by Joe Hart
It was Dani’s voice down in the darkness.
Her shrieks were faint and so full of terror he didn’t realize he was running until he stumbled on the last step and fell to the floor of a wet corridor, his weapon spinning away into the shadows. He didn’t wait for his eyes to adjust but simply rose and ran on, not caring if he collided with something in the black. Ahead he saw a yellow glow spreading like a stain and as several doorways flashed by on either side, he realized where he was.
He was in the basement of the abandoned building.
Dani’s voice came from the room at the end of the hall, the room where Valerie had been held, and she was sobbing his name between breaths. He yelled for her as the light brightened and then he was in the room, bursting through the doorway.
Dani was tied to the same chair Valerie had been in but she wore no gag. Her beautiful face was covered in blood and Abford stood beside her, his gun pressed to her temple. Liam reached for him and Abford turned.
The other man’s face had no features except for a widening smile that split his skull from ear to ear. Abhorrent laughter slid from between the brown teeth that lined the giant mouth, and even as Liam screamed Dani’s name, the report of the gun drowned his voice out.
He sat up from the couch, tossing away the weight on his chest—the blanket, now heavy and sodden with cold sweat. His mouth opened to cry out, but the focusing of reality helped him shape it into a soft moan. He swallowed, his tongue dry as shale.
He swung his feet off the couch and steadied himself there. His stomach was a punch bowl of acid, churning on itself as the dream replayed over and over in his mind. He reached out a shaking hand and touched his phone to light the display. It was a little after six in the morning. He stood and made his way to the dining room where the smell of coffee was constant in the air. Only one task force member sat at the table, an alert young man with a growth of stubble on his cheeks.
“Anything new overnight?” Liam asked, hating the wavering of his voice.
“Nothing.”
“When did Perring leave?”
“Around midnight. She said she’d be back by seven or earlier.”
Liam nodded and continued to the bathroom. Inside he braced himself on the sink until the sickness in his stomach begrudgingly passed. Each time he began to feel better the image of Dani’s bloodied face floated behind his eyes and he closed them, holding on to the contents of his stomach by sheer will. He moved to the toilet and urinated before running cold water into his cupped hands and dousing his face. The icy shock was enough to put some strength in his legs so that he was able to pause and pour himself a cup of coffee in the dining room before stepping out through the French doors.
The steady rush of the waves met him. He watched the horizon brighten, drinking long swallows of hot coffee even as the cool air chilled the sweat in his clothes. When the axe blade of sun cut its way above the opposite shoreline he pulled out his phone and dialed, a lingering fear hovering over him that the call would go unanswered. But Dani picked up almost immediately.
“Good morning.” Her voice was thick with sleep.
“I woke you.”
“No, I was just getting up.”
“Liar.”
“Guilty.”
“I’m sorry, I tried to wait longer.” He turned his back to the lake, glancing in through the windows to see several more task force members trailing into the dining room.
“Why, what’s wrong?”
“Just a nightmare. Nothing new.”
“Abford again?”
“Yeah.”
“Wish I was there.” He could hear the rustle of sheets on her end and imagined the warmth of her beside him in their bed.
“Me too.”
“How are things going? Any progress?”
“You mean when am I coming home.”
“You got me.”
He smiled but it faded as quickly as it came. “We received a ransom demand. We’re going forward with it in the next few days.”
“God. Poor Owen. How is he doing?”
“He’s getting by.”
“And how are you, other than the broken sleep?”
“Fine. As always.”
“You’re full of shit, Mr. Dempsey.”
“Maybe.”
“Do you think it can be handled without you from this point on?”
“Why?”
“Because I do want you to come home.”
“I’d love to but I need to stay for Owen.”
There was a long pause and he thought he could hear the old clock ticking downstairs, its rhythm like a tired pulse.
“You need to stay for Owen or for you?”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“I’m asking if you have other reasons for wanting to be there.”
“I’m here to help my friend.”
“And doing real police work doesn’t hurt either.”
The door opened and Perring stuck her head out. She saw that he was on the phone and nodded before retreating inside.
“Is there something you want to say?” he asked.
“No. Not now. But I want you to be careful. You’re a consultant, remember? It’s not your responsibility to go busting into houses, gun blazing.”
Liam chewed on the inside of his cheek. It was like the woman was psychic.
“I know that. I’ll be safe.”
“You better.”
“I’ll come home to you soon.”
“You better.” Warmth seeped into her voice.
“I gotta go. Tell Eric hi and I love him.”
“I will.”
“I love you.”
“Love you too.”
He ended the call and shivered, the last vestiges of the dream lingering even after hearing Dani’s voice. She’s fine. Eric’s fine. They’re safe, he assured himself as he picked up his freezing coffee mug from the porch railing. It had just been a dream, a mingling of Valerie’s kidnapping and fears he didn’t want to think about brought to light. The subconscious is a cruel place, he thought before reentering the house. Perring and Sanders were sipping coffee in the kitchen. Both looked unkempt as if they had slept in their clothes as well.
