The River Is Dark
Page 5
The young law officer recoiled and rolled his eyes as he exhaled. “Wow, you scared the hell out of me.”
Liam smiled. “Sorry, the sheriff told me to ring the button.”
The deputy nodded, holding the door open for him. “No problem, go ahead. He’s in a meeting, might have to wait a minute.”
“Thanks,” Liam said, slipping past him, out of the dingy light of the day and into the stark fluorescent glow of the jail. As soon as the door shut behind him, he heard a raised voice down the hall. It didn’t sound like Barnes, and Liam walked as quietly as he could toward the closed door of the sheriff’s office. Gradually, the words became less garbled and more distinct.
“You do realize the importance of this project, Sheriff?”
“Yes, of course I do, and I’ll do my best to impress it upon the agents handling the cases, but with all due respect, Mr. Haines, there has been loss of life. A construction project doesn’t really come into play during a murder investigation.”
Liam leaned against the wall to one side of the sheriff’s office and tilted his head to hear the conversation better.
“I can say, on behalf of Colton Incorporated, that we are very sorry for the town’s losses, but the amount of financial backing that is riding on the town’s vote next week is quite substantial.”
“I don’t know what else to tell you, Mr. Haines. There’s been concern raised and people are scared. It will be up to the city council whether there will be a postponement of the vote,” Barnes said. The old man’s voice was gruff and bland, without emotion or energy. “We’re doing all we can.”
There was a long pause, and Liam stepped away from the door as he saw the handle begin to turn.
“Just see that you keep us updated.”
The door opened completely, and Liam was ready for it. He took a step forward as though he were only just now walking down the hallway, and nearly bumped into a man in a black button-up shirt and gray slacks.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Liam said, and stepped out of the man’s way.
Haines had wide shoulders, which he held back in a stiff posture, his chest thrown out. He looked to be a few years older than Liam and was clean-shaven, his features angular, with a knitted black brow that almost formed a line over his squinting eyes.
Haines sized up Liam for a split second, and then pushed past him without a word. Liam stepped into the sheriff’s doorway and watched the other man until he disappeared through the rear entry.
“Top of the morning to you,” Barnes said in a deadened tone, his voice unchanged from the conversation with Haines.
“Not that I heard, but it sounded like things are looking up for you,” Liam said, walking into the office and raising his eyebrows.
Barnes stared at him for a moment, then snorted a short laugh. “Shut the door and come sit down.”
Liam did as he asked and waited expectantly. Barnes exhaled a drawn-out sigh and rubbed his mustache.
“I looked into your record,” Barnes said at last.
Liam’s heart stutter-stepped, then began to slam in his chest. “I see. And how did you—”
“Just because I’m a small-town sheriff doesn’t mean I don’t know people.”
Liam’s temper flared with his rising panic. “So what the hell does my record have to do with what’s going on now?”
“Everything,” Barnes said, leaning back in his chair.
“Listen, I don’t know what Phelps told you, but I haven’t been to this town in years. I haven’t spoken a word to my brother or his wife since the day I buried my father. I did not kill them.”
“I know, Liam. You misunderstand. I read about what happened to you ten months ago, but that’s not what interested me. What interested me was your arrest record and case-closure percentage. They were off the charts. There’s a dozen entries in your file by your superiors noting your ability to read a suspect just by speaking with him. Not to mention the commendations. You were a damn fine detective.”
Liam sat with a retort stuck in his mouth, the angry words dissolving like an ill-tasting pill. “I guess I’m not following,” he finally said.
Barnes interlaced his fingers over his formidable belly and closed his eyes. “Son, I’m about a year away from retirement. My wife’s father just passed away, God rest his wretched soul, and he happened to leave us enough money to buy the cabin on the Sheldon River in Colorado that I’ve had my eye on for the last ten years. I love to fly-fish, Liam. I love the solitude of it, always have. The feeling of the river parting around your waders, the zip of the line overhead, the hit as a nice trout takes the bait.” Barnes opened his eyes and looked at Liam. “There’s really nothing like it.”
“Sounds nice.”
“You can’t even imagine,” Barnes said, the barest of smiles on his face. “What I’m getting at is, no matter where I go after I retire, this is where I grew up. I know the people of this town, I knew their parents, and I know their kids. I’ve gone to the same diner to eat lunch and bought my shoes at the same shoe store for the last fifty years. I love this place, and what’s going on here just isn’t fair.”
“This have something to do with the polite man I met in the hall?” Liam asked.
“Dumbfuck,” Barnes muttered. “Donald Haines. He’s the head manager on the latest Colton acquirement. The old foundry and the land it sits on across the river.”
Liam nodded. “I was filled in on the project by someone already.”
Barnes scowled. “By whom?”
Liam considered it for a few seconds and saw no harm in being honest. “Nut.”
