when I left this morning. I gave him a set of keys to the house. He was going to hang here for a day or two before heading back to Phoenix or San Diego or wherever he’s living now.’

  ‘He should have called one of us by now.’

  ‘Maybe he lost his mobile. All the numbers are programmed in there.’

  ‘There’s a GPS unit in his phone. The phone keeps turning on and off at odd intervals. The signal doesn’t stay on long enough for us to track him.’

  She had been right about Ben’s mobile. It had a GPS unit and they were trying to track it.

  ‘Maybe it’s broken,’ Ben’s driver said. ‘Or maybe Ben’s playing it safe. He’s old school. He never trusted mobile phones, thinks the signals are too easy to pick up. I agree with him. You can buy the equipment you need at a RadioShack.’

  ‘Those mobile phones are encrypted. There’s no way anyone can randomly listen.’

  ‘You need me to take care of Tony’s body or did Jack take care of it?’

  ‘Jack took care of it. When was the last time you spoke to Tony?’

  ‘After I dropped him off at the house,’ Ben’s driver said.

  ‘When you saw the police, did you call him?’

  ‘What do you think?’

  ‘How many times did you call?’

  ‘I don’t know, Peter, I wasn’t keeping track. And what were you thinking, busting into the kid’s hospital room like that?’

  ‘If the Sheppard boy ended up talking to that McCormick woman –’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Darby McCormick,’ Peter said. ‘Thomas McCormick’s daughter.’

  ‘What was she doing there?’

  ‘She’s the head investigator for Boston PD’s Criminal Services Unit – and she’s the one who heard Tony’s phone ringing in the woods. Her training is in forensics. Not a good development, Kevin.’

  Ben’s driver, Kevin, didn’t speak.

  A long silence followed.

  ‘It couldn’t be helped,’ Peter said. ‘I had to do something.’

  ‘So you say.’

  ‘She doesn’t know who I am. And there’s no way she’ll find out either. My actions last night proved to be beneficial. The McCormick woman taped the conversation with Sean. I confiscated the recorder. Sean didn’t tell her anything. She thinks his name is John Hallcox. There was no mention of Kendra. Personally, I don’t think the boy knew anything.’

  ‘Where he’d get the gun?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. Why did Kendra come back here? Do you know?’

  ‘Nope. I want to listen to the tape. Ben will too.’

  ‘You should have followed her.’

  ‘We didn’t have much lead time. Jack had to get his gear and –’

  ‘Then you should have waited. You never were good at operation planning. Or patience.’

  ‘It was Ben’s call, and Tony went along with it.’

  ‘I’ll remind you, again, that you work for us. What happened last night in Belham, what happened here in Charlestown and in this basement – this glorious blight is because of two people. You and that serial killing psycho.’

  ‘Glorious blight,’ Kevin repeated. ‘Are you a K-Y cowboy, or did they teach you to talk that way at Yale?’

  ‘All that time standing on the side of the fence has really warped your brain.’

  ‘What are you going to do about Big Red’s daughter?’

  ‘We’ll figure something out.’

  ‘Yeah, and you’ll have Ben and me clean it up. You Ivy League pricks don’t like getting your hands sticky.’

  Someone – Peter, Jamie suspected – started jingling change and keys.

  ‘Whatever you’re going to do, don’t take too long to decide,’ Kevin said. ‘I’m planning on going to the Caribbean next week after I put my mother’s house up for sale.’

  ‘I’ll tell you when you can leave.’

  ‘Yes, sir. Is there anything else, sir, or may I leave now? I’d like to go to the Tap.’

  ‘The what?’

  ‘The Warren Tap. It’s a bar. Not the kind you’d hang out in, mind you, but back in the day, if Ben had a problem, he’d leave a message there for me. Don’t worry, it’s in code. All that secret shit you guys like.’

  Footsteps moved across the floor.

  ‘Here, take this,’ Kevin said.

  ‘What’s this for?’

  ‘It’s a shovel. You use it to dig up things. There’s one more in that hole. Get to work and I’ll help you with the other one when I get back. You can use those gloves there on the workbench so you don’t ruin your manicure.’

  ‘I don’t think so.’

  ‘Your boss offered your burial removal services,’ Kevin said. ‘Welcome to my side of the fence, champ.’

  20

  The front door slammed shut. Jamie listened to the man breathing somewhere near the armoire as she replayed fragments of the conversation. The man named Peter had tried to visit the boy named Sean and ended up speaking to this McCormick woman from the Boston PD. How had he gained access to the room? Had he posed as a cop? Was he a cop?

  Enough thinking. Time to act.

  She was about to sit up when she remembered the keys and phone tucked inside her jacket pocket. If she sat up too fast or moved too quickly, the keys would make noise. If the man heard anything, it might give him enough time to reach for his gun – or swing his shovel.

