A Dark Place

by Keith Yocum

  “That’s not clear,” the male policeman said. “You’re jumping to conclusions. London has eight million residents. People go missing all of the time, as they do in New York City.”

  “But why do you seem so lackadaisical about this? She’s an Australian woman; an Australian policewoman, for God’s sake. Do something!”

  “We have the report, and we will contact you for a more formal interview in our offices tomorrow,” the man said. “Meanwhile, if we get any new information we’ll let you know as soon as possible. And of course if you hear from her, please let us know.”

  “What formal interview?” Dennis said.

  “Well, you were the last person who saw her,” the man said, standing. “I’m sure the detectives would like to ask a few more questions. And of course, I think we’ll be reaching out to her family and the AFP office in Perth.”

  ✦

  He did not sleep. Dennis could smell Judy’s odor in the bed; perhaps it was the shampoo or cream rinse on her pillow. He wrapped his arms around the pillow and hugged it, but there was no sleep. Just turmoil. Like a small craft at sea in a gale, Dennis’s mood swayed back and forth in wave-like rhythm from fear to gloom. Back and forth it went, and at one point around 4:00 a.m. he found himself physically swaying in bed, holding Judy’s pillow, as if matching each wave.

  The phone rang, and he grabbed it without looking at the number.

  “Judy?”

  “No, mate,” a man answered. “Is this Dennis Cunningham?”

  “Yes, who is this?”

  “My name is Clive Smith. I work with Judy here at the AFP office in Perth. I’m sorry for calling at this time. I believe it’s 4:00 a.m. there in London, but it’s important. We’ve received notice that Judy is missing. Is that correct?”

  “How did you get my number?” Dennis asked. Right away he knew it was the wrong question, but he was exhausted, confused and was not even sure if this was really the Clive Judy had spoken about.

  “Ah, well, Judy has a close friend here named Cilla, and she had your number. Like I said, I’m sorry for calling, but we’re all quite concerned here. Is she still missing?”

  “Yes,” Dennis said. “She went out for a jog last night and never returned. I can’t get anyone here to treat it seriously. What is wrong with these London police?”

  “Well, mate, they certainly contacted us, I can tell you, and asked a lot of questions. They asked a lot of questions about you, Dennis, but to be honest, none of us has ever met you. Though of course we’ve heard a lot about you and that unfortunate incident in Washington.”

  Dennis did not know what to say, and at least five seconds of silence ensued.

  “So she hasn’t called in there?” Dennis said.

  “No, mate, nothing. We just thought we’d ask you directly.”

  “She just went out for a jog, and she never came back. This is a huge city. People just don’t disappear in London.”

  “I would think not,” Clive said.

  ✦

  Chandler looked across the desk at Dennis and rocked gently in his office chair.

  “You there, Louise?” Chandler said.

  “Yep,” she said, her voice artificially amplified through the phone speaker.

  “I guess you could say we have a situation; the one I spoke to you about this morning. I’ve got Cunningham here now. The man seems capable of creating trouble wherever he goes.”

  “That’s not appropriate, Phillip,” Louise barked. “Think you could take it down just a notch?”

  “Only if Cunningham stops causing trouble.”

  “Jesus, Phillip.”

  “Fine. Whatever.”

  “So what are we looking at?” Louise asked. “They want to interview Dennis as a person of interest? Is that it?”

  “Something like that,” Chandler said. “I’m sure you know the drill. Cunningham does not work for the embassy or the consulate or the military here and has no official diplomatic immunity. But through international rules of protocol, we can request that he not be interviewed by local authorities in an investigation. I mean, you know all that.”

  “So what’s the big deal?” Louise said.

  “Well, I was wondering if we should let Cunningham talk to the Metropolitan Police? To be honest, I’m kind of curious how this woman disappeared. You know she’s Australian Federal Police?”

  “So, let me get clear on one point,” Louise said. “Dennis, you believe there is no connection between what happened to Kaczka and the disappearance of this woman, Judy?”

  “Well, I’ve thought about it a million different ways, and it just doesn’t connect,” Dennis said, absently rubbing the unshaved stubble on his chin. “The team here at the London station has poked and prodded the issue as well. It just doesn’t seem like there would be any reason for the Ukrainian to grab her. If anything, it would bring a ton of bricks down on his stupid head and would heat up an investigation. And apparently there have been some disappearances.”

  “What disappearances?” Louise said.

  “Police say several women have gone missing in the last eighteen months or so,” Chandler said. “No bodies. Just missing women.”

  “How many?” she said.

  “Maybe three,” Chandler said, “but police say one of those might be a runaway.”

  “So this is not related to our case then,” Louise said.

  “Nope. But like I said, Louise, I think we should let the Metropolitan Police talk to our intrepid investigator here. Who knows, they might find something.”

  Dennis narrowed his bloodshot eyes on Chandler across the desk and swore that he saw something akin to hatred cross that man’s visage.

  “Hey, Phillip,” Louise said, “do you have a tumor? That’s the stupidest fucking thing I’ve heard in a long while. There is no way Dennis is being interviewed by London police.”

