by Joe Hart
Down.
Down.
Down.
Dizziness buzzed in the top of his skull and he tried to control his breathing as he came closer and closer to the bottom, throwing looks over the railings whenever he came to a vantage that gave him a view of where the killer had dropped. When he was thirty feet above the street, the rough howl of a small engine met his ears and he stopped, peering over the platform.
A compact dirt bike shot out from a small side street beside the bridge, the man garbed in black astride it. He swung a right and raced away toward the far end of the island. Liam cursed again and rushed down the last flights as a sickening realization hit him like a hammer to the stomach.
There was an airport at the end of the point.
He was going to fly away.
Liam leapt down the last flight of stairs and hopped the guardrail beside the street. The long road stretched away from him, the fading form on the bike growing smaller and smaller with each second. The neighborhood was quiet, sidewalks empty. Nothing moved. Liam glanced to his left, seeing that only one vehicle had gotten “bridged,” as Perring had put it, when the lift went up. It was a small truck, possibly a Ford Courier, with fender wells rusted so high he could see the engine behind the front wheels. A teenager with rampant acne stared out at him, first at his face, then at the gun in his hand. Liam ran to the driver’s door and yanked it open.
“D-d-don’t kill me!” the kid said, hands up and eyes bulging behind a pair of wire-rimmed glasses.
“Get out,” Liam said. The kid slowly unbuckled himself as if at any moment Liam would change his mind and put a bullet through him right there in the middle of the street.
Liam leapt into the driver’s seat, dropping his gun in his lap, and threw the truck into reverse. He made a quick turn and hammered the rattling truck into first gear, rear wheels screaming beneath the rotted bed. The window was a crank and after two revolutions the glass lodged and wouldn’t go down any farther. With a yell of frustration, Liam jammed his elbow into the gap and shoved as hard as he could. Something clunked inside the door and the window dropped out of sight. In the distance he heard the teenager screech a curse.
The bike was already out of sight around the first bend in the road, but Liam poured on the speed, shoving the gas pedal to the floor each time he switched gears. Houses flew by, parked cars tight to the curbs became blurs of color. He glanced down at the speedometer but wasn’t surprised that it was broken, the needle pinned at zero.
“Couldn’t have been a beamer,” he muttered, slamming the shifter into the highest gear. The engine rose to a vibrating scream beneath the hood and steam began to pour from beneath the wheel wells. He took a sharp bend hard, rubber shrieking against blacktop. Ahead the dirt bike came into view, rounding a corner and out of sight again. Liam gripped the Sig in his left hand and punched the clutch, tagging the brake with his other foot as he skidded around the bend. When the bike came into sight again it was much closer, and the killer threw a look over one shoulder as Liam brought the gun out the window and pulled the trigger.
The shot was deafening and the bike wobbled. The figure hunched lower, pouring on speed again as he leaned into a curve.
Ahead the land widened, the trees expertly placed in yards and surrounding properties vanishing. Superior became visible on either side, large swaths of sand running from its edge up to the street and a parking lot set before a chain-link fence. Sodium arc lights were lit high above several low buildings behind a gate that was open a few feet. Beyond, the outlines of planes stood dormant and dark, like scattered and forgotten playthings of some giant child. The single brake light on the bike flared for an instant then went dark as the killer raced forward through the narrow opening in the gate.
“Ah shit,” Liam said resignedly as he punched the gas and braced himself.
The Ford slammed into the gate.
Metal shrieked and glass peppered his face and arms as he closed his eyes. When he opened them, the truck had whipped sideways, the gate conformed to the front end as if it had been welded there. He jammed the brake pedal down and the vehicle shuddered to a stop, inches before the sidewall of the closest building. Liam shook himself, sending glass cascading to the floor from the shattered windshield, and wrenched his door open.
The tarmac was cool and wet with patches of oil between cracks in the concrete teeming with quack grass. He stepped behind the truck’s bed in time to see the bike and its rider coast around the side of a large hangar and out of sight.
Liam rounded the quiet vehicle and ran as fast as he could past the building on his left, the windows lit but without movement behind them. He swung left into a broad alley between what appeared to be a maintenance building and a tall hangar. Besides the sound of his breathing and footsteps, there was only silence. A wind sock snapped atop a pole as he came even with the end of the hangar and he drew a bead on it out of instinct before running on. The sound of sirens still keened behind him, but much fainter now so far away from the bridge. He sprinted down another narrow passage between two lower hangars and paused at the end. Trying to quiet his breathing and hammering heart, he leaned out, one eye peeking from behind the hangar’s corner.
The dirt bike lay on its side a dozen yards away before a small, streamlined single-engine plane. The aircraft’s closest door was open and the gunman hung half-in, half-out of the fuselage. He turned suddenly back toward the path he had taken around the largest hangar, seemed to listen for a beat, but there was no sound beside the wind caressing the beach beyond the airport fences. The gunman focused again on his task.
Liam stepped out from behind the hangar and made his way silently across the space separating them.
Forty feet.
Thirty.
Twenty.
He stopped, raising his pistol, and the killer stiffened, straightening in the doorway.
“Why’d you do it, Valerie? Why’d you kill Owen?” Liam said.
