The Depth of Darkness (Mitch Tanner #1) (25 page)

“Hurry, Mitch,” Bridget said from behind
me.

I glanced over my shoulder at her. Her face
was drawn and pale. She nodded at me. I turned and pushed forward.
Every fiber in my body told me to turn around and get off that
deathtrap of a platform. I railed against it, repeating a simple
mantra of
I will not allow myself to fail this child.
I kept
going, and soon I stood behind Bernard. I reached out and placed my
hands under his armpits. He didn’t weigh much, and I easily lifted
him and pulled him over the railing. Shifting Bernard in my arms, I
pulled him close to my chest. He draped his broken arm across his
stomach. I stepped back cautiously, until my shoulder blades
touched the side of the building. He started to cry, and his teeth
chattered uncontrollably. I could only imagine the harrowing
situation he’d been through. And even then, I’m sure I hadn’t
scratched the surface.

I took one step after another, making sure I
had secured my footing before moving on. Those fifteen feet might
as well have been fifteen miles. The wind blew into me, threatening
to knock me back and send both of us tumbling over the railing.
Bridget stood at the door, holding it open and urging me
forward.

I stopped moments after passing through the
doorway. Bridget closed the door behind me. The wind rush faded,
and the interior of the tower fell silent.

Bernard’s cries quieted. Halfway down the
stairs, he asked, “Have you found Debby?”

I didn’t say anything.

“They took her away a couple days ago,” he
said.

Bridget glanced back at me. I wondered if she
shared my fear that we’d never find Debby Walker. Deep inside, I
had a feeling that the girl might already be dead.

“We’re working on that, Bernard,” I said.

“Bernie,” he said.

“Okay, Bernie. We’ll do everything we can for
Debby.”

When we reached the bottom, Bernard’s parents
were waiting for us. Behind them were two paramedics.

“He’s got a broken arm,” I said. “Mr. and
Mrs. Holland, I know you want to wrap your son up in your arms, but
he needs to be seen by those paramedics right there.”

“That’s fine,” Mr. Holland said, ignoring
what I said and taking his son from my arms. Who was I to stop him?
He looked me in the eye and said, “Thank you, Detective. I mean
that.”

I shook my head. “Not me, sir.”

They headed through the door. I watched them
long enough to see the paramedics take over and then I collapsed on
one of the bottom steps. My hands shook, and my stomach ached, and
my chest tightened. I forced air in and out, inhaling deeply and
exhaling loudly.

Bridget came over, stopping a few feet in
front of me. “You okay?”

I glanced up, forcing a smile. “I’m
fine.”

“You sure?” Concern spread across her face as
she knelt down.

“It’s still not over,” I said.

She nodded. “I know. We’ve got to find that
girl.” She rose, turned and took a few steps away. Then she
returned, standing over me. “They’ll slip up, you know. Sooner or
later they’ll spend a large chunk of that money, brag to someone,
and then we’ll find them.”

“It was marked?”

“Of course.”

I looked around the barren room. The place
looked different with daylight filling it up. “A little risky,
don’t you think?”

“Maybe.”

“This place looks different when it’s
dark.”

She shrugged. She hadn’t seen the inside of
it before. Probably not the outside, either. “It’s abandoned
right?”

I nodded. “Yeah. Why?”

“All the rattling sounds. That’s all.”

“Old pipes, old steel,” I said. “Trapped
water and sludge. Humidity and temperature changes cause expanding
and contracting. Same kind of thing you hear in old houses.”

She nodded and said nothing as she stared up
toward the top of the building. A tiny pinprick of light shone
through at the top.

“What if the girl can’t wait long enough for
the guys to slip up?” I asked.

She looked away, shaking her head. “What
other choice do we have, Mitch? We notify everyone we can and hope
they show up somewhere.”

I rose and reached for her hands. “What do
you think about taking a trip to Savannah, Georgia with me?”

Bridget’s eyes flicked back and forth, and
she shook her head slightly. She must’ve thought I’d lost my mind
asking her to go to Savannah.

“Before you answer,” I said, “hear me
out.”