“Good morning,” Liam said, refilling his coffee cup.
“What the hell’s good about it?” Sanders said.
“Our overnight guy said that Owen didn’t wake up,” Perring said.
“Not that I know of,” Liam said. “Hopefully he got some rest. Anything back from the canvass of the neighborhood where Valerie was being held?”
Perring shook her head. “Three uniforms knocked on fifty doors last night. No one saw a thing. No strange vehicles, no odd people, no noises. It’s like Valerie and her abductors were never there.” She sipped at her coffee, eyes unfocused. “We’ll have to respect Owen’s wishes from here on out. Even if we get a solid lead, he might not want us to go in after her. Last night really shook him up.”
“I can’t blame him,” Liam said. He watched the task force set up for their day in the dining room and then excused himself to go shower. The hot water was rejuvenating and when he’d dressed in a set of clean clothes the nightmare had softened, the sharp edges dulling so that when Dani’s tortured face rose to his mind he was able to shrug it off and let it slide away. When he reentered the kitchen Perring was talking on her cell phone, her brow drawn and her mouth a flat line of displeasure.
“What about Link, where the hell’s he at?” She paused, listening. “Oh for God’s sake. How about Teller? The flu? Are you shitting me?” She noticed Liam standing at the edge of the kitchen and turned slightly away. “Yeah. Tell the chief I’ll figure something out. It’s only a few blocks from here. Yeah, okay.” Perring hung up the phone then drew out a fresh pack of gum, ripping two pieces open before popping them in her mouth.
“That’s like chain smoking,” Liam said, trying a smile on her. She stared out the windows for a moment before glancing at him.
“I would kick a pu
ppy right now for a cigarette.”
“Sounded like one of those calls.”
Sanders entered the room and immediately frowned seeing Perring’s face. “What is it?”
“Homicide. Four blocks north. Chief wants me to go.”
“What?” Sanders said. “Link or Teller can take care of that.”
“Link’s in Arizona on vacation, remember? And Teller’s puking his guts out at home apparently. If I fucking find out that he was golfing like last time I’m going to kick his ass.”
“There was a death only four blocks from here?” Liam asked.
“Yeah. Why?” Perring said.
“Home invasion?”
Perring chewed her gum for a moment. “Possibly.”
“I’d say that’s quite a coincidence having a death so close after Valerie’s disappearance.”
“Probably just that. Coincidence,” Sanders said before turning back to Perring. “So they want us on that now? Who’s going to run shit here?”
“We can’t both leave.” She glanced at Liam.
“I’ll go with you so Sanders can stay here,” he offered. “Until we hear anything else I won’t be of much use. Owen might not be up for a while either.”
“That’s not procedure,” Sanders said, an edge to his voice. “You’re helping us on this case, not an unrelated homicide. That wasn’t the deal.”
“He can come, Rex. He’s proven his worth so far on this one,” Perring said. Sanders began to protest but she cut across him. “Look, unless you want to go against the chief’s wishes and do the death by yourself, that’s on you.”
Sanders blinked, then sighed before waving his hand toward the front door. “Yeah, yeah, all right. I’ll keep things rolling here.”
“If Owen gets up have him finalize everything with whoever’s he’s getting the loan for the ransom from.”
“I got this, Denise,” Sanders said, turning away from them both. Perring jerked her head toward the door and Liam followed her outside, zipping his jacket as they stepped into the cool air.
“Didn’t mean to step on any toes,” he said as they climbed into Perring’s sedan.
“Bullshit. You didn’t care who you elbowed out of the way to come with,” she said, backing out of the drive.
“No really, I—”
“Look, I know the score. I read about your case last night. The woman caught in the cross fire. Tragic thing to happen to any cop, and it looks like you were a good one. But most people, something happens like that, they drop it and move on. They take up bartending or drinking or origami. Unless that itch won’t go away that makes you a cop in the first place.” She glanced at him as she sped up an incline and blew through a stop sign. “And since you’re here and not home drinking or folding paper cranes then I’m guessing you’re still itchy.”
“You don’t know me or anything about me. No matter what you read,” Liam said. His voice was flat in his ears and he kept his eyes straight ahead.
“That’s fine if you don’t want to acknowledge it. You can go home right now and go back to working on cold cases. I bet you’ve got an office full of them.”
“Let’s go see what we see.”
“Fine. But just so you know, I’m more comfortable with you being here than before I knew your background.”
“Great.”
“I thought you’d appreciate that.”
“That now you know what everyone else does? Do you think I can get away from it on a personal level? Do you think I need people bringing it up? I came here to help my friend any way I could and this is the only way I know how.”
Perring seemed undaunted. “But you’re not unhappy doing this. Police work.”
Liam closed his eyes. “Let’s just get there.”
She was quiet for a long span and then made a quick right turn. “Fine. But I need something in my stomach if we’re seeing a dead body. Can’t hack the smell along with hunger pangs.” She swung off the street into a parking lot and pulled into a drive-through coffee stand and ordered a sausage, egg, and cheese Danish. “Want anything?” she asked.
