Darkness First

by James Hayman

Augusta, Maine

  On Sunday morning, August 30th, one week and two days after the death of Tiffany Stoddard, a special meeting was called by Assistant Attorney General Burt Lund. It began on time at nine A.M. in the private conference room of Lund’s boss, Maine Attorney General Bradley Freese.

  Lund arrived early. Freese, as was his habit, entered five minutes after everyone else and took the seat left open for him at the head of the table. Lund sat at the other end.

  In appearance and manner, the two men couldn’t have been more different. Lund was a rotund five foot five and 200 pounds. He usually looked like he’d slept in his suit. His shirt-tails stubbornly refused to obey his half-hearted attempts to keep them tucked in. This morning he’d cut himself while shaving and wore a small, round band-aid on the left side of his double chin.

  Freese was tall and patrician, his silver hair was immaculately groomed, and his custom-tailored Dunhill suit perfectly outlined his athletic body. A former all-Ivy League quarterback at Princeton, Freese had preceded Susan Marsh by twenty-five years as a member of the Harvard Law Review and, as Attorney General, had hired her to join his team. In spite of his deep disappointment at having Susan provide Sean Carroll’s alibi in his wife’s death, she remained a particular favorite. Almost a daughter, he liked to say.

  The long oval table between Lund and Freese was full. On one side were Sheriff John Savage, Maggie, McCabe, Assistant Medical Examiner Terri Mirabito, and Dr Joe Pines of the Maine State Laboratory in Augusta. Across from them sat Eastport Police Chief Frank Boucher, Portland Police Chief Tom Shockley, Colonel Ed Matthews, commander of the Maine State Police, Sean Carroll’s immediate boss, Lieutenant Tom Mayhew, and Anne Marie Lichter, a child welfare supervisor at Maine’s Department of Health and Human Services, who was present to represent the interests and welfare of eleven-year-old Tabitha Stoddard. Judy Lombardi, Brad Freese’s executive assistant, sat behind her boss and had been tasked with taking detailed notes.

  ‘All right,’ said Freese. ‘Let’s get this show on the road. Now, can anybody please tell me what in hell this monumental screwup was all about.’

  ‘I think I’m the one to do that,’ said Lund. He’d spent the previous two days thoroughly debriefing Maggie and McCabe and then following up by interviewing everybody else who had played any role whatsoever in the events of the preceding week.

  ‘Where’s Susan Marsh?’ asked Freese. ‘Shouldn’t she be here?’

  ‘Unfortunately,’ said Maggie, ‘nobody knows where Susan is at the moment. We haven’t been able to reach her.’

  Freese turned back to Lund, ‘Well, then, go ahead, Burt. You’d better get started.’

  ‘I think the best place to start, sir, is about ten months ago, when Sean Carroll’s wife, Detective Elizabeth Carroll, and a number of other officers attached to Maine DEA were invited to Saint John, New Brunswick, to review security procedures at the Ecklund Company in Saint John. As you may know, Ecklund is one of eastern Canada’s largest distributors of prescription pharmaceuticals. Upon her return, Detective Carroll wrote a lengthy report detailing what she considered shockingly lax security in the Ecklund facility. With the clarity of hindsight, it’s obvious now that she shared her report not only with her colleagues at DEA but also with her husband, Sergeant Sean Carroll.’

  Lund spent the next hour detailing everything else that was known. Throughout the presentation Freese kept shaking his head in apparent disbelief and disgust. Lund finished up by playing the recording Maggie had made of Sean Carroll’s last conversation with Emmett Ganzer. The small recorder had picked up every word.

  Lund asked his boss if he had any questions.

  ‘Yes. Quite a few actually.’ His gaze found Terri Mirabito. ‘Dr Mirabito, your autopsy confirmed that Tiffany Stoddard was in fact pregnant?’

  ‘Yes sir. She was six weeks along,’ said Mirabito.

  ‘Do we know who the father was?’

  ‘As of this morning we do. We’d already done an analysis of the fetal DNA and, just an hour ago, DNA samples obtained from Sean Carroll’s apartment confirmed that he was the father of her unborn child.’