“Mitch, no,” she said, turning toward the
open doorway. “We’ve got to catch these guys and find the girl. I
can’t run off with you right now.”

“Bridget, listen to me.” I reached for her
elbow. She stopped and turned. “There’s a woman who lives down
there we should go see.”

“What woman? Why?”

“A few years back she helped Sam and me on a
case we’d made little traction on. She… I don’t know how else to
put this other than saying she talks to the dead.”

“What? Are you kidding me, Mitch?” She lifted
her hands about shoulder height, palms out, and backed away from
me.

I followed her through the doorway, pulling
my sunglasses over my eyes to shield them from the sun. “I know it
sounds crazy, but dammit, she led us right to the killer. Call it
whatever you want, and believe me, I’ve wrestled with this over and
over. But I was there. I saw it with my own two eyes, Bridget.”

“How’d you find about this woman?”

“She came to me.”

“She could have had advanced knowledge of the
murder, Mitch. She could have known and acted only because her
conscience got the best of her.”

I shook my head. “I had her checked out.
Talked to some of the detectives down in the Savannah PD. She’d
helped on over a dozen cases.”

Bridget looked toward the paramedics loading
Bernard into the back of the ambulance. One jumped out and helped
Mrs. Holland into the back. Vinson and Braden escorted Mr. Holland
to their car. I presumed they’d take him to the hospital.

“Look, it can’t hurt Bridget. Worst case, we
lose six hours.” I reached out and touched her elbow again. She
pulled away. I added, “If we leave for the airport now, we’ll be in
the air maybe by two o’clock. That’ll put us in Savannah no later
than four.”

“This is crazy. Six hours is a lot of time,
Mitch.”

“I know, but we’re running on nothing right
now. Not a single lead.”

She glanced at me, then away. Her eyes rolled
up like she was thinking. Finally, she said, “I can get us on a
jet.”

“No,” I said forcefully. “Don’t invite the
Feds. I don’t want them harassing this poor woman. She told me once
she felt like a victim trapped inside a hell she can’t escape. You
let them know about her, and they’ll be busting down her door
looking for help.”

“Not likely.”

“Yes, likely. Once she produces results they
can’t deny, they’ll be all over her.”

Bridget stood there, staring past me and
biting her bottom lip. I knew it sounded crazy. If she were the one
telling me that we should do this, I’d have called her nuts and
told her we’d be wasting time. The fact of the matter was that time
was running out and we didn’t have a single lead on the whereabouts
of Debby Walker. If we didn’t find the men, we’d never find her.
While everyone else worked to track them down, maybe my Savannah
contact could help us find Debby.

“Okay, Mitch. How can we do this without
letting anyone know?”

I pulled out my cell and called Sam. He
picked up after the second ring. “I need you to do me a favor.”

“Anything. What do you need?”

“Cover for Bridget and me.”

“Where are you going?”

I cleared my throat. Bridget watched closely.
I turned away from her. “Savannah.”

“Mitch, no.”

“Sam, yes.”

“Come on, that woman is crazy, man.” Sam
grunted a couple times and I heard a slapping sound, like he hit
his steering wheel or the dash with an open hand. “She’s
certifiable.”

“She led us right to that man, Sam. You can’t
deny that.”

“No, I can’t. But you can’t tell me with one
hundred percent certainty that she didn’t have some kind of
previous knowledge. She could have met a guy in a bar who confessed
the whole thing to her and then she used it to her advantage. I
mean, they give shows out to people like this now. Not fictional
shows, that reality TV crap.”

“He thinks you’re crazy, too. Doesn’t he?”
Bridget said.

I waved her off. “Sam, we’re doing this.
Anyone asks, we’re with you, but can’t talk.” I hung up and turned
toward Bridget. “Let’s go.”

It took twenty minutes to reach Philadelphia
International and another ten to park and get inside. Our badges
got us to the front of the ticketing counter, and then through the
security checkpoint. We had fifteen minutes from the time our
boarding passes were printed to get to the gate. We made it in
fourteen. The plane was only half-full. Bridget and I bypassed our
seats and sat in the middle of a section of empty rows toward the
rear of the craft. We spoke infrequently, usually after I tried to
initiate conversation. I figured she thought I was a crazy person
now. I didn’t blame her. But the fact was, I considered myself one
of the most sane people I knew. I didn’t believe anything most
would consider hokey.

