Beneath the Cracks (27 page)

"It wasn't that bad."

"You always say that.  I seem to recall
that if your hunches hadn't played out with the regularity that
they did, you'd have been boiled in hot oil for your refusal to
follow protocol from time to time."

"Listen, David, I appreciate the head's up,
but we've got to get out of here and hit our stakeout.  Do me
a favor."

"Of course."

"If you hear of any more unusual requests
about me, keep me posted.  I'm not sure what Darnell is up to
with all of this, but if it continues, I'll make time to find
out."

"Your pal from Washington?"

I looked over at Briscoe.  "How much
were you eavesdropping?"

"Only enough to realize he called and you
weren't happy with what he had to say.  You're like a great
big walking jigsaw puzzle, aintcha, Eriksson?"

"Time to find Crevan.  If we leave now,
we'll make it to the shelter on time."

At promptly seven fifteen, a fifteen
passenger Ford van rolled to a stop outside the Sixth Avenue
Shelter.  My fingers dug into Crevan's shoulder.  "This
is it.  This has gotta be Denton."  I pulled my gun.

"Hold on, Helen," Briscoe cautioned. 
"We need to see the men load up before we jump the guy.  Catch
him in the act, remember?"

"What's he waiting for?"

"Be patient," Crevan said.  "He's
getting out of the van right now."

I waited, holding my breath without
realizing it until a slow trickle of men filed out of the shelter
and into the van.

"Did you two ever find out who runs this
place?"

"The Sisters of Mercy Charitable Trust,"
Tony said.  "Trust me, Helen.  You're barkin' up the
wrong tree if you think they're aware of anything nefarious."

"Here he comes," Crevan said.  "Stay in
the car, Helen."

"Now wait just a minute –"

"In the driver's seat," he clarified. 
"If Denton tries to evade, move the car and block him in."

Crevan lucked out.  Apparently Denton
wasn't stupid enough to make a break for it.  I watched from a
safe distance while they put him in handcuffs and sent the
passengers in the van back inside the shelter for the night. 
Denton collected four men, and we might well have saved at least
one of their lives.

The phone in my pocket vibrated again. 
Absently I fished it out and answered, "Eriksson."

"Hi.  I was wondering if you'd ever
answer the phone again, or if you're still avoiding me."

Not now.  Really not now. 
"Johnny, this isn't a good time."

"Why not?"

"Because it just isn't.  Ask
Darnell."

"Are you mad because I gave you what you
wanted?"

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I left."

My snort puffed across the digital
connection.  "Yeah, you left all right.  That part, the
extreme you went to, was your idea, not mine."

"What choice did I have?"

I gnawed at the tip of my thumbnail. 
"Oh, I don't know.  You could've been reasonable and stuck
around until morning and listened to why I handled things the way I
did.  You could've stopped acting like an overprotective
Neanderthal for five seconds and listened when Tony told you I was
fine."

"Explaining my reason for concern is
moot.  I've already told you.  Either you don't believe
me, or you simply don't care."

"Johnny…"  My eyes drifted to the
figures quickly approaching the car.  "I can't talk right
now.  That's the truth.  Briscoe, Conall and I are in the
middle of something.  We have a person of interest in
custody."

"Already?"

"Yeah, thanks to my audacity Wednesday
night.  I'll talk to you later or see you when I see
you."  I slid my thumb over the screen, lightly tapping the
end call
button.

Tony sat in the back with Denton who argued
loudly that he had nothing to say without an attorney while I drove
back to Downey Division.  About half way there, my frazzled
nerves had heard enough.  I glanced in the rearview
mirror.

"Shut up, Dr. Denton."

"I beg your –"

"You