Текст книги "Fear the Dark"

Автор книги: Chris Mooney

Соавторы: Chris Mooney
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Текущая страница: 12 (всего у книги 26 страниц)

I change my mind about the grenades within five minutes of leaving my house. There are two reasons. First, a grenade is not a precise explosive. You pull the pin, throw it and hope for maximum collateral damage – and pray that you aren’t one of the casualties. But the second and more pressing reason makes me return home. The grenades I own – while military-issue and used effectively in combat situations in Third World desert countries like Iraq – were purchased through black market channels in Montana, and I don’t want to be driving across bumpy roads with them rattling underneath my car seat.

Besides, I have come up with a simpler and more effective plan: create a bomb that I can detonate remotely, using the prepaid disposable cell in my glove compartment. It would be easy to do, no more than half an hour’s work. A single stick of dynamite can not only create a bone-crushing blast radius and pressure wave, it can also turn any vehicle into a massive high-velocity fragmentation grenade. A single stick strategically placed inside the Silver Moon Inn won’t leave a sole survivor. Wait until night, when they’re all asleep.

Then my thoughts shift back to the mistake I made at the Downes house, and the ground suddenly seems unsteady beneath my feet. I feel like a nauseous drunk standing on the bow of a ship that’s cresting a wave. Sweating, I take out my cell phone.

I have only a single bar. I start to walk quickly, watching for the signal to jump. The second it does, I dial the number for the burner I gave Sarah, the one she carries with her at all times in case of an emergency, and duck into the alley between the old Army & Navy store and the building that once housed a Mexican restaurant.

Sarah answers immediately. ‘What’s wrong?’

I try to remove the fear from my voice. ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ I say. ‘I’m calling because I need you to do me a favour.’

‘Okay.’ Sarah is understandably nervous. Wary. I can count on one hand the times I’ve called her burner.

‘I want you to hide,’ I say. ‘You know where to go.’

‘Are you in trouble?’

I am, Sarah. I’m in deep trouble. I made a mistake at the Downes house, a huge, critical mistake, and I tried to fix it – I thought I’d fixed it. For the first time in my life, Sarah, I’m truly frightened.

‘Baby?’

I’m thinking about the old furniture warehouse on the other side of town, where I’ve hidden a locked briefcase packed with $30,000 in cash and two fake Wyoming state licences with matching Social Security cards and passports. The passports won’t stand up to scrutiny in this post 9/11 world, but the licences and cash will allow us to set up somewhere else – provided we can get out of town cleanly. I need to think about how to do that, and there’s too much to think about, it’s all going to come crashing down, I know it –

‘Everything’s fine,’ I lie. ‘This is just a precaution.’

‘You want me to grab the suitcases?’

Yes, I want to say. Grab the suitcases and meet me at McClaren’s Furniture, and we’ll hit the road together. We’ll have to ditch your car for another one, and then it’s going to be just as I told you, we’ll have to be real careful the first year or so because our faces and everything I did here in Red Hill will be plastered all over the internet, it’s not like it was years ago when you could just pack up and hide, no, you’re a fugitive every second of the day for the rest of your life and –

‘No,’ I say. ‘There’s no need for the suitcases. Just go and hide for me – and keep the burner with you.’

‘Are you coming home?’

‘Soon.’

‘I love you.’

I hang up, thinking about the money, how much easier and simpler my life would be if I only had to worry about myself.

36

After Darby whispered in Hoder’s ear that his phone was bugged, she asked him leave it on the table. Then she moved to the other side of the small diner, to a short hall leading to the restrooms, and waited for him to join her.

He did so a moment later. Lancaster remained at the booth, sipping coffee and staring idly out the window at Ray Williams.

‘What does shithead want?’ Darby asked, nodding at Lancaster with her chin.

‘Trying to pry information out of me. What’s going on?’

Darby gave Hoder a quick summary of her conversation with Coop and of the burner Elisa Pike had found on the front windshield of her van. Hoder kept shifting on his feet, nervous, like the floor beneath had turned to a thin sheet of ice that had cracked and split and was now possibly moments away from breaking.

‘Right now our guy’s hidden and safe and planning his next move,’ Darby said. ‘Maybe’s he’s already got another family picked out.’

‘God forbid.’

‘I think we can use his hatred of women against him, even flush him out of his hiding place.’

‘How?’

‘By focusing his rage on a particular target.’

‘You.’

‘He’s already fixated on me, Terry. I say we keep it there.’

Hoder didn’t balk, and he hadn’t shown any surprise, and right then she knew he had already mulled over the idea of how he could use her as bait.

