Byron pulled out a pair of handcuffs. “Actually, Lorraine, I think your days of killing anyone are over.”
Lorraine stepped back behind the couch as Byron approached. “So now what? You’re just going to believe everything she says. Send me to prison for a few years. Ruin my life.”
“You’ve killed at least two people and set another up for murder, Lorraine. I’d say it’s more likely you’ve ruined your own life. And you’ll be spending the rest of it in jail.”
“So this is it, then, Aim?” Davies said, addressing Brennan. “This is how it all ends?”
“This is it,” Byron said, answering for her. “Now turn around and put your hands behind your back. You’re under arrest for murder.”
Davies turned and eyed the knife lying on the bar.
Byron caught her glance but wasn’t in position to prevent her from reaching it. She rushed toward the bar and grabbed the weapon.
“Knife,” he shouted as he drew his Glock and stepped in front of the couch, putting it between them.
Nugent also drew his sidearm.
“Put the knife down, Lorraine,” Byron ordered.
Davies pointed the knife at Byron and took a step back. “Don’t come any closer.”
He signaled Nugent to head around the other side of the couch toward Davies.
Davies backed away from Byron while looking directly at Brennan. “Is this what you wanted?”
“Drop it, Lorraine,” Byron repeated.
“You betrayed me,” Davies said, addressing Brennan again.
Byron and Nugent closed in.
“Now you can live with it,” Davies said. She looked back at Byron.
“Last time, Lorraine,” Byron said.
Davies dropped the knife and whirled around, heading toward the slider doors.
“Stop her, Nuge,” Byron yelled, realizing what she was about to do.
Taking the most direct route toward Davies, Byron leaped over the couch. He lunged at her but missed, only managing to tear off a piece of her blouse as he landed hard on the floor. He looked up just as she reached the balcony, mere steps ahead of Nugent.
“Stop!” Nugent yelled.
Horrified, they all watched as Davies grabbed onto the steel railing, and vaulted headfirst over the side.
Byron slowly regained his feet. He walked through the open slider onto the balcony and stood next to Nugent, looking down.
“Holy shit,” Nugent said.
Lorraine Davies lay in a crumpled heap, motionless on the hillside far below.
From behind them, Byron heard the anguished wail of Amy Brennan. It was over.
Epilogue
A police base radio squawked as Diane and a uniformed officer escorted a handcuffed and emotionally subdued Amy Brennan across the parking lot, carefully placing her into the back of a black-and-white. Byron and Nugent followed.
“Watch your head,” Diane said, gently guiding Brennan’s head past the roofline and into the car’s interior.
Byron watched as Diane secured Brennan’s seat belt. He knew there was never any telling what was in a man’s heart, or a woman’s, for that matter. The best you could hope for was to judge people by their actions. Anyway, the damage was done. Lives had been taken. Both women were responsible, but only one of them would pay the legal price for those lives. The other, answering to a higher power, had already paid.
The three detectives stood in the lot, watching as the marked unit pulled away.
“Hell hath no fury, huh, Sarge?” Nugent said.
Byron turned to face him. “Something like that.” He turned back toward Diane. “You ready?”
She nodded.
“Where are you guys going?” Nugent asked. “Aren’t you gonna stick around and watch Mel and me bag what’s left of Davies?”
“As inviting as that sounds, Nuge, we’ve got an innocent attorney who needs to be released from custody,” Diane said.
“Aw, can’t we let him stew a little longer?” Nugent asked. “When my mom used to smack me for something I hadn’t done and I told her it was my brother, she’d say, ‘That’s for the times I didn’t catch you.’”
“I think Branch has stewed long enough,” Byron said.
“Besides,” Diane said, winking at Byron. “We’ve got to get him out so he can start working on the lawsuit against us.”
“Gotta love lawyers,” Nugent said as he walked toward the other side of the building.
The following day Byron, Diane, and LeRoyer met in the lieutenant’s office.
“I don’t understand,” LeRoyer said. “Wouldn’t Davies still be taking a big chance that Branch might not be convicted?”
“Maybe she never intended on having the matter go to trial,” Byron said.
“She may have planned to have someone kill him after he made bail,” Diane said.
“What if he didn’t get bail?” LeRoyer asked.
Byron shrugged his shoulders. “How hard is it to believe that an attorney stuck in general population might fall prey to one of the violent offenders?”
“Jesus,” LeRoyer said. “Davies sounds like pure evil. I guess it’s true about beauty only being skin-deep.”
