Mercy Street (19 page)

EIGHTEEN

T
he phone rang in her ear with all the clarity of a church bell.

“Oh, dear God.” She fumbled under her pillow for the cell phone she’d tucked under there before she finally went to bed around seven
AM
.

“Mallory, it’s Charlie,” the voice on the other end said. “What the hell is going on?”

“What?” She frowned and struggled to sit up, then groaned. Those hateful little carpenters were at it again.

“I just heard there was a break-in at your house last night.” He sounded angry, and she wasn’t sure why.

“Yeah. Yeah, there was.” She leaned back against the pillow and turned the clock around so she could see the time. Nine thirty. Good. She woke up. She would probably live.

“Are you all right? I heard you were attacked.”

“I was smacked on the back of the head with something hard, not sure what,” she told him. “I guess I walked in on someone after you dropped me off and—”

“Wait a minute, you mean this happened while I was still outside?”

“No, you’d driven away by then. I closed the door after you left, and that’s all I remember.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“My first thought when I came to was to call 911. That’s what you’re supposed to do when you need the police ASAP.”

“I am the police,” he reminded her. “You found time to call the chief.”

“I called Joe because…well, because he’s Joe, and I didn’t want someone showing up here and giving me a hard time because I’m Mallory Russo, former cop.” She sighed. “And I didn’t call you because you needed to be home. You had your own thing to take care of. If I’d called you, you would have been torn between turning around and coming back or going home to take care of your sister. I didn’t want to put you in that position, Charlie. It wouldn’t have been fair.”

When he didn’t respond, she said, “How is everything? How was your sister when you got home?”

“She was okay.” He paused. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right.”

“I have one bitch of an egg on the back of my head, and one nasty headache, but other than that I’m okay. Thanks for asking.”

“Chief says your laptop was stolen.”

“Yeah. That’s the bad news. All of my notes on this investigation are on there. The computer has several layers of security, but still, someone with more knowledge of computers than I have could probably get into the files if they really wanted to. I just don’t know why anyone would want to. Which makes me wonder if it wasn’t a random burglary.”

“That seem probable to you?”

“I guess anything is possible, but probable? Not so much.”

“Any thoughts on who might be behind it?”

She hesitated just a little too long.

“You don’t really think that someone here…” He lowered his voice.

“I honestly don’t know what to think, Charlie. But I imagine if one of Conroy’s finest had a hand in it, sooner or later you’ll hear about it.”

“I’ll keep my ears to the ground. You mention this to Joe?”

“No, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t raise that concern to him. That’s all I need, for it to get around that I ran to the chief and told him the other kids were picking on me.”

“Good point. But you’ll let me know if anything else happens, okay.” He paused. “And then there’s always the possibility that the lady we’re looking for is on to you. How she could be, I have no idea, but it’s a possibility.”

“More of a possibility than a random burglary, I’d say. But I still think it’s more likely that someone there was involved. I’ve been a little too visible lately, and I think that’s stirred the pot a little.”

“Look, Mal, would you want to stay with us tonight? I can sleep on the sofa and you can—”

“No, no. I’m fine. It’s probably done. I think whoever it was won’t be back. But I really appreciate the offer. And I can arm myself.”

“It stands, if you change your mind. If you start feeling uneasy tonight…”

“Thanks, Charlie. I’ll call. I will.”

“So you’re going to take it easy today, right?”

“I need to check in with Father Burch to see if I can talk to a few people at school. Maybe someone will recall a place Ryan may have mentioned that might be meaningful to him.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’ll be fine. That wasn’t the first shot I’ve taken to the head. It probably won’t be the last. Besides, I’m so pissed off that someone broke into my home, took my stuff…” She blew out a long breath. “I’ll feel better working than I would not.”

“Just be careful.”

“I will.”

“And you’ll call me if you need anything.”

“I promise.”

Mallory closed the phone and swung her legs over the side of the bed. Her head was slightly woozy, and her stomach unsettled, but not enough to keep her from standing and gathering her robe around her. First, a shower, then coffee. She needed to do whatever it would take to clear her head. She had an agenda planned for the day, and she was going to stick to it.

“Wanamaker.” The chief’s voice came through Charlie’s intercom.

“Yes, Chief?” Charlie set down the file he’d just lifted from the floor.

“Come in here.”

Charlie was at Drabyak’s door in an instant.

“I just got a call from downstairs. Guy named Arlo Pickett was brought in last night for driving without a license. All manner of assorted goodies were found in the trunk of his car…guns for which he had no permits, a small amount of drugs. A little of this, a little of that. Nothing major, but enough that we could pull him in.”

