A Dark Place

by Keith Yocum

  “Would you be upset if I rained just a little on your parade?” she said.

  “No, go for it. Maybe I need a little rain to cool me down right now.”

  “Just for a moment, did it occur to you that your Ukrainian friend is behind this letter and that you’re being lured to something bad? Hang on, don’t smirk. What if you don’t tell your folks about this letter and you go to this meeting, and an ‘accident’ occurs? Especially if you don’t take your cell phone; there will be no way to track your movements and location. The end effect will be that the two investigators that came closest to cracking this missing person’s case have died. And I lose the one man I’ve been stalking around the planet.”

  She didn’t mean to cry, and in fact she didn’t break out in sobs. But her eyes welled up, and she looked away.

  “If this is how ordinary couples spend their time romancing each other, then I’d rather not bother,” she said.

  Dennis closed his laptop lid, sighed and said, “I don’t think we’re ordinary people.”

  CHAPTER 12

  The phone rang, and he looked at the time. It was 3:23 a.m. He felt Judy’s body tense as he reached for the phone and untethered it from its charging chord.

  “Hey, Louise,” Dennis said.

  “Sorry, I know it’s late there. You should know, though. Fred Kaczka passed away about two hours ago. They’ll be an autopsy and an official inquiry, of course. We’ll have plenty of time to prepare for it. Not to worry. I’m sorry, Dennis. I gather you were fond of him.”

  “Will there be a service for him?”

  “It’s private. Family only, or that’s what we’ve been told.”

  “Would have liked to attend.” Dennis held the phone to his ear but did not know what else to say.

  “You okay?”

  “Yes, fine,” Dennis said.

  “There’s some confusion right now about what all this means in relation to Arnold’s disappearance. There is a growing consensus that Pavlychko had nothing to do with Arnold, and you just scared him about some other illegal activity he was involved in. And he reacted accordingly.”

  “Are you serious?”

  “Yes. Operations thinks there’s no real link between Arnold and Pavlychko. And they want you to close out the investigation pronto.”

  “I need to do one more thing,” Dennis said.

  “Nope. Can’t do it.”

  “Louise, please? Just one more thing?” Dennis was aware that his voice had slid an octave higher and that he sounded emotional. He was doing his best to manipulate Louise, even if it meant sounding vulnerable and desperate.

  “Nice try,” she said. “No go.”

  “Louise,” he said slowly. “Please?”

  Dennis heard a man’s muffled voice and realized that it was Louise’s husband.

  “If I say, ‘no,’ will you accept it and move on?” she said.

  “I guess I’d have no choice,” he said. “But it would be a huge mistake.”

  “Fine. Then do your ‘one thing.’ I’ll cover for you here, but it has to be fast. By the way, what is your ‘one thing?’”

  “I need to review the video of Arnold’s last visit to Menwith Hill. That’s all.”

  “Then do it, for chrissakes. End this damn thing.”

  He hung up.

  Judy turned and rested her head on his shoulder.

  “What is this Louise woman like?”

  “I’m not sure,” he said. “Check with me when all of this is over.”

  ✦

  “You can’t see that now,” Sorenstam said. “Out of the question. If you have any requests, go through channels. I’m going to report this call.”

  “Go right ahead,” Dennis said. “I’ll see the video again, regardless of what you think.”

  After Sorenstam hung up he called Chandler’s office.

  “He’s not available right now, Mr. Cunningham,” his secretary said. “Do you want him to call you?”

  “Yes, please. Tell him it’s important.”

  “Certainly.”

  Dennis heard the passkey unlock the hotel door, and Judy came in with several shopping bags.

  “Trinkets for the natives?” he said.

  “Of course,” she said, dropping the bags on the bed. “Can’t go home without some gifts.”

  They had not talked about Dennis’s decision to go to St. Paul’s. She argued with him that morning at breakfast, but gave up quickly. It was Judy’s last night in London and she preferred peace, not war at this time.

  “Did you make reservations?” Judy asked.

  “Yes; they only had 7:45. It’s supposed to be a very nice, cozy restaurant. Can’t say that I’m happy to see you go tomorrow. You can’t stay a little longer?”

  “Lord, no,” she said. “I had a call from Clive this morning, and he’s begging for me to return. He’s got two new cases.”

  “Oh, well,” Dennis said.

  He looked out the hotel window and was surprised to see the sun shining, casting long shadows across the busy street below.

  “The sun sets so early here,” he said. “Something like 4:00 p.m. Seems like a gloomy, cold, rainy country.”

  “Ah well, I’ll be flying back into spring Down Under, and I bet the sun doesn’t set until around seven thirty this time of year. Think what you’re missing.”

  “Not for long,” he said as his phone rang.

  Judy put away the shopping bags and listened as Dennis argued with someone.

  “No, I told him I wanted to see it one more time, that’s all,” he said. “Damnit, Chandler, the investigation is still ongoing and I’m requesting another look at the video. And yes, that is all I need at this point.”

  ✦

  Judy pulled on her running shoes and slid her room key in a small pocket on her running shirt. She checked her watch. It was 4:35 p.m. and pitch-black outside, with the usual crush of London rush-hour traffic.

