The Night Is Deep (A Liam Dempsey Thriller Book 2)

by Joe Hart

  “I’m not sure yet. It could be connected to Alexandra’s suicide. Or maybe someone’s been watching her, keeping her movements under surveillance even while she was at home. Maybe someone who doesn’t want Owen to become mayor.”

  “So you think Jenner did have something to do with this?”

  “No.”

  “And why’s that?”

  Liam shifted his attention to a seagull that floated on an air current a hundred feet above the beach, its beaded eyes searching the sand and rock below.

  “Jenner had an alibi for the night when Alexandra died, so that leaves the theory that he influenced her in some way. Caused her so much pain emotionally she decided to end it after a few drinks. But if that’s the case, he’s guilty of nothing. She did it of her own free will.”

  “What’s your point?”

  “Why would Jenner decide to act now? What would make him want to hurt Valerie after all this time? Even if she harbored suspicion of him or he somehow blamed her for how his life turned out after Alexandra’s death, why now?”

  “So what’s the connection between them then?”

  “Not sure. But Valerie’s state of mind stemmed from her sister’s death. At the very least it’s worth looking over again.”

  Perring studied him for a long moment, then drew out a pack of gum. She popped a piece into her mouth and offered the pack to Liam. He took a stick.

  “Thanks,” he said.

  “I quit smoking a year ago. I go through more packs of gum now than I ever did cigarettes.” She tucked the gum away and crossed her arms. “You’re making sense but I’m having trouble seeing how the suicide ties into what happened last night.” She sighed and glanced at the lake. “Goddammit. I was hoping this would be simple. Some dumb-shit kid out to make a fortune who’d fuck up the first time he got in touch with us.”

  “You never know. Maybe that’s how it will go down.”

  “Yeah maybe.”

  The door behind them opened and Sanders poked his head outside, making a face at the cold wind.

  “You two frozen yet?”

  “I am,” Liam said, moving past Sanders into the warmth of the house. Owen was showing Reilly out, and when he returned he took Liam’s arm and led him to the far end of the living room.

  “What was that all about?” Owen asked.

  “Perring wanted to speak in private.”

  “No, not that. The questions you asked Reilly about Alexandra’s death affecting Val. Everyone with a brain knows that’s what caused her condition. I’d like you to be more concerned about where my wife is instead of a suicide that happened sixteen years ago.” Owen’s voice rose, anger barely concealed beneath the surface.

  “Listen, I’m trying to gather all the facts. Alexandra’s death was a huge impact on Valerie’s current state. Maybe there’s something there that will help us find her.”

  “She didn’t run away on her own if that’s what you’re suggesting.”

  “I know that.”

  Owen seemed to calm slightly. “So where did you go earlier?”

  Liam hesitated, glancing at Perring across the room. “To speak with Jenner.”

  “I thought so. What did he say?”

  “Nothing incriminating.”

  “So you don’t think he’s the one?”

  “No.”

  Owen closed his eyes and touched the back of his head. “Caulston is absolutely sure that he’s responsible.”

  “Where did Caulston go by the way?”

  “He went home. He got really fired up again after you left and stormed off. I’m not sure he’ll be back.”

  “That may not be a bad thing right now,” Liam said, leading Owen over to the sofa. “You need to stay focused, and no offense but your father-in-law isn’t helping at the moment.”

  “He’d lead a lynching party over to Jenner’s in a second if he could.”

  “Yeah, I gathered that. I did want to ask you, and I’m sure Perring already did, but with you running for mayor is there anyone you can think of that would go this far to stop you?”

  “No. Perring asked me that earlier too. I’ve had a lot of support from the community and I’ve even met with Mayor Wilson. Since he’s retiring there’s only one other candidate that I’m running against.”

  “And who’s that?”

  “A city council member named Grayson. Old guy, maybe in his early seventies. Not someone who could do this.” Owen rubbed his face with both hands and Liam saw how bloodshot his friend’s eyes had become.

  “You need to get some rest.”