‘What do you have in mind?’ he asked.

Darby told him her plan. Hoder asked a few questions, and they went back and forth for a couple of minutes, hashing out minor details.

‘Let me see what I can do,’ he said.

Darby agreed to meet him at the station later that evening. Then she left the diner with her box of food and climbed back inside Williams’s waiting cruiser, feeling exhausted and pissed off, her stomach grumbling with hunger. As an added bonus, she had a migraine-level headache.

Her iPhone and Williams’s flip cell were still in the trunk; it was safe to talk. In a voice that seemed other than her own, Darby gave him the same rundown that she had just given Hoder. She didn’t have to tell him about the software installed on the iPad in the Downes bedroom; Police Chief Robinson had already done that.

Williams got on the radio and sent out word about how the malware-infected pictures turned everyone’s cell phone into a walking microphone and GPS device, and that the only way to shut it down was to disconnect the battery from the phone. For those people who, like Darby, owned an iPhone, there was no way to disconnect the battery. They were told to isolate their phones someplace safe, preferably at home. Chief Robinson was going to follow up with a departmental email.

Then Darby summarized her conversations with Laurie Richards and Teddy Lancaster. She left out the part where Lancaster had also accused Williams of taking pictures inside the Connelly home – not because she didn’t want to broach the topic but because they had arrived at the Silver Moon Inn so that she could pick up her kit.

While inside the hotel, they ran into Laurie Richards, who, without much pressing, willingly admitted to allowing Elisa Pike to use a hotel room for the occasional shower, provided the woman coughed up the necessary five bucks.

Pike wasn’t the only one. Richards also admitted to accommodating a certain number of discreet Red Hill townsfolk who had fallen on hard times. Showers were five dollars per family member, rooms twenty bucks a night, everything paid in cash, no food stamps accepted. Charlie Baker, the man who owned the hotel, knew nothing about any of this. The thought that he might find out reduced the woman to soul-tearing wails.

‘Now I know why she was acting like someone with a hot coal pinched between her cheeks,’ Darby said from the passenger’s seat. She had her window half open and was balancing the Styrofoam box of food on her knees. ‘She’s terrified Baker’s going to find out about her little sideline.’

‘I’m sure as hell not going to tell him.’

They were driving on yet another long and seemingly endless road bordered by trees on both sides. Apart from the clean, fresh air, she couldn’t fathom why anyone would willingly submit to living in such a barren and lonely place. As she ate, shovelling food into her mouth as though the container might be ripped from her hands at any moment, she kept glancing in the side-view mirror to see if they were being followed.

‘Lancaster probably won’t tell him either,’ Williams said.

‘Why’s that?’

‘Because Laurie’s more valuable to him under his thumb. He’ll use her to keep an eye on you guys. She’ll do it too. What you told me about how Laurie bounced to attention when he came by? It’s because she knows Lancaster’s a power player in this whole incorporation thing. If she plays her cards right, he might throw a job her way, one with benefits. God knows she needs it.’

‘You know her? Laurie?’

‘Not personally. Her husband died in his sleep, and I had to go over and investigate, you know, rule out foul play.’

Williams had one hand draped over the steering wheel and was staring out the window, clearly distracted. Darby was sure he was processing the boatload of information she had just given him; she was having a hard time processing it herself. Her thoughts felt scattered, like a glass vase that had fallen and exploded into a hundred shards.

‘I don’t even know where to start,’ he said.

Darby swallowed her food. ‘Maybe that’s the point.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Chances are he was watching us yesterday inside the bedroom,’ she said. ‘He knows I found the area he cleaned up. Maybe he’s scared we found something. Or maybe he’s scared we’re going to find something.’

Williams shifted uneasily in his chair.

‘What, you disagree?’

‘No,’ he said. ‘Not at all.’

‘So what does our guy do? He decides to crawl out from whatever rock he’s been hiding under all this time and makes contact with me. Threatens me. But he knows I’m not going to blow Dodge because of a single phone call. So what does he do next?’

‘He sends out those pictures of you and your … lady parts.’

Darby spoke with her mouth half full. ‘Lady parts? What’re you, a nun?’

Williams chuckled. ‘I was trying to be respectful,’ he said, and glanced at her. ‘You know, there’s a stable right up the road. I can stop by and get you a feedbag.’

‘Sorry, I’m starving.’

‘Really? I hadn’t noticed.’

Darby chewed, glad that Williams was joking around with her. She didn’t want him feeling stiff and embarrassed over what had happened with the pictures.

