The Dead Room (24 page)

53

Jamie awoke to a gauzy haze of thoughts. She tried to open her eyes and a dim voice – one that sounded eerily familiar – groaned in protest:
No, stay here with me.

She recognized the voice – had slept next to it for close to fifteen years.

Stay here with me
, Dan said.
Stay here where it’s safe.

Safe?

Safe from what?

It came to her, slowly at first. Father Humphrey had come to her house to warn her about Kevin Reynolds.
He knows what happened here and asked if I knew you, if you still lived in the area
. Humphrey’s words. And… and… what? She had run into the house to get the kids. And Humphrey grabbed her, telling her to calm down. She remembered pulling free. Remembered running to the foot of the stairs, about to scream to the kids to come down right now, when a plastic bag was wrapped around her head.

Father Humphrey did that
, she thought.
The priest who baptized both my babies and ate dinner at my house and saw to my husband’s funeral arrangements while the kids and I were recovering in the hospital – that man wrapped the plastic bag over my head
.

She remembered feeling the plastic sticking to her lips as she sucked in air. Remembered struggling to prise his rough, callused hands from her throat and remembered her face slamming against the wall and pain exploding inside her skull – pain, oddly, she couldn’t feel at this moment – she couldn’t feel anything and for some reason that scared her the most. She should –

Rough hands slid across her cheeks. Fingers pushed her eyelids open and she saw Father Humphrey’s face and his sad, bloodshot eyes. She couldn’t seem to focus on the rest of the room but she could make out shapes and colours behind the priest – an emerald-green comforter covering a bed; a pair of drawn lavender curtains covering her windows and a lamp sitting on an oak nightstand.

My bedroom. I’m in my bedroom and I seem to be sitting up. Why can’t I move my hands and feet?

For some bizarre reason she didn’t feel afraid. She didn’t feel anything.
My head should be pounding – it should feel sore, at the very least – but I don’t feel any pain. I just want to shut my eyes and go back to sleep
.

‘Come now, darling,’ Humphrey said, gently shaking her head. She could smell cigarette smoke and booze on his breath. ‘Time to wake up.’

He let go of her face. Her chin dropped against her chest and her body slumped to the side but she didn’t fall. A long line of drool dripped on to her tan shorts.

Father Humphrey had duct-taped her to one of the kitchen chairs. She could see the strips wrapped around her shins. He had tied her hands behind her back – the kids, oh Jesus God, Jesus Mary and Joseph, what did he do to Michael and Carter? Were they in the bedroom?

It took a great amount of effort to raise her head.

‘That’s my girl,’ he said.

Her head flopped to the side, against her shoulder. The bedroom door was open and she could see the hall. The doors to the boys’ bedrooms were shut. The door to the dead room was open. Father Humphrey had kicked it open. She saw the lock and pieces of wood lying on the carpet.

What did he do to the kids? And why don’t I feel scared? Why do I feel so goddamn calm?

Father Humphrey snapped his fingers. ‘Over here, love.’

Jamie rolled her head back to him. He sat on the edge of her bed with his legs crossed. Blue hospital booties covered his polished black loafers. It was hard to concentrate now, hard to keep her eyes open. Her head kept swimming; this serene calmness or whatever it was wanted to drag her back down into the place where Dan was now, this sweet, black oblivion.

The kids
, a voice screamed to her.

She opened her eyes and looked at Humphrey and his hospital booties.

No, not hospital booties
, she thought.
They’re
…
they’re
…
what’s their names, the ones who investigate crime scenes
…
forensic. Yes. Forensic techs wear those booties when entering a crime scene
…
so they don’t leave footprints.

‘I didn’t believe it when Kevin told me he saw you this morning, waiting for him in your minivan,’ Humphrey said. His latex-covered hand held a mobile against his ear – Ben Masters’s phone, the Palm Treo. ‘What were you going to do to him, Jamie?’

The room kept going in and out of focus.

Concentrate. You have… to concentrate. Find kids
.

The kids weren’t in the bedroom – at least she couldn’t see them. She looked at the opened door next to the nightstand and saw the familiar short hall with the two walk-in closets and the small area she and Dan had used for storage. No sign of Michael or Carter in there but –

Her eyes flicked to a dusty bottle sitting on top of her nightstand. It took her a moment to focus on the label. Johnnie Walker Blue. Had Humphrey brought a bottle of booze with him? No. No, he must have found it in the house but where? She didn’t remember seeing it.

Empty glass next to the bottle. A burnt spoon, syringe and candle.

Humphrey covered the phone with his hand. ‘How you feeling, love?’

‘I… ah… ah… can’t… ah…’

‘Can’t concentrate?’

‘Yes.’

‘Feel any pain?’