  “We’ve already lost one guy who was working with this clown, and now his girlfriend is missing. I don’t know why you insist on protecting him, Louise. The guy is toxic, or maybe worse.”

  “The answer’s no,” Louise said. “Do me a favor. Send Cunningham back to his hotel, and you call me back in five. We need to get something straight between us.”

  “Whatever,” Chandler said, hanging up. “Oh, and by the way, Cunningham,” he said. “The AFP is sending two people here from Perth, and they want to talk to you as well. You going to dodge them too?”

  It would have felt wonderful to lean across the desk and hit Chandler as hard as he could, but Dennis’s knuckles were still a little sore from his hospital wall incident. Besides, he was drained of nearly every ounce of energy, and it took a lot for him just to keep his head steady. He stood up slowly, looked down at Chandler and sighed.

  “You,” Dennis said.

  “Me?” Chandler said.

  “You,” Dennis repeated, turned and left the room. He did not know what it meant, but the “you” sounded good and mysterious. And besides, it was better than hitting the London head of station.

  ✦

  “I need to talk now! Right now,” Dennis said.

  “I can’t talk now, Dennis, I have a patient in the waiting room. And besides, I can’t talk to you unless I use the encrypted phone they gave me for agency patients. You’ve never called me like this before. Is everything all right?”

  “No. I’m losing my mind.”

  “Dennis, just sit down and relax. Give me your number and I’ll call you back.”

  When Dr. Forrester called a few minutes later, Dennis gave a rambling, sloppy and emotional description of Judy’s disappearance. But he also worked in the poisoning of Fred and the police requests for an interview with him.

  “Dennis,” she said, “slow down. You told me earlier that you were in crisis. What do you mean that you’re losing your mind?”

  “I
can’t seem to calm down,” he said. “I mean, Judy’s missing! Just gone like that. Pfft. And Freddie. Holy shit.”

  “Dennis, does the agency have psychiatric services available in London? Do you know how to check on that?”

  “I don’t need psychiatric services, I need Judy,” Dennis sputtered.

  “I’m going to check on my end about services,” she said. “Dennis, you’re in crisis, and I can hear it in your voice. Do you feel like you’re going to hurt yourself or someone? Are you capable of that right now?”

  “If I find the bastard that hurt Judy, you bet I’d kill him right now!”

  “Dennis, no one knows what happened to Judy yet, isn’t that right? So you shouldn’t think like that. Do you feel like you could harm yourself?”

  “Me?”

  “Yes, you. Are you despondent enough to harm yourself? Just answer that question,” Dr. Forrester said.

  “No, I don’t think so.”

  “You don’t think so? Is that a definitive answer? Are you carrying a weapon?”

  “No, I don’t carry weapons.”

  “What kind of medications do you have near you?”

  “I don’t have any medicines,” he said. “I stopped taking that stuff you wanted me to take a long time ago.”

  “The Zoloft?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have nothing else?”

  “No, I told you that already, Dr. Forrester! I’m just feeling like the whole world is upside down. Things are confusing. And Judy’s missing. And I think they think I did something to her.”

  “Who said that?”

  “The police.”

  “The agency?”

  “No, London police. I think they want to interview me. Can you believe that? Instead of looking for her, they want to interview me. Idiots!”

  “Okay, Dennis. Please do me a favor, and do not drink alcohol right now. Just go for a long walk, go back to your hotel room and try to get some sleep. I’m going to try to find an approved physician for you to see in London. It will take me a while. Just hang in there.”

  “Why do I need to see a physician?”

  “I need you to get a scrip. Something to calm you down. Very mild stuff.”

  “I don’t need any damn medicine, I just need to find Judy.”

  ✦

  He took a long walk, keeping his eyes out for Judy at every street corner, through every shop window and on every park bench. It was useless, of course, and Dennis knew it, but at least it was something active. After an hour and a half he was back in the hotel room, lying in bed, staring at the ceiling.

  Dr. Forrester was right, he thought. I’m calmer now. Maybe I can sleep.

  But before he closed his eyes, his phone rang.

  “Yes, Louise,” he said, looking at the incoming number.

  “This is the drill. You ready?”

  “Yes, I guess.”

  “Before I go on, I want to make something perfectly clear.”

  “Okay.”

  “What I’m about to tell you is not a negotiation, it’s an order. There is no variation you are allowed to take in regards to these directives. If you break any of these orders, you will be subject to very serious disciplinary actions, including arrest. These orders come right from the director to the IG, and then to me. In shorthand, this is no bullshit. I know you’re going through a very tough period right now, but I’d like you to focus on the fact that if you screw any of this up, you’ll be arrested, handcuffed and flown back to the States in a military transport and be incarcerated. Tell me you understand.”

  Dennis lay in the bed, his right hand holding the phone against his ear, his left arm splayed out across the bed where Judy had slept. His eyes were closed and he breathed slowly.

  “Dennis?”

  “Yes.”

  “You didn’t answer me.”

  “I’m thinking, Louise.”

  “Don’t think; just say yes, and let’s get going. I’m trying my best to save you and your career, but if you screw this up, you’re done here.”

