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

by Joe Hart

  “Perring?”

  “Yeah?”

  “I think I might have something. There’s a building midway up on the next street over. It would be right behind the construction zone, the only access being from the west.”

  “What’s it look like?”

  “Abandoned. It’s made of brick and the windows are busted out.”

  “Can you tell if it has a basement?”

  “No, not from this side. Don’t see any ramps or stairs leading down. Can you get any info on it?”

  “Sure. Sit tight.”

  He waited, almost lighting up another smoke simply for something to do. He watched the building for movement—a shadow passing one of the dark windows, a light bobbing around its corner, a vehicle parked nearby—but there was nothing. The wind tugged at the branches above his head and a flutter of dried leaves cascaded around him. One landed on his shoulder and he brushed it away.

  “Liam?”

  “Yeah.”

  “It’s an old commercial rental property, closed down now. The upstairs had everything from law firms to small engine repair.”

  “Is there a basement?”

  “Yes. It hasn’t been used in years but the last occupant was a printing company.”

  “A printing company.” Liam pushed away from the tree. “That basement would’ve had to have been soundproofed for the equipment.”

  “My thoughts exactly.”

  “That’s where she is.”

  “We have to be sure, we get one shot at this. We do it wrong . . .” She let the last sentence hang.

  “Do you see anything else promising? Anyone spotted anything on the other three sides?”

  “Nothing like this.”

  “It’s got to be that one.”

  Perring was silent for a long moment before coming back. “Okay. We already have a sharpshooter positioned on the two open streets. SWAT’s going in in five minutes. We’re going to follow right after that. You come in behind us, got me?”

  “Loud and clear.”

  “Out.”

  Liam reached back and drew his pistol, checking that a round was chambered before slipping it into the holster once more. A tingling flowed through his muscles and his heart started to quicken its pace. Here we go, he thought absently as he readied himself for what was to come. He knew Dani would be terrified to know he was going into a situation like this. His consultant jobs over the past year had been confined to interviewing suspects, accompanying detectives to crime scenes, and sitting before a computer in too-warm offices that stunk of old coffee and crumbling linoleum. But here, tonight, with the wind kissing his flesh and the promise of action, the hope of reuniting Valerie with Owen, he was back in the worn groove his career had carved within him. This was what he was made for.

  Two dark vans rolled down the street beside him, their lights off, tires barely making a sound. They pulled to a stop near the sidewalk and it was only a second before the doors burst open and figures dressed entirely in black swarmed out, short rifles gripped in gloved hands. They flowed around the building like water, securing the two visible entrances before the reverberation of the first door being battered inward met his ears. Cries of “Police!” echoed to him and he started to run.

  He covered the hundred odd yards to the building quickly, not breaking pace as he drew his handgun. As he ran, he flipped down the Velcro flap on the front of his borrowed jacket, revealing the word POLICE in reflective block letters. More shouts came from inside the building, and over the sounds of his breathing he could hear another door being busted open. As he reached the side of the building, Perring’s sedan pulled even with the curb and she leapt out with Sanders beside her, their weapons drawn, faces tight with anticipation. He followed them inside, throwing a quick look at Owen who sat in the rear of their car beside a uniformed officer, his friend’s face pale in the wan dome light.

  The building stank of mold. Water stood in puddles in a stripped concrete floor full of divots. The wind followed him inside and coursed past him as he turned with Sanders and Perring down a wide stairway that dropped into darkness. A SWAT member waited at the base of the stairs, rifle pointed at the ground, the flashlight attached to its forestock blazing a circle of white on the floor. He directed them straight forward and they moved in a line past darkened doorways and vacant rooms. Liam’s heart double-timed now. There had been no shots but that didn’t mean the silence would hold. Ahead an overhead light threw a septic glow onto the floor through a narrow entry and he recognized its yellowed tone from Valerie’s video. His nerves sung beneath his skin. There hadn’t been a single shot, she must be okay, she must be alive. Perring entered the room first and Sanders followed. Liam had to pause in the doorway since the small space inside was so crowded with people.