  He started digging. She lifted her head, looked through the gap: she saw tanned hands gripping a shovel, and white shirt cuffs with gold cufflinks sticking out from a blue suit jacket. She couldn’t see his face.

  Too close, she thought, panic fluttering against the walls of her heart. The moment I stand up he’ll see me.

  I’ll be back in a few minutes, Kevin had said.

  Jamie placed one hand on her right pocket, feeling the keys and phone beneath the nylon fabric. Hugging her body close to the back of the chest, she slowly moved up to a sitting position. A pins-and-needles sensation worked its way through her legs.

  Peter kept digging.

  Do it now and do it fast. If he reaches for the gun
or tries to run, drop him.

  She got to her feet fast, blood rushing to her head, making her dizzy.

  ‘Freeze.’

  The man jumped, dropping the shovel. He was taller than she expected – his lisp and soft, effeminate voice had conjured up an image of a short man with flabby arms. The middle-aged man standing in front of her had a lean build. He wore a dark blue suit without a tie. The jacket was unbuttoned and she could see a shoulder holster.

  Using her hip, she pushed the chest to one side.

  ‘Floor,’ she said, stepping over the grave. ‘Get… ah…’

  Don’t stutter your way through this: just say one word at a time.

  ‘Flo… Floor. Now.’

  His brown eyes blinked, then narrowed. ‘I know you.’

  ‘Floor.’

  ‘Okay, okay. Just take it easy… it’s Julia, right?” He hiked up his trousers before kneeling. Then he clasped his hands behind his head. ‘I remember reading about you in the papers.’

  She slammed him down against the floor, pressed the Glock against the back of his head. He breathed in dirt and started coughing.

  ‘Don’t… ah… ah… move.’

  He turned his head to the side and said, ‘You have my word.’

  She pulled back his suit jacket and reached for the shoulder holster.

  ‘Since you were hiding down here, I think it’s safe to assume you heard my conversation with Mr Reynolds.’

  She tossed the nine into the grave.

  ‘And I’m assuming you’re the one who shot up the Belham house last night.’

  She ran a hand across his belt. No handcuffs. She needed something that she could use to tie him up. She looked at the workbench. Paint cans and tools covered in dust.

  You need to find something to tie him up and gag him – and you better do it quick before Kevin comes back.

  ‘What happened to your husband and children, I didn’t have anything to do with that. You have to believe me. That… that was all Kevin and Ben. You know Ben, don’t you? He was at the house last night. Did you speak to him? What did he tell you?’

  There was nothing here with which she could tie him up, nothing at all.

  ‘I can tell you everything you need to know, but I need to sit up. I have asthma and I’m finding it hard to breathe. I need my inhaler. I’m going to sit up, reach inside my pocket for it, and then we can talk, okay?’

  He spoke calmly. She didn’t like it. Was he going to try to stall her until Kevin came back? Did he think she was that stupid?

  ‘If you want me to talk, I need to use my inhaler first,’ he said. ‘If I don’t, I’m going to pass out.’

  You’ve wasted too much time. Kevin will be back here any minute and then what are you going to do? Shoot your way out of the house? If you die, Kevin will bury your body someplace where it’ll never be found. The kids will be left wondering what happened to you as they’re shipped off to foster homes. Cut your losses and get out of here.

  She stood.

  ‘Ben’s… ah… partners. Two men… ah… at… ah… my house.’

  ‘Let me get my inhaler.’ Breathing hard, wheezing. ‘I’m going to reach into my pocket –’

  ‘Names… ah… first.’

  ‘Just give me a second, okay?’ Slowly he reached inside his jacket pocket.

  She shot him in the chest.

  The exit wound sprayed the back wall with blood. He put out his hands and said, ‘Wait, please,’ and she pressed the trigger and held it down, the Glock’s semi-automatic action kicking in, spitting spent shells into the air.

  Jamie wrapped the jacket’s nylon hood around her head, tying it off underneath her chin. Ears ringing, she ran up the stairs to the front door and looked out of the oval window. No one outside. She tucked the Glock inside her shoulder holster, zipped up her jacket and opened the door. No one coming. Her gloved hands inside her pocket, she jogged across the street, which was still pounding with summer rain.

  21

  Darby sat in the back of the hot taxi as it fought its way through the heavy traffic on Mass. Avenue. She had Artie on the phone. The pounding rain and car horns made it difficult to hear.

  She pressed her palm against her other ear to try to block out the noise. ‘Say that again.’

  ‘I said I’m on my way back from Vermont. I just finished going through Amy Hallcox’s place. Can you hear me?’

  ‘I can hear you.’

  ‘Someone tossed it. It’s a small house and she doesn’t have a lot of stuff – there’s barely any furniture in there. Got in touch with the landlord and the guy said she’s been living there for about a year, pays on time, no problems. She had about two months to go on the lease but I get the feeling she might’ve been planning to move again. She’s got a bunch of empty boxes stored in one of the rooms. As for why it was tossed and what they were looking for, right now your guess is as good as mine.’

