Beneath the Cracks

by LS Sygnet

  Crevan conveniently showed up after the fireworks ended. He gripped my arm and steered me way from his partner and our boss. "We need to talk."

  "Where the hell were you? We could've used your help in there with Darnell, Crevan."

  "A thing with Belle. Tony must've forgotten that we were meeting with the mediator this morning. Johnny called."

  I rolled my eyes. "Whatever he's doing is none of my business, Crevan. Our short lived truce is over, and I don't want to talk about him again."

  "He wouldn't tell me where he was going, Helen."

  "So?"

  "Aren't you worried that he's doing something about Datello?"

  "Unlike Johnny, I have faith in his ability to take care of himself without my interference. I can't worry about anything right now beyond catching Denton in the act of hiring more homeless men. You really missed a lot of ground in the debriefing with Darnell this morning."

  "You guys can fill me in."

  I gripped his arm. "Hey."

  "What," muttered.

  "How did mediation go?"

  "She laid out her terms."

  "And?"

  Crevan shrugged.

  "What's she holding over you, Crevan? Don't tell me that a quick divorce is more important to you than anything else. I can see the misery written all over your face. Tony said she was the one who filed anyway, so why would a quick divorce be your idea?"

  "Why don't you keep your powers of perception pointed at the case," he snapped. "If your personal life is off limits, so is mine."

  "I didn't mean it that way, Crevan. I like you, all right? Maybe I don't enjoy seeing you mope around like the world could end in the next five minutes."

  He recoiled from my light touch to the arm. "Like me…as in the way you liked Johnny until last night?"

  I laughed. "Don't look so panic stricken, Crevan. I wasn't hitting on you."

  "Are you sure?"

  The level of revulsion in his eyes…there's rejection and then there's flat out disgust. I've had my share of the former, but this? "Oh my God. That's it, isn't it? That's what she's holding over your head." My fingers pinched into a surprisingly thick bicep underneath a suit that evidently hid exactly how much time Crevan spent at the gym. I dragged him out of the squad room.

  "Tell me," I said.

  "Tell you what? There's nothing to tell. Sometimes marriages end."

  "Yeah. Like I don't already know that. Mine ended after my ex-husband was arrested for laundering money for the mob." What possessed me to admit that little nugget went beyond reason. "Do you think that's something I'm eager for the world to know? Crack profiler spent so little time with her spouse that she had no idea that a pretty big organized crime boss was using her husband to cleanse his ill-gotten gains."

  "Helen! Does Johnny know that?"

  "That and a bunch of other stuff I should've never divulged." I nudged his ribs with my elbow. "How long has she been threatening to open the closet door."

  "What?"

  "Oh, c'mon Crevan. I'm stunned that I didn't realize it before this morning. I realize I'm not every man's cuppa, but you were the first one who looked like he might hurl at the thought of having sex with me. How long has she known you're gay?"

  "I'm not," he rasped.

  I could smell his abject terror, the deep seeded panic that someone else might know something he wanted hidden. Oddly, it was too familiar to me. My heart swelled with what I assumed must be pity. "Oh, Crevan."

  "Don't do that."

  "Honey, there's nothing wrong with it. You do realize that science has proven it's biological. You were born that way, and no amount of trying will change what you find attractive."

  "I'm warning you, Helen, if you don't shut up –"

  "I won't say anything to anybody, but Tony's right. This is blackmail. You can't let her get away with it, Crevan." Inspiration struck. "We could have some very high profile social contact off the job. Let her tell her lies when all of Darkwater Bay sees us dancing the night away and sharing romantic dinners for two."

  He took a quick step away from me. "Number one reason that comes to mind is that Johnny would kill me."

  "Pfft. Ancient history," I waved it aside. "After the caveman repertoire last night, I realized what a mistake he was."

  "Helen, you don't mean that."

  "Sure I do. He caught me at a weak moment. Simple as that. Alpha male is so not my type. So what do you say?"

  "I say I'm not the only person around here afflicted with a deep case of denial. Shouldn't we be doing something to close this case?" His bizarre resistance to the idea of even fake dating only cemented my theory.