  “That bad?”

  “Yes, that bad. I have no idea why the director is involved; all I know is that you are a very hot potato, to use a stupid metaphor. Just tell me you’re on board.”

  “I’m on board,” Dennis said slowly.

  “Dennis, are you drunk or taking drugs? Your voice is slurred.”

  “I haven’t slept properly in thirty-six hours. I’m tired. And confused.”

  “Just tell me you’re on board.”

  “I’m on board.”

  “Good. Ready?”

  “Ready.”

  “Pack your bags only; leave Judy’s stuff exactly as it is. Do not touch anything of hers. Just pack your own stuff. There is a flight to Dulles that you’ve been booked on at 6:00 p.m. London time. Take that flight home and call me when you land, regardless of the time. Got that?”

  “Why can’t I pack Judy’s stuff?”

  “Some Aussies from their embassy are coming, and they want to pack her stuff and search the room.”

  “Sounds like they’re looking for some evidence or something,” he said.

  Louise said nothing.

  “Do they think I did something to her?”

  “I have no idea what they’re thinking. All I know is what I’ve been told to do to get you out of there.”

  “Why do I have to leave London?”

  “That’s none of your business. Just follow orders.”

  “Louise, please. Help me out just a bit. I’ll do everything you ask. Just tell me why I have to leave London.”

  “This is unofficial, and I’ll deny telling you this, but the London station has requested you be pulled out due to Kaczka’s death and now the disappearance of Judy. They have made the case that you are damaged goods and need to be relieved, and they went to the very top, and the director of the agency has suggested to the IG that you be pulled out. Simple as that. The IG agrees that there’s something wrong.”

  “What if I decide to stay and keep looking for Judy?”

  “Then they’ll find you, arrest you and return you in chains to a US military prison.”

  “Ridiculous,” he said.

  “Get some sleep and be on that plane. Please don’t do something stupid. There will be no good outcomes if you fail to get on that plane, I promise.”

  CHAPTER 14

  It happened so fast and with such spectacular ferociousness that Judy was incapable of resisting.

  She had made the same run several times during her stay in London, although they had been during daylight hours. There was one part of the run where she ran two loops around the walking path of a large park, then followed the path as it existed onto a side street, where she took a hard right and ran on the edge of the sidewalk for another half mile. By this time in her run the endorphins had usually kicked in, and she was in glide mode, alert to her surroundings but also contemplative. She thought about introducing Dennis to her parents and friends and wondered how he’d respond.

  This time, after the second loop, she started to exit the park and was about to make the right turn when she noticed a white van stopped on the street about ten feet in front of her. The door was open and the interior light was on. A man with a ski mask pulled over his face sat inside, looking directly at her.

  She had been daydreaming about Dennis, so she was confused about the van. But at the moment she slowed up, two people came up behind her, lifted her by the arms and threw her into the van.

  Judy fell on her knees and could feel hands grabbing her. She started to scream as the van roared off, but a gloved hand covered her mouth. At nearly the same instant she felt something sharp pressed against her neck and then a stun gun discharge.

  ✦

  First, there was a vague feeling of discomfort, which
was followed, inexplicably, by a soaring euphoria and a lightness of being.

  At some point Judy opened her eyes and tried to focus on her surroundings. There was a gauzy quality to her consciousness, as if she was under a huge white tent of cheesecloth flapping in the breeze.

  She tried to move her right hand, but it would not budge. Suddenly, the pleasant feelings were overwhelmed by a dark fear. Her memory suddenly started working, replaying up to the moment she was thrown into a vehicle.

  Judy struggled to move her legs and arms, but she seemed bound.

  “Ah, you are awake,” she heard a woman say. “Please don’t struggle, you will hurt yourself. Relax, please.”

  Judy’s focus returned, and she found herself looking up at the ceiling, which held a single light bulb surrounded by a faded, metal shade. Looking left and right, she saw that her arms and legs were firmly bound with a very heavy cloth-like rope.

  A woman sat in a chair to her left and repeated soothingly, “Just relax.” The woman was perhaps in her twenties and had long, straight black hair that was parted down the center. She was attractive and thin, with long, arching eyebrows, a small, pointed nose and perfectly round mouth.

  “Where am I?” Judy said hoarsely.

  “You are here with us,” the woman responded. “My name is Agata.”

  Judy scanned the room, taking in the bare cement walls, the bulb hanging from the ceiling, what looked like an open toilette, and a small sink and shower against the far wall. She turned back to Agata.

  “Why are you holding me like this? What do you want?”

  “Ah, everything is fine, you will see,” Agata said.

  “Where are you from?” Judy said.

  “Serbia,” she said, smiling broadly.

  Judy found Agata’s welcoming behavior confusing, given that she was bound to a bed and in a bare-bones room.

  “What do you want with me?” Judy pressed.

  “Me? I want you to be happy.”

  “How can I be happy if I’m tied up, Agata? Can you untie me, please?”

  “Ah, no. I am so sorry. I cannot do that.” Agata proffered a sympathetic smile and gently squeezed Judy’s forearm.