by James Hunt
Tim lingered at the car door a moment before he stepped inside. Cooper watched him search for words he didn’t know how to speak, but after a prolonged silence, he only offered a slight nod, and then they parted ways. The agents in the SUV followed suit, and the small caravan of vehicles departed.
Cooper watched their taillights fade and suddenly remembered seeing the same image the last night she had seen Beth before she was taken. That had been less than a week ago, yet it felt years longer. So much had changed, and there was still so far to go. She trudged back up the stairs to her apartment and went to the kitchen to retrieve the thumb drive. Her eyes lingered on the sight of the empty bed but then quickly found her laptop. She fingered the drive nervously, unsure of what it contained and whether it would help her catch the killer. The reporter who’d given it to her the week before had seemed convinced that it was important, and judging by the way she’d kept it to herself, whatever was on the drive was toxic.
With the computer finally booted up, Cooper inserted the drive and opened the folder. Inside was a video file, and when she double-clicked the image, it expanded into a full-screen view. She maneuvered the mouse over the play button and clicked.
The camera movement was jerky as the videographer crept through bushes. The picture quality was grainy, and the only sound was the crunch of branches, rustling of leaves, and the cameraman’s breathing. Suddenly the jerky motion ended, and the bushes parted to reveal the side of a building.
Cooper squinted, trying to decipher the location, but she couldn’t pinpoint it. The worn siding of the building suggested somewhere in the abandoned manufacturing district, but with nothing else to work on besides the fading paint and rusted awnings, she couldn’t be sure.
The image came in and out of focus as a man entered the frame. The operator zoomed closer, and Cooper’s jaw dropped as she saw the unmistakable features of Zane Marks. He wore a jacket with the collar flipped up and his face was bearded, but it was him. He paced back and forth in short, quick bursts, the cameraman following his movements with the same jerky motion.
After a short while, another man appeared, this one with his back to the camera, blocking Marks from view. He was a heavyset man, nearly twice as wide as Marks, and moved cumbersomely. Cooper turned up the volume, hoping to hear a piece of their conversation, but the mic on the camera phone was too far away, and their words passed in silence.
Then the big man finally turned around, and Cooper saw Probation Officer McKaffee’s red, sweaty face. She gripped the sides of the screen hard, as though she could strangle the piece of shit through the computer.
The video continued for another minute, both Marks and McKaffee just standing there, waiting for something. Cooper checked the time left on the screen and saw less than thirty seconds remained. She bounced her leg impatiently, the video telling her nothing other than Marks and McKaffee were meeting. There had to be something more, something else that—
Captain Farnes stepped into frame and gestured to the nearest door. The three of them stepped inside the building, Farnes looking behind him before he entered to make sure the coast was clear. The camera lingered on the door for a bit longer, and then the video finally ended.
Cooper reclined into the couch cushions, trying to wrap her head around what she had just seen. She rose and paced the living room floor. Twice she sat back down and rewatched the footage, hoping to catch something she may have missed before, but she found nothing.
But the longer she stared at the problem, the more Cooper realized what it meant. The first lead she had on the killer was an address linked to a bank account she believed the killer had used. But when she raided the house all she found was a Meth lab. And the drug dealers inside had affiliations with Zane Marks.
When Cooper was first investigating Zane Marks before they started chasing the killer, Farnes had been adamant about Cooper dropping the case, saying that it was Kate Wurstshed who was behind all of it and that her suicide was the perfect bow on an otherwise imperfect case. If Farnes had a connection to Marks and Marks had a connection to the drug lab, and the drug lab had a connection to the killer, that meant both Marks and Farnes were connected to the killer.
Cooper looked to the message still on her wall. She balled her hands into fists and punched the floor. “Son of a bitch!” If Farnes was connected to the killer, if he was trying to cover something up, if he had helped keep away evidence that she could have used to find the killer faster, then Beth could have made it out alive. And that meant her death was just as much his fault as it was the killer’s.