‘Ah… ah… No.’

‘Good. Gave you a little shot of heroin to calm you down – feels wonderful, doesn’t it? I’ve never indulged myself, mind you, but I thought –’ He held up a hand, motioning for her to stay silent, and then spoke into the phone. ‘I’m at the Russo house. Everything’s all set. Take your time.’

Humphrey hung up and stared at the phone, a grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

‘Listed me as Judas,’ he said, smirking. ‘I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. Ben was blessed with a dark sense of humour. The man is an Irish Catholic to the core. Do you know him as Ben or Frank? Which is it?’

Jamie couldn’t hold her head up any longer. She rested it back against her shoulder and stared down the hall to the dead room.

‘Doesn’t matter,’ he said. ‘We’ll get to all that in due course.’

She heard the clink of glass as Humphrey poured himself a drink from the bottle of Johnnie Walker.

‘Where… ah… ah… where…’

‘Where did I get the bottle?’

‘Y-y… ah… yes.’

‘From Danny’s private hiding spot in the basement,’ Humphrey said. ‘We had a lot of drinks and talks down there that last month, mainly when you weren’t home. Sad that a man has to hide a bottle from his wife. Then again, I always had you pegged as a meddlesome cunt.’

Jamie blinked. The mattress in the dead room came into sharp focus for a moment. She blinked again, wanting to hold on to the image, the clarity so she could –

A hand reached out from underneath the bed.

‘You’ve got a tough decision to make,’ Humphrey said. ‘I’m not going to sugarcoat it. Before we get into that, I want you to tell me how you came to acquire Ben’s phone.’

Jamie blinked again and forced her eyes wide open. Michael’s hand had pulled back the valance. He lay next to his brother underneath the bed, his other hand covering Carter’s mouth.

Michael whispered something to his brother. Carter’s eyes were shut but he was crying, shaking.

‘Come, Jamie,’ Humphrey said. ‘There’s no use hiding it.’

How did… Humphrey fail to find the kids?

He still thinks they’re at camp. He’s waiting for them to come home.

Michael started sliding out from underneath the bed.

‘N-N-NO!’

‘I want to be reasonable,’ Humphrey said.

Michael stopped.

‘
Go… ah… back. Stay
.’

‘I’m not following you, Jamie.’

Michael slid underneath the bed, retreating behind the valance. She turned back to Humphrey. It seemed to take a long time.

‘Go… ah… back. Go.’

‘I can’t go back,’ Humphrey said. ‘You started this, love. And I should tell you that the man who’s on his way here doesn’t share my virtues. Especially when it comes to matters involving patience.’

Humphrey was lying on her bed, his head propped up on her pillows. He rested the glass on his flat stomach. The shades had been drawn. She thought she heard rain.

‘Are you listening to me? Please pay attention, because I don’t want what happened to Danny to happen to you. I really don’t.’

‘Dan… ah… happened?’

‘They shoved his hand down a waste-disposal. What do you
think
happened?’

‘I… don’t… ah… ah… know.’

He lifted his head off the pillow. ‘Dan never told you?’

‘N-N-No.’

‘Well, ain’t that a hoot.’

He took a sip of his drink and stared up at the ceiling.

‘The short version is your husband was a stubborn son of a bitch. I’ll give you the longer version once you tell me how you got your hands on Ben’s phone – there’s no use denying it.’

Jamie licked her swollen lips, felt another string of drool drip from her mouth and plop against her leg.

‘Whenever you’re ready,’ Humphrey said. He smiled, patient and pleasant, waiting for her to answer. I’ve got all the time in the world, that smile said. Nothing in the world can touch me. Not even God Himself.

54

Coop’s house was a thing of architectural beauty – a white-painted New England saltbox with black shutters and two chimneys built at the turn of the twentieth century for the mistress of a lumber baron. It was one of the few houses that came with a driveway and a lawn – the size of a postage stamp, but still it was grass.

The house stood on a corner, cut off from the more famous downtown historic homes four blocks down the street. Darby eased her car through the gap between the waist-high white picket fences and parked behind Coop’s Mustang. The sun had disappeared, giving way to yet another thunderstorm.

Stepping out into the heavy rain, she noticed the pair of opened bulkhead doors leading into the cellar. She eased the aluminium doors shut, then ran up the steps and stood under a canvas awning over a small deck. A gauzy ivory curtain covered the windowpane in the back door, and she could see Coop’s shadow moving inside the living room just down the hall as she rang the doorbell.

He ducked around the corner and disappeared.

‘Who is it?’

‘Darby.’

‘I’m sort of in the middle of something right now. I’ll call you later.’

‘I need to talk to you now, Coop. Open up.’

A moment later she saw his shadow coming down the hall. Locks clicked back and the door opened.

