The Night Is Alive koh-10

by Heather Graham

  She smiled. “Incredible isn’t so lame.”

  He lay back down, pulling her against his chest. She felt cherished, and yet...

  She felt respected, as well. He would want to shield her from danger, she knew. But she sensed that he would also have faith in her.

  But as happy as she was with her personal situation, she couldn’t stop thinking about what was going on. She wanted to jump out of bed and find the young woman who’d probably been taken. She felt she should rush to the river again, run up and down the street, do anything rather than nothing. And yet she knew that such feelings were worthless; she’d learned about patience, being precise, following clues—controlling the impulse to become so emotionally involved that you couldn’t act. Or acted recklessly.

  Trust was important. She had to trust that David Caswell was a good cop and that Jackson Crow knew what he was doing.

  And still her mind raced.

  “Tap...tap, tap, tap,” she murmured.

  “That’s exactly what I was thinking,” Malachi said.

  “Really?” She rose up to meet his eyes. He stroked her hair thoughtfully.

  “It means something,” he said. “I keep thinking that, soon enough, I’ll figure out what.”

  “And you still include Dirk and Roger in your suspect list?” Abby asked.

  “I do. If they make any movements tonight, we’ll know.”

  “Oh?”

  “Will’s been keeping an eye on Roger since he left the tavern this afternoon. He didn’t stay here long, had a quick drink, then took off.” He shook his head. “I believe his emotion is real. If it turns out he’s our killer, I’m losing my touch. But, for now, don’t worry. Lie down. We have officers out there watching and searching. On the riverfront. Cruising around city hall...down the east and the west sides of the city. There are people out there, Abby. Let them do their jobs.”

  Nodding, she lay back down beside him.

  Music. Helen had heard music. She’d been thrown into the water not long before Abby saw her.

  That meant the killer had been out on the water. He’d been within their grasp.

  Tap, tap, tap.

  She felt Malachi stir and moved deeper into his arms.

  She dreamed of making love again.

  They fell asleep.

  * * *

  Malachi lay awake, smiling when he heard Abby’s easy breathing. She was exhausted. There was an emotional toll in all of this, especially since it came right after her grandfather’s death. She hadn’t really had time to mourn his passing before a connection between his death and that of the recent victims had become plausible and apparent to her—and now the body count was adding up. He rolled onto his side and turned to watch her sleep, studying the contours of her face. He found himself wondering why certain people fell into such a profound attraction, why the physical act could mean something so different, depending on how you felt about that person. He reached out, just to touch her hair, but started when he heard his phone ringing.

  He scrambled from the bed and searched for the jeans he’d discarded somewhere. He hurried down the hall until he found them and dug into his pocket.

  The caller was Will Chan.

  “Roger English is on the move,” Will said. “I’m following him now. He left his house and he’s headed toward Bay Street if you want to join me.”

  “Has he seen you?” Malachi asked.

  “Hasn’t made me yet. He was walking fast but then he stopped, pulled out his phone, looked at it—muttered to himself—and then began walking again.”

  “I’ll be there in a few minutes!” Malachi said.

  He started to slide back into his clothing. Hopping into his jeans, he turned and nearly crashed into Abby. Her hair was a tangle; her eyes were wide. “Where are we going?” she asked.

  “After Roger.”

  She frowned but said no more. He had to hand it to her; she could dress fast. She was dressed—slipping her Glock into her waistband—while he was still tying his shoes.

  The Dragonslayer was silent as they crept down the stairs. It was after the night crew had left, before the morning crew came in. They hurried out and he waited to make sure Abby locked the front door.

  He took her hand as they ran across the parking lot and toward Bay Street. He saw no one there, and Malachi quickly drew his phone from his pocket and called Will back.

  “Where are you?”

  “In front of city hall, on the river,” Will replied. “He’s pacing by the water. Keeps looking out at it. Pulls his phone in and out of his pocket.”

  “Come on,” he told Abby, catching her hand again.

  They ran up onto the embankment to reach the river walk and crossed by closed stores, restaurants and taverns, staying close to the shop fronts to meld with the shadows. As they moved silently closer, someone stepped out from the buildings.

  Will. He beckoned to them and they joined him behind a pillar.

  The three stood there silently as they observed Roger English.

  Roger paced and then stood still and stared out at the river. Malachi looked down the length of shops. There were other people in the shadows, he realized.

  True to his word, David Caswell had officers on surveillance. Watching the river.

  And now, watching Roger.

  Was he about to call someone—someone out on the river who had a captive?

  They waited what seemed to be a very long time while Roger walked up and down, continuing to stare out at the water.

  He clutched the cell phone and pulled something from his pocket, then stuffed it back. He began to dial.

  Who was he calling?

  Malachi jumped as he felt his phone buzz in his pocket. Stepping back, he looked at it.

  Roger was calling him.

  He glanced at the others and hurried a distance away, then answered his phone.

  “Roger?” he whispered.

  “Yeah, it’s me,” Roger said. As Malachi watched, Roger glanced at his phone, as if trying to figure out how Malachi had known it was him.

  “I haven’t given this number to many people,” Malachi explained.