“It’s what’s beneath the depths that matters most,” Byron said.
“So now Branch will likely sue the city, the department, and each of us,” LeRoyer said, giving his hand a quick pass through his hair.
“Don’t be so sure about that,” Byron said. “We’ve got a lot of dirt on Branch and his partners. Tran has been busy unlocking digital files on Davies’s personal computer. She actually kept files on each of them, including blackmail pictures of the trysts she had with Newman and DeWitt.”
“Doubt they’d wanna take the chance on that juicy information coming up during a trial,” Diane said.
“Well, I hope you’re right,” LeRoyer said. “Diane, would you give us a minute, and close the door behind you?”
“Sure,” she said, casting a glance at Byron as she rose and headed for the door.
“What gives?” Byron asked after they were alone.
“I know about you and Diane.”
He looked back at LeRoyer, sizing him up. Was this the end of the line? Was the lieutenant about to throw him out of the bureau?
“How long have you known?” Byron asked.
“Quite a while now,” LeRoyer said.
“Does Stanton know?”
LeRoyer shook his head. “No.”
“You never said anything. Why?”
“What? You two think you were the only partners to ever hook up?”
“You?”
LeRoyer sighed. “You remember Rachel DeGrinney?”
“Sure I do. Worked Patrol for a few years. Kind of a babe if I remember right. She left the force and went back to college or something, didn’t she?”
“Law school.”
“You and Rachel?”
LeRoyer nodded. “Jenny and I had been married for about six years at that point. She was traveling a lot for work. Our days off, when we got them, never seemed to match up. We barely spoke to each other. And then, only in passing. Rachel and I, we worked neighboring beats in town. Spent a lot of time together. It just sorta happened.”
“Jenny ever find out?”
“I told her.”
“Fuck, Marty.”
“Yeah, I know. Stupid, right? Anyhow, we went to counseling, righted the ship, put the train back on the tracks, and all that.”
“Kids, even,” Byron said.
LeRoyer grinned. “Yeah.”
“Good for you. Glad you guys worked it out.”
“My point is, sometimes the job eats you up. Can’t take it home. You don’t share that shit with your spouse. Believe me, I know. But you gotta share it with someone. You and Diane work great together. I assumed it was only a matter of time before you both figured out how great you were together. And I wasn’t about to fuck that up for either of you.”
Were they great together? Byron wondered. A lot ha
d happened during the previous week. “Well, it might be coming to an end anyway.”
“What makes you say that?” LeRoyer asked, cocking his head to one side like a German shepherd.
“City hall. They offered her some new sergeant’s position.”
“Yeah, I know. And hopefully she’s smart enough to accept it.”
“Why would you want her to leave the bureau?” Byron asked.
“Because unlike you, my stubborn friend, her career still has a chance. I think she’s destined for things greater than CID.”
“What’s wrong with CID?”
LeRoyer grinned. “My point exactly. Besides, your next boss isn’t likely to allow this fraternization between a sergeant and a detective. He’ll probably be a real prick.”
“Next boss?” Byron said.
“Yeah. You were right. Stanton tapped me to be the next assistant chief.”
“Ass Chief LeRoyer. It has a nice ring. Kinda suits you.”
“Watch it.”
“Congratulations, Marty.”
“Thanks, but it isn’t gonna happen. Not now, anyway.”
Byron raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”
“Stanton is leaving the PD. It’s not public yet but he just accepted a job in Tampa.”
“Can’t say that breaks my heart. But what’s that got to do with you becoming the Ass Chief?”
“He told me he’s decided to leave a big promotion like that to the next chief.”
“What a dick. Didn’t he promise you the job?”
“Guess I shoulda asked for it in writing, huh?” LeRoyer said, giving Byron a weak smile.
“Well, at least you’ll be the acting until the city finds a replacement,” Byron said hopefully.
LeRoyer shook his head. “Nope. He’s making Danny Rumsfeld the acting.”
“Captain Rumpswab?” Byron said with a grimace. “You’re not serious.”
“’Fraid so.”
“Guess it’s true what they say.”
“What’s that?”
“Nice guys do finish last.”
“Yeah, I guess so. Think I should become more of a prick?”
“Couldn’t hurt.”
“Okay, then, try this.” LeRoyer pointed at the door. “Get the fuck out of my office, Sergeant!”
Byron stood up. Grinning, he gave the lieutenant a mock salute. “Good to have you back, Marty.”
