A Dangerous Identity

by Russell Fee

  Life was full of surprises, and Callahan was one of them. Dempsey had never expected to find a topflight lawman on a small, remote island in the middle of an inland sea. He had met Callahan when they worked together on a joint task force investigating a terrorist plot, and now they were united again. Callahan was a true believer. For him, justice was not an abstraction but a concrete objective. Dempsey gave up that notion long ago. For him, there was no justice, only rectification—setting things right. And that meant that the difference between him and Callahan was more than philosophical. It boiled down to methods and outcome. He hoped that this difference wouldn’t cause him to run afoul of Callahan in this investigation. Whoever had the smarts and wherewithal to do away with Jackson in the hospital was dangerous. And Dempsey knew what had to be done with dangerous people, or he once did.

  The speaker in the small terminal announced his flight, and he and two other people sauntered through the opened glass door, onto the tarmac, and boarded the parked plane.

  * * *

  Max took the cell phone out of his pocket for the third time in the last two minutes and looked at the picture of the dog on the home screen for a few seconds before he tapped the phone icon and then Callahan’s name. The phone rang, and when Callahan answered, Max said, “Hi,” and hung up. Immediately, he tapped Julie’s name. The phone rang again, and when she answered, he said, “Hi,” and hung up. Then he laughed. He was thrilled with the phone. No other gift was so great. His mom told him to use it only when he absolutely needed to. But he couldn’t help it. It was just too amazing, and it was his. The curious metal object he’d found on the beach was all but forgotten.

  Chapter 53

  The day was too nice for bad news. The sand along the stretch of beach glowed golden under a midmorning sun as cormorants dove and surfaced beyond the sandbars. A wary colony of seagulls skittered along the water’s edge, keeping a good distance ahead of Amanda and Nick as they walked.

  Amanda knew something was wrong. Nick’s cheerful greeting sounded forced, and he punctuated his normally animated chat with brief but awkward silences. She wanted to know what bothered him but didn’t want to prod him for an answer. She’d be patient. If he wanted to tell her, he would.

  They walked along for a bit longer, and then Amanda couldn’t stand it anymore. “C’mon, out with it. Somethings bugging you. What is it?” she asked.

  Nick hesitated and then said, “Let’s just enjoy the day. It can wait.”

  That did it. Now Amanda had to know. “Tell me now,” she demanded.

  He cleared his throat, started to speak, stopped, and cleared his throat again.

  “Right now,” insisted Amanda.

  “Okay,” said Nick. “I didn’t know when to tell you this or the best way to do it, but—”

  “Oh no.” Amanda halted, turned her back on Nick, and covered her mouth with her hand. “You’re breaking up with me,” she mumbled.

  “What?” said Nick.

  Amanda mumbled louder. “You’re breaking up with me.”

  “No. No. Please, I didn’t mean to make it sound that way. That’s not it at all.” It’s . . . It’s . . . ”

  Amanda dropped her hand and spun toward Nick. “It’s what?” she screamed so loudly that several of the gulls took to the air screeching.

  Nicks words tumbled out in one breath. “I’m losing my job. The station will shut down in a couple of months. Zakaryan didn’t back down from the governor’s threat. He went ahead and published our ecological evaluation of the lake’s shoreline, and the legislature cut off our funding. There are no jobs for me here on the island. I’m going to have to leave. There, I’ve said it,” he said and inhaled deeply.

  “Oh. I’m so sorry,” said Amanda, sounding too relieved to be sorry at all. They weren’t breaking up. Then it hit her, and her relief vanished like a popped soap bubble. Nick was leaving the island.

  Chapter 54

  He was hiding in plain sight.

  He’d been back on the island two weeks. In that time, he’d learned the routines of the woman, Julie: when she left the house and arrived at the station; how long she worked; when and where she shopped; with whom and where she and Callahan socialized; when she went to bed and when she turned out the lights. He’d observed the timing and routes of Callahan and Amanda’s weekly patrols and knew their daily schedules. He’d identified the three FBI agents on the island. And he’d learned about the boy: when he was home or at his job at the Adult Daycare Center; when he was with Julie and Callahan; and when he was alone.

  He’d bought a bike in Charlevoix and taken it to the island on the ferry. Once there, he’d ridden it to a motel near the dock and rented an efficiency. He rode the bike everywhere, and when he wasn’t riding, he stayed in his room. When he hunched over the handlebars, the permanent bend of his back looked natural. The helmet disguised his facial features. He rarely needed to get off the bike. He could even order groceries from the market in town along the bay and pick up and pay for his order at the market’s entrance. Riding, he was just one of a hundred biking tourists on the island. He’d passed unnoticed within feet of Callahan and Amanda. He had become invisible out in the open, and it was now unlikely that his presence would be detected.

  * * *

  Bland placed the thick bind of papers in the briefcase by his feet and buckled his seatbelt in preparation for landing at Dubai International Airport. Abdullah sat in the seat across from him. Both men smiled as Abdullah’s private jet began its descent.

