The Night Is Deep (A Liam Dempsey Thriller Book 2) (24 page)

“Yes,” the man croaked.

“Good. Now get the fuck out of here.”

Liam shoved him. Hard. The man rolled from the bench onto the ground, gagging. He stayed there on his hands and knees for several seconds, then drew himself upright and jogged away, casting a watery glance at Liam as he left.

Liam wiped his hands on his jeans as if they were dirty, letting the overpowering rage drain away. He tried to regain the peaceful feeling he’d experienced minutes ago as he watched Eric expertly catch a fly ball, but it was only a memory.

The manicotti was fantastic. They dined beneath the warm glow of the kitchen lights, the smell of garlic, Parmesan, and pepper permeating the air. Dani had opened a bottle of cabernet sauvignon, and two large glasses stood beside her and Liam’s plates. When dinner was finished they sat in the living room, watching a movie until Eric’s head began to slip forward on his neck, his eyes closed to slits.

“To bed, young man,” Dani said, switching off the TV. “You’ve got school in the morning.” She stood and made her way into the kitchen. Several dishes clacked together as she loaded the dishwasher. To Liam’s surprise, Eric didn’t put up an argument but simply lifted himself off the couch and walked to the doorway only to come back to stand by Liam’s side.

“What’s wrong, buddy?”

“Nothing. I’m glad you’re home.”

He reached out and squeezed Eric’s shoulder. “Me too.”

“I worried about you while you were gone. I don’t like it when you leave, especially without saying good-bye.”

“I said good-bye while you were sleeping,” Liam said, sensing a deeper disturbance in the boy’s words. “I’d never just leave.”

Eric nodded. “I had a bad dream while you were gone.”

“What was it about?”

“I don’t want to say it.”

“Why?”

“Because it might come true.”

“I promise it won’t.”

“You can’t promise about dreams.” Eric gazed at the wood floor. “You can’t control them.”

Liam sat forward and took the boy’s hand in his own. “Whatever you dreamed, it was only that, just a dream. Good dreams can become goals, they’re things to work for in real life. But if something bad happened in your dream it’s because you were worried about it. Are you still worried about anything?”

The boy seemed to mull this over for a time before slowly shaking his head. “Now that you’re back, I guess not.”

“Good. You can always tell Dani or me about anything that’s bothering you. You know that, right?”

“Yeah.”

“We’ll always listen to you.”

“I know.”

“Good. Now listen to me, go brush your teeth.”

Eric gave him a half smile and rolled his eyes. Liam listened to him cross the kitchen and tread up the stairs to the bathroom. He remained on the sofa for a while, relishing the feel of being home, so close to his family. It warmed him in a way that he hadn’t felt since he’d left after Owen’s phone call. He gazed out of the darkening window. The brown field grass had darkened with the fading light. It was like a black sea beyond the house, stretching away into infinity. Liam let himself drift for a time, thoughts like icebergs veiled in fog passing him by. He stood from the couch and moved to the fireplace beside the TV. After a minute he had a small blaze burning within its alcove, the flames dispelling some of the chill he’d felt when Eric had mentioned his nightmare.

“I was just going to suggest a fire,” Dani said. She held their wineglasses, which she’d refilled, and sat down beside him, her shoulder brushing his.

“It’s always nice in the fall.”

“Umm. So are you going to tell me?” she said.

“Tell you what?”

“About all the things you didn’t say concerning the case. Like why you’re holding yourself like you’re going to fall apart when you walk.”

“I’m trying to be more graceful.”

She shook her head. “Jokes only get you so far.”

He sobered somewhat and took a sip of wine. “I know.”

“Tell me.”

He glanced at her. Those words. Over a year ago they’d lanced the festering poison he’d been harboring inside. He began to speak, telling her of the details he’d left out over the phone, all the while staring into the flames that danced across the wood like capering sprites. When he’d finished she sat quietly for a time, only drinking from her glass.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you everything right away,” he said. “I didn’t want you to worry.”

“I worry every time you leave for a case.”

“I know.”

“But you still go anyway.”

He sighed. “Yes.” He weighed his words for a time before setting his glass down. “You were right.”

“About what?”

“About why I stayed to help Owen. I wanted to find Valerie and help bring her home safely, but I also wanted to stay for me. Police work is all I’ve ever been good at, Dani, it’s all I’ve known. Being on a case, hunting someone who’s committed an atrocity, there’s something about it that draws me. It’s like you and your art.”

“But it’s not.” Now there was anger in her voice. “My art won’t get me killed.”

“You’ve never painted that bad a picture.”

“Liam . . .”

“Sorry. I understand, and believe me when I say I don’t want danger in our lives any more than you do, but you can’t ask me to give up my passion.”

The light had fallen farther and now the flickering of flames was the only thing that lit the room. Dani sat like a stone beside him. He waited, knowing he could say nothing else to sway her.

“I’m afraid of losing you.”

“I know. I . . .” He paused. “I didn’t tell you what Valerie asked me right before she died.” Dani turned to him, her features soft in the low light. “She asked me what I would have done if it had been someone I loved, outside that church. But I already knew. She asked me to let her go, and I wanted to, Dani, I wanted to. Because inside I knew that those men deserved what they got, even Owen. Especially Owen,” he added. “I’ve imagined what I would do if I were to lose either you or Eric, and it scares me. I scare me.” He swallowed and looked at the floor between them. Finally, Dani put a soft palm to his face, bringing his gaze back to hers.

“You’re a good man with a good heart. It doesn’t matter what you wanted to do, it matters what you did. You tried to bring her in and she forced you to make that final choice.” When he didn’t reply she continued. “You’re not going to lose us.” She leaned closer and kissed him gently. “And we don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t,” he said. But his assurance only went so far and it didn’t touch the darkness within him, coiled now and sleeping. He knew there was more than one way to be lost.