Byron looked across the table at Diane. She was silently pushing a small pile of pad Thai noodles around on her plate, studying them but not eating.
“Penny for your thoughts,” he said.
She looked up absently. “Sorry, just thinking.”
“About?”
“Everything. How that crazy bitch used everybody around her. How she almost got away with it.”
“But she didn’t.”
“Yeah. Thanks to you.”
“Thanks to all of us,” he said.
“Don’t give me that shit, John. You know I’m right.”
Byron shrugged.
“You fought the powers that be, again. Stood up to Stanton and LeRoyer.”
“Ah, Marty’s not such a bad guy. You just haven’t known him long enough.”
“Maybe, but I’m not sure I could have done that. Besides, you have a history with LeRoyer that I don’t have.”
“Give it time. He respects you.”
The wine steward stopped beside their table. “More?” he said, gesturing with the open bottle of cab.
“Please,” Diane said, holding up her glass. “Top it off.”
She thanked the steward, who nodded politely then wandered off.
“Did you ever connect up with your niece?” Diane asked.
“Yeah, we talked on the phone.”
“And?”
“And I’m taking her out to dinner next week. Kind of a late celebration.”
Diane set the chopsticks on her plate and leaned back in her chair.
“John, I have something to tell you.”
He wondered when she’d finally broach the topic of the sergeant’s position again. It had been the elephant in the room for days.
“I’m all ears,” he said.
She picked up her glass and gulped the red wine.
Byron knew she was stalling but he waited patiently.
She placed the glass back on the table then looked directly into his eyes. “I’ve made a decision about the promotion.”
Acknowledgments
I retired in 2012, following nearly three decades in the field of law enforcement, to pursue my lifelong dream of becoming a writer, more specifically a novelist. I remain eternally grateful to a number of people instrumental in helping me to successfully make the transition from cop to published author, a list now long enough to fill the pages of another book, which I promise not to do. I must, however, give a well-deserved shout-out to a few special people: My agent, Paula Munier, and the good folks at Talcott Notch Literary for believing in me and my stories; my editor, Nick Amphlett, and everyone at HarperCollins/Witness Impulse; David and Teresa Cote for the introduction; Kate “Doc” Flora for your continued friendship, sage advice, and counsel; Gayle Lynds for everything; Chris “Anthony” Holm for your encouragement; Dick Cass and our friends at the Esposito; Brenda Buchanan, Paul Doiron, Al Lamanda, and all of my fellow bloggers at Maine Crime Writers; the former Level Best Books editorial team of Mark Ammons, Kat Fast, Barbara Ross, and Leslie Wheeler for giving me my first big break; Otto Penzler and Elizabeth George for giving me my second; and fellow retired cop and novelist Brian Thiem for drawing a clear Red Line for me to follow.
My newest proofreaders—although I suppose technically, if I’m to use the correct vernacular, you’re now all beta-readers—Mike Flannery, Judith Green, David Arenstam, Nancy Tancredi, Peggy Greenwald, Jim Minott, and Shirley Wilson.
My fact-checkers, Marc Montminy, Kevin MacDonald, Andy Hutchings, Rob Nichols, and Mike Mercer. Any mistakes were mine.
My immediate family and friends, some of whom are beta-readers, for their invaluable encouragement, advice, and support along the way.
Special thanks to the DiMillo family and their staff for helping me to get the details right.
The multitude of men and women in the field of criminal justice, true professionals, I was fortunate to have served with, as well as those who continue to serve. These are their stories.
Lastly, and most importantly, my wife, Karen, for her love, inspiration, and infinite patience. Without her in my life, there would be no story.
About the Author
BRUCE ROBERT COFFIN retired from the Portland, Maine, police department in 2012, after more than twenty-seven years in law enforcement. As a detective sergeant, he supervised all homicide and violent crime investigations for Maine’s largest city. Following the terrorist attacks of September 11, he spent four years with the FBI, earning the Director’s Award (the highest honor a non-agent can receive) for his work in counterterrorism.
Bruce’s short fiction has been featured in several anthologies, including Best American Mystery Stories 2016.
He lives and writes in Maine.
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By Bruce Robert Coffin
Beneath the Depths
Among the Shadows
Copyright
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations, or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
beneath the depths. Copyright © 2017 by Bruce Robert Coffin. 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, downloaded, decompiled, reverse-engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information st
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Digital Edition AUGUST 2017 ISBN: 978-0-06-256949-3
Print Edition ISBN: 978-0-06-256950-9
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