  The room was twenty feet across and fifteen feet deep, much like the others they’d passed. A tangle of cords ran down through one wall and hung like slayed snakes above a scarred worktable. The chair Valerie had been seated on in the video sat to one side, several dark blots dried beneath it. There were water-filled scratches and gouges on the concrete floor and the smell of mold lent a thick quality to the air.

  Besides the five SWAT members and the two detectives, the room was empty.

  “Goddammit!” Perring swore. “They’re gone. We missed them.” She turned to one of the SWAT members. “Clear the rest of the building. You find anything you come get me.”

  “Yes ma’am,” the officer said and led his team out of the room. Liam stepped inside once they were gone and gazed around.

  “How long do you think?” Sanders asked, sauntering around the space, thumbs hooked in his pockets.

  “Since they were here? At least a few hours, maybe more,” Perring said. Liam knelt beside the chair Valerie had been strapped to. There were worn grooves in its back where her hands had been tied. He leaned closer to the floor and studied the drops of blood near the chair. They looked like blackened pennies in the sickly light.

  “I think it was longer,” Liam said at last.

  “Yeah?” Perring said.

  “I’d put my money on early this morning by the looks of the blood.”

  “So she was held here for what, a few hours?”

  “Just long enough to make the video. Then moved,” Liam said, standing straight.

  “Smart,” Sanders said.

  “More like reckless,” Perring said. “Moving her like that, hundreds of things could go wrong.”

  The officer that had been sitting in the backseat with Owen appeared at the door, his eyes swinging around the room before looking at Perring. “Detective? Mr. Farrow wants to know if he can come inside.”

  “Yes, let him in. Then call forensics. I want a full sweep of this building. Have four or five units canvass the neighborhood surrounding this block. See if anyone in the area noticed anything suspicious about this place over the last few weeks. Don’t tell them a word about the case. If they ask we’re investigating a simple break in. Got it?”

  “Yes ma’am.”

  “Go.”

  The officer’s steps faded in the darkness and Liam looked at the single bare light bulb hanging from the center rafter. It was so yellowed he imagined he could scrape the light off its exterior with his fingernail.

  “Back to the drawing board,” Sanders said.

  “Why would he bring her here?” Liam asked. “Why not just make the video in such a remote location that we wouldn’t have any clue where they were?” He moved to the workbench and inspected its length. It was clean and dry. “Construction was going on outside when he made the video. This guy isn’t stupid so why would he intentionally leave a clue like that for us to find?”

  “He wanted us to come here,” Perring said.

  “I think so,” Liam said. “He wanted us to see something. That or he’s enjoying leading us on a goose chase.”

  Owen’s long form darkened the doorway. He looked around the room, eyes hovering for a long time on the chair.

  �
��We’re sorry, Mr. Farrow,” Perring said.

  Owen nodded. “Somehow I guessed this is what we’d find. I didn’t believe it would be that easy to get her back.”

  “This is a step forward, Owen,” Liam said. “We’re going to find her.”

  Owen finally brought his gaze up as if noticing them for the first time. “I want everyone to back off. I want to give the money to this person and get my wife back. No more SWAT teams, no more busting in doors. We do whatever he wants.”

  “Mr. Farrow—” Perring started, but Owen held up a hand.

  “She’s my wife. I won’t lose her over trying to get this guy.” There were tears at the edge of his voice and a moment later he turned and disappeared into the darkness of the hallway.

  “Let’s get him back home,” Perring said after silence returned to the room. “There’s no use standing around here.”

  They filed out but Liam lingered for another minute, his eyes traveling over the chair, the grooves worn in its wood, the blood on the floor. He gave the light bulb one last look, then followed the detectives out of the basement.

  A new shift of the task force had taken over by the time they returned to Owen’s house. They glanced up from their computers as Owen filed past followed by Liam and the two detectives. In the living room Owen slopped a glass half full of whisky and drank it in three swallows before refilling it. Liam put a hand on his friend’s arm but Owen shrugged it off.

