The Depth of Darkness (Mitch Tanner #1) (22 page)

“I can run back and get you a pole, miss,”
Terrence said to Bridget.

She placed a hand on Ella’s shoulder. “That’s
okay. I’m happy to help Miss Ella out for a bit.”

Ella grabbed Bridget’s hand and started to
pull her down the dock. Terrence pointed out a spot filled with
blue gill. Not much for eating, but they’d keep her busy. In all,
we spent about two hours fishing, landing a decent sized channel
catfish and a couple five-pound largemouth bass. A feat not as easy
as it was when I was a kid.

We beer-battered the fish fillets and cooked
them in a fryer that Terrence’s wife had brought over. The kids
played while the adults talked. After the sun set behind the lake,
Terrence and his family left in the golf cart. His wife had to
drive. Terrence had had a few too many. So had I if I was being
honest. Ella tried to stay awake, but didn’t last five minutes. I
brought her inside and placed her in bed.

“It’s a beautiful night,” Bridget said as I
stepped onto the porch.

I walked up to her and wrapped my arm around
her waist. Kissed her neck. She turned around and our lips met.

I pulled back and said, “Maybe when this is
all over, we can pursue this, see where it goes?”

She looked away. Her hands wrapped around
mine and pulled them apart.

I took a step back from her. “What is it? Is
there someone else? Something to do with your ex-husband?”

“Almost my ex,” she said. “And no, that’s not
it. There’s no one else.” She looked me in the eyes. “I think there
could be something here, but, Mitch, they’re reassigning me in
October.”

I knew I should let it go right then and
there. I’d just found out Lana had been cheating on me, yet here I
was, trying to find a way to jump start a new relationship.

“To where?” I asked.

“It’s between Denver and D.C.”

“Well, D.C. isn’t that far.”

“But Denver’s across the country.”

“But if it’s D.C. we can make it work.”

“And if it’s Denver, we’ve both wasted a
month of our lives.”

I nodded and said nothing.

“You’re just getting out of a relationship
and I’m going through a messy divorce. And we’ve only just met,
Mitch.”

I reached for her hand. “So why’d you come
out here?”

She bit her lip and shook her head. “I don’t
know. I…”

“You…?”

“I just wanted to see. Away from the madness,
you know?”

I nodded. “And did you see what you
wanted?”

“I saw that you’re every bit the great guy I
thought. And if things were different, then maybe…”

“I know,” I said. “I know.”

Bridget leaned forward to kiss me. I pulled
back. “Maybe you should go to your cabin.”

“Is that what you want?” The way she looked
at me, leveled me.

“No. But I think that would be for the best.
For tonight, at least. Let’s sleep on this and talk tomorrow.”

She kissed my cheek and then slipped off the
porch and into the darkness. I waited until I heard the sound of
her cabin door close, then I went inside. After the combination of
sun, fresh air, fishing and beer, it didn’t take me long to fall
asleep. Normally I’d lay there for a half-hour. Not tonight.

I woke up at five-thirty in the morning. The
cabin had a small four-cup coffee maker and sealed packages of
Folgers. I took a fresh brewed cup onto the porch. The sun had
started to rise over the east end of the lake, painting the sky red
and pink. High wispy clouds looked like strokes from a
paintbrush.

I stepped off the porch and walked toward
Bridget’s cabin. The shades were up and her car was gone. I peered
through the front window and saw that the bed was made. There was
no luggage visible. I wondered if she stayed through the night or
left after I went inside. In a way, I was glad she’d taken off. Too
many questions there. And if she did get the transfer to Denver,
what was the point? Neither of us was in a position for a long
distance relationship built on one month, post-betrayal.

I finished my coffee and went inside my cabin
for a refill. My cell indicated there was an unread text message
from Bridget. It said, “Sorry. I’ve been reinstated. I… Sorry.” I
nodded and tucked the phone in my pocket without responding. It
wouldn’t do any good.

Ella came out of her room at that time. We
dressed and then got in the car and found a place down the street
open for breakfast. They had all you can eat pancakes for five
dollars. Neither of us could resist. Ella could put away some
pancakes. I had to tell the waitress not to let her size fool the
woman.