Then, as if reading her mind, he said, ‘This morning, everyone getting those photos –’

‘It’s over with. Done.’

‘You always this cut and dry?’

‘Once a psycho tries to split your head open like a cantaloup,’ Darby said, forking a piece of steak, ‘it puts everything else into perspective.’

When he didn’t ask any questions, Darby knew he had Googled her and read all the articles about what she’d seen and endured inside Traveler’s basement of horrors.

‘I admired the way you handled it. And I’m sorry you had to go through that.’

‘Thanks. Now back to our guy,’ Darby said. ‘He sends out these full-frontal shots showing my lady parts, as you described them, to everyone in Red Hill PD. On the surface it looks like he’s trying to embarrass and frighten me. He hates women; it’s a part of his MO. Maybe a part of him is hoping I’ll pack my bags and leave. At the very least, he knows that sending out those pictures will throw me off my game, direct my attention elsewhere.

‘But our guy’s devised a more insidious plan. He places malware into the pictures and turns our phones into walking listening devices and GPS trackers. It’s brilliant when you actually stop to think about it.’

‘You admire this guy?’

‘You don’t?’

Williams glanced over to see if she was joking. She wasn’t.

‘The Red Hill Ripper isn’t your average garden-variety sadist,’ Darby said, and dug her fork back inside the container. ‘He’s completely unique, and extremely intelligent. And cunning. Don’t ever forget that part. The pictures he sent of me, leaving that burner on Pike’s van window – he’s creating these multiple distractions to keep our focus away from what happened inside the Downes home, from whatever mistake he made there. And he’s doing a great job of it. He’s pulling the strings and making us dance. He’s got us all involved in the world’s biggest circle jerk.’

‘Circle jerk,’ Williams repeated flatly.

‘They taught us to speak that way at Harvard. Part of the curriculum.’

Williams cracked a smile and then it suddenly died on his lips. He had withdrawn his attention again.

He inhaled deeply and visibly stiffened.

‘There’s something I need to tell you,’ he said.

37

Darby speared the last piece of steak on her fork, wondering if Ray Williams was going to tell her about the pictures he’d been accused of taking inside the Connelly house.

‘Teddy and his people are going to be a permanent fixture in our lives from now on,’ Williams said.

‘I kind of got that impression when Lancaster asked Laurie Richards to book him a few rooms. What’s going on?’

Williams scratched the corner of his mouth. The air blowing inside the cruiser was cool and smelled of pine and wood smoke from a nearby fire.

‘Robinson tell you that those pictures of you were also sent to four uniforms who were out on patrol this morning?’

Darby nodded. ‘He said you went out to meet them, to make sure they deleted the photos from their phones,’ she said. ‘Thank you for that, by the way.’

‘You’re welcome. One of the guys I met after the debrief, Ricky Samuels, told me he saw a Brewster crime scene van parked in the driveway of the Downes house at about nine or so. I drove over to the house but the van wasn’t there. No one was.

‘I went back to the station and told the chief. Robinson got on the horn and called the Brewster sheriff, guy by the name of Patterson. He told Robinson he thought it might be a good idea to have a second set of eyes go through the house. Form a joint task force that will take a good, hard look at –’

‘The feds are already handling the evidence,’ Darby said.

‘Robinson mentioned that.’

‘Their Denver office is sending back the two agents with forensics experience, along with the mobile lab.’

‘This isn’t Boston. Here, the sheriff’s office has more power than a local police precinct.’

‘You telling me this bozo sheriff believes he’s got people who are better equipped and more experienced than those employed at the federal lab?’

‘I’m saying there’s a movement afoot to hand over the reins of the Red Hill Ripper investigation to Teddy after what happened last night at the Downes house.’

‘That bullshit story about the patrolman, what’s-his-name, Nelson, taking pictures inside the house?’

Williams sighed, like he was about to relieve himself of a great burden.

‘There might be some truth to it,’ he said.

Darby tossed her fork inside the container, closed the lid and gave him her full attention.

‘The previous victims, the Connelly family,’ Williams said. ‘The state handled the crime scene like all the others. Only the photographer they had on call that night, a guy who has since been fired – he was doing a rather shoddy job, in my opinion. I think he might’ve been shitfaced – the guy reeked of booze. It was out of my control, but that didn’t mean I had to take a back seat and let him do a shit job either. So I decided to take my own pictures. Only I made a mistake.’

Then his face contorted in shame and embarrassment. ‘It was late and I was exhausted. Instead of heading back to the station and getting the digital camera, or going out and buying a disposable one, I used my cell phone.’ He gripped the steering wheel so hard his knuckles looked like white moons. ‘Some of the pictures I took? They wound up on Crime & Punishment. It’s a website and –’

‘I know what it is,’ Darby said. ‘How does this connect back to Nelson?’