The figure turned slowly, head cocked to one side, and took a step forward away from the shadow thrown by the plane’s wing. One gloved hand reached up and shoved the mask away, revealing the angular lines and blond hair framing Valerie Farrow’s somber face.
“I thought my warning would mean something to you, Liam, being that I was threatening the life of your friend’s wife.”
“It did mean something. It meant I was getting closer to the truth.”
“You don’t have even the slightest perception of the truth. When did you realize it was me?”
“The moment Owen took Davis’s hood off on the bridge.”
“Then the guise worked pretty well, even against you,” Valerie said, unzipping the coat she wore. Liam aimed down the barrel of his pistol and took a step forward, but she merely let the coat fall to the ground with a heavy clunk. She stood tall and straight, wearing only a dark, long-sleeved T-shirt above the bulk of her armored pants. “You gave me quite a few bruises the other day at Rowe’s house. Even with the armor, bullets still hurt. But that’s true of everything, isn’t it? No matter how well we guard ourselves, something always manages to get through and cause damage.”
“You need to put down any weapons you still have and come with me, Valerie.”
“Do you think after all I’ve been through that I’m going to go quietly back and be judged by the same people who overlooked what happened to my sister? Do you really believe that?”
“But you’ve already taken justice into your own hands, haven’t you? You killed them all. Davis murdered Alexandra and Erickson and Rowe must’ve been involved somehow, right?”
At the mention of her sister’s name, Valerie’s austere facade wobbled slightly in the low light like a fragile wall in the path of a hurricane.
“It was the bracelet, wasn’t it?” Liam continued, lowering the gun a few inches. “That’s why you were in the jewelry shop nearly every day. You were looking for it.”
“They took it from her that night,” Valerie said in a dead voice. “Davis to be
exact. He was a klepto even then. Power and money, that’s what it was always about with those three. Barely out of high school, they always wanted more.” She gazed at him and now a sheen of tears coated her eyes. “Davis came up with the plan since he had contacts that were drug suppliers. He and Rowe were poor but they knew the right people, all they needed was a solid way to transport whatever their suppliers were moving that week.”
“So that’s where Erickson came in. His parents owned the shipping line,” Liam said.
Valerie nodded. “He provided the space, unbeknownst to his parents, on whichever ship was traveling to the East Coast. He also invested in the product and made a nice amount with each shipment.”
“Was Alexandra using? Is that how she got involved?”
“No. It was love that killed Alex in the end. And that’s the saddest thing about this all.”
“What do you mean?”
“Alex was madly in love with Dickson Jenner, and when he wanted to hold off on marriage until they were older, she got impatient.” Valerie looked over Liam’s shoulder and her gaze grew distant. “She was always like that. She’d want to do something, and even if it required years of practice and skill, she’d insist on doing it herself, her own way. She’d rush in without considering all the consequences.” Her eyes slid to him again. “And that’s what happened the night she died.”
“‘I have to do something to get rid of this feeling,’” Liam quoted, and Valerie looked as if she’d been struck. “What did she do, Valerie?”
“She called Dade Erickson since he was the richest and most arrogant person she knew, the complete opposite of Dickson. She asked for a favor, to go on a date somewhere public where people would see them together and Dickson would catch wind of it. She thought that by making him jealous it would force him into proposing. Alex and Erickson were supposed to meet up at a party but he never showed. Alex left, but on the way home she spotted Erickson’s car near the docks. She walked right into the middle of a drug deal.” Valerie’s face darkened, the line of her mouth flattening to a razor blade. “They grabbed her and the suppliers they were dealing with threatened to kill them all if they didn’t take care of her.”
“So Davis had the key to the church.”
“Yes.”
“And they took her up to the tower and threw her over the side.”
“Like she was a piece of trash,” Valerie spat. “But they had help that night too. There was one more person with them who wanted in on the fast cash they were making with the shipments. Someone who already had money like Erickson but wanted more.”
Liam felt his gorge rise as tumblers began to fall into place within his mind. The hand holding the gun trembled.
“His name,” Valerie said in almost a whisper, “was Owen Farrow.”
Liam shook his head. “No. That can’t be true. Owen was a good man.”
“He was a liar and a murderer!” Valerie screamed. “He lived in that house with me every day, knowing that he was the cause of what was eating me alive!” She shuddered with rage and grief. It poured off of her like heat that Liam could feel from where he stood. “They all told me he was there that night. All of them confirmed it when I made them talk and tell me what they did to her. Owen was beside them when they hurt her, brought her to the church in the trunk of Erickson’s car, when they killed her . . .” Valerie’s voice cracked on the last word. “He walked away and then found me months later and moved in like the predator he was.”
The tarmac seemed to be rotating beneath Liam’s feet. He clenched his jaw, forcing the world to stay steady around him. “How did you do it? How were you able to leave the house?”
“About two years ago I had a breakthrough of sorts. It wasn’t so much the therapy as it was a realization. I knew deep down that Alex would never kill herself. But even knowing that, knowing that her killer was still out there, didn’t break me from my prison, it only walled it in closer. You have no idea what I went through in that house, alone most days just trying to get by. It crippled me to the point of no return.”