“Let’s go to bed,” Dani said, rising. She pulled him up with her and they moved toward the stairway. He silently went over and over the series of events that had brought him to the walkway of the bridge so high above the cold waters of Superior. He felt a deep failing coating him, like an oil covering his skin that wouldn’t leave, no matter how many times he showered or bathed. It was the guilt of being unable to foresee what would come, unable to define or arrange the past into a coherent whole that could be read and understood. He thought of all the cold cases awaiting him, those eyes in the photographs pleading for justice, and he knew the weight he felt was the remorse of lives lost and patterns unseen.

He paused on the first stair, Dani rising above him. His fingers tightened on the banister, eyes unmoving as he stared.

Soft music drifted down from Eric’s stereo in his room. The notes raising the hairs on the back of his neck.

Patterns unseen.

Notes.

Dani noticed that he’d stopped and turned to look at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“They’re song notes.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Dennis Sandow. It can’t be.” Liam moved quickly to his office, his heart beating faster with each step. He flipped on the light once inside, the cool air flowing past him like a ghost that had been trapped there. He sat down at his desk, hands shaking as he opened the locked drawer and found the correct file, pulling out the crime scene photo. He barely registered Dani coming to stand behind him as he turned the picture sideways.

Dennis Sandow’s body lay in bright contrast of color. The crushed grass beneath him was a brilliant green, reflective of spring’s height, when the father of two had been slain. The gravel road at the edge of the picture was a deep brown, its hearty tone darker with the light rain that had fallen earlier that morning.

And the blood was almost iridescent, its color a presence in and of itself.

“It’s not possible,” Liam whispered, tracing the wounds on the body.

“What is it?” Dani asked.

“It’s the Composer.”

“What?”

“He was a serial killer almost a decade ago when I was still on patrol. One of the lead detectives, his name was Galen Faust, headed up the Composer’s case. The killer targeted men between the ages of nineteen and thirty. He killed five men in a year. His calling card was a series of papers that he would send to the police station. Each one was sheet music with several notes on it. He’d carve the notes in the men’s skin and then press the paper to the wounds to make the symbols.”

“That’s horrible.”

Liam nodded, not looking up from the photo. “He was writing a symphony in their flesh. He would send the paper and then dump the body somewhere that it was easily found. Galen Faust closed in on him in late 2005, but the Composer set a trap for him. Faust became his sixth victim. After that he disappeared and there were no more killings.” Liam brought the picture closer, looking at the design the knife had carved in Sandow’s chest and stomach. Originally the wounds had appeared crude and without alignment, simply violent slashes that connected at certain points. But now with the page sideways he could see the notes within the carnage, the gunshots being their heads.

“He’s back,” Liam said. A chill ran through him that had nothing to do with the lower temperature of the office. He stared at the picture for a long time and when he came back to himself, setting the photo down, he was alone. After a glance toward the open door, he sent an e-mail to his friend Michael Diver, lead detective of the homicide division in Minneapolis. With the e-mail delivered he sat in the wake of the realization. He hadn’t specifically worked on the Composer cases, but he knew them well, and Galen Faust had been a friend. The ticking of the old clock outside the room became all that he could hear as his eyes unfocused and he stared at the photo on his desk.

After what seemed like hours, he stood and tucked the picture away, locking it again in the desk drawer. He turned off the lights downstairs and climbed the treads to Eric’s door. The boy slept facing away from him, only a slice of light from the hallway illuminating the tuft of hair poking from beneath the blankets, the rise and fall of his breathing. Liam watched him for a time, then moved down the hall to the bedroom on the end. Dani was under the covers already, her position a carbon copy of Eric’s. A small bedside lamp was the only light in the room. He knelt on her side of the bed. She didn’t roll over though he sensed she wasn’t sleeping yet. It amazed him, the small ways they’d come to know one another in even the short time they’d been together. He could tell by her breathing if she was asleep or not, by her tone of voice if she was upset about something, by how she looked at him over dinner if she wanted something later in the darkness of their room.

“Dani, I’m sorry, it just came to me. I couldn’t ignore it,” he said quietly, placing a hand on her shoulder. She didn’t pull away, but neither did she turn toward him. “I can guess how angry you are after what we just discussed. The revelation about that case could’ve come at any time, but it came tonight. I can’t control it.” He thought he heard her sigh but couldn’t be sure.

Liam glanced around the room, spotting his travel bag near the bathroom. He leaned across the distance and snagged it, pulling it toward him. There was a solid knot in his throat now as his hand fished inside his bag, moving clothing aside by touch, searching. Even with the shock of recognizing the Composer’s handiwork, an excitement unlike anything he’d ever experienced before began to flow through him, a giddy river that made his muscles weaken, his heart quicken its pace.

“I know you’re angry, and I respect that. Maybe soon I’ll find a way to turn off this thing inside of me that wants to be a cop again. Maybe I won’t. I can’t promise you anything except that I love you so much it leaves me speechless sometimes.” The emotion in his voice siphoned off the volume of his words until they were a whisper. He’d never felt more terrified or more alive in all his life.

“Mrs. Dempsey, look at me.”

Dani rolled over, squinting at him. “What did you—” But she stopped talking as she saw the small velvet box in his hand. Liam opened the lid, revealing the solitary diamond set in the silver ring that he had picked out in the jewelry store in Duluth after Perring had exited. Mr. Sorenson had been delighted when Liam asked him about engagement rings and even more so when Liam knew exactly what type of cut and setting he wanted. Even with the lack of light, the large stone’s many facets flashed, aided by the trembling of his hand.