  “Owen, you know if Valerie had been in that basement tonight, she’d be home safe right now,” Liam said.

  “No, I don’t know that and neither do you. Any of you,” Owen said, gesturing at them all with the hand that held his drink.

  “Look, I know you’re upset but—” Liam began.

  “Upset? Do you really think that word describes what I’m feeling right now?” His voice rose until it rebounded off the high ceilings. “I saw a video today of my wife gagged and tied to a chair. She was bleeding and calling out for help, and there’s not a fucking thing I could do about it!” He shook with rage. Tears spilled from the corners of his eyes. “That any of you can do about it.”

  “Mr. Farrow—” Perring said.

  Liam held up a hand. “Could you give us a few minutes?” Perring opened her mouth to say something but then closed it and merely nodded. Sanders ambled into the kitchen while Perring retreated to the dining room. Owen drank half of the glass before staring after the detectives.

  “They’re going to get her killed,” Owen said, his voice a cracked husk, all of the anger drained from it.

  “Valerie’s not going to die,” Liam said. “We’re all doing our best here. Everyone’s working hard and I can’t imagine how tough this must be for you, but it was the right decision going into that building tonight.”

  “What if she had been there and the guy heard the door break down? What if—”

  “You can’t worry about that. She wasn’t there. No one was.”

  “But he’s got her right now,” Owen whispered, eyes gleaming. “He’s got her tied up somewhere and . . .” His words trailed off. Liam guided him to the couch before returning to the liquor cabinet to pour himself a drink. He took a long swallow of the whisky. It was oaky with tinges of honey and smoke. He sat down opposite Owen and watched the other man eye his glass.

  “Thought you said we needed to stay sharp.”

  “You deserve your drink and so do I,” Liam said. This brought a tired smile to Owen’s lips.

  “Wish we could get wrecked like back in school and wake up to this all being a nightmare.”

  “It would be nice if things worked that way.”

  “But they don’t.”

  “No, they don’t.”

  They sat for a time, sipping their drinks. The wind was an animal that pried at the windows, seeking a way inside. On the black cape of the lake, a set of lights bobbed as a boat cruised past. Somewhere a foghorn blatted in the distance, mournful and dying out as fast as it came.

  “I always thought I could make a difference,” Owen said quietly. “That’s really why I joined the academy. I know everyone thought it was to piss off my parents, that’s even what they thought, but it wasn’t. I wanted to help stop terrible things from happening. But the truth is, I couldn’t hack the idea that someday I’d have to face situations that I couldn’t handle. Not like you.”

  “You’re still making a difference. You’re part of the system. Justice doesn’t end with cops.”

  “I know. That’s what I thought. It’s what I told myself when I decided to run for mayor.” Owen laughed without humor. “But I was wrong. I was wrong to leave her here by herself so much. I should’ve done more. But sometimes I got angry with her. Angry for her being the way she was. I wanted her to just snap out of it. Isn’t that terrible?”

  “Raging at something you can’t control is pretty normal. When I was younger I’d have bouts of anger at my mom for dying, and leaving me and my dad alone, even though she died giving birth to me. It’s natural.”

  Owen nodded to himself. “You’re wrong though about the system. Being a lawyer or the mayor isn’t going to get Val back. Hell, I could be the president and it wouldn’t matter. It’s people like you that make the difference.”

  Liam tried to respond but couldn’t find anything to say. Instead he finished the last of his drink, relishing the sting of its passage down his throat.

  “Why?” Owen finally said, breaking the quiet.

  “Why was she taken?”

  “Yeah. I know he asked for money, but really, why? Why my Valerie? Why her, why now?”

  “Because he thinks he can get away with it. But he won’t.”

  “Who the fuck is this guy?”