“Arlo Pickett.” Charlie frowned. “Why is that name familiar?”

“Because he’s one of the two men who went on trial with Regina Girard for the shooting at Hazel’s Market.” Joe sat back in his chair and smiled.

“Where can I find him?”

“Room two seventeen. One floor down, to the right of the elevator. My guess is that he’ll be arraigned this afternoon and out on bail before the day is over, so you might want to spend some quality time with him while we’ve got him.”

“Thanks, Chief. I’m on my way.”

“You talk to Mallory today?” The words stopped Charlie in the doorway.

“Just a little while ago.”

“How’s she feeling?” Drabyak asked.

“She says she’s okay.”

“Any ideas on who might want to target her?”

“Not off the top of my head,” Charlie told him. He hated covering for anyone who might have been involved, but it was Mallory’s call to make, and she’d asked him not to let the chief know her suspicions.

“You hear any scuttlebutt out there”—Drabyak pointed in the general direction of the squad room—“I want to know about it.”

“If I hear, you’ll hear.” Charlie turned to leave again.

“You don’t think it had anything to do with this case, do you?” The chief rubbed the back of his neck as if in pain. “Someone connected with it, maybe. Someone who’s getting antsy about her asking questions.”

Charlie thought about that for a moment.

“I think if someone wanted to stop her from asking questions, they’d have done more than knock her out,” he said, believing it.

“Good point,” Drabyak said.

Charlie took the stairs and within minutes was standing at the door to room 217, looking through the glass at the young man seated at the wooden table. In his midtwenties, close-cropped hair, skin the color of mahogany, dressed for the street in a T-shirt and baggy jeans. When he looked up at the glass, his eyes narrowed uneasily as he studied the detective. Charlie tapped on the door, then opened it.

“Detective Wanamaker,” he identified himself to the officer who appeared to be wrapping up his interview. “I can come back if you’re…”

“No, no. I was just about finished.” The officer stood. “The chief called down, told me to give you as much time as you want. I’ll be outside if you need me.”

“Thanks.” Charlie took the seat the departing officer had just vacated. He folded his arms over his chest and stared across the table just long enough to make the younger man squirm just a little.

“Arlo Pickett,” he said evenly. “Whatcha in for today, Arlo?”

“Some petty shit.” Pickett leaned back in his chair and tried to look defiant.

“Some petty shit.” Charlie nodded. “Petty as in, jaywalking? Petty as in running a red light? Or petty as in being identified as having been present when a store clerk was shot and killed?”

Pickett looked genuinely confused. “Don’t be bringing that up. I wasn’t convicted of none of that. Uh-uh. Besides, there’s that double-jeopardy thing.”

“You still see your buddies from back in the day, Arlo? Demetrious Brand? And how ’bout…what was her name now? Ginger? No, no, Gina. Regina Girard. You ever see your old friends, Arlo?”

“Last I heard, Demetrious moved to Baltimore.”

“And Regina? What’s the last you heard about her?”

Arlo shrugged. “Don’t hear nothing.”

“Really? That’s funny, you know, because I know she’s back in town, and you’d think she’d have been in touch. I mean, after all the two of you went through together a year or two back, and all.”

Arlo shifted uneasily.

“So if she’s not hanging with you, who’s she pals with these days?”

“Gigi has no pals,” he snorted. “She ain’t friends with no one.”

“You haven’t seen her with anyone?”

“Nope.”

“Well, I doubt she’s been all alone this past month or so since she’s been in Conroy.” Charlie rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “So I’m thinking maybe you’re not being straight with me. Maybe you’re still her BFF.”

“Her what?”

“Her best friend forever. Maybe the one she was hanging out with the night of the playground shooting.”

Arlo’s eyes widened and he shoved back from the table. “Uh-uh. No way, man. That was not me.”

“Then who was it, Arlo?”

“I don’t know nothing about that. Uhh-uhh.” He shook his head adamantly.

“Oh, come on. You must have some ideas….”

“I got no ideas about that. I swear. I don’t know nothing about that.” Arlo looked genuinely frightened.

“Any thoughts on who might?”

Arlo shook his head again.

“Maybe you could think of someone, someone you might have seen hanging out with Gigi.” Charlie stared at him. “It’s a small city, Arlo. She’s been in town for at least a month. You cannot tell me you haven’t seen her even once. Come on. Between you and me.”

“Between you and me.” Arlo repeated sarcastically. “I see what’s in it for you, what’s in it for me?”

“I can talk to the arresting officer. See what we can do about those charges that are currently pending for your ‘petty shit.’” Actually, he’d be talking directly with the chief, but Arlo didn’t need to know the details.

