by Joe Hart
“Only you.”
Perring put the car in drive and cruised down the street before turning in the direction of the lake and lower roads.
“This adds a whole new dimension to the case,” Liam said.
“You mean Valerie not staying at home every day like Owen said she was?”
“Yep. If she was leaving the house and going to that jewelry store . . .”
“Then where else was she going?” Perring said, eyes not leaving the road.
“Exactly. Sorenson said that she started coming in about two years ago. That’s the same time Valerie’s therapist said her overall condition began to improve.”
“Well maybe that’s the connection. She got the courage to go outdoors and didn’t want to tell anyone for fear of failing and regressing.”
Liam frowned. “Doesn’t fit though. She stays inside for how many years, and then suddenly decides to go for a drive? Makes no sense.”
“So what do you think she was doing?”
Liam shook his head and glanced out the window. “At a jewelry store? I have no idea. We need to talk to Owen.”
They rode in silence for a time before Perring shifted in her seat and threw him a look.
“Seriously though, what did you say to him?”
“It’s just a theory as of yet. I won’t say it out loud since I don’t want to jinx it.”
Perring huffed. “Well please clue me in if anything pans out.”
Liam smiled. “I will.”
Perring’s cell chimed and she checked it, glancing in the rearview mirror before pulling to a stop at the curb. “Charlie got a tip on who Davis has been running with.”
“Yeah?”
“A guy named Warren Richard. Looks like he’s been in for a couple of small sales of weed, a little meth. It appears that he’s been using some of his own product.” She turned the phone to him. Richard’s picture was from the neck up. He had stringy, dark hair and a hooked nose that curled down to his upper lip. His skin was a pasty white, pocked with meth sores around his mouth.
“Good looking guy. Do we have an address?”
“No, but Charlie said his typical hangout is the Far End Bar on the south side of town. He’s been caught dealing outside twice, along with the night club next door.”
“Shall we pay him a visit?”
Perring pulled back onto the street and hung a hard right that made Liam’s empty stomach cringe. “Let’s.”
CHAPTER 17
The Far End Bar was a low, slate-colored building with reflective glass set in its front.
Its parking lot was full and several cars were nose to the curb in front of its entrance. As he climbed from the sedan, Liam glanced at the nightclub beside the bar, a place called Zink. A short queue of people waited outside a door guarded by a hulking man wearing a bright yellow security sweatshirt. As he waited for Perring to round the car, he scanned their faces.
“See him?” Perring asked.
“No. Want to wait outside or make a scene in the bar?”
“We don’t have time for niceties. Let’s go in and get the bastard.”
When they were still a dozen steps away from the entrance, the door opened, pouring out a Willie Nelson song along with two men. One was tall and sported a tight, blond crew cut, his face down and lost in shadow. The second was shorter, wearing a faded leather jacket and a sneer on his thin mouth below a hooked nose. Richard was in the middle of saying something to his companion when he spotted them.
He froze, hands sliding into his jacket pockets as his narrow-set eyes flitted from Perring to Liam.
“Warren Richard?” Perring said.
Richard bolted, shoving the taller man at them like a piece of furniture.
Richard’s friend tripped and fell toward Liam who caught him before he could connect with the sidewalk. Perring was already in motion, her hand on her weapon as she ran. Richard dashed to the corner of the bar and vanished behind it.
“Get your fucking hands off of me,” the man Liam had caught growled. He thrashed in Liam’s grip and took a wild swing at him that breezed over the top of his head. Liam kicked him in the side of the knee and pushed him to the ground as he dropped. Without waiting to see where the man landed, Liam jogged to the corner of the bar to see Perring in pursuit of Richard, his lead widening as he ran up the street and cut diagonally to an alleyway.
Liam sprinted across an intersection and onto the next sidewalk.
A couple walking their dog stood aside as he passed, the furry mop on the end of the leash lunging at him with a snarl. Liam sidestepped the dog and kept going, a picket fence flowing by on his right.