  “Do you have to run at night?” Dennis asked. “You’ll be hit by a car.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said, stretching out on the hotel carpet. “I need to burn off some nervous energy. And you’re the one that has to watch out this evening. I’m going to walk you partway to St. Paul’s then run a long route through the park back to the hotel and wait for you to tell me all about your skullduggery during our romantic dinner this evening. I decided to stop wasting my time worrying about you. I’m just going to go with the flow and assume you’re correct that this meeting you’re having is not dangerous. There, I’ve said it. I feel better already.”

  Dennis laughed. “Really. Judy, I think you’re in more danger running the streets of London than I am at St. Paul’s tonight.”

  “Let’s go,” Judy said, getting up off the floor. “I’m getting hungry and nervous, even if you’re not.”

  They walked out the hotel into the hordes of Londoners on their way home. They took a left, then a shortcut through a small side street that could pass for an alley, then onto another busy thoroughfare.

  “Are you sure you know how to get there?” Judy asked.

  “Yep. See you back at the hotel. Wish me luck.”

  “I’ll need the luck,” she said. “You’re giving me a nervous breakdown.”

  ✦

  Even though he did not remember it raining during the day, the streets had a damp coating that magnified the garish reflections of car lights and street lamps. He fought his way through the pedestrian crush, crossed two busy intersections, and then saw the spire of St. Paul’s. The cold, damp air made the evening feel unpleasant against his face, and he pressed forward.

  Dennis was not entirely sure he was going to meet Freddie’s friend; Judy had planted just enough doubt about Pavlychko that he was nervous. And of course he was blind to whomever he was supposed to meet; he felt vulnerable and u
nprotected.

  But he was also curious. Somewhere deep in his psyche he was being driven by a remarkably powerful force that he suspected was part guilt and part revenge. It was not going to be enough to punch a hole in a hospital wall; somehow he needed to find the perpetrator. If this meeting could advance that cause, then so be it. If he had duped himself into lowering his suspicions about the Ukrainian because of his guilt, well, so what? Either way, something was going to happen at St. Paul’s. Dennis just wanted to get on with it.

  An elaborate statue of a woman — perhaps a queen — ringed by iron bars stood near the base of the steps leading up to the cathedral doors. He could make out tourists being directed to a towering door to the right and followed them up and into the cathedral. The service had already started in the cavernous building, and he followed the small group of people forward.

  The choir appeared to be a hundred yards ahead in a narrow section of the church; choristers wore white frocks and faced each other on both sides of the long alcove where the altar was situated. The music was somber and seemed to get lost in the huge, vaulted ceiling covered in gilded religious paintings. There were two sections where people sat; one section was closer to the altar, and another was farther back. Dennis took an open seat in the back.

  He was not a religious person, and his only experience with church ceremonies was funerals and weddings. He tried to appear serious and respectful. There were many open seats, and tourists of all ethnicities and nationalities filtered in, sat for a while and then slid out through the back of the cathedral.

  He wondered who was watching him; was it the Asian man in his mid-forties sitting two rows up to his right? That man periodically scanned the area, checking out everyone. Three rows up to his left sat a stiff-backed woman in her sixties with snow-white hair pulled into a dignified bun at the back of her head. She wore a beige raincoat. Was Freddie’s friend a woman?

  Just wait. It will happen. Don’t rush it, he thought. You’re in a house of worship. What could go wrong?

  The service went on far longer than Dennis had hoped, with more people filtering in and out. There were prayers and more songs. He might have enjoyed the solemnity of it all, if it weren’t for the fact that he knew someone was observing him.

  Dennis scanned the enormous space, looking at the ceiling and lighting fixtures. The word “light” was somehow part of the message, but he saw numerous lights that could be important. The service went on until the choir and minister left the chamber to resounding organ music.

  The service was over, and the crowd made its way to the back door. No one sat next to Dennis during the service or made an attempt to contact him.

  He stood and filtered to the back. In a minute he’d be outside on the dark steps. Perhaps he would be met outside? Was there a large light fixture outside he missed?

  Docents ushered churchgoers to a door to the right. Dennis lagged behind as the place emptied. At the back of the hall he saw two women and a man lighting votive candles that were lined up in five parallel tiers in front of a painting of Christ.

  Dennis walked back to the candles and lingered. A tall man in a short blue wool coat to his left bowed his head as he lit a candle. Dennis heard the tourists behind him being pressed to vacate the cathedral. He turned to leave when the tall man said, “That was for Fred. A very good man.”

  The man turned without looking at Dennis and proceeded to join the sparse crowd as it left the church. Dennis followed at a distance as they exited into the night. The man made his way down toward the statue, where a group of tourists were taking pictures, their camera flashes giving the scene a strange, strobe-like effect.

  The tall man walked across the street and entered a hotel bar; Dennis followed and saw the man sitting on a stool at the bar. Dennis sat a barstool away.