Rage and allegations, regret and grief, vengeance and justice, all of it swirled in the stormy seas of Cooper’s mind. She felt the balance of right and wrong tilt back and forth. She eyed the laptop still on the couch, and then her eyes drifted to the whiskey in the kitchen. She took a step toward the liquor but stopped, closing her eyes and clenching her jaw. Sweat collected on her face, and like lightning, she reached for the laptop, snapped it shut, and yanked the thumb drive from its port. She pocketed the drive and tossed the laptop onto her bed. She pulled her dresser drawers out, flinging clothes, and then reached for a revolver that lay beneath her shirts along with a box of ammunition. The serial number along the pistol had been scratched off, and she rested both the gun and the ammo on top of the piles of clothes. She opened the closet door and grabbed a duffle bag and started shoving clothes inside, along with a short hunting knife, duct tape, rope, handcuffs, and the revolver and ammunition. She left the laptop and phone, knowing the department could trace both. She flung the duffle bag strap over her shoulder and took a final look at the living room and bid it good riddance.
On her way down the hallway, she passed the counter, where her badge and service pistol rested. She quickly picked up the pistol and holstered the weapon, but she reached for her badge slowly. She held it delicately in her palm, running her thumb over the smooth indentations of the shield that she’d dedicated her life to uphold. She thought of all the times she could have crossed the line, all the moments in which it would have just been easier to let something slip, let something pass by, but she hadn’t. Even if it meant ridicule, even if it meant people would hate her for it. The law was the law, and she enforced it without prejudice. She returned the badge to the counter and walked out the door. She couldn’t play by those rules any longer.
Chapter 4
Cooper kept the seat leaned back in her car parked on the side of the street a few houses down from Captain Farnes’s residence. It’d been dark for a few hours, and she kept checking the clock on the radio impatiently. The duffle bag she’d brought rested in the passenger seat, and when she wasn’t checking the road or the clock, her eyes drifted to it and the revolver that rested inside. She fought the urge to remove it and use its anonymity, but that path would severely limit her options. And right now, she needed at least a few.
Another hour passed, and Cooper felt her joints grow stiff the longer she remained idle. A pair of headlights down the road caused her heart to jump, and she leaned forward in her seat slightly, keeping low behind the cover of the steering wheel and dashboard. She drew in a breath, and there it remained until the car pulled into Farnes’s driveway.
Cooper looked around, making sure no one was watching, and then snatched the duffle bag. She sprinted toward the house, her service pistol in her hand. Light footsteps padded the ground and stopped behind the six-foot hedge that ran along the captain’s driveway.
The car door shut, and Cooper watched the backside of Farnes waddle up to the carport. She waited until his keys were in the door then sprinted up the drive. By the time Farnes’s ears registered her footsteps, she already had the end of the pistol in his back and her hand over his mouth.
“Is your wife home?” Farnes trembled, remaining quiet for a moment before he nodded. She eyed Farnes’s car and looked around to make sure no one had spied them. “C’mon.” She made sure to keep her hand over his mouth, and the pistol in his back helped guide him to the v
ehicle. “Open the door.”
Farnes did as he was told and opened the rear driver’s side door. Once opened, she removed the pistol from his back and placed it under his chin. “Get in the car. Scream and I kill you here and now. Got it?” Another quick nod accompanied a muffled grunt, and Cooper slowly released her hand, and Farnes climbed into the driver’s seat without a word while she sat directly behind him, crouching low and keeping the pistol aimed at his head.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Cooper?” Farnes’s face was slick with sweat. “You’ll lose your badge for this.”
“I’ll lose more than that if you don’t back out of this driveway and make your way toward the industrial district.” She rubbed her finger along the smooth curve of the pistol’s trigger and fought the impulse to just do it here. But there were things Farnes knew that she needed to understand. And a corpse made for poor interrogation. “I’m sure there’s a place there you’re familiar with. Why don’t you take us there?”
“This is outrageous! I don’t—”
“You don’t have any bargaining chips, Farnes.” Cooper pressed the end of the pistol to the side of his head and sandwiched him against the window. “Drive. Now.”