“You tried to kill yourself.”
She nodded. “I thought it was the only way out. But as I was lying there, waiting to slip into the nothingness, I saw her, I saw Alex.” Valerie swallowed. “She was older, and beautiful, and so happy. She was . . .” Her voice failed her again and she blinked. “She was holding a baby. And I knew then that I was seeing what could have been. I was seeing the life that was taken from her.” Valerie composed herself. “When I recovered I started forcing myself to go outside, no matter how afraid I was. I would go a dozen steps from the front door one day, and thirteen the next. I did it until I was able to get in the car and go to the gas station. For some reason it seemed important not to let Owen know I was leaving. Looking back, I think it was fate. The one thing that kept driving me was the only option I had that the police hadn’t fully investigated.”
“Her bracelet,” Liam said. “It had the scratch on it from when she fell as a little girl.”
“Yes. When they found her in front of the church, it wasn’t around her wrist. I knew it was the longest shot in the world, but it was all I had. I monitored every online jewelry auction I could find, and after I was able to leave the house, I visited every pawn and jewelry store within fifty miles almost every day of the week. I knew that the bracelet might’ve been lost in the struggle or maybe whoever had taken it already pawned it. I knew there was next to no chance, but without the hope of finding it, the walls would have closed in for good. As I searched, I started tutoring myself in the skills I would need to do what would have to be done, if I ever found the bracelet. I started learning how to shoot a gun at a gravel pit outside of town. I worked out, kept in the best shape that I could. I took private flying lessons from the elderly man who owned this plane behind me. When I got my license I bought it from him. I started funneling money aside to pay for all of the things that would be an eventuality.
“I found the bracelet in a nasty little pawn store on the west side of town about three weeks ago. The owner didn’t want to tell me who had brought it in, but when I bribed him he sang like a bird. It was Davis of course. He wasn’t smart like Rowe who invested the cash they made from the shipments. Davis was on hard times, addicted to meth and a number of other things. He must’ve been desperate to sell the bracelet. I think he genuinely valued it as a trophy, a keepsake from that night. Bastard.”
“So you set up the meeting with him on the pretense of buying drugs. And you kidnapped him, didn’t you?”
Valerie nodded. Somewhere to the west the first beat of a helicopter’s rotors rose like distant thunder. “First I staged my own abduction. At that point I was simply going to kill Davis, but of course what he told me when I had him strapped down to a table changed all that. I wasn’t looking for one person; I was looking for four.” Her face changed, the angles becoming sharper, crueler. “I made them suffer. All of them. I let them feel a little of what I’d gone through over the years. The burning inside, the feeling of drowning in open air, the insanity that constantly lurked at the edge of my mind. Oh, I made them understand. My only regret is not being able to do the same to Owen. I hope he knew it was me right before that bullet went through his rotten brain.”
“So you set up the ransom in order to start over once you were finished.”
Valerie nodded. “I knew I’d never be able to come back to my old life. Through my work I knew how to edit a video and manipulate it to look as if someone were holding me. That was the simple part. It was only after the first hour of working on Davis with a propane torch that I knew I didn’t ever want to return to who I was. Through their agony, I was reborn. I’m not the woman who hid for nearly a decade inside her own fear anymore.”
“I can see that.” Liam glanced to the side, trying to spot any approaching boats or the helicopter that was coming closer with each second. “Dickson Jenner is dead, along with his mother. Did you know that?”
The briefest flicker of regret crosse
d her face. “Yes. I’m sorry that they’re gone, but it’s not my fault.”
“You put this all in motion. You could have gone to the police with the bracelet, had them handle it.”
Valerie laughed and it was a cold sound in the evening air. “I saw how they handled Alex’s case the first time. I told them her bracelet was missing, but they did nothing to find it. My father believed me, but even as powerful as he was, there was nothing to be done. No, they had their chance. I wasn’t going to let them interfere in the justice Alex deserved.”
“But you were willing to go beyond that, weren’t you?” Liam said, raising the gun again. “You nearly killed me twice because I was in the way.”
“Twice?” Valerie asked.
“You almost shot me at Rowe’s on the shore and you tried to run me down with my own truck at your father’s last night.”
“I was defending myself at Rowe’s, but I wasn’t at my father’s last night.”
“You’re lying. I saw you. You followed me into the woods. You were going to kill me for finding your diary.”
Liam studied the confusion that crossed her features, trying to identify a flaw in her act. There didn’t seem to be one.
“I have no reason to lie to you now, Liam. I did shoot at you at Rowe’s, but I swear to God I wasn’t at my father’s house last night.”
Above the trees in the direction of the city, a helicopter appeared. It hovered over the bridge as sirens grew louder and louder, their cries mingling like the voices of wolves.
“You need to let me go. I don’t know you well but you seem to be a good man.”
“That’s why I can’t let you leave.”
“Let me ask you this, and answer truly from the depths of your soul: if it had been someone you loved thrown from that bell tower, what would you have done?”
Liam blinked. The black rage that had reared its head over the last days rose again within him at the thought. He saw the man in the park that had groped Dani, the smile on his face as she hurried away from him.