‘He was the first responding officer at the crime scene, and he saw me using my cell to take pictures. The following morning, I’d gone off to a budget meeting. I left my cell on my desk, maybe in my coat pocket. I can’t remember. But I knew I had it when I went into the office that morning.

‘When I came back from the meeting, I couldn’t find my phone. A couple of people said they saw Nelson in my office right after I’d left. He didn’t deny it – he’d gone in there to drop off a report – but he said he didn’t know anything about my cell. The pictures were on the website the next day. Guess who got caught holding the shit-end of the stick?’

‘You have any proof he took your phone?’ Darby asked.

‘Who else could it have been? He was the only one who knew I’d taken those pictures on my cell, and I sure as hell didn’t do it.’

‘Okay.’

‘IAD cleared me. I agreed to take a poly. Passed it with flying colours.’

Darby was surprised a station as small as Red Hill had their own Internal Affairs Department. ‘And Nelson?’

‘He refused.’ Williams smiled in sour triumph. ‘The reporter who posted the pictures wouldn’t give up his source, naturally, and when IAD couldn’t link the pictures back to either of us, the case hit a dead end. Nelson and I both got a five-day suspension without pay and a letter of reprimand in our jackets.’

Darby stared out the window, the hum of the car tyres against the road and the wind blasting through her window vibrating against her ears. The sky was blue and cloudless, the air comfortably cool, like early autumn; it was hard to believe that a major snowstorm would roll in later today. She wondered what progress Hoder was making on their plan.

‘I’m telling you the truth,’ Williams said.

Darby heard a lot of heat in his voice. She rolled her head to him and saw his anger rising and falling, searching for an appropriate target.

‘I believe you,’ she said.

‘Really? ’Cause your expression says otherwise.’

‘If you’re looking for absolution for something, Ray, I’m not wearing the right collar.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Find someone else to be your whipping post.’

Williams’s face burned, the skin as thin as paper, as if he’d been slapped. Then he sighed deeply, and the heat left his face and eyes.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. ‘I don’t mean to take this out on you. When the subject of Teddy comes up, when he comes around here … Red Hill’s too small to have its own IAD, so any conduct and personnel problems get kicked to Brewster. Teddy personally spearheaded my investigation. He acted like a kid who had just got his favourite toy for Christmas. When I passed the poly, the son of a bitch wouldn’t let it go. He got off on ramming a two-by-four up my ass on a daily basis. The guy missed his calling as a plantation overseer.’

‘Forget Lancaster,’ Darby said. ‘Don’t let him bait you, he’s not worth it.’

Little did she know she was about to eat her own words.

38

The Brewster County Coroner’s Office serviced Red Hill and three other surrounding towns. Built during the Hoover administration, the old building contained a single autopsy suite that was nearly identical to just about every one Darby had visited over the course of her career: brick-red tile floors and grim white-painted walls; damp rubber mats arranged around an elevated steel surgical table, stainless-steel everywhere.

At 400 square feet, the autopsy room felt too small to accommodate her, Ray Williams and the coroner, Dr Felicia Gonzalez, a tiny woman with black hair and small, almost childlike fingers. She was slipping into a pair of fresh scrubs when they entered.

‘Where should I set up?’ Darby asked after the introductions were over.

Gonzalez opened her mouth to speak but no sound came out. She eyed Darby’s rolling forensics kit, then looked at Williams like he was a Martian who had suddenly materialized out of thin air.

‘We’re here for the Downes autopsies,’ he said.

‘We did those first thing this morning,’ Gonzalez replied.

Darby felt the air rush out of her lungs. The room went out of focus for a moment and the only sounds she heard were the insect-like hum of the fluorescent tube lights and water dripping from a nearby faucet.

‘Harry came to see me personally,’ Gonzalez said, perplexed. ‘He moved the whole schedule around for you, Ray.’

‘For me?’ Williams blinked like a bright light had suddenly and without warning exploded in his face.

‘Didn’t he tell you?’

Williams spoke slowly, as if each word were a red-hot coal he had to pick up with his bare hands. ‘If he had told me, Felicia, do you think I’d be standing here right now with my dick in my hand?’

The woman stiffened at the word ‘dick’, hit with a sudden prudish streak. ‘You don’t have to use that type of lang–’

‘Who collected the evidence?’

‘Who do you think? Brewster forensics, the same people who did the other victims.’