  "Yeah," I said. "Let's get you to the current chapter and verse."

  Chapter 23

  By mid-afternoon Friday, Denton hadn't shown up at any shelter in the Darkwater Bay metro area, and I was starting to panic.

  Shelly came out of her office when the first puffs of fog started forming outside the second floor windows at Downey Division. She was wearing her coat, the dark al-amira covering her ebony hair. "I'm heading out, troops. Try to keep things down to a dull roar until sunset tomorrow night, please."

  Ah, Sabbath. How criminals must wish all cops were devout like Lieutenant Finkelstein. I gave her a sober salute and drummed my fingers on the top of the desk.

  "Think we should go relieve the team watching the Sixth Avenue Shelter yet?"

  "For the hundredth time, we're goin' at five," Tony said. "Why don't you lay off the caffeine, Eriksson? It's already after four."

  "My point exactly. Why can't we cut them some slack and let them off a little early?"

  "You're just worried that he'll show up before we get there," Briscoe chuckled. "Settle down already. The team watchin' his lab says he ain't even left the farm yet."

  Crevan's cell phone rang. He glanced at the screen and disappeared.

  "That was either Belle's mediator or Johnny," I drummed my fingers some more. "You realize that, don't you?"

  "That he's been checkin' in with Crevan since he jetted outta town? Yeah, that much has been obvious. The real question is whether or not you've checked your voice mail."

  I hadn't. In fact, it wasn't even in the top twenty on the to-do list. The volume had been switched to vibrate, so I knew exactly the last time Orion tried to call me. The phone had been unusually motion free since early Thursday morning.

  Talking about it must've elicited the tickle in my pocket. I pulled it out for a discreet peek and frowned. Area code 202. I slid my finger across the glass screen and pressed the phone to my ear. "David?"

  "Hello to you too, my dear. How goes it in the land of perpetual gloom?"

  I chuckled. "Not even the weather changes in this dreadful place. What's up?"

  "You tell me."

  "I'm…working another case with the Darkwater police."

  "Hmm. Darkwater, not their ultra powerful OSI?"

  I sat up straight. "No, with Darkwater Bay. Why? Why would you ask me that?"

  "We received a request for your personnel file Thursday morning, Helen. It was made under the guise of vetting you for service with OSI. Are you sure there's not something else going on here?"

  "Darnell," I muttered under my breath.

  "Ah, the commander in charge of the governor's little side project in law enforcement. Yes, the request was accompanied by his signature."

  "One of his undercover detectives was murdered last weekend, David. That's the case Downey Division is working on. It would seem the dear commander wants to make sure they've got qualified personnel leading the charge."

  "Mmm. Not so sure about that, my dear. The request was for a bit more than your annual evaluations and scores from the firing range."

  "How much more?"

  "He asked for the file that detailed how you were vetted for employment with us ten years ago."

  "Jesus Christ." I leapt out of my seat and started pacing. "You didn't send it to him, did you? The whole thing, I mean."

 
"It's no secret that we thoroughly looked into your history, Helen. Is it?"

  "Of course not, but OSI is a far cry from the bureau, and I am not now, nor will ever at a future date work for that branch of law enforcement. Ever. In any capacity. Got it?"

  "Sorry, Helen. I didn't find out that the request was made until the file had already been sent. It seems we can't have it both ways."

  "What does that mean?"

  "If the governor out there has the juice to get Seleeby revoked from his borders and banished to parts of the world that legitimately use amounts of fertilizer best left to the imagination, he also has the ability to pretty much get any information he wants about you from our files."

  "Oh this is bad. This is so, so bad."

  "Why? What is it that you think we know about you that nobody out there should?"

  My voice dipped to barely above a whisper. "Wendell."

  "Your father? Helen, that's no secret. It's a matter of public record. What he did, you were a child at the time. Nobody –"

  "You don't understand," I rasped. "I sort of led someone associated rather closely with OSI to believe that he and Marie are both dead."