His feet hammered the concrete and he didn’t break stride as he came to the next corner and curved right, the pavement rising beneath him in a steep hill.
A dry cleaner’s brightly lit windows shone across the street, a row of apartments on the opposite side. His legs began to burn with the incline of the ground, his breath a metronome in his ears. Perring shouted again somewhere to the right and he poured on more speed.
Richard exploded out of the alley ahead of Liam and threw a small bag of something beneath a parked car without looking. The leather jacket flapped behind him like a cape and Liam closed the gap between them as Richard darted to the left between two apartment buildings. The heavy, sodden grass soaked Liam’s shoes as he poured on the last reserves of speed and reached out, snagging the waving hem of Richard’s coat.
Richard cried out and tried to turn but Liam kept moving, whipping the other man around by his jacket. Richard stumbled and fell as Liam released his hold.
The drug dealer slammed into the solid brick of the nearest building and rebounded, air whooshing from him like a punctured balloon as Perring emerged from the gloom.
“Didn’t you hear her yelling stop?” Liam asked as Richard straightened. The other man drew something from his jacket pocket and rushed forward without warning, a flash of silver on his knuckles. Liam ducked, throwing a short hook into Richard’s ribs. The man groaned but swung his fist backward. Liam caught his arm and locked it tight to his own body.
“Brass knuckles,” Liam said, twisting Richard’s wrist until the man bellowed and his hand sprung open, releasing the hold on the silver weapon. Liam peeled it from his fingers and dropped it to the ground. “That’s cheating.”
“Hands up, Warren,” Perring said, covering him with her handgun.
“Let me go!” Richard yelled, twisting away from Liam’s grip. “The fuck you want with me?”
“We have questions for you,” Perring said, stepping closer.
“I ain’t telling you shit.”
“You better start talking, or we’re going to go get that bag of meth from underneath the car down the street and haul your ass into the station,” Perring said.
“I don’t know nothin’ about any drugs.”
“Now that’s a double negative,” Liam said. “So you must know something.”
“Fuck you, pig.”
“Oh I’m not a cop. She is though and I’d suggest you tell her what she needs to know.” The same black energy was running through him again. It hummed in his ears like a broken live wire. His fingers twitched.
“We need to find Marshall Davis. Where is he?” Perring asked.
“Who?”
“Don’t bullshit me, Warren. You’ve been seen together and booked together. We need to find him.”
“Don’t know who you’re talking about. I don’t know any Davis.”
“You want to do this the hard way? I’ll go collect those drugs down there and then I’ll haul in your buddy you were going to sell to back at the bar. This is probably your third or fourth offense so I’ll be more than happy to ask the DA to lock your ass away for the next three years. But I hate paperwork and I’m sure you hate going to jail, so let’s cut this shit and start talking.”
Richard’s mouth became an even thinner line. “Fuck you, dyke cop.”
Liam’s hand flashed out and Richard’s hea
d rocked back. The younger man brought his fingers to his mouth and they came away dark with blood.
“You fucking hit me! You can’t do that! That’s police brutality!”
Liam stalked forward. “Told you, I’m not a cop.”
Richard threw a punch and Liam lowered his head, taking the blow on the crown of his skull. He heard the other man grunt with pain before he grabbed Richard by the throat and slammed him to the ground.
“Get offa me!”
“You know there’s an old wives’ tale about getting a bird to speak,” Liam said, holding Richard down as he climbed on top of him. With a quick movement he pinned one of the man’s arms down with his knee and drew out the straight razor. “They used to say a bird’s tongue wasn’t shaped correctly to form words. So you know what the answer was?” Liam snapped the blade open and it caught the dull light between the buildings. “They used to split their tongues.”
Richard’s eyes widened as Liam leaned forward, bringing the razor closer.
“Liam?” Perring said.