Without a word, Farnes started the engine and backed out of the driveway, and just before they drove down the street, Cooper saw his wife step out into the carport, a look of confusion on her face. The drive took half an hour, and Cooper kept a bead on the back of Farnes’s head the whole way. She watched every single muscle twitch and made sure his hands remained on the wheel.
“What do you think this is going to accomplish, Cooper?” Farnes asked, finally entering the industrial district. “You’re going to kill me because you’re upset about your sister’s death? Not exactly good police work.”
The car came to a stop, and Cooper reached for her duffle bag and the computer Farnes had left in the back seat. “Out of the car. Now.” Farnes shut off the engine and stepped out, Cooper mirroring his movements. She extended him the computer and motioned to the nearest building. “Walk.” Farnes turned slowly, keeping both hands on the laptop, and marched as instructed.
The door to the old building whined when Farnes pulled it open, and Cooper shut it and sealed them inside. The floor was dirty, covered in a thick layer of time that consisted of dirt, dust, and animal droppings. The smell was pungent and the place dark save for the moonlight coming through the windows. Farnes turned around, the laptop in his hands, most of his body cast in shadow. “Well, Detective? What now? Plan on shooting me, or am I supposed to bludgeon myself with the laptop?”
A table rested to their left, and Cooper motioned with her pistol. “Set it down.” Farnes hesitated and walked over grudgingly slowly. “Turn it on.” Cooper reached into her pocket, retrieved the thumb drive, and plugged it in. She hit play, and the video blew up on the screen, providing another source of light in the dim factory.
At first Farnes scrunched his face in confusion, but when Marks came into view along with McKaffee, his expression told Cooper everything she needed to know.
“That proves nothing,” Farnes said. “There isn’t a shred of evidence on there that suggests anything wrong was done.” He shrugged, waving it off. “And the video quality is poor. No one will believe that’s me.”
“I don’t give a shit what other people believe or not.” Cooper took an aggressive step forward with the gun pointed at Farnes’s head. “What are you running, Farnes? You’ve wanted me to ignore Marks ever since I brought him in for questioning during the Irene Marsh case. And then he turned up again as an associate to the drug dealers whose house I raided after my sister was taken!”
“Jesus Christ. Just listen to yourself, Cooper!” Farnes’s face reddened. “You sound like a lunatic!”
Cooper pressed the end of the pistol against Farnes’s cheek. “It sounds like I’m getting close to something. So this is what’s going to happen: You’re going to tell me what you’re doing hanging out with McKaffee and Marks, or I kill you here and now.”
Farnes eyed the steel digging into his skin. “You don’t have the guts.”
“No?” Cooper pressed harder, and Farnes winced. She felt his trembling reverberate through the pistol and into her hand. Then, with her eyes closed, she lowered the gun. “You’re right. I won’t.” Relief spread across Farnes’s face, but just as quickly as she had lowered the gun, she smacked the steel against his right cheek, cutting a gash in his skin and sending him to the floor.
“Fuck!” Farnes wallowed on the dirty concrete, pressing his palm against the blood gushing from the cut on his face.
Cooper kicked him in the stomach, and he rolled to his back, wheezing and panting. “I don’t need a gun to kill you, Farnes.” She reached down and yanked his collar, lifting his head off the ground. “I’ve been with the department for twenty-one years, fifteen of which have been as a homicide detective. Do you know how many ways I’ve seen people killed? You’d be surprised at what blunt-force trauma can do.” She shoved him down hard, and Farnes’s skull smacked against the concrete, knocking him unconscious.
Cooper checked his pulse and made sure he was still breathing. Both were fine. She holstered the gun and dragged him to a metal post in the center of the factory floor. She retrieved the rope and duct tape from her duffle bag and secured Farnes to the post and taped his wrists together then his ankles.
Impatiently waiting for Farnes to wake, Cooper slapped him across the face. He moaned and lolled his head back and forth, his chin digging into the fat of his chest. His first instinct when he awoke was to run, but the tight restraints kept him still. He looked up to Cooper, the blood on his face dry, though the gash still shimmered in the moonlight pouring in from the windows.