  Dennis ordered a single-malt Scotch while the man perused the menu. The rush-hour crowd was boisterous, and Dennis realized if the man spoke to him across the open bar seat he would not be able to hear him, so he slid over. The man said nothing but suddenly put down his menu, took out a pen, grabbed a drink napkin and wrote something on it. He slid it to Dennis.

  Fred said you needed help.

  Dennis nodded and pushed the napkin back.

  The man wrote again and pushed it over.

  Only meet me at church. Send date/time in postcard to: occupant, PO 20199, Westminster 02110.

  Dennis pulled out a pen and wrote email or text? and pushed it back.

  The man gave a short, sharp laugh and tapped his finger on the address. Dennis looked down at it, memorized it and nodded. The man stood up, took the napkin and left.

  ✦

  Dennis had expected Judy to be out of the shower when he got back to the hotel room, but she had not returned from her run. He couldn’t wait to alleviate her fear about the meeting at St. Paul’s.

  He looked at his watch. It was almost six. He called her cell phone, but it rang on the desk next to him, and he remembered she thought it was too cumbersome to run with.

  At 6:22 he started to wonder why her run was taking so long. He distinctly remembered that she liked to run between four and five miles per outing, depending on her whim at the moment. During their stay together in London, she had never been gone for more than forty-five minutes or so, always returning slightly winded, her cheeks pink from the cold. When he saw her off at the end of the alley earlier that evening, it had been 4:50.

  He called the front desk and asked if anyone had tried to call his room, or if there were any messages for him. The answer was no.

  He was not sure why, but he started going through Judy’s belongings. He looked through her purse and her clothes hanging in the closet. He looked at her phone, and while he did know her password, there were no missed calls or texts that he could see on the home screen.

  It felt like a small, agitated rodent was clawing the inside of his stomach. He sat down. His breathing grew shallow, so he stood up and for the fifth time in last hour opened the door and looked down the empty hallway.

  He left his room and took the stairwell down to the lobby, walked around and looked into the bar area. He asked the woman behind the check-in counter whether she had seen a female jogger in the lobby. The woman said she had not.

  Dennis went out the front door and looked up and down the busy street. By the time he got back to the hotel room it was 7:14. Judy had written down the restaurant name and number on the hotel’s note pad. He called the restaurant and cancelled the reservations; Judy had told him it was rude and thoughtless not to cancel restaurant reservations. In truth, he was just doing anything he could to keep busy one moment to the next.

  The rodent continued to rip away at his stomach.

  Why would she do this to me? Is she purposely trying to frighten me? Surely she’d be aware of how crazy I would be? Damnit, Judy, where are you?

  CHAPTER 13

  The woman wore a traditional Muslim black headscarf covering most of her head, including her ears. Only the area from her forehead to her chin was visible. She wore a long-sleeved white cotton shirt, black pants and a black vest with the words “Metropolitan Police” stitched in white lettering across the chest. She had taken off her fluorescent yellow coat and laid it across her lap.

  Her male partner left his coat on. He was about fifty years old, with silver hair at the temples and a large, florid nose. His gray eyes kept a tight focus on Dennis as they sat in the hotel room.

  “How long did you say she’s been missing?” the male officer said.

  “Are you deaf?” Dennis said. “Haven’t I told you already? It’s been almost three hours since she went out for a jog. Jesus Christ, why haven’t you started looking for her yet? She could have been hit by a car or mugged. Neither of you have picked up your radios since you’ve been here. Do something!”

  “Mr. Cunningham,” the woman said. “Please remember we have to make
sure we ask the correct questions so that we can proceed. You said you called the local hospitals already, yes?”

  “Yes, yes, yes. I called, but I don’t know if someone took her to another hospital. I don’t know what your emergency procedures are here.”

  “Mr. Cunningham,” the male officer said, “you work for the United States government? Is that correct?”

  “I already told you that! You’ve looked at my passport, haven’t you?”

  “And Judy White, she is a police officer with the Australian Federated Police?”

  “Yes!”

  “Have you contacted anyone in Australia about her disappearance?”

  “No; I don’t know anyone she works with. I’m sure you can call their office in Perth and find out if she’s called them, can’t you?”

  “Of course we can,” the woman said.

  Dennis ran his right hand through his short, bristly hair. “Don’t you folks have closed circuit cameras everywhere?” he said. “I read there are more cameras here in London than any city in the world. Isn’t that true? Get on your monitors and see if you can find her. I showed you her passport. Take a copy of her picture. Send it out. Just do something, now!”

  “Yes, we do have cameras, but it’s not so instantaneous to get access to their videos,” the man said. He looked at his partner, and they both turned and looked at him.

  “Does this happen a lot in London?” Dennis asked. “Do women just disappear?”

  “There have been some disappearances,” the man said. “Mostly young foreign women. We don’t know why. But we’re looking into all of the disappearances, I assure you.”

  “So you know about these things?”

  “There have been three instances in the past eighteen months,” the female office said. “We are not sure they are related at all. There have been no bodies found, and we’re not sure why these women disappeared, but some are undoubtedly runaways.”

  “Jesus, there may be a serial murderer out there!” Dennis said.