Halfway through the meal, my cell rang. I
didn’t bother to look at it. At least, not until the third call. I
pulled it out a second too late. All three calls had come from
Bridget. I figured I’d hear from her sooner or later, calling to
offer an explanation. Part of me didn’t buy the whole reinstated
excuse. But this was what you might call overboard.

It rang again. I looked from the phone to
Ella, smiled, and said, “I need to take this sweetie.”

She wiped orange juice off her upper lip with
the back of her hand. “Okay, Daddy.”

I rose and walked through the front door,
stopping where I had a clear view of the booth Ella and I sat at. I
had expected to hear a soft hello, followed by an apology and maybe
even a request to give this another try when I got home.

I got nothing of the sort.

Bridget’s voice was higher than normal. She
spoke at breakneck speed. “Get back here now, Mitch. We need you
here. If you could be here five minutes ago, that would be best.
Something’s happened with the case.”

“Hold on a minute,” I said, confused about
what was going on. “What are you talking about? I’m suspended. A
month without pay. Remember? I’m not going anywhere.” In truth, I
was ready to hop in the Boss and do one-ten all the way back to
Philly if necessary.

“Mitch, there’s no time for that bureaucratic
nonsense. Get back here now.”

“Am I reinstated?”

“No clue. And I don’t care. This is my call
and I’ll take the fall for it if need be.”

“Bridget, you’re not making much sense. Let
me rephrase that. You’re not making any sense.”

“I know. Neither did they when they called me
last night after you went to bed. But they told me pretty much what
I just told you.”

Ella watched me from inside the restaurant.
She grinned and waved while stuffing a forkful of pancakes in her
mouth. I waved back, forcing myself to smile at her. “I need some
information, Bridget.”

“There’s no time.”

“Does Huff know about this? The Chief? Hell,
the Mayor?”

Bridget said, “Let me put it this way.
Everyone who needs to know, knows.”

“Everyone except me, yet you’re on the phone
freaking out and saying I need to be there now. Why?”

“Dammit, Mitch. We’re wasting time.”

“And we’ll continue to waste it until you
give me some idea of what is going on.”

“We received the ransom demand.”

I knocked on the window loud enough that
everyone inside the restaurant turned and looked up at me. I didn’t
care about them. I waved and gestured for Ella to come outside. She
got up. I headed toward the door, fishing in my pocket for my
wallet. I pulled out a fifty and handed it to the hostess. Ella
grabbed my hand.

“What’s wrong, Daddy?”

I didn’t answer her. I ushered her toward the
car.

Bridget said, “There’s more, Mitch.”

“What is it?” I said, settling in behind the
wheel.

“They want you to make the drop.”

“Me? Why?”

“They didn’t say.”

“Where?”

“We don’t know. They’re calling back in
ninety minutes. They said you better be here, or they’ll kill the
Walker girl.”

They’d taken two kids in broad daylight, and
then murdered the school principal. I had no reason to doubt that
they’d carry out their end of the ultimatum.

“Okay, listen to me, Bridget. You get a state
trooper or two, or some county cops, I don’t care which. You get
them to meet me at the campground entrance to give me an escort
back to the city. We can make it, but we’ll have to tear up the
road.”

She agreed and we hung up. I pulled out of
the lot and raced back to the campground. The Boss slid in the
gravel, coming to a stop a foot from Terrence’s store. He came
running outside. When he saw the look on my face, he said, “What’s
wrong, Mitch?”

“Terrence, I need for you to watch over Ella
for me for a day or two.”

“I don’t want to stay here, Daddy,” Ella
said. “I want to go with you.”

“Baby,” I said, “Daddy needs to go back to
Philly and take care of something. Grandma’s away visiting her
sister and Lana is in the hospital.” I had to force Lana’s name out
of my mouth. “My friend Terrence can take care of you. I’ll be back
in a couple days. I promise.”

I knelt down and she wrapped her arms around
my neck. I rose and carried her inside. Terrence waited in the
doorway.

“Is she in danger?” he asked.

“I hope not, Terrence. But I know you can
take care of her. Keep her out of sight. If anyone shows up, you
call me right away. I’ll try to get someone out here to help
out.”