  “Someone who stepped over the edge.” Liam sipped his drink. “Most people stand right on the line, barely hold themselves back. And the crazy thing is they don’t even know it. They’re one paycheck, one bill, one little nudge from dropping off the map. You can see it in their faces when you pass them in the streets. There’s a delicate balancing act going on every day behind their eyes, and sometimes with even the slightest push, everything falls down.”

  Liam fell silent, staring into the darkness past the window. When he glanced at Owen the other man held the expression he had noticed before, a candle flame within him flickering in a high wind.

  “Are you okay?” Liam asked.

  Owen seemed to surface from a depth, eyes swimming until they focused on him. “No. But I’m drunk and that helps.”

  “Did you get any rest today?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Then let’s get you to bed,” Liam said, standing.

  “I don’t know if I can sleep.”

  “You should try. There’s still a lot that needs to be done tomorrow.” He hoisted Owen up and put an arm around his shoulders to steady him. Owen swayed and put a hand on the wall to keep his balance as they went up the stairs. By the time Liam got him in a sitting position on the bed, Owen was crying again, silent tears leaking from the corners of his eyes. Liam helped him with his shoes and covered him with a thin blanket, tucking him in like the world’s oldest child.

  “I just want her back,” Owen whispered. “We’re going to get her back, right?”

  “Yes we are.”

  “I keep seeing her face all bloody and . . .” His voice hitched in his chest and he wasn’t able to continue.

  “Close your eyes and take some deep breaths. You have good people working on this and they’ll be here all night.”

  “You’re not going to leave, are you?” Owen resembled a child more than ever with the blanket below his chin.

  “No. I’m going to stay. I’ll be here when you wake up.”

  Owen nodded and shut his eyes, a long sigh trailing from him. Liam waited several minutes and when he thought that Owen was finally asleep he moved to the door but the other man’s voice stopped him.

  “Thank you for coming, Liam. Not many people would have.”

  “You’re we
lcome. Get some rest.”

  Owen swallowed loudly, then rolled toward the opposite wall. Liam left the door partially open and made his way downstairs to the living room where Perring and Sanders waited.

  “He sleeping?” Perring asked.

  “I think he will be soon.” Sanders drew out a pack of cigarettes and opened it, cursing at its empty interior. “Here,” Liam said, holding out the nearly untouched pack he’d used before entering the abandoned building. “You can have these.”

  “Thanks,” Sanders said, drawing a cigarette out and placing it between his lips.

  “You really should quit those things,” Perring said.

  “And start chewing gum like a psychopath? No thanks.” Sanders jerked a thumb at Perring. “She smokes like a chimney from the time I meet her and then climbs up on a high horse a year ago and now she’s shouting at me from it.”

  “Go chip at your lungs, old man,” Perring said, half smiling. Sanders rolled his eyes and headed for the French doors.

  “You two complement one another,” Liam said.

  “We get by. Been partners for a long time.” Perring rubbed her forehead and drew out the worn pack of gum.

  “Long day for you.”

  “Long day for everyone,” she said. “I was so sure we were going to get this guy tonight. I could feel it.”

  “Me too.”

  “I can’t get over the fact that it looked like he wanted us to know where he’d taken her. It . . .” Perring gestured with one hand “. . . pisses me off.”

  “Maybe forensics will find something. Or a witness might come forward. Maybe the guy got sloppy moving her and someone saw something strange but didn’t think to report it.”

  “You don’t really believe that, do you?”

  Liam licked his lips, then shook his head. “No.”

  Sanders stepped in from outside and motioned toward the command post and Perring nodded.

  “Get some sleep, Liam. If you’re going to keep helping us, we’ll need you sharp.” She moved toward the dining room but paused before stepping inside. “Good work tonight. Glad you were here.” She didn’t give him a chance to answer before disappearing into the room. After a moment he made his way to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, looking down into the dark hole of the sink drain. In the living room he found a blanket beside the couch and draped it over himself before drawing out his phone. A text message waited on the screen from Dani. She’d sent it almost an hour before.