“The fuck you doing, man?” Richard said, struggling against Liam’s weight. He tried to buck his hips upward, but Liam moved with him, settling more firmly on his chest. With his free hand he grabbed Richard’s chin and forced his lips apart.
Liam shoved the straight razor into Richard’s mouth.
The younger man’s eyes bulged and he made a hoarse mewling in the back of his throat as Liam leaned closer.
“I wouldn’t struggle too much, bud, might cut yourself. Or maybe you’re like the birds and you need your tongue split. Maybe then you’ll talk.”
“Liam. Don’t,” Perring said from behind him. He squinted at Richard and turned the razor over on the drug dealer’s tongue so that the edge pressed downward into the soft muscle. Richard moaned a word and Liam tilted his head.
“What was that?” Slowly he withdrew the blade from between the man’s bloodied teeth.
“I said I’ll tell you!” Richard yelled.
“Start talking,” Liam said.
“I don’t know where Marshall is. We usually meet up a couple times a week.”
“When did you last see him?” Liam asked.
“Three days ago.”
“Where?”
“At my girlfriend’s apartment. He said he was meeting someone for a deal that night. I haven’t seen him since.”
“Who was he meeting?” Perring asked.
“I don’t know.” Liam tilted his head and held the razor in front of Richard’s face again. “I swear, man, I don’t know! He said he was doing a big deal, that was all he told me. I never got involved with his coke shit, he wouldn’t let me in.”
“Where was the deal supposed to happen?” Liam said.
“I don’t know, I swear, I swear to God.”
“Who’s his connection in town for his stuff?” Richard shook his head slightly. “Okay.” Liam pushed the razor back into the other man’s mouth, wiggling it between his clenched teeth.
“Okay! Okay! Shit! Guy named Milo, I don’t know his last name. He’s big time from what Davis told me. Doesn’t mess around with smalls like me.”
“Where’s he deal out of?”
“Marshall went to a place down by the lake on sixth before, big house made outta white stone. That’s all I know.”
Tears streamed out the corners of Richard’s eyes. Liam stared at him for another beat, then stood, releasing him from the ground.
“Get the fuck out of here,” Perring said. “And if you get busted for dealing again I will make it my personal mission to lock you away for the longest the law will allow. Is that clear?” Richard got to his feet and nodded, his tongue running over his teeth and across his lips again and again. “Go!” Perring pointed at the far end of the buildings and Richard spun, tripping once before sprinting out of sight.
“What the hell was that?” Perring asked.
“An interrogation.”
“That was torture.”
“I didn’t hurt him. Not really.”
Perring stared at him and shook her head before picking up the brass knuckles. “Let’s go.”
They walked down the street to the car that Richard had dumped his drugs beneath. Liam knelt and retrieved the small baggie full of white crystals, handing it to Perring as he stood up. They didn’t speak again until they were inside the sedan.
“Davis disappeared the same night Valerie was taken,” Liam said.
Perring lit her last cigarette and crumpled the empty pack before tossing it into the back seat. “Then we’re looking for a corpse.”
“Unless he’s the one that took Valerie.”
“He’s a low-level coke dealer. I don’t think he’d be capable of pulling all this off.”
“I agree, but if he was desperate he might try it. I really hope it is him.”
“Why?”
“Because then the person we’re dealing with isn’t as formidable as he seems.” Liam steepled his fingers before him. “But on the other side of the coin if it’s not Davis, then he’s number two in the countdown.”
“Yep.”
“And if that’s true, who’s number one?”
Perring glanced at him. “We can’t mention this to Owen.”
“He needs to know.”
“What? That his wife isn’t going to be exchanged for the money? That she’s going to be the final victim of a psychopath?”
“It’s a pattern. It has been from the beginning. The deaths aren’t random, they have meaning.”
“And that is?”
“I don’t know. There’s something symbolic in the way Erickson and Rowe were killed. Erickson was burned from the inside out, Rowe was pinned down and drowned, slowly, I might add.”