  “No, I’m fine. I want to be awake when we get a call,” Owen said.

  “You’ll be exhausted and bound to make a bad decision if you don’t get some sleep. Go lie down for a while, I’ll wake you if anything comes in.”

  Owen finally nodded. “Okay, but if—”

  “Owen,” Liam said, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Don’t worry, we’ll take care of everything.” Owen gave him a tired smile and shuffled out of the room, his tall form disappearing into the hallway and up the stairs. Liam watched him go, then turned and moved to where Perring and Sanders were talking with a uniformed officer. The officer finished speaking, nodded once to Perring as she said something Liam couldn’t hear, and donned his hat before leaving the room.

  “Anything new?” Liam asked.

  “No. We had a few of our uniforms go shake down a couple of dealers and touch base with a narc we use from time to time. No one’s heard anything about a kidnapping,” Perring said.

  “I’m surprised the press isn’t banging on the door right now,” Liam said.

  “They were. The local paper and a news unit out of the cities both stopped by a couple hours ago but our guys headed them off in the driveway.”

  “So someone leaked something,” Liam said.

  “We think one of the uniforms that was first on the scene has loose lips,” Sanders said. “He’s gotten reprimanded for it before but there’s no way of knowing for sure.”

  “This could turn into a circus, especially with Owen’s public status,” Liam said.

  “Let’s hope not,” Perring said.

  Liam gazed at the floor for a moment before saying, “Did forensics examine Owen’s head wound?”

  “And why would you ask that?” Sanders said.

  “Curious.”

  “I’m surprised,” Perring said. “You being his friend in all this.”

  “If I didn’t ask it would bother me.”

  “Yes, we looked into the possibility that Mr. Farrow is somehow involved in his wife’s kidnapping,” Perring said, her eyes never leaving Liam’s face. “Do you think we’re that incompetent?”

  “No, honestly I don’t, but I’d like to know what you found.”

  “We had a paramedic examine Mr. Farrow’s head wound along with a member of the crime scene team posing as an assistant. The force of the blow at the angle it was struck makes it pretty unlikely that Mr. Farrow did it himself. And I know that doesn’t rule out his involvement, but judging from his emotional state today, I would say he isn’t involved, or he could give De Niro a run for his money at the Oscars. Also we checked his bank accounts. The Farrows are not hurting for money.”

  “How about a witness corroborating his story about leaving work late?”

  “We interviewed a secretary earlier over the phone who said he was at his office until the time he claimed.”

  Liam nodded. “I had to ask.”

  “We’ve got a stop to make uptown and then we’re going to grab lunch for everyone here along with some more coffee. You want anything?”

  “No, I’m fine. Thanks, though.” Liam smiled.

  “Just ’cause I offered you a sandwich doesn’t mean you’re my buddy,” Perring said. But before she and Sanders left the room Liam could’ve sworn he saw a slight twitch at the corner of her mouth.

  He stood for a second in the middle of the living room, then moved to the stairway leading to the second floor. Upsta
irs, the master bedroom door was partially shut and he glimpsed Owen lying flat on his back upon the bed, eyes wide, staring at the ceiling. He almost pushed the door open and said something to him, but instead continued past to Valerie’s office.

  He stepped inside and pulled Alexandra’s diary from the basket before turning in a slow circle. He imagined Valerie here in the small hours of the night, gazing at her sister’s handwriting. Maybe she even looked out the darkened window into the world she’d left behind, to the past she kept locked away except for the small basket holding only faded memories and pages written by a long-dead hand.

  Liam returned to the sofa downstairs and began to page through the entries, eyes hovering on scribbled out words, the names of Alexandra’s friends, everywhere, but without a pattern.

  May 11, ’93

  I hate Val! She caught me playing in the ditch near the house and told Dad. She said I shouldn’t be playing out near the street because of stranger danger. I told her I’m old enough now that I can take care of myself. She’s not Mom no matter how much she wants to be.