“But no one knows we talked, right?” Arlo leaned forward.

“No one but you and me.” And the chief. And Mallory…

“I might have seen her with this guy, Malcolm. Back when she was first in town.”

“Malcolm have a last name?”

“Wilson, I think. But I haven’t seen him in a while.”

“How long’s a while?”

“Couple of weeks, maybe. Like I said, when she first got back to town.”

“Anyone else?”

“I don’t know, man. Maybe Malcolm’s cousin.”

“Where would I find him?”

“Don’t know his name, but he sometimes hangs with a guy named Gracy down at the car wash, Ninth and Mill.”

“How about Jay? I thought she hung out with him most nights.”

“She stays with him when she feels like it. Least, that’s what I hear.”

“Where does she stay when she doesn’t feel like staying with Jay?”

“I don’t know, man. That’s the truth. I just seen her maybe the one time. I try to keep my distance, you know what I mean?”

Charlie pushed back the chair and walked to the door.

“You think of anything else you think I might want to know about…”

“Yeah. I’ll call. Right. Hey, you’re gonna talk to that jackass who arrested me, right? Just like you said?”

“I’m going to take care of it right now.”

Charlie left Arlo Pickett in the small room. From the look on his face, Arlo was having second thoughts about having spoken with the detective. There’d be no way he’d be calling in anything else.

At least I have a name I didn’t have before,
Charlie thought as he took the stairs up to the third floor. He stopped in the chief’s office and filled him in.

“I’ll see what I can do about getting Pickett back on the street,” Drabyak told him.

“Think we could have a man follow him? See where he goes?”

“You’re thinking he might run right to Girard, let her know the cops are asking about her.”

“Yeah. I think that’s exactly what he’s going to do. In the meantime, I’m going to run the name he gave me, see what pops up in the computer. I’ll bet this kid Wilson has an interesting past.”

“Let me know if you find anything interesting. In the meantime, I’ll see if we can find him, bring him in and see what he has to say.” Drabyak said just as his secretary, Marlene, buzzed him.

“Chief, Tom from the mayor’s office is on line seven. They want an update on the sniper…”

“If it isn’t one thing, it’s another around here these days,” he muttered. To Marlene, he said, “Tell Tom I’ll be with him in a minute.”

“No leads at all on this guy, Chief?” Charlie said as he made his way to the door.

“None. I never saw anything like it. I got everyone I can spare and then some working on this case, and there’s nothing. You’d think someone would come up with something.” He shook his head. “Jesus, you’ve got to wonder what the hell is going on in this city….”

NINETEEN

F
ather Burch, thanks for making time to talk with me.” Mallory met the priest in the lobby of the high school. “Especially on short notice.”

“I told you, anytime.” He patted her on the arm. “Let’s take a walk outside, shall we? It’s a beautiful morning, and we can sit in the garden and talk privately. I’m assuming you’re here to talk about your job.”

He opened one of the double doors on the side of the building and held it for her.

“My…oh, my job.” She laughed self-consciously. She been so engrossed in the case that she’d all but forgotten she’d taken it on as employment. “Yes, I had an idea.”

“How about here?” He gestured toward a wooden bench. “This is one of my favorite places in Conroy. The botany students designed and planted the garden, the wood shop kids made the benches, and the kids in Mrs. Winters’s art classes made the sculptures. Wonderful, isn’t it?”

“It is beautiful.” She ran a hand along the arm of the bench and admired its smoothness. “Very nice.”

“So, tell me where you are in your investigation.”

Before she could reply, he added, “Susanna was just asking me this morning if I’d heard from you, and I had to admit I hadn’t heard since Friday.”

“I wasn’t aware I was expected to check in with anyone.” She realized how defensive she sounded, and tried to soften her response. “Is that a problem?”

Father Burch smiled but remained standing. “When you worked for the police department, how often did you fill in Chief Drabyak on your open cases.”

“Depends. Active cases, I kept him pretty much in the loop…” She paused, then nodded. “Okay, I get it.”

“Yeah. Susanna likes to be kept in the loop. That way, when Robert asks,
Anything happening with that case that Kevin has gotten me involved in?
Susanna can say something besides,
I don’t know.
” He joined Mallory on the bench. “She hates not knowing. She’s supposed to be in charge, and when she isn’t, she starts feeling cranky.”

“I understand. I’ll give her a call.”

“Better still, stop in and see her.”

“All right.”

“So, what is this idea that you had?”

“You know that I still believe that Courtney and Ryan are alive….”

“Good,” he said, nodding. “So do I.”