“I got all the help I need behind that
counter.” He gestured toward the rifle on the wall. “And there’s
more underneath. You don’t have to worry about her safety.”

I nodded, squeezed his shoulder, and then
left. At the campground entrance, two state troopers waited for me.
We hit the highway, lights and sirens blaring, and did close to
one-twenty for most of the ride.

They passed me off to a couple squad cars
when we entered city limits. I expected them to lead me to the
station. They didn’t. Fifteen minutes later we pulled into an
upscale residential neighborhood. Not the kind of place
millionaires would live, but then again, the boy’s family had new
money and they hadn’t decided what to do with it yet. I picked out
their house right away. Three dark sedans and four unmarked police
cars were parked out front. I figured the case wrangling hadn’t
resolved itself yet. Inside, I’d face the Feds, Major Crimes, maybe
even the Chief himself.

I got out of the Boss and glanced down at my
watch. Made it with ten minutes to spare. The front door opened and
Bridget Dinapoli stepped out. Her hair was pulled back. Sunglasses
perched atop her head. She had on dark pants and a blue shirt with
the FBI shield on front. She walked over, stopping a few feet
away.

“Detective.”

“Special Agent.”

We stared at each other for a moment.

“It’s a good thing you were able to make it
in time.”

I nodded. “What are their demands?”

“We don’t know yet. Only thing they said was
you had to be here for this call.”

I nodded toward the house. “What’s the scene
like in there?”

“They reinstated me, and we pulled rank. This
case belongs to the FBI now. Townsend and his guys are being
pricks. Cooperative pricks, I suppose. He tried to get the Chief
involved, but it did them no good. For now, at least, I’m running
the show.”

“Vinson and Braden in there?”

“They are.”

“Sam?”

She shook her head. I made a mental note to
try to get him involved after we spoke to the kidnappers.

“How are the parents holding up?” I
asked.

“As well as you would expect. Wife’s a mess.
Husband blames himself.”

“Why?”

She shrugged. “Wouldn’t you?”

“Probably.” I glanced around at the other
houses. Folks lined up on their porches and huddled together in a
couple of driveways, studying the scene. “Am I reinstated?”

“It doesn’t matter, Mitch. If these guys say
you have to be around, then you have to be around. If your Chief
wants to take on my boss, let him. He’ll get his ass handed to him
on a plate.”

We both looked toward the front door as it
opened. Vinson stepped outside and pointed to his watch.

Bridget lifted an eyebrow and said, “Let’s
go, Mitch. We’re expecting a call.”

The Hollands’s home smelled heavily of
vanilla cream. It seemed every room had a candle burning. Maybe
they had intended it as a vigil. Keep ‘em burning until our boy
comes home. It made me want to sneeze, but I managed to stifle the
urge out of respect.

Mr. and Mrs. Holland huddled close together
on the far side of a round kitchen table. A large uncovered bay
window gave me a view of the backyard. The grass was neatly
manicured. There were no trees. I noticed a dog run at the far
right. Across from it stood a wooden play set.

A phone had been placed in the middle of the
granite tabletop. The mother had tears in her eyes. So did the
father. I couldn’t imagine the mixture of dread and anticipation
they felt at that moment.

Bridget walked into the kitchen and took a
seat at the table. I followed her through and stopped while she
introduced me. I nodded and said nothing to the Hollands. Until
that call came in, there was nothing to say. I didn’t know my place
in the unfolding events.

Apparently, neither did Townsend. He leaned
in to me and whispered, “For the record, I’m one hundred percent
against this. If it turns out you botch this, I’m going to
recommend they kick you off the force.”

“For the record, Townsend, I don’t give a
fuck.”

When I looked back at the table, all eyes
were on me. Mrs. Holland’s mouth hung open. Her husband shook his
head. So did Bridget.

“Sorry, folks,” I said.

The phone rang. All eyes stared at the center
of the table. Everyone forgot about my outburst. Bridget nodded
toward Mr. Holland, then she answered the phone by pressing the
speaker button.

“Hello,” a voice said. It sounded like Roy
Miller-Michael Lipsky, but more confident than I’d ever heard him.
It lent a bit more credence to the argument that he’d played Sam
and me.