  December 26, ’94

  I got such a beautiful bracelet from Dad for Christmas! It’s solid gold inlaid with a cross and it’s SO pretty! I can’t wait to wear it for the New Year recital at school. Jenny Taylor is gonna be so jealous! Val got a really nice ring that used to be Mom’s. Dad said that I can have something of hers when I’m older. Wish I was older.

  June 23, ’95

  Val just saved my life! We were out riding bikes and I hit a pothole and took a bad digger on the road. I scraped up my knees and elbows, but that wasn’t the worst part. When I fell my bracelet hit the blacktop and it scratched the gold! I wasn’t supposed to be wearing it. Dad said it was only for special occasions. I was crying and saying how Dad was gonna kill me and Val took the bracelet off and reversed the cross so that the dented side was toward my skin instead of facing out. You can’t tell it got hurt at all! Val’s a genius. She’s gonna be something great someday like an astronaut or the president or something.

  Liam flipped to the rear of the journal and read the last four entries, the leap in time like watching a life on fast-forward.

  Feb 5, ’99

  It finally happened. Dickson and I did “it” in the sauna last night! It was so great and it didn’t hurt nearly as much as Gracie said. Dickson was so gentle and I knew it was his first time too, since he was shaking so much. It was magic. I love him, I love him, I love him! Val would kill me if she knew, but deep down I know she’s happy for me. Just the big-sister-protective thing kicking in. I can’t blame her, she’s had to stand in since Mom died. And Dad, oh God! If he knew what we did in the sauna, he would absolutely kill Dickson! He’d probably kill me too. Maybe I should tell him. Then he’d disown me and Dickson and I could run away together. We could start a family somewhere new and get away from all the small minds that give us looks in the halls. I wish things were different, but they’re not. I can’t wait to get out of this town.

  May 17, ’99

  I told Dickson I loved him today. He got this surprised but happy look on his face and then said it back! He loves me! We’re already making plans for college down in St. Paul even though dad’s already forbidden it. He wants me to go to his alma mater here in Duluth but I’m done with this town. I’m tired of all the snide comments and “black on white” jokes. If I hear “once you go black, you never go back” one more time, I’m literally going to murder someone! But we have each other, and that’s all I care about. I think he’s going to ask me to marry him soon!

  July 20, ’99

  What’s with men anyways? It’s like they can’t ever make up their minds. I mentioned the “m” word to Dickson yesterday and he freaked! Like I was trying to give him some disease! I know his family life wasn’t good while his dad was still around. Dickson told me he cheated on his mother constantly and she always knew about it but didn’t say a word because she didn’t want Dickson growing up in a broken home. Like it wasn’t broken already . . . I think that’s what he’s afraid of. I told him he wasn’t his father and he got really angry and yelled. I took it with a grain of salt because it’s been really stressful trying to make plans for college without anyone knowing. We were able to slip away a week ago and look at apartments off campus. We found some cute ones but they’re all really expensive. Dad said again yesterday that if I insist on going to school in the cities that he’s not going to help with tuition. I know he’s bluffing but he gets so angry these days. I think he misses Mom. Like we all don’t.

  I know if we get married Dad will have to accept him. He won’t have any choice. All I have to do is get Dickson to propose. If I can’t think of anything else I’m going to have to do it! My friends would never let me live that down, haha!

  August 1, ’99

  We broke up. I can’t believe I just wrote those words. We’ve been dating for over a year and now we’re not. We were in the middle of trying to plan for the first few weeks of school (we even had money put down on a tiny apartment) and I mentioned getting married again. Dickson flew off the handle. He told me to quit pushing him and that I needed to give us time. I told him if he really loved me then what was stopping him? I don’t get it. I’m ready to spend the rest of my life with him. He’s everything I want. He’s my best friend, he’s unbelievable in bed, and he’s got the kindest heart out of anybody I’ve ever known, including Val (if you ever read this, sorry Val) I know we’re not broken up for good, but it feels that way. I don’t know what to do. I have to do something to get rid of this feeling. I want to die.