“Well, they have to be hiding someplace.” She felt silly stating the obvious. “Someplace where they know they will be safe.”

“Safe from the police?” He shook his head. “That just never has rung true to me. I can’t see them running from the police.”

“I agree. I think they’re running from the killer.” She told him the theory she and Charlie had been working on.

“That makes much more sense to me, yes. I could see Courtney being afraid of someone she’d seen kill in cold blood. Of course she would be terrified, and of course they’d run,” he said thoughtfully. “So the question is, where would they go where no one could find them.”

“Exactly. I’ve spoken to Courtney’s family, but there doesn’t seem to be anyplace in particular where she’d go. I called Mary and asked her if she could think of someplace that was special to Ryan, but she didn’t know of any. I was hoping perhaps one of his teachers might know something—maybe in conversation sometime he mentioned something…” She blew out a long breath. “I know it’s a long shot, Father, but I can’t think of anything else right now.”

“So you want to talk to some of Ryan’s friends, and to all the teachers you missed the last time around?”

“I’m thinking maybe the people he was closest to, the people he might have confided in. I might have spoken with some of them last week, but maybe I didn’t ask the right questions.”

“Well, you might want to talk to Dirk Petersen. He teaches the class on film. Ryan was his star pupil. He often spoke about the work Ryan did on his projects.”

“What kind of projects?”

“Some films they made over the past two years. Dirk’s told me many times how gifted he thinks Ryan is.”

“Why didn’t I speak with him the last time I was here?”

“He might have been out that day. He’s only in three days each week, teaches two classes. Let me see if today is one of his days…”

As they walked back into the building, Father Burch asked, “Is there anyone else I can line up for you while you’re here?”

“Let’s wait to see what Mr. Petersen has to say,” she told him. “Oh, I would like to speak with Misty Bauer. I understand she’s a freshman.”

“Yes, I’ll check on her as well.” They were back in the lobby where they’d met earlier. “I’ll be right back.”

He disappeared into the main office, and the door closed quietly behind him while Mallory paced in the hall. She was feeling a bit nervous, hopeful that today she’d find the key, fearful that she would not. Her headache had returned with a vengeance, so she shook two tablets from the plastic container of Advil she carried with her and looked for a water fountain. She was just walking back to the office when the door opened and Father Burch stepped out.

“Dirk Petersen’s in his classroom.” Father Burch was smiling when he rejoined Mallory. “The third-period class is over in about seven minutes. I’ll walk down with you, introduce you, and you can take it from there.”

“Great.”

Mallory followed the priest down one hall and around a corner to a second, longer hallway. He stopped close to the end and pointed to a door.

“Room one thirty-three. The film lab.”

She began pacing again. Father Burch watched her with some apparent amusement.

“You take your work very seriously, don’t you?” he said when she’d paced herself back to where he stood leaning against the wall.

“Yes, I do.”

“Good. This is serious business, this disappearance of children.” His face went suddenly sad and his voice dropped. “This shooting of children in a playground. Taking innocent lives for no reason.” He looked at her with apologetic eyes. “I know that Jesus says to hate the sin but love the sinner, but it’s damned hard sometimes, Mallory.”

She started to remind him that the Bible also said something about an eye for an eye, and that she wasn’t sure which—revenge or forgiveness—was more appropriate under the circumstances, but they were both spared the debate when the bell rang and all twenty-some of the third-period film class spilled out into the hall.

Father Burch escorted her into the classroom, where Dirk Petersen was removing a video tape from a VCR.

“Dirk,” Father Burch greeted.

The man looked up. “Father Burch.” His face lit with surprise. “Good to see you.”

The priest introduced Mallory and explained that she was working with Ryan Corcoran’s family to determine what had happened in the playground and, hopefully, to find Ryan.

“That would be wonderful, Ms. Russo, if those two kids were found alive.” He shook her hand. “I don’t know Courtney very well—actually, I only know her because Ryan had filmed her several times, and…”

“Ryan filmed Courtney?”

“Yes, as I said, she was in several of his films.”

“What sort of films has he made?”

“He’s done several documentaries, all very good. Excellent, in fact.” Petersen’s head bobbed up and down. “He’s done one on comparative religions, one on the problems of housing wild animals in zoos. Oh, and the one he did on the Underground Railroad was really quite remarkable. The boy really has a lot of promise.”

“Would it be possible for me to view his work?”

“Sure thing. We entered two of his films in a contest for student filmmakers, and I asked him to make several copies at the time, in case we had to submit to the next level of judges. I think he has a very good chance to win, or at the very least to place high nationally.”