Coop stood in front of her, barefoot, dressed in jeans and a tight-fitting olive-green tank streaked with dust, dirt and sweat. His eight-month-old niece, Olivia, lay sleeping against his chest.

‘My sister’s babysitter bagged this morning so she called me in tears and asked if I could watch her,’ he said.

Coop eased the door part-way shut, taking a quick survey of the street. Part of his scraped face was swollen. Bandages spotted with blood covered his arms.

‘Jackie’s boss isn’t real understanding when it comes to the difficulties of single working mothers,’ he said. ‘You’d think he’d have more sympathy since he’s been divorced three times himself and has got two kids –’

‘You always booze it up when you’re babysitting?’

‘I can’t have a couple of drinks?’

‘I’m getting a contact high standing here.’

‘Gee, Mom, I’d like to attend the lecture you’re about to give – it sounds real inspirational, honest, – but I’ve got some things to do. How about I call you later and –’

She pushed her way past him, moved down the yellow-painted hall and stepped into his living room; saw the empty and taped-up boxes covering nearly every inch of the tan carpet and felt a sick, dull thud in her heart.

Low music played from a portable radio/CD player sitting on his brown leather sofa – Bono singing a live rendition of ‘Wake Up Dead Man’ from a U2 concert recorded at Slane Castle in County Meath, Ireland. She’d given him the bootleg CD last year as a Christmas gift.

Coop strolled into the living room with a hand placed against the back of his sleeping niece.

‘When were you going to tell me? After you left?’

‘After I finished packing,’ he said.

‘You’re going to London.’

‘It was too good to pass up.’

Darby swallowed, heart beating fast.

Coop picked up a highball glass sitting on top of an old steamer trunk.

‘You want a drink?’ he asked. ‘There’s a bottle of Middleton Irish whiskey in the kitchen.’

She didn’t answer.

He eased himself into a matching leather armchair.

‘Don’t give me that look,’ he said. ‘It’s nothing personal. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want you to sway me.’

Her face felt hot. ‘When are you leaving?’

‘Tonight.’

Darby didn’t seem to know what to do with her hands.

‘I’m taking the red-eye,’ he said.

‘Why the sudden urgency?’

‘They needed me on this upcoming project, that new fingerprint technology they’re developing.’

‘Bullshit.’

‘I don’t know how many times I can tell you this, but I have no idea who those young women are.’

‘How do you know they’re young?’

‘Frank liked ’em young.’

‘How do you know they were involved with Sullivan?’

‘This is starting to sound like a cross-examination. Should I call my lawyer and ask him to stop by?’

‘I don’t know, Coop. Did you do something wrong?’

He shook his head, sighing. He took another gulp of his whiskey, then crossed his legs and leaned to his right side.

‘You always pack with the lights out?’

‘Olivia fell asleep,’ he said.

‘When I rang the doorbell, I saw you run from the living room.’

‘I was going to get my niece. She fell asleep on the floor. I was going to put her down on my bed when you rang.’

‘You never were a good liar, Coop.’

‘Did you come all the way here to bust my balls?’

‘No, I came here hoping to talk some sense into you. The commissioner has you in her target sights. She thinks you’re hiding something. So do I.’

‘Sorry, but I can’t help you.’

‘That’s it?’

‘That’s it.’

‘Well, then, maybe I should just say goodbye.’

‘I was going to call you later, honest, take you out to dinner and tell you about the job.’

‘And if you and I were in a restaurant together, I’d be less likely to cause a scene.’

‘I’m sorry, Darb. I’m not good with goodbyes.’

‘Nobody is.’

‘You are,’ he said. ‘Nothing gets past that stubborn Irish armour of yours.’

Not true, Coop. You did, despite my best efforts
.

‘Join me for a drink now,’ he said. ‘Grab a glass in the kitchen. You know where they are.’

‘I’ve got to get going.’

‘The case, it’s always the case.’ Coop put his feet up on the coffee table and sank back in his chair. ‘What’s that saying? A tiger can’t change its stripes.’

Darby took a deep breath, wanting to clear the hurt from her voice before she spoke, or at least shave off the sharp edges. She stepped to the front of the chair and leaned forward placing a hand on each armrest.

‘I’m very happy for you, Coop.’

‘Thanks.’

‘I’m going to miss you.’

‘Me too.’ He took a long pull from his drink. ‘You’re…’

‘What?’

‘You’ve been… a great friend,’ he said, the words wet in his throat. ‘The best.’

Darby forced a smile. She leaned forward and kissed his cheek. Her right hand reached around his back.

‘Before I go,’ she said, pulling the handgun from the back of his waistband, ‘would you mind telling me why you need to carry a Glock for babysitting?’