Except for the woman in Savannah. I’d seen
the results.

Eventually, I gave up trying to talk to
Bridget and fell asleep. I awoke an hour later, during our final
descent.

Before the plane had stopped, Bridget was up
flashing her credentials to the stewardess. It worked and we
departed before anyone else on the plane.

“I’m going to get us a car,” I said. “See if
you can scrounge up some coffee.”

“Where from?”

Savannah Hilton Head International was a
smaller airport with only fifteen gates. It looked like it had been
recently upgraded. It had a southern feel to it. Almost like you’d
stepped into a small town rather than an airport. “I figure in a
small place like this, there might be a coffee pot sitting out for
anyone to use.”

Bridget disappeared on her quest for coffee,
and I found a car rental counter. When the guy asked what kind of
car I preferred, I told him one than ran. Made it easy on the guy.
By the time I’d finished signing papers, Bridget returned with two
cups of coffee.

The sweltering September air hit us with full
force when we stepped outside. The humidity levels matched the
temperature, which hovered in the low nineties. We walked to the
rental car lot, where a compact Ford awaited.

“You know where we’re going?” she asked.

I nodded.

“Been there before?”

“Once.”

“And you still remember how to get there?”
She looked at me out of the corner of her eye without turning her
head all that much.

“Won’t ever forget it.”

She got in the car on the passenger side.
When I opened the door and took a seat, she said, “Care to
elaborate?”

“Nope.”

And that ended the questioning. She didn’t
say another word until I slowed down and pulled to the curb in
front of the house. We waited there for a minute, both staring at
the small bungalow style home. The gray exterior was lined with red
trim. There wasn’t much of a front lawn, but the grass that did
exist was deep green. Small Mediterranean style shrubs wrapped
around the house.

“Huh. I figured a psychic would live in a
creepy old house with boarded up windows and cobwebs on the front
porch. Surely they have plenty of those down here.”

Bridget opened her door, stepped out and
walked toward the gate that crossed over the perfectly lined pavers
leading to the front door. I joined her a moment later.

“She’s not a psychic,” I said. “She’s a
medium.”

“Like there’s a difference?”

“Apparently there is.”

“Enlighten me.”

“Google it.”

Bridget jumped when the front door opened. I
almost walked right into her. I glanced down and saw her hand
hovering over her weapon.

“Detective Tanner,” the woman said, stepping
onto the porch. “What are you doing down here?”

“Hello, Cassie,” I said to the woman. “This
is Special Agent Bridget Dinapoli of the FBI. We’re working
together trying to find a kidnapped child. Do you mind if we speak
with you for a few minutes?”

Cassie stepped out of the shadows, crossing
the porch and stopping in front of the top step. Her auburn hair
reflected the sun. Her blue eyes looked pale. So did her skin,
which poked out of her shorts and tank top, causing me to think she
didn’t get out much this summer. She studied Bridget for a few
moments, then said, “Come on inside.”

Bridget looked back at me. She seemed a
little uneasy. I placed my hand on her shoulder and nodded for her
to move forward.

Once inside the house, Cassie led us to the
living room.

“Please excuse the mess. I haven’t felt like
cleaning much lately.” She looked sad, distant.

I glanced around the room. There were a
couple cat toys on the floor, and a magazine or two on the sofa.
Other than that, the place was spotless aside from a fine layer of
dust on the side tables and mantelpiece.

“You have a lovely home,” Bridget said.

“Thank you.”

I shot a look at Bridget. People in our
profession didn’t enter a house and say things like that. Cassie
must have thrown her off her game.

“What about the child?” Cassie asked.

“Nine years old,” I started. “Abducted along
with another child from the school playground. Two men, one had
remained in the car. They escaped and dropped out of sight for a
few days. The reason for the abduction was—”

Cassie held up her hands. “No, don’t tell me
that.”

“Okay,” I said, trying to figure out where to
go next. “We’ve got the boy back. The girl is still missing.”

Bridget said, “Her name is—”