“You’re a dead woman, Cooper. You think my brother will stand for this? You won’t be able to talk your way out of this one!”
Cooper curled her fist and punched Farnes in the gash where the pistol had cut him. Her knuckles glided across the slick blood and sweat. “What are you and your brother hiding?”
Farnes spat a wad of blood on the concrete and cursed some more. Cooper hit him again, this time on his left cheek, knocking his head into the steel pillar behind it. With every strike that transformed Farnes’s face into a misshapen, bloody mess, Cooper’s knuckles were drenched in crimson. Swimming in the pool of vengeance, she pulled her pistol from its holster, and Farnes looked up through half-swollen eyes. “Wait,” he said, his words slurring through dribbles of blood and spit. “I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to your sister. I swear.”
“Then how did Marks get the SWAT uniform to use at the daycare?” Cooper aimed the pistol at his head, and he trembled. “Tell me!”
Farnes cried, the bellowing sobs escaping through hacking coughs as he choked on his own blood. “We get paid to look the other way on the manufacturing and distribution of the drugs in the city. Marks was a middleman for us. He made sure we knew where the drop locations were so the officers wouldn’t go near them.”
“Then why did Marks help the killer?” Unsatisfied, Cooper thrust the pistol into the gash on Farnes’s cheek, and the captain wailed, screaming at the top of his lungs. When she relieved him of the pressure, he panted heavily, moaning and wiggling his body in a defiant tantrum.
“I don’t know,” Farnes answered. “I swear to god I don’t know. Marks never mentioned anything about the killer. I was just as surprised as you were when I found out. The only reason I didn’t want you looking into Marks anymore was because of the drugs. I wanted you to work the killer’s case with Hemsworth, to keep you distracted. That’s it.” He swallowed, tears still cutting through the blood on his face. “I swear I didn’t have anything to do with what happened to your sister. I might be corrupt, but I’m no killer. Neither are you.”
It was the first time in her life that Cooper believed the man. “You’re right. You’re not a killer. You don’t have it in you.” She kept the pistol aimed at his head. “But I just might
.”
Farnes started bawling once more, this round more pathetic than the last. “Please. I didn’t help kill your sister. I never even met her.”
Cooper’s mind raced down every possibility of what her life would be like if she pulled the trigger. She could taste the satisfaction of killing him even though she knew he was telling the truth. Farnes didn’t have any more reason to lie to her; he’d already confessed enough to land him in jail.
Just when she felt her finger apply the lightest pressure on the trigger, a phone rang. Cooper jerked left and right, trying to pinpoint its origin. When it rang a second time, she realized that it was coming from inside Farnes’s jacket. She ignored it, but after it went to voicemail, it rang again and again and again. Finally Cooper reached inside Farnes’s jacket and pulled the phone out herself. The number was blocked, and when it ended once more, the phone rang again. A shiver crawled up Cooper’s back as she answered.
“Hello, Detective.”
Cooper’s blood ran cold, her stomach performing backflips at the sound of the killer’s voice. “Where are you?”
“I know you’ve been working out some of your aggression on the poor captain there, but I think he’s had enough, wouldn’t you say? And besides, he’s telling the truth. He didn’t put Zane Marks up to kidnapping that boy. It was me. You’d be surprised at what people will do when they don’t want to die.”
“You’re a dead man.”
“A fair response from you considering what you’ve lost, but you’ve done such a fine job so far, Detective. It would be a shame to veer off the path now.”
Cooper squeezed the phone so hard her knuckles cracked. “The only path I’m walking down is the one that leads me straight to you, and when I get to the end, you’re going to wish there was true justice in this world, because by the time I’m through with you, they won’t be able to identify your body!”
“Sticks and stones, Detective.” The killer spoke calmly. “I don’t think you realize how long I’ve been waiting for this, how deep my planning has dwelled. Do you remember the story of Heracles and the twelve labors I told you about?”