  Freese sighed. ‘How about the remainder of the drugs? Have we located them?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Ed Matthews. ‘We discovered Sean Carroll owned a one-room cabin in the woods about twenty miles west of Skowhegan. We had an ERT team take the place apart. They located the drugs under two false floorboards in the cabin. They also found both Sean Carroll’s and Tiff Stoddard’s fingerprints all around the cabin, including on the box where the drugs were stored.’

  ‘How many pills were there?’

  Matthews let out a long slow breath. ‘Out of the original 40,000 stolen from Ecklund in January, 22,562 were in the cabin. There were an additional 5,000 plus found outside the cannery at Parnell Point. They were hidden inside the child’s teddy bear which Emmett Ganzer had been carrying just before he was killed by Sean Carroll and Carroll in turn was killed by Sheriff Savage’s son, Harlan. We have to assume the remainder, approximately 13,000 tablets, have already been sold on the streets since the theft in January. We also found a large amount of cash in the same hiding place in the cabin.’

  ‘How much?’ asked Freese.

  ‘One million two hundred and sixty thousand dollars.’

  ‘Presumably the proceeds of the drug sales?’

  ‘Presumably.’

  ‘We also have a lot of dead people,’ said Freese. ‘Do we have any idea what the final body count will turn out to be?’

  ‘I think Detective Savage may be the best person to address that.’

  Freese turned toward Maggie and waited.

  ‘As of now,’ said Maggie, ‘not counting Sean Carroll, we know of seven dead for sure. One more, Luke Haskell, is missing and I suspect may be dead as well.’

  ‘Excuse me,’ Chief Boucher interrupted, ‘I guess I should have mentioned it earlier. Luke Haskell’s body washed up on Campobello Island last Friday. There was no ID on the body, no way to identify him and it took the Canadian police three days to ask us if we knew who he was. We just got word.’

  ‘Cause of death?’ asked Freese.

  ‘Luke drowned. We can’t prove one way or the other whether Carroll was responsible or if he just tumbled overboard in a drunken stupor but given the timing of events and the fact that Luke probably could possibly have identified Carroll, I think we really do know the answer to that question.’

  ‘What about the child? Tabitha Stoddard?’ asked Anne Marie Lichter, the woman from DHHS. ‘Where is she now?’

  ‘Tabitha is staying at my house in Machias,’ Sheriff Savage said. ‘My wife, who is a retired nurse, is looking after her. So is Dr Kaplan.’

  ‘I assume this is a temporary arrangement?’

  Savage thought about the question before answering. ‘I don’t know. We’ll see.’

  ‘That work for you?’ Freese asked Lichter.

  ‘I’ll need to talk with Tabitha, but yes, for the moment, that’s fine.’

  ‘How about Susan Marsh?’ asked Freese. ‘Can somebody explain to me what Susan’s involvement in all this was?’ It obviously pained him to think of her as somehow involved in a criminal enterprise.

  ‘All we know at this point,’ said Maggie, ‘is that Susan Marsh went to Sean Carroll’s apartment the night after we spoke to her. There’s at least some possibility that she went there to question Carroll about whether the brandy he served her the night of Liz Carroll’s death might or might not have been spiked with drugs designed to make sure she didn’t wake up. In any event, while there, we’re reasonably certain she either purposely or inadvertently communicated that McCabe and I suspected that Carroll was, in fact, Conor Riordan. We don’t know what Carroll’s reaction to that information was other than to come to Machias and try to kill me. We can’t ask Susan because at the moment she seems to be missing herself.’

  ‘Well, let’s just hope she turns up soon.’

  ‘I don’t have a great deal of confidence
in that happening, sir,’ said Maggie.

  ‘Dear God,’ was all Bradley Freese could say as the implication of what Maggie said sunk in. ‘What about Emmett Ganzer? What was his role in this?’ he asked next.

  ‘In my view,’ said Maggie, ‘Emmett was guilty of nothing more than excess aggression and mindless ambition. He wanted to be promoted a little too much. As the recording demonstrates, he had nothing to do with the deaths or the drugs.’