“No.”
The smell of the greasy breakfast filled the car, making his stomach growl but he ignored it. As Perring wolfed the sandwich down he took her words apart and put them back together, trying to find a flaw in them, an inaccuracy. He couldn’t.
Moments later they turned onto a side street that curved gently through a beautiful stand of trees alight with fall colors. Between their gaps large homes loomed above careful landscaping, their facades immodest with white balustrades and Greek columns. On the curve of the first corner two squad cars blocked a paved driveway and another sat before a two-stall garage. The garage was attached to a tall two-story brick house that sprawled on an acre lawn. Yellow “do not cross” tape spun in the breeze before the front door.
“What’s the deceased’s name?” Liam asked as they stepped out of the car.
“A Mr. Dade Erickson. He’s a lawyer here in town. His cleaning lady found him this morning.”
Liam turned in the drive and looked out at the view. The land dropped away in an almost dizzying slope, its side checkered with rooftops and blazing tree lines until it emptied out in the slate gray of Superior. “Hell of a view,” he said.
“He could afford it. From what I know his parents were loaded before he started one of the biggest law firms in town. They owned a private shipping line or something.”
They moved up the drive and past the running squad. A uniformed officer met them outside the front door.
“Charlie, what do we have?” Perring said.
“Body’s upstairs in the master. The place is a mess. Forensics went through the kitchen first but everything’s upstairs.”
“You don’t look so good,” Perring said.
Charlie shook his head. “Seen a few bodies but nothing like this.”
“Take five and head off any media out here, okay?”
“Yes ma’am.”
They watched the officer walk away and Perring frowned before stepping inside. Liam followed her and they both stopped in the entryway, the smell meeting them immediately.
“Shit,” Perring said.
“Smells like it,” Liam said.
To the left there was a murmur of conversation. When they entered the kitchen a woman holding a digital camera glanced in their direction before continuing to photograph the scene before them.
A slick of dried blood six inches wide ran across the wood floor amidst the bright glitter of broken glass. Several shards were black with blood and an almost perfect crimson handprint stained the side of the breakfast counter. A bloodied bath towel was curled next to a Glock lying beneath a bar stool, a plastic bag beside it.
“Damn,” Perring said. Another uniformed officer stood on the opposite side of the room, his hands on his duty belt.
“Something, isn’t it?” the officer said.
“What are we looking at here, Tony?”
“Toshi can tell you better. He’s upstairs. Just to warn you, it’s a doozie.”
Liam moved around behind the photographer and looked out to where the house joined the garage, then studied the blood trail and broken glass.
“Liam, this way,” Perring said, motioning to the right. They wound their way through a large dining room and past a living room before entering a wide hallway that opened to a set of stairs. Drops of blood smeared the tread’s centers and several specks of crushed glass were marked with small plastic evidence arrows. They moved up the stairs close to the wall, careful not to step on any of the glass or blood. At the top, the hallway opened into a large master bedroom with two curtained windows on its far side. Toshi, the lead forensic specialist, was on one side of the massive sleigh bed that took up the majority of the room. He was looking down at what was strapped to its top and it took Liam a full second to translate what he was seeing.
A man’s body was fastened to the bed with three wide nylon straps, the kind normally found securing a heavy load
on the back of a pickup. One band ran around the corpse’s legs, the next around its hips, and the last over its chest. Liam glanced at the man’s face and experienced a moment of disbelief.
His lips and the tip of his nose were gone.
The tissue had been raggedly removed, exposing very white teeth smeared with blood, the mouth open in a jaw-breaking scream. Below gaping eyes, a bit of pale cartilage poked from the leveled area where the nose had been. Liam moved around Perring who seemed to be frozen partway into the room.
“Good morning detectives, er, ah—” Toshi said, focusing on Liam.
“You can just call me Liam.”
“Sure.”
Perring entered the room, her features hardening as she neared the bed and its occupant. Liam took a closer look at the corpse and noticed several long stripes of black and purple flesh that ran the length of each arm and two parallel lines tracing down beneath the strap covering the body’s chest. The air in the room smelled like a mixture of excrement and old barbecue. The burnt odor increased the nearer he got to the bed.
“What can you tell us so far?” Liam asked.
Toshi straightened, spinning a pair of tweezers in one latex-gloved hand. “Deceased is Dade Reginald Erickson. Age thirty-five. Single, no children. His housekeeper found him this morning just like this.”
“Got an idea on cause of death yet?”
“Looks like some type of poisoning,” Toshi said, leaning in over the corpse. “There’s extensive chemical burning on the top of the tongue and rear of the throat. It looks like he was force-fed some type of acid.”
“Jesus,” Perring said.
Liam walked around the side of the bed and saw something plugged into the wall outlet near the bedside table. It was a soldering iron, tip blackened, handle coated with blood. His eyes shifted from the tool to the lines in the cold, white flesh.