“He’s that good?”

“The best I’ve ever had.” Petersen turned his back and went to a file cabinet. A moment later he turned back, two flat DVD cases in his hand. “Here are the two I mentioned. Take them home, take a look. Bring them back whenever you’re finished.”

“Mr. Petersen, to the best of your knowledge, was there any one place that Ryan liked especially to film? Someplace that was really special to him for some reason?”

The teacher thought the question over, then shook his head. “Not that I know of. He’s never mentioned anything like that. Of course, if there was, he may have filmed it, but I can’t think of anyplace he’s gone back to more than once to shoot, say, in different lightings or different times of the year.”

She handed him a card. “If you think of anything, would you give me a call?”

“Sure thing.”

“I’ll get these back to you as soon as I can,” she told him.

“No rush. At least, until Ryan comes back, there’s no rush, so take your time.”

“Thanks.”

She deposited the DVDs into her bag while she and Father Burch walked back to the front of the building.

“You wanted to speak with Misty Bauer,” he reminded her when they rounded the corner near the office. “Let me get her for you.”

“Could I maybe meet with her outside, in that little courtyard where you and I sat?” Mallory asked. “Maybe she’ll be more relaxed outside the school building.”

“Sure thing. I’ll send her out.” Father Burch went into the office, and Mallory returned to the bench in the garden. Something had her blood humming—she didn’t know how else to describe the feeling she had when something felt right. Somehow, before the day was over, she’d learn something important that she didn’t already know. She could sense it.

She was wondering what that something could be when she looked up to see Misty walking toward her.

“Did you find out something about my sister?” Misty asked. “Do you know where she is?”

“No, but I think you do.”

“That’s crazy. If I knew where she’s hiding, why wouldn’t I tell you?”

“Because Courtney has made you promise not to tell anyone. And you haven’t. Not even your mother,” Mallory said softly. “You and Courtney both know that someone very, very bad is looking for her. And we both know who that very bad person is, don’t we, Misty?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” The blood drained from Misty’s face. She turned back toward the school.

“Misty, this isn’t a game. I know you promised your sister, but she’s in terrible danger. The person who is looking for her wants to kill her, you know that, right?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Misty repeated, and kept walking.

“Misty, I have to find Courtney before someone else does. I can help her. You can help me do that.”

The girl slowed for a moment before resuming her pace.

Mallory caught up with her and held out her hand.

“Misty. Put this in your wallet or wherever you keep important things.”

Misty looked down at the paper in Mallory’s hand.

“It’s my business card,” Mallory said. “Don’t throw this one away. Trust me. You’re going to need it.”

Misty folded the card in half and closed her fingers around it. She went back into the school, and the door closed behind her.

“Well, that went well,” Mallory muttered.

She found Father Burch waiting just outside the office and thanked him.

“Let me know if there’s anyone else you want to speak with or if there’s anything else I can do to help,” he said as he walked her to the front steps. “And don’t forget, you need to—”

“—call Susanna, yes, I’ll do that.” Mallory smiled. And she would. Later. Right now, she was on her way home to watch the DVDs Ryan had made. Hopefully, one or both would tell her something that she needed to know.

Mallory watched the DVD on religions twice before deciding there was nothing there. While interesting and well done, there was no scene where the camera lingered over any particular place, no one building or setting that recurred. She removed the disk from the DVD player and slipped the second one in. As soon as the film began, she got goose bumps, and her ears began to hum again.

The opening shot was of a neatly tended farm, the camera panning across the field and over the pastures where goats and sheep grazed together. The scene was filmed from someplace high—the second floor of a barn, maybe. The credits were written across the screen, but she barely saw them.

The narrative began, the voice-over telling the story of how people who’d lived in and around Conroy in the nineteenth century had helped runaway slaves escape north to Canada and remote parts of New England. There were a remarkable number of Underground Railroad stops in the area. She’d never have guessed there’d been so many.

She watched the DVD in its entirety, then replayed it several times over. The answer was there in her hands; she knew it. By late afternoon, she had a list of places that had appeared on the screen. She rewrote the list in order of the number of times each had appeared.

When she finished compiling her list, she reached for the phone, excited to share her news with Charlie. Disappointed when she had to leave voice mail, she disconnected—then true to her word—dialed Susanna’s number.

“Susanna, hi, it’s Mallory Russo,” she said when the call was answered.

“Oh, Mallory. How are you?” Susanna seemed pleased to hear from her. “What’s going on? Any leads yet?”

“I have a few ideas. I’ll stop in the office tomorrow or the next day and go over it with you, if you’re going to be in.”