Barnes’s scowl deepened. “Damn gossiping drunk.” The sheriff pointed a stubby finger across the desk at Liam. “He’s a nosy bastard, been hanging around bars and cafés too long in this town.” Liam held his tongue, and Barnes regained his composure and continued. “That shithead Haines sees the murders as an inconvenience to the project across the river. He’s heard rumblings that if the killer isn’t caught, the city council might not convene and vote on whether construction can begin. Prick.”
“What does this have to do with me?”
Barnes put both of his meaty hands palm down on his desk and looked Liam in the eyes. “Allen and the Shevlins weren’t just murdered, son. They were cut to pieces.” Liam swallowed and waited, not looking away from the sheriff’s unwavering stare. “I’ve never seen anything like it in my life. It was . . . inhuman.” Barnes pointed a finger at Liam’s chest. “Phelps isn’t handling this the way he should—he’s rushing. I’ve seen hurried law work before and it always ends up badly. Do you agree?”
“Definitely.”
“Good. So from what I’ve read about you and from what I’ve seen of Phelps, you’re the better cop. You have the experience to help find this guy, whoever he is. Now, my question to you is can you handle working on something this close to home? Can you put aside any feelings that might muddle the investigation?”
“Yes.”
“Are you sure? Because I’m not solely concerned with the town’s well-being here. If I’m to go out on a limb, I want to be sure you’re not going to shake it so much that I fall off and break my ass.”
Liam nodded once.
“On the other hand, I will not let my town be terrorized and become the hunting ground of some psycho when there’s an answer sitting right in front of me.” Barnes blinked a few times, and Liam saw the emotion written in his features. “Even if you and your brother didn’t see eye to eye, Suzie was still a special woman and she didn’t deserve to die like she did.” Barnes nodded once, affirming his own words. “You got a gun?”
“Yes,” Liam said, feeling the floating sensation of being in a dream.
“Registered to carry it?”
“Yes.”
“Got it on you now?”
Liam said nothing.
“Good.”
The sheriff moved around his desk and swung the door open as if Liam wasn’t there anymore. Liam listened to his footsteps echo in the hall and fade as they neared the front offices. After a moment, a door slammed and all was quiet again.
Liam stood and put the house keys into his pocket, then grabbed the file folder from the desk. He scanned the area behind the sheriff’s desk until he spotted the small copier in the corner of the room. He slipped the stack of paper out of the folder and placed it into the feeder tray at the top of the copier. With a punch of the green button on the machine’s face, it hummed to life, sucking greedily at the pile of papers in its tray.
CHAPTER 5
Liam laid the sheaf of papers on the passenger seat and started the truck.
Reaching into his pocket, he found Dani’s business card and pulled it out, really seeing it for the first time: Dani Powell—Web Design—Freelance Artist. So she’d gone ahead with the musings she’d spoken of the night of Allen and Suzie’s wedding. He remembered the feeling of her breath on his ear as they danced. She’d told him about how much she’d like to draw and create art for a living, and he had listened, feeling privileged at how close she stood to him.
He punched the cell number into his phone and waited. On the third ring, Dani answered.
“Hello?”
“Dani, it’s Liam.”
“Hi, how are you?”
“Fine. Look, I don’t know how to ask you this, and you can tell me I’m crazy if you want, but I was able to come by some information concerning Allen’s and Suzie’s deaths. Would you be interested in looking over it with me?” Silence hung thick on the other end of the line, and he mentally cursed himself for calling her. Of course she didn’t want to go over the details of her cousin’s death. And why was he asking her? Out of respect, believing that she would want to be involved—or were his motives completely selfish? “I’m sorry, I didn’t—”
“I’d love to help,” she said.
“Really? Because what I have isn’t pleasant in the least.”
“No, I want to. I owe it to Suzie if I can help in some way. Thank you for offering. Should I meet you at your hotel?”
“Yeah, that’d be great,” Liam said, putting the Chevy into drive. “It’s the Riverside Inn on the south end of town. You can’t miss it.”
“Okay, see you soon.”
“Okay, bye.” He hung up and stared at the phone in his hand. A fluttery feeling began to course through the base of his stomach, and he squelched it with a glance at the papers in the passenger seat. This wasn’t a teen study session with a pretty girl; it was a murder investigation that he wasn’t even supposed to be involved in. And now he’d implicated a woman who in no way deserved to be a part of this mess. Annoyed, he tapped a finger against his temple as he drove toward the south end of town. The clouds above the bluffs were even lower than before his meeting with Barnes, and he expected heavy raindrops to start falling any minute.
The inner turmoil hadn’t abated by the time he pulled into his hotel parking lot, and he decided that, after sharing his thoughts and the information with Dani, he would leave her out of any further action he might take. And what was he going to do? Go after the killer alone? A familiar stirring of energy rose in his chest at the thought of finding the person responsible for the murders, and even with only three hours of sleep, a focused calm fell over him, with just a suggestion of weariness at the wings of his senses.