  The report was conclusive. Every test well along the coast of Michigan confirmed what industry prospectors suspected for a long time: the oil and natural gas fields in the Michigan basin extended under the lake and, by all indications, were enormous. The political winds had shifted, and shortly, directional or slant drilling would be legally allowed under the lake. Bland and Abdullah made sure of that with a massive infusion of money into the election coffers and personal pockets of certain members of the Michigan legislature. And they had a staunch ally in the governor who covertly advanced the legislative agenda legalizing the drilling. They made sure he would become a very rich man.

  Bland and Abdullah had already begun leasing and purchasing the mineral rights to coastal land through shell companies financed by offshore accounts. Production wells would be erected on these lands. The potential fly in the ointment though was the revelation by that island newspaper of the existence and location of the secret test wells and Infinity Cyber’s connection to Deep Sea. That disclosure caused a media stir that put the venture at risk. The price of the purchase or lease of mineral rights would go up astronomically if the results of the test drilling became known. But neither man was too worried. They could mute the media outcry and divert interest in the drilling by dismantling the wells. They were no longer needed. Through their long association, both men had become experts at risk management.

  Chapter 55

  Seamus Kennedy’s house sat at the far back of his lot, which bordered the main road in town. One of the oldest houses on the island, multiple generations had enlarged it by a hodgepodge of additions that made it look like a toddler’s Lego Mega Block dwelling. Seamus’s fourth wife divorced him twenty years ago, and he lived alone. The house was a hair’s breadth shy of dilapidated. Roof tiles were missing; a variety of vermin lived in the eaves; and flakes of paint littered the grass. When the neighbors complained that it needed repair and repainting, Seamus had used sheets of tin and tar paper to cover the offending sites and adorned each addition with a different fluorescent color paint. But neither the house’s appearance nor its condition caused the town’s uproar. That was caused by what was on his lawn.

  Seamus was a sculptor. He worked in metal, mostly iron, and his pieces were large graphic nude renderings of particular people on the island. The largest and most recognizable was his neighbor’s wife. All had been arranged as a sculpture garden in his front yard, plainly visible to everyone.

  After numerous warnings to remove the offending ob
jects, the county zoning commission declared Seamus’s property a nuisance and filed a civil suit against him to force compliance. Callahan was at his door to serve the complaint and summons.

  Seamus opened the door and uttered a muffled, “Good afternoon, Sheriff.” He swallowed a bite from the sandwich he held in his left hand and wiped his right hand on his shirt before extending it, palm up, to Callahan. “Let me have it. I knew it was coming sooner or later.”

  Seamus was thin, wiry, and short—very short. Callahan had to reach down to place the envelope in his hand. “You could avoid all this, you know,” Callahan said.

  “And why would I want to do that? I’ve been looking forward to it,” said Seamus.

  Callahan cocked his head and squinted down at him.

  Seamus thrust his arms to his side and jutted his chin skyward. With his tangled crop of red hair, he looked to Callahan like an ignited matchstick. “Hell, I’m on the right side of this fight: An artist standing up to an attempt to crush his right of free expression. A battle doesn’t get more righteous than that. I’m ready for it,” he said.

  Callahan glanced behind him at the statues and then back at Seamus. “Every one of those statues is of someone you’ve had a disagreement with, Seamus. If that’s art at all, it’s grudge art designed to humiliate, shame, and taunt.”

  Seamus relaxed. “Can I help it if I get my inspiration through conflict? My work is just misunderstood and unappreciated here, that’s all. Hell, if it were exhibited anywhere else, it would win a prize,” he countered.

  “You might want to think seriously about that. Removing these statues to Minnesota would be a good idea,” said Callahan.

  “Hmm,” muttered Seamus.

  “Here’s something else to think about. If I see a sculpture of me or mine on that lawn, the zoning commission will be the least of your problems,” said Callahan.

  Seamus glared at Callahan for a moment and then said, “No worries there, Sheriff. That ain’t never gonna happen.” As he closed the door, he added, “Artistic expression has its limits.”

  * * *

  Callahan chose to drive back to the station along the road that paralleled the beach where Susan’s body was found. As he rounded the bend that took the road away from the lake, he saw the dog. He slowed the cruiser and then stopped. Fifty yards ahead, the dog approached him on the opposite side of the road, trotting a few yards before spinning around and skittering back, hesitating, and then trotting forward again. Its head swung back and forth, sweeping behind it with each swing as if searching for something. It was then that Callahan realized Max was not with it. The dog was alone.

  * * *

  Callahan called out the cruiser’s window to the dog, who halted, looked up at Callahan, and then became more agitated. It spun several times, started to cross the road, hesitated, and then took off, tearing along the shoulder.

  Callahan turned the cruiser around and sped after the dog. When he was ahead of it, he jammed on the brakes, skidded onto the shoulder, and blocked the dog’s run. The dog tried to dodge the cruiser but slipped on some gravel and slid on its side before rolling to a stop at Callahan’s feet. Callahan grabbed its collar and lifted it into the cruiser.