Williams scratched the corner of his eye, his face crimson. He kept swallowing, his jaw muscles bunching like walnuts.

Gonzalez waved her hands in defiant surrender. ‘Don’t take this out on me, Ray. You have an issue with Harry, take it up with him.’

‘I plan on it.’

Then Williams pushed open the swinging door and bolted into the hallway.

Darby stared at the autopsy table and thought about the nameless and faceless forensics people from Brewster who had collected the victims’ clothing and examined their bodies prior to the autopsy. She had no idea of their collective experience, or their level of commitment, or the type of equipment and chemicals they had used. And she had been denied the chance to look over everything herself; all she could think about was the possibility of some missed or overlooked piece of evidence, some key piece that had been washed down the drain at the base of the stainless-steel table.

Gonzalez got busy, dressing. When she spoke, her voice suddenly seemed loud in the cold room. ‘I thought he’d been told. Ray.’

‘Who’s Harry?’

‘The chief medical examiner, Harry Stein. The man responsible for this lovely establishment.’ Then: ‘I’m sorry your time was wasted.’

A rumbling, grinding sound filled the room. Then it stopped and the door to an outdated freight elevator opened, revealing a morgue attendant and a rolling cart with a body bag on top. They were barely able to fit inside the tight space.

‘Where are the bodies now?’ Darby asked.

‘Dunnigan & Sweet Funeral Home in Red Hill,’ Gonzalez replied.

‘I’d like to read your report and see the pictures.’

‘I’ll let Ray know when I’ve finished my report.’

‘And when do you think that might be?’

Gonzalez made no effort to hide her displeasure. ‘When I get a moment to breathe,’ she said curtly. ‘We’re backed up, in case you haven’t noticed. Now, if you’ll excuse me.’

The door swung open and Theodore Lancaster stepped into the room.

‘Sorry I’m late,’ he said, and moved to the corner of the room where the disposable scrubs, masks and gloves were kept. ‘Who do we have up first?’

‘The Downes autopsies were done this morning,’ Darby said. ‘But you already knew that, didn’t you?’

Lancaster put on a decent show of appearing shocked. But he couldn’t hide the confidence and self-satisfaction exuding from his pores and posture.

‘This is the first time I’m hearing about it, swear to God.’ He looked at the body being lifted on to the table, an older woman with saggy breasts and thick hips and legs dimpled with cellulite, and Darby heard a ripping sound in her head, like cloth tearing, and in her mind’s eye she pictured a sutured wound, the incision disturbed and bleeding, infected.

He isn’t worth it, Darby thought.

Lancaster turned to her and said, ‘You mean to tell me I drove all the way here for nothing?’

Darby moved to her rolling kit. As she leaned forward to grab the handle, she saw Lancaster’s reflection in the glass cabinet directly in front of her. He stood a couple of feet away, looking at her backside and her legs, comparing what he saw now to the photographs of her stored in his mind. His mouth parted slightly and his eyes lit up with pleasure as his imagination conjured up all sorts of lascivious images.

Then he blinked and pushed them back into hiding. He stepped behind her and put a hand on her shoulder when she straightened. He moved his head closer to hers, and she heard a wet click in his throat.

‘Those hotel shots of you,’ he whispered against her ear, his breath hot and rank with cigarettes and coffee. ‘Body like yours, you’ve got nothing to be ashamed of. You shouldn’t let it go to waste either.’

Lancaster winked at her. When he wet his lips, Darby spun around and raked him with her elbow so hard blood and spittle flew from his mouth and stained the wall and shelves holding the morgue clothing. He staggered against the autopsy table and gripped its edge with both hands to keep from falling. She drove a fist into his kidney, and his back arched like he’d been jolted with electricity, and when he turned she jabbed him with her left and broke his nose, and then she followed it with a right cross that slammed into his left eye and knocked him against the naked corpse lying on the stainless-steel table.

‘Stop,’ Dr Gonzalez shrieked. The male morgue attendant stood frozen, his face white with shock. ‘Stop it right now!’

Darby hit Lancaster again, a solid blow to the kidneys. A girlish scream roared past his lips, and as she cocked back her fist to hit him again the male morgue attendant grabbed her in a bear hug. She didn’t try to break free, and she didn’t fight him when he started dragging her towards the door.

Lancaster gripped the edge of the autopsy table and staggered to his feet. Blood as bright as paint had pooled on the floor. As she was ushered into the hallway, Darby saw Lancaster turn to her, blood roaring from his broken nose, and just before the door shut he smiled, his teeth pink and his eyes burning with pleasure and satisfaction.