He parked in a spot at the corner of the lot and retrieved the papers, and had taken three steps from the vehicle when Shirley Strafford and a man holding a camera and tripod over his shoulder came around the far side of the building and obstructed his path to the hotel doors. The reporter’s small, perky face held a sickly sweet smile, and her eyes flashed a challenge to him as he slowed his walk, his jaw tightening.
“Mr. Dempsey, a quick word with you?”
“No, thanks,” Liam said, and tried to sidestep the woman. She moved to block his way, a wireless microphone clutched in one hand.
“It will just take a second,” she said, pushing the mic into his face. “Have there been any new developments in the case of your brother’s and sister-in-law’s murders?”
Liam tried to move to the woman’s other side, but she blocked him again.
“Could you tell us how you feel about the brutal nature of the crimes committed here in the last week?”
“Please move,” Liam said, stepping back a few feet from the reporter’s reach.
“If you would give us a little of your time, we’d be happy to let you get on with your day,” Shirley said, and gave him another smile.
Liam brushed past her before she could step in his way. He felt her microphone graze his cheek as he reached for the door handle, but the cameraman put a foot in front of the door and lowered the camera away from his face.
“Look, bud, give us a couple minutes and we’ll leave you be.”
Liam let go of the door handle and dropped his head. “Okay,” he said as he folded the papers he held in his hand and tucked them into his back pocket.
“That’s a trouper,” the cameraman said, and began to raise the viewing lens back to his eye.
With a fluid motion, Liam stepped forward and pressed the red power button on the back edge of the camera. “What—” the man began, but Liam released the camera and grabbed his face. He slammed the man’s head into the brick wall of the entry and heard a muffled cry of pain as the cameraman’s eyes fluttered.
“Listen to me,” Liam hissed, and turned his head and fixed Shirley with an icy glare. “My fucking brother and sister-in-law were just murdered. Believe it or not, I’m not in a mood to discuss it. Do we have an understanding?”
The cameraman nodded as far as Liam’s grip would allow him, but Shirley merely grimaced at him, her false smile replaced with a look of disgust. Liam pressed a little harder on the man’s face and he whimpered. Finally, the reporter’s shoulders drooped.
“Okay, fucking let him go!” Shirley yelled.
Liam released the cameraman and readied himself for an attack, but none came. The man merely rubbed his face and shot a hateful look at Liam. Without another pause, Liam swung the door open and walked toward the stairs, giving a smile to the young man who stepped from the room behind the front desk.
“Everything okay, sir?”
“Just fine, thanks,” Liam said, and he bounded up the stairs two at a time, leaving the hotel employee to stare at the retreating reporter supporting her staggering cameraman outside.
Fifteen minutes later there was a knock on his door. Liam moved to the front of his small room and stopped, wondering if the sheriff would be in the hall with Shirley and the cameraman, his eyes morose and filled with disappointment.
“Who is it?” he asked.
“It’s Dani.”
Liam unlocked the door and opened it. Dani wore a pair of hip-hugging jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Her hair poked out from a tight bun in different directions, and her eyes looked clear, as if she’d gotten some sleep. He nearly grimaced at how horrible his appearance surely was.
“Come in,” he said, standing back. She stepped by him, and he caught a faint whiff of perfume, somet
hing like ripened peaches. “Sorry for the state of things,” he said.
“It’s fine,” Dani said, turning in a small circle as she looked around the room.
Liam picked up her business card from the table beside the bed. “So you’re an artist, just like you wanted to be.”
She glanced at his hand and laughed. “Well, yes and no.”
“What do you mean?”
“I do web design, which is an art form these days, but it’s not my passion.”
“Not like drawing?” Liam said as he moved past her to the coffeepot that chugged and burbled on the table below the window.
Dani sat in one of the two chairs at the end of the bed. “No, not like drawing. Don’t get me wrong, I still get to do it. I set aside an hour every day to sketch and work on some creative aspect, but none of my work has gotten accepted by the galleries I keep submitting to.” She looked at him for a long time, her head tilted to one side. “You remembered that I liked to draw.”
Liam nodded. “Of course.” Dani opened her mouth, then closed it. “What?” he asked.
“I’m sorry I didn’t call you after Allen and Suzie’s wedding. I know I said I would. It was kind of fast for me. I’d only broken up with my boyfriend a few weeks before and I had classes, but it’s no excuse.”
Liam waved the words away and handed her a cup of coffee before sitting opposite her. “Do you take cream?” he asked, starting to get up again.
“No, no, it’s fine, thank you,” she said.
“Are you happy doing the web design?” he asked. He could see she wanted to talk more about the few hours they’d shared on Allen and Suzie’s wedding night, but he was afraid the memory might become tainted by words. He wouldn’t tell her how long he’d waited, hoping she would call. To her it might’ve only been a few dances and several lingering kisses, but to him it had meant more.