  ‘One thing I don’t understand, Detective Savage,’ said Freese, ‘is why Carroll let you work on the case. It’s what led ultimately to his downfall.’

  ‘I can only guess,’ said Maggie, ‘but I think it was because he knew, because of my friendship with Dr Kaplan, I’d investigate the murder on my own anyway. If I was working for him I believe he thought he could control me. That way he’d always know what I knew and be able to keep me from getting too close to the truth.’

  ‘Well, he was obviously wrong about that,’ said Freese.

  ‘Yes sir,’ said Maggie. ‘As he was about so many other things.’

  61

  The meeting broke up a little after eleven. Maggie asked McCabe if he wanted to stick around for a while. Spend a little time together. Just relax and shoot the shit for a few days. She could take him up to Bog Pond and teach him the fine art of fly-fishing, which he’d often expressed interest in learning. McCabe said he wished he could but, no, he had to get back. He’d already left his daughter Casey and Kyra, the woman they both lived with, on their own for far too long.

  Maggie nodded. ‘You’re right,’ she said, ‘I understand.’ She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Thank you for everything. Please give my love to your women. Both of them.’

  ‘Maggie?’

  ‘What?’

  ‘I love you, you know,’ said McCabe.

  ‘I know you do,’ said Maggie. ‘And I know you love Kyra as well. But that’s all right. We both love you.’

  McCabe climbed in the T-Bird, put the top down and headed out of the parking lot for home. Maggie stood on the sidewalk, watching him go, until the car turned the corner at the end of the block and disappeared from sight.

  Then she joined her father, who was waiting for her in the red Blazer. They started back to Machias.

  On the way, Tom Shockley called. As predicted, the Chief was basking in the glow of having a huge case, as he called it, that had been totally screwed up by Ed Matthews and the MSP, cleared by two of his own PPD detectives. In fact, he said, he couldn’t wait to hold a press conference and let the whole world know what a great team he had. What incredible talent Maggie and McCabe represented.

  Maggie cringed through most of the conversation. She thanked him for his praise but said little else in response except to urge Shockley to hold off on any press conferences till things settled down a little. He said he’d think about it. She doubted he would. He then told her she’d earned some extra time off. ‘At least a week,’ he said. ‘We won’t count it as a vacation. Just a reward. Unofficially, of course.’

  The time was a gift and she thanked him. She badly wanted to spend some with Savage. Get a real sense of how bad things were with his illness. Tell Harlan about it. Try to get the two of them to reconcile their differences, though she wasn’t sure that would ever be possible. Discuss her father’s treatment options with Emily.

  She also knew there would have to be an official inquiry into Harlan’s killing of Sean Carroll. She wanted to assure Harlan that she didn’t think, under the circumstances, that any charges against him would be filed.

  It’d also be nice to see Trevor and Cathy and her nieces. And, if truth be told, she would enjoy a little fishing. Especially if she could get Savage, or maybe Harlan, or maybe even both of them, to go up to Bog Pond with her.

  Anya, Emily and Tabitha were all waiting for them when Maggie and Savage got back to the house around 1:30. Unfortunately, Harlan wasn’t. He’d told Emily he wanted to start repairing the damage the police search had done to his house. Maggie believed it was more likely he wanted to avoid seeing his father.

  Maggie passed by the living room, where Emily and Tabitha were sitting side by side on the couch, their backs to the door, where she was standing. She stood for a while, silently eavesdropping.

  Em asked Tabitha to tell her the story of what had happened. At least the parts she knew about. Tabitha did. By the time she had finished she was sobbing.

  Em put her arms around the little girl and hugged her, an action which must have made her cracked ribs scream with pain. But if it did she ignored it. ‘It’s terrible about your sisters and your parents,’ she said. ‘I can’t tell you how sorry I am.’

  ‘The problem is,’ said Tabbie through her tears, ‘I don’t know where I’m supposed to go now. My whole family’s gone. And I don’t really believe it’s to a better place. I don’t think it’s to anywhere at all except under the ground. I don’t have any uncles or aunts. What am I supposed to do? I’m only eleven years old, you know. I can’t get a job or anything. I sort of wanted to stay with Harlan but I don’t think he wants me to.’