  David sighed. "And is that such a stretch of the imagination? Honestly, Helen, for all intents and purposes, Wendell has been dead to you for almost twenty years now. I think that little nugget of truth is rather self explanatory. It isn't as though you've kept in contact with him all this time." He paused. "Helen, you haven't spoken to him in all these years, have you?"

  "Of course not. It's just that I…"

  "You what?"

  "I told a whopper this week – legitimately in the course of the investigation – and OSI wasn't particularly pleased with my tactics. Although I don't know why anyone bitched about it. It's their detective that was murdered, and my brass ones that pushed the case forward into a promising direction."

  "Oy vey. You are a magnet for trouble, aren't you my dear? Some things never change."

  "It wasn't that bad."

  "You always say that. I seem to recall that if your hunches hadn't played out with the regularity that they did, you'd have been boiled in hot oil for your refusal to follow protocol from time to time."

  "Listen, David, I appreciate the head's up, but we've got to get out of here and hit our stakeout. Do me a favor."

  "Of course."

  "If you hear of any more unusual requests about me, keep me posted. I'm not sure what Darnell is up to with all of this, but if it continues, I'll make time to find out."

  "Your pal from Washington?"

  I looked over at Briscoe. "How much were you eavesdropping?"

  "Only enough to realize he called and you weren't happy with what he had to say. You're like a great big walking jigsaw puzzle, aintcha, Eriksson?"

  "Time to find Crevan. If we leave now, we'll make it to the shelter on time."

  At promptly seven fifteen, a fifteen passenger Ford van rolled to a stop outside the Sixth Avenue Shelter. My fingers dug into Crevan's shoulder. "This is it. This has gotta be Denton." I pulled my gun.

  "Hold on, Helen," Briscoe cautioned. "We need to see the men load up before we jump the guy. Catch him in the act, remember?"

  "What's he waiting for?"

  "Be patient," Crevan said. "He's getting out of the van right now."

  I waited, holding my breath without realizing it until a slow trickle of men filed out of the shelter and into the van.

  "Did you two ever find out who runs this place?"

  "The Sisters of Mercy Charitable Trust," Tony said. "Trust me, Helen. You're barkin' up the wrong tree if you think they're aware of anything nefarious."

  "Here he comes," Crevan said. "Stay in the car, Helen."

  "Now wait just a minute –"

  "In the driver's seat," he clarified. "If Denton tries to evade, move the car and block him in."

  Crevan lucked out. Apparently Denton wasn't stupid enough to make a break for it. I watched from a safe distance while they put him in handcuffs and sent the passengers in the van back inside the shelter for the night. Denton collected four men, and we might well have saved at least one of their lives.

  The phone in my pocket vibrated again. Absently I fished it out and answered, "Eriksson."

  "Hi. I was wondering if you'd ever answer the phone again, or if you're still avoiding me."

  Not now. Really not now. "Johnny, this isn't a good time."

  "Why not?"

  "Because it just isn't. Ask Darnell."

  "Are you mad because I gave you what you wanted?"

  "What's that supposed to mean?"

  "I left."

  My snort puffed across the digital connection. "Yeah, you left all right. That part, the extreme you went to, was your idea, not mine."

  "What choice did I have?"

  I gnawed at the tip of my thumbnail. "Oh, I don't know. You could've been reasonable and stuck around until morning and listened to why I handled things the way I did. You could've stopped acting like an overprotective Neanderthal for five seconds and listened when Tony told you I was fine."

  "Explaining my reason for concern is moot. I've already told you. Either you don't believe me, or you simply don't care."

  "Johnny…" My eyes drifted to the figures quickly approaching the car. "I can't talk right now. That's the truth. Briscoe, Conall and I are in the middle of something. We have a person of interest in custody."

  "Already?"

  "Yeah, thanks to my audacity Wednesday night. I'll talk to you later or see you when I see you." I slid my thumb over the screen, lightly tapping the end call button.

  Tony sat in the back with Denton who argued loudly that he had nothing to say without an attorney while I drove back to Downey Division. About half way there, my frazzled nerves had heard enough. I glanced in the rearview mirror.

  "Shut up, Dr. Denton."