  “Oh, yeah? Well, thanks. Look, I’m sorry to wake you. I know what time it is but...you said to call. I’m down on the riverfront, right near city hall. Dumb, I know. But I couldn’t stand it. I couldn’t stand doing nothing. And I realize there are cops out here, too—I believe someone is on this 24/7—but I think I can see something out on the water. I think it’s a rowboat. There’s nothing else out there, but can you get here?”

  “Yeah. Give me two minutes. I’m up and I’m close. I’ll be right there.” A rowboat. He thought of what Blue had said.

  Roger turned; Malachi didn’t know how, but he seemed to home right in on his location.

  He walked toward him. “Malachi?” he asked.

  Malachi walked toward Roger at the same time. “You said it. People are watching the river.”

  “Have you seen anything?” Roger asked.

  Will and Abby came out of the shadows, coming over to join them. “Everybody’s watching the river?” Roger asked. Malachi wasn’t sure if he felt reassured, stalked or just mystified.

  “What is it you saw?” Malachi asked.

  “Come here. Come straight to the edge and you’ll see. It’s moving with the current,” Roger said.

  “I’ll get Jackson.” Will stepped aside to make the call.

  “Do you see it?” Roger demanded.

  Malachi did; it was dark out on the water and the current was moving, but every few seconds, the moonlight touched down on something. He understood why Roger had stared out at the water for so long. It was there, and then it seemed to disappear in the darkness.

  “We need to go out there and get it,” Roger said.

  Abby put a hand on his arm. “Will’s calling for a boat to tow it in, to find out what’s going on. Maybe you should—”

  “Should what?” Roger shouted. “Go home? I can’t, Abby. Come on—you know I can’
t do that!”

  “I’m sorry, Roger. You’re right. We’ll just stay here and wait.” She came to him as a friend and slipped an arm around him, standing by his side.

  Only seconds later, they saw a marine patrol boat with lights flashing streak along the river. They saw it slow down and circle the object. The moon went behind a cloud and as it reappeared, they saw an officer tossing out a towrope.

  Malachi’s phone rang. He answered immediately.

  Roger stared at him.

  “It’s a rowboat and there’s nothing in it,” he told Roger. “Possibly, it just broke away from a dock. They’ll tow it in. It might have no connection to the case.”

  “Empty,” Roger repeated dully. Then he grew animated again. “That could mean that...she’s in the river. Tell them...tell them they have to search the water. They have to search the water until they find her! Like when Abby saw Helen. What if he threw her out of that rowboat? If he did, she’s in the water somewhere!”

  “Roger,” Malachi said, placing his hands on the man’s shoulders and focusing on his eyes. “There had to be someone in the rowboat to throw someone else in the water. There was no one in the boat.”

  Roger seemed to deflate. His shoulders slumped. “Yeah, you’re right. I guess you’re right. But...but she could be out there.”

  “So is the patrol,” Malachi said.

  “Yeah, I know,” Roger said. “I’ve got other people running my tours for me. I’m available if there’s anything I can do. I mean, hell, I’m here whether you want anything from me or not. I’ll be walking around. I’ll be looking. I can’t give up.”

  “Rog, how well did you know Bianca?” Abby asked. “I mean, everyone’s on the lookout because of what’s been happening, but she could have lost her phone or decided not to...pursue the relationship.”

  “I might’ve just met her,” Roger said, “but there was something there, Abby. I don’t believe Bianca blew me off and disappeared.”

  “Okay, I’m sorry,” Abby murmured.

  Mollified, Roger looked back at the river. “I guess...I guess I’ll go home for a while. Sleep.”

  “Come on. Let’s all walk back,” Malachi said.

  “You guys don’t need to babysit me,” Roger protested. “You sure don’t need to go out of your way.”

  “I’m staying at Abby’s house on Chippewa,” Will told him. “I’ll walk back with you, Roger.”

  “My place is just past Abby’s.”

  “Yeah?” Will said. “Then we’re going the same way.”

  The two of them started walking ahead, but Roger stopped and turned back. “I thought you all were watching the river?”

  “Shift is over. New crew coming on,” Malachi said to him.

  Roger nodded and then saw Abby. He came back and threw his arms around her in a warm hug. “Thank you,” he said.

  “Love ya, Rog.”

  “You, too.” He nodded, then turned, hurrying to catch up with Will. Malachi’s phone vibrated; he grabbed it quickly and heard Jackson’s voice. “When you get back in the Dragonslayer, take a look at the footage on the computer screens.”

  “Anything wrong? Anything I should worry about?” Malachi asked.

  “No, nothing wrong. But a little bizarre. Interesting. Have a look, then get some sleep.”

  “What?” Abby asked as Malachi slipped his phone into his pocket.

  “Nothing. Jackson’s just checking in,” he said.

  He and Abby walked slowly behind Will and Roger, coming along the riverfront and then hiking over to Bay and down toward the Dragonslayer.

  When the other two split off, heading to the center of the old town, Abby waved. “I feel like such a jerk,” she said. “Roger and I went to school together from the time we were kids.”

  “And you’re being a good friend. Remember, part of shadowing people is to clear them,” Malachi reminded her.