  ‘Anybody see anything?’

  ‘No. The house is real isolated – the closest neighbour is a mile away, so these guys took their time. We asked around but nobody knows the Hallcox woman or her kid. Based upon what you told me last night, I’m figuring he knows something.

  ‘I got your message about the kid’s condition and the hospital tapes,’ Pine said. ‘What did you find?’

  ‘I dropped them off at the Photography Unit before I went to the ME’s office. I’m headed back to the lab right now. I have someone running down the plate number for the van. I haven’t heard anything yet.’

  ‘What about evidence on the woman’s body – did you find anything?’

  ‘Some fibres and hairs stuck to the duct tape and clothes. She didn’t have anything in her pockets. I’ll get to work on the clothes today.’

  ‘Amy Hallcox’s missing Honda is bothering me.’

  ‘That’s been nagging at me too. I’m thinking the shooter took it.’

  ‘You said the kid didn’t mention anything about hearing a shooter.’

  ‘He didn’t have a chance to tell me. Artie, someone shot their way inside that house. And we know, based upon what the boy did tell me, that there were two men inside – the guy in the Celtics gear and the guy in the suit. I’m thinking the shooter took down the suit first, then dragged the second guy to the Honda. The drag marks lead down the kitchen hall and stop inside the garage. And there’s only one set of the bloody footprints on the garage floor.’

  ‘Why drag away a dead body?’

  ‘How do we know the Celtics guy was dead? Maybe the shooter wanted him alive.’

  ‘Then why not take this person before he entered the house?’

  ‘I don’t know yet. But we do know that someone ran up the back deck stairs and tracked mud into the living room. Those footprints lead up the steps but not down. I’m thinking the shooter was watching from the woods.’

  ‘So now we’re talking about an entirely separate person – a third party that wasn’t part of what went down in the house or that Rambo group we met in the woods?’

  ‘Yes. And I also think the shooter cut the kid loose.’

  ‘Why? What’s the reason?’

  ‘I don’t know. If that son of a bitch hadn’t –’

  ‘I saw the guy’s badge and ID. They were the real deal. So was the paperwork.’

  ‘I’m not blaming you, Artie, I’m just pissed off. He played us and cost the Hallcox kid his life. I just wish I knew what the hell he wanted with him.’

  ‘Have you seen any sign of Phillips or whoever he is?’

  ‘No. ’

  ‘What about the others?’

  ‘Not yet.’

  ‘What about the prints taken from the house? Any luck there?’

  ‘The lab techs got back about an hour ago. They’ve just started working.’

  The taxi came to a sudden stop against the pavement.

  ‘I’ve got to go,’ Darby said. ‘I’ll call you as soon as I know something.’

  She ran through the rain clutching a clear plastic bag. It held
brown-paper bags of evidence to keep them from getting wet. She was soaked by the time she reached the front doors of One Schroeder Plaza. She had to go through the maddening check-in process before she could reach the lab.

  She logged in the evidence, then went to her office to check messages. She had one. Nicholas Garcia, the homicide detective liaison to CSU, asked her to call him back. She had asked him to run the brown van’s plates.

  Garcia answered on the first ring and got right to it.

  ‘They’re phantom plates,’ he said. ‘They don’t exist.’

  ‘So how did they get the plates?’

  ‘Probably through a contact at the DMV. It’s not as impossible as it sounds. You pay someone on the inside to get the plate and then they erase any way to trace them.’

  ‘Can you look into it for me?’

  ‘I wouldn’t pass up such an exciting opportunity.’ Garcia chuckled. ‘Don’t pin your hopes on finding anything. I’ve been down this road before.’

  Darby was walking down the corridor to talk to Coop when her mobile rang. Ted Castonguay, the head of the photography unit, had finished reviewing the tapes and digital pictures and wanted to speak with her inside his office.

  She found the former college wrestler seated at a desk in a quiet but cluttered corner. His shoulder and back muscles looked like rocks moving underneath cloth as he worked the mouse.

  She grabbed a chair and wheeled it over to him, looking at the flat-screen monitor holding a black-and-white video still of the hospital’s elevator. The time-stamp recorded on the videotape read ‘August 15, 2009. 1.03 a.m.’.

  Castonguay knew she was harried and frantic. He didn’t waste time with pleasantries.

  ‘This is the time you entered the hospital,’ he said, clicking the mouse.

  The security video started. The camera was pointed down at the white corridor. She could see part of the nurses’ station.

  The elevator doors opened and she saw herself and Pine walk out and move down the corridor until they disappeared. A moment later they reappeared with Patrolman White, and the three huddled around the corner from the nurses’ station and began talking.

  Click and the video started fast-forwarding.

  ‘Eighteen minutes elapsed from the time you stepped off the elevator to the time you went to talk to the Hallcox boy,’ Castonguay said. ‘The Fed appears just under twenty-two minutes later.’