  "I beg your –"

  "You're gonna be begging for more than a pardon in five seconds if you don't cease this noise. Jesus. Didn't you tell him he's not under arrest?"

  "Haven't had a chance to get a word in edgewise," Tony grinned. "Thanks for the opportunity."

  "You can't do this!" Denton protested. "I have rights."

  "Then please," I groaned, "take advantage of one of them and remain silent. At least for the next ten minutes. Anybody ever explain the phenomenon of pressured speech to you, Denton? Take a breath. Slow down. Stop to smell the roses once in awhile."

  He held his tongue for all of thirty seconds before the vehement protests bubbled forth once again.

  "Look, if you've got to yammer on, could you at least tell me why you lied about hiring men from the shelter to work at Dupree's Farm?"

  "That wasn't a lie!"

  Tony scoffed, "So they're doin' what exactly? Tendin' your begonias in the back yard?"

  "Tony, I think you nailed it," I said. "That's it, isn't it Denton. The men you hire aren't working for Dupree. They're working for you."

  Crevan leaned over and spoke low. "Helen, he works for Dupree, so doesn't that mean by default that he's hiring people to work for Dupree?"

  "Not if gullible Jean-Claude has no idea what Mr. Denton is really doing in that laboratory. I'm right, aren't I?"

  Denton started babbling nonsense at a rate and pitch only dogs could hear. The only cogent thing that came out of his mouth was a single high-pitched wail. "You've killed me, you damned fool! You've killed me!"

  By the time we reached the division, paramedics from the county ambulance service were waiting with a nice big needle full of haloperidol to settle Denton down. I didn't expect him to be lucid again for another eight to ten hours. I perched on a chair outside his cell and watched the drug work it's magic.

  The shrieking abated. Denton's pacing slowed. He finally slumped onto the cot and curled into the fetal position. His eyelids drooped, but he wasn't down for the count yet.

  "Do you understand that you're in a safe place, Dr. Denton?"

  "You're a fool," he chanted softly. "A fo
ol. A fool."

  "Dr. Denton…Thomas…tell me the name of the person you think is going to kill you. Say his name, and I can make sure you're safe."

  Glassy eyes met mine. "He'll get you too, you know. You're as dead as I am. Already marked. Wait and see, Dr. Eriksson. He'll get you too."

  I waited until the snoring almost put me into a coma and trekked back up to the squad room where Briscoe and Conall were waiting.

  "What? You look like I interrupted a super secret conversation."

  Briscoe hiked his thumb in the direction of the hallway. "You got a visitor, Helen. And I don't think you're gonna be too happy to see him."

  My heart skipped a beat, expecting to see Orion, which contrary to what my brain was trying to convince me, was something I wouldn't have minded so much at all.

  Instead, the wave of anticipation shifted and sent a chill straight down my spine. The smirk on Mark Seleeby's face didn't help much either.

  Chapter 24

  "No. No, he can't be here. He's not supposed to be here." I reached for my pocket.

  "For God's sake, Eriksson, you can't shoot the guy," Briscoe growled.

  I pulled out my iPhone and glared at him. "I don't carry the Glock in my pocket, Tony. I'm calling David Levine and asking him what the hell he's doing here. Again."

  Seleeby was moving toward me. Fortunately, Crevan and Tony intercepted him before he stopped me from doing what he had to know I intended to do. In any case, his smirk vanished.

  My hands trembled. David answered his cell on the first ring. This time, he sounded groggy.

  "Levine."

  "He's here!" I hissed. "Seleeby is here, in Downey Division, right now."

  "What? Helen –"

  "What is he doing? Is he insane?"

  "Shit," David muttered. "Tell me what's happening."

  I slipped into one of the interrogation observation rooms and peeked through the crack in the open door. "Briscoe and Conall are giving him the third degree. David, I thought you said this was over. And less than a week later, here he is again."

  "It's supposed to be over. Mark Seleeby was supposed to board a flight for Boise, Idaho this morning and check in with the field office first thing Monday. We had no idea he was taking this detour. Hold on, Helen. I'm calling someone higher up the food chain right now."