  As they returned to the Dragonslayer, he noticed that the sun was just coming up.

  “Let’s get a few hours’ sleep,” he said huskily.

  Abby nodded. “Good idea.”

  The morning crew had yet to arrive. Abby unlocked the door and they trudged up to the second-floor apartment. She started for the bedroom; he wanted to follow.

  “I’m just going to check the screens. I’ll be right there,” he told her.

  He sat down and looked at the various views of the Dragonslayer. Nothing. He ran the footage back, quickly at first. Then he reran it, closely studying the screen that showed the front of the Dragonslayer.

  He saw himself and Abby leaving. They went out of view.

  He glanced to see the time; they were gone about ten minutes when someone else approached the Dragonslayer.

  Head down.

  Most of the time when a person or persons couldn’t be identified on video, it was because of a sweatshirt with a hoodie.

  But this person wasn’t in a hoodie. He wore a sweeping hat and a cloak. A long black cloak.

  But the figure reached the Dragonslayer and seemed about to try the door, then abruptly stepped back. The hat still blocked any view of the face. “Look up, you bastard!” Malachi muttered.

  But the person didn’t look up. Apparently, something at the Dragonslayer had spooked him.

  Malachi went through the footage of the bar area and saw a shadow appear just inside the front door.

  “Blue,” Malachi whispered. “Blue, you are watching over this place.”

  He typed a message to Jackson. Maybe Will could enhance the footage in the morning; maybe there was some information they could get.

  Jackson was still at the computer in Abby’s house.

  Police closest to the area were dispatched. They were there in minutes but the person was gone, and out of camera range almost immediately.

  While we were by the river.

  Yes.

  Do you think the cameras scared him off?

  Don’t know. Camera would be pretty obvious if it was someone who knew the Dragonslayer.

  Any hope of enhancing the footage?

  I’ll get Will on it later in the morning. Rowboat taken to the forensic lab. I’ll report as soon as we learn anything.

  OK. Grabbing a few hours sleep.

  I’m on for the next few hours here. Angela spells me at eight. Police know to call at any time. I’ll keep you posted.

  Malachi signed off and walked down the hallway to Abby’s room. He went in and tiptoed over to the bed.

  Abby was sound asleep. She’d set her gun on the dresser—hadn’t even taken off her clothes. He pulled a blanket over her, stripped and lay down himself. He stayed awake for a few minutes, once again wondering about the mysterious noise Helen had reported.

  Tap, tap, tap. He knew it meant something. But what?

  * * *

  Abby woke up with a jolt. It felt very late, and although the drapes were drawn, she could feel the warmth of the sun pouring in.

  She dashed out of the room and found Malachi sitting at the computers.

  “Good morning,” he said.

  “What time is it?” she asked.

  “Ten.”

  “Ten! We should be up and doing something.”

  “You’ll notice that I am,” he said with a laugh. “But when you’re ready, we’ll go back to the area around the cemetery and the Wulf and Whistle.”

  “All right. I just have to send a few emails before we go.”

  “Okay, take your time.”

  “Take my time?” Abby echoed. “No, no, I slept a lot. We have to get started! If this guy is following his usual timelines, Bianca doesn’t have much longer. But if we’re going back to the cemetery today, I have to live up to my promise about having that tombstone repaired.”

  “Do you know who to contact?” Malachi asked.

  “I know a few people on the city council. I’ll write the emails to get things started.” She walked over to the desk near the balcony, where she’d left her laptop, and then paused, looking at him. “So, how am
I going to explain why I know all this? We don’t really have an opportunity to research it.”

  “Just say it came up when the bureau was investigating. They won’t ask anything else if you do that. I’ll tell Jackson. He really can get someone on the research,” Malachi said.

  Abby nodded and she retrieved her notepad before she quickly sat down.

  “‘Lieutenant Josiah Beckwith,’” she read. “‘Born April 9, 1790. Died for his country, September 12, 1814, at the Battle of North Point during the War of 1812. Beloved son, husband and father. A patriot.’ I have it all—yes?”

  “Yes.”

  Abby looked through her list of email contacts, selected a few of the influential people she knew on city council and wrote something vague about finding the information while investigating the cemetery on an FBI case. She asked that the situation be rectified, that the gravestone defaced during the Civil War be repaired.

  As she typed, Malachi walked over to her.

  “How many people around here dress up as pirates?” he asked. She realized that he was holding a cup of coffee for her, which she accepted gratefully.

  “Lots of people dress up as pirates,” Abby said. “Why?”

  “Come on back to the computers when you’re done there,” he told her. “Finish your emails first.”

  She did, and when she approached the computer screens, she saw that Malachi had frozen a frame of the video. It showed someone standing in front of the Dragonslayer.

  Someone who looked very strange.

  She could see nothing of the actual person. A massive, plumed pirate hat hid the face, and a sweeping black cloak encompassed him to a degree that hid his size. If it was a him. Abby thought that it was—the person appeared to be tall.

  “When was that?” she asked Malachi.

  “At 3:32 a.m.,” Malachi told her.

  “When we were down by the river,” Abby said.

  “He was trying to get in here?”

  “So I assume. But he stopped.”