Perring sighed, rubbing her forehead. “We need a goddamned break here. We need the bastard to screw up. There’s no motive linking Erickson, Rowe, Davis, and Valerie other than they graduated together.”
“What about someone who wanted to hurt them for the beating they gave Dickson? How about Dickson’s father? Does anyone know where he is?”
“I had someone check his whereabouts after we found out about the assault. He’s a gas station attendant in North Carolina and was verified at work for the last week.”
They fell quiet for a long time as Perring guided the car through the dark streets. Liam caught sight of Superior’s vast surface between buildings, the waves like dorsal fins rising in succession.
“What about this Milo that Richard mentioned? Know anything about him?”
“Milo Silva. Rumored to be an exchange point for drugs coming and going out of the ports. He’s never been brought up on charges, though.”
“He might be able to tell us something about Davis.”
“I have the feeling he’s going to be leery of talking to the cops. Not a person that likes being put in the limelight whatsoever.”
“I can be persuasive.”
“Not with this guy. Every person in that house is bound to be armed. You’ll get us both killed.”
“I didn’t say I was going to shove a knife in his mouth.”
Perring sighed and turned onto another street. “I must be out of my mind.”
“I think you’re finally coming around.”
“Asshole.”
Liam smiled.
CHAPTER 18
The house was made of white, rough-hewn stone and looked as if it had been carved out of bleached bone in the low light.
Liam and Perring stood on the front stoop beneath a heavy awning held up by intricately carved columns and balustrades. Lights were aglow in nearly every window of the sprawling house and soft music trailed from behind the heavy oak door.
“Remember, we have zilch on this guy, no leverage whatsoever. Don’t try anything stupid,” Perring said as she rang the doorbell.
“We’re just here to get some info.”
“You make it sound so easy.”
He was about to reply when the door opened. A burly man with thick sidebu
rns and wearing an expensive suit glowered out at them. Liam noted the slight bulge of a pistol beneath his left armpit.
“Yes?” the man said.
“Hello, I’m Detective Denise Perring with the Duluth PD, and this is Mr. Dempsey. We were wondering if we could have a word with Mr. Silva?”
“I’m sorry but he’s indisposed at the moment. I’d be happy to give him a message.”
“We really need to speak with him tonight,” Perring said, trying a polite smile.
“I’m sorry. Now if you’ll excuse me . . .” The man began to shut the door but Liam put his foot in the way.
“Tell Mr. Silva it concerns a business associate of his that’s recently gone missing.” Liam kept his gaze level and calm as the man scowled and shrugged his large shoulders. “I’m sure he’ll be interested.”
The guard shifted his eyes between them. “Wait here.”
“We’ll wait here,” Liam said, talking over the other man. The guard gave him one last look before shutting the door in his face.
“That went well,” Perring said, turning to go.
“What are you doing?”
“Um, he’s not coming back. We just got the not-so-polite brush off.”
“He’ll let us in.”
“No way.”
“Bet you a pack of cigarettes.”
Perring returned to the doorstep beside him. “You’re on.”
They waited for well over a minute, no sounds other than the music filtering through the door.
“Told you,” Perring said, beginning to move away again.
“Wait.” Liam pointed at the door and a moment later the guard opened it and waved a hand at the interior of the house.
“Mr. Silva will see you.”
Liam stepped inside, throwing a grin over one shoulder at Perring.
The interior of the house was lavish, but in an elegant way that didn’t shout money, it whispered it. A curving staircase grew from the foyer to an upper hall leading to the second floor. Dozens of oil paintings graced the walls and dark, antique furniture contrasted against the white marble floor that was polished to a mirror finish.
“This way please,” the guard said, leading them to the right down a short corridor that opened into a sitting room complete with a mahogany bar and a dozen overstuffed leather chairs beside a crackling fire within a large hearth. “He will be with you shortly.”