  Liam flipped the page and saw only blankness from that point on. He turned back to the last passage, noticing several faint discolorations near the binding. Tears. The ghostly spots were where Alexandra’s tears had fallen. He closed his eyes. Only days later she’d been found dead, smashed upon the cement outside the church. Liam shut the diary, his knuckles turning white as he pinched the covers together, thoughts coalescing in his mind.

  Valerie had thought Alexandra’s death wasn’t a suicide at all. What had her basis been? Had she known or suspected something that ate at her through the years, gnawing away at her psyche like some carnivorous scavenger? The thought of someone tossing her off the church tower, this young girl who had written the innocent and touching words in the diary, caused a note of anger to toll within him. When he looked out across the lake, the waves had calmed to ripples. It didn’t give up its dead.

  As he watched the lake the anger slowly gave way to fatigue, the constant din of low conversation coming from the task force almost like a lullaby. A cell phone rang. A door opened and closed. The wind nudged the glass and Liam drifted.

  A strong hand suddenly grasped his shoulder, and before his eyes even opened he had the person’s wrist in his hand and was yanking them forward.

  “Hey, calm down!” Sanders said as Liam twisted the man’s arm. Realization flooded him. He’d fallen asleep sitting up. His surroundings, which had seemed so foreign seconds before, aligned into recognition. He released the detective’s arm and blinked, taking in the raised voices in the dining room.

  “About broke my damn arm,” Sanders griped, rubbing his wrist. “Come on, we just got an e-mail. This is it.”

  CHAPTER 6

  The dining room lights had been turned on and it was only then that Liam saw evening had overtaken the afternoon while he slept.

  The command center in the dining room now consisted of a half-moon group of people crowded around a large laptop. Two chairs had been pulled close. In one sat a task force member wearing horn-rimmed glasses, his hair raked back in an uneven wave as if he’d pushed his fingers through it too many times. In the other was Owen, eyes just as bloodshot as they had been hours ago. Owen spotted him as he entered and he gave him a quick nod before Perring began to speak.

  “Okay people, listen up. About three minutes ago an e-mail arrived in Mr. Farrow’s inbox. It was simply titled ‘ransom.’ Now from what Heller says it came from a burn site,
which means that once we watch the video attached, the e-mail will be deleted from the inbox and then burnt from the site it was transferred from. We’re ready to record it so there’s no worry about not catching everything on the first go round, but it does present a problem for tracking an IP address. We’ll talk about that more later. I want everyone to watch this and hold thoughts or opinions until after we’ve seen everything.” Perring gave the small crowd a look, then nodded to the man in the glasses. He turned and tapped the laptop’s trackpad twice. A few seconds later an e-mail screen opened. He clicked on the attachment’s icon and immediately muffled sobs emanated from the speakers.

  Liam flinched as the video screen blazed into life. They were looking at a basement, that much was apparent. The light was low and yellowed, illuminating only a portion of the room. The walls were cinderblock and stained partway up with blotches of mold. Cobwebs hung in tangled strands from the open joist above.

  And in the middle of the floor Valerie sat in a wooden chair with a thick, plastic gag in her mouth.

  Her hands were behind her, shoulders pulled back in accord with how tightly her wrists were bound. The video screen ended at her knees but by the way her legs were clamped together Liam assumed her ankles were tied as well. Crusted blood stained the waves of her blond hair above her right temple and ran down into the neck of the T-shirt she wore, coloring the collar a sickly maroon. She sobbed around the gag, white teeth biting into the blue plastic bit that was shoved so far back into her mouth little lines of blood drooled from the corners of her lips.

  “Oh God, no,” Owen breathed. He reached out to touch the screen but Perring stopped his hand and held it in her own.

  The shot remained on Valerie as she cried, tears streaming down her cheeks. After nearly thirty seconds, the camera began to turn, smoothly panning the basement until Valerie slid out of view. It slowed, jiggling a little, then stopped, centering on a seated figure. The person was only visible from the shoulders up, their face completely hidden behind a hooded mask that gave no hint at any features. Liam noted the width of the shoulders, the definite masculinity of their shape.