  ‘I think that would be difficult for Harlan,’ said Em. ‘But maybe you could stay with me at my place for a while.’

  Tabitha looked up at the doctor, who was even taller than the lady cop. She was even taller than Harlan. ‘You’d let me do that?’

  ‘Yes, I would. In fact, thinking about it, I’d like very much to have you with me.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘I’m sure. But, if you like, we could say we’re just trying it for a while to see how we get along.’

  ‘You think it would be okay?’

  ‘We’d have to get approval from the Health and Human Services people but I don’t think that would be a problem.’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Tabitha. ‘I’m a little weird. Everybody says so. You might not like me.’

  ‘That’s all right,’ Emily smiled. ‘I’m a little weird myself. And I think I’ll like you fine. But I should warn you, right now I only have a small apartment above my office, so we wouldn’t have much room to begin with. You’d have to sleep on a pull-out couch. But I’m in the process of buying a wonderful house right on the water in Roque Bluffs and, if it worked out and you decided you wanted to stay, well there’d be plenty of room for both of us.’

  ‘Would that make you my mother?’

  ‘You’ll always have your real mother. I wouldn’t try to replace her. But I could be kind of a substitute mother. But only if you wanted me to be.’

  Tabitha didn’t say anything.

  ‘Tell you what,’ said Emily. ‘Why don’t we drive down to Roque Bluffs this afternoon and take a look at the house. If you like it there, then we’ll give it a try. Deal?’

  Tabitha got up and put her arms around Emily. She was still crying but it looked like things were about to get a whole lot better in her life. ‘Deal,’ she said.

  Maggie turned away before either of them saw her, embarrassed to have been listening in. It was better to let the two of them have this time alone. She went up to her room. Opened her laptop and checked her emails. Nothing of any interest except one from Billy Webb. The road trip would be over in a week and he’d be back in Portland. He hoped she’d have dinner with him.

  She still longed to have someone in her life but, whoever it was she longed for, she knew it wasn’t Billy.

  ‘Thanks for the offer,’ she replied. ‘But I think I’m going to have to say no. You’re a nice guy, Billy, and I like you, but I just don’t think things are going to work out between us.’

  She closed the laptop, went downstairs to the fridge and got herself a cold bottle of Geary’s. After she popped the top she went out to the porch. As she sat sipping she turned her mind away from her so-called love life to the most pressing problem of the moment. How she was going to spend her week off.

  Acknowledgments

  I’d like to thank the many people who gave freely of their time educating me about life in Washingto
n County, Maine and the drug problems that are rampant there. These include, in no particular order: Washington County Sheriff Donnie Smith, who never tired of answering my endless questions; Detective Sergeant Tom Joyce, formerly of the Portland Police Department; Sergeant John Cote of the Maine State Police; Sergeant Richard Rolfe, Washington County liaison with the Maine Drug Enforcement Agency; Dr Julia Arnold, a family practitioner in Whiting, Maine; my friend Curtis Rindlaub, a skilled mariner and co-author and publisher of A Cruising Guide to the Maine Coast; Natalie Brown of the Eastport, Maine Port Authority; Dr Bud Higgins and Dr Anne Skelton of Maine Medical Center; Pathologist Dr Erin Presnell of the Medical University of South Carolina and veterinarian Dr Jeff Robbins, a fellow islander, who went out of his way to educate me on the effects of animal tranquilizing drugs. Finally, I should mention that, while many of the details described in this book about Washington County and the towns of Machias and Eastport are accurate, I have changed others to suit the tale I am telling. This is, after all, a work of fiction.

  About the Author

  JAMES HAYMAN spent more than twenty years as a senior creative director at one of New York’s largest advertising agencies. He and his wife now live in Portland, Maine. This is his third novel.

  www.jameshaymanthrillers.com

  Visit www.AuthorTracker.com for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

  Also by James Hayman

  The Chill of Night

  The Cutting

  Copyright

  This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  This book was originally published in 2013 by Penguin UK.

  DARKNESS FIRST. Copyright © 2013 by James Hayman. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the nonexclusive, nontransferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.