  Chapter 56

  The call came as Julie scanned the cleaning-and-laundry-supplies aisle trying to decide which detergent to buy for the new clothes washer delivered that morning. She held two containers, one in each hand, alternating between them, comparing net weight, price, chemical composition, and promotional pitches. She dropped them both in the shopping cart and untangled herself from the strap of her shoulder bag. She opened the bag and rummaged for her cell phone. She found it on the fifth ring, and when she checked the screen, she uttered a sigh of exasperation. It was Max. For a second, she considered not answering. Max had called, said Hi, and then hung up a half-dozen times or more a day until threats to take the phone away had reduced his prank calls to two or three a day. But she decided against ignoring him and answered.

  The voice was mechanical, artificial, neither male nor female. “If you want to see the boy alive again, do exactly as I say.”

  She stood paralyzed, hearing the tin voice echo in her head until the connection was severed. Then she dropped the phone and crumpled into a heap on the aisle floor.

  * * *

  Julie knelt in front of the steel safe in Callahan’s office and wiped her eyes with the butt of her palm, but the tears kept welling up and blurring the numbers on the dial. Her hand shook as she attempted the combination again. She couldn’t waste any more time. They hadn’t given her any time. Two hours, just two hours. Again, she failed. She took a deep breath and then another and tried to block from her mind the last word she heard on her phone: a stifled scream of Mama. In answer to her pleas to talk to her son, they allowed her to hear only her son’s primal cry of fear. She would do anything now to save him.

  She squinted to squeeze the water from her eyes and steadied her hand as she rotated the dial through the sequence of numbers. At the last number, she grabbed the handle on the safe’s door yanked it down. There was a metallic click, and she pulled on the handle. The door swung open.

  “What are you doing?” Callahan stood in the doorway to his office. The dog nosed around him, shot over to Julie, and began licking her face.

  “Oh, God. You can’t be here. Go away. Please, just go away.” She tried to push the dog off her and to stand but fell backwards, breaking her fall with her hands.

  Callahan rushed to help her up. “What’s happening? Where’s Max?” he asked as he lifted her up and pushed his desk chair behind her, guiding her into it.

  Julie covered her face with her hands and began sobbing. “I’m not supposed to tell you. They said they would kill him if I did. I’m not supposed to tell anyone. I don’t know what to do now. I don’t know what to do.”

  * * *

  Between wracking sobs, Julie babbled a semi-coherent explanation of what had happened. Someone had Max. They were going to kill him if she didn’t deliver the hard drive and any saved or retrieved data from it. Somehow, they knew everything was in the safe at the station. That’s all she had been told, except that if she tried to get help, she would never see Max alive again. They had Max’s phone, and she had heard his cry to her.

  They both flinched when Julie’s phone vibrated and clattered on the desk as the ringtone chimed. Callahan picked it up and looked at the number. It wasn’t Max’s. He handed the phone to Julie. “Answer it,” he said.

  Julie took the phone and tried to swipe its face, but her hand shook too much to activate it. Callahan steadied her hand with his and slid his finger across the screen. “Hello,” she stammered.

  “Do you have it?” The words clinked together like the links of a chain.

  “Yes.”

  “Leave your phone at the station and get in your car and drive. Don’t take any other phones or communication devices with you. And be alone. We’re watching you, and we’ll know.”

  “But, where do . . . ” The call ended before Julie could finish her question, and the phone’s screen faded to black.

  Julie stared at the screen for a moment, and then she clutched the phone to her chest. She looked up at Matt. She wasn’t crying now, and she spoke with a measured calm. “I’m going to do what they say, Matt. And you’re not going to stop me. I know you’re going to try, but they have Max, and I’m taking no chances, not a single one. They knew about the hard drive being in the safe. If you come with me, they’ll know. If you try to get to them, they’ll know. I’m getting Max back. Please don’t get in my way.” A tenacious resolve hovered above the tremor in her voice.

  Chapter 57

  Julie backed her car from the station’s driveway and onto the road. She headed west, not because she had been told to but out of habit. It led to the house. A plastic bag on the seat next to her held the hard drive and two flash drives. She drove slowly, constantly scanning the sides of the road and checking her rearview mirror, not really knowing w
hat to look for. It was dusk, and she had to strain to see through the trees crowding the road’s narrow shoulders. Several cars passed her coming each way, but none signaled her to stop or followed her. She drove on until she reached the coast road and then turned south. Each time a car approached her, her heart would jump; and she felt sick to her stomach. Just when she thought she would have to stop and run from the car, the ringtone from a phone sounded under her seat. She slammed on the brakes and bent down under the steering wheel sweeping her hand along the floor until she felt the phone. She grabbed it and answered it before she was fully upright.

  “Hello,” she shouted. When there was no answer, she panicked and screamed. “Are you there?”

  “You’re to turn around and go back to Farmer’s Road. Turn right to Glenview Road and then turn south. Drive for three miles. Stop and pull the car off the road and into the woods. Make sure no one sees you. Take what you were told to and walk through the woods until you get to a clearing. Go to the middle of the clearing and wait. You got that?”

  “Yes,” said Julie.

  “Good. Now, throw the phone into the trees.”

  * * *

  Julie stumbled through the trees, falling several times. The sun was setting, and the dark of the woods blinded her to the brambles and branches that clawed at her legs and face. When she finally broke through the trees and into the clearing, she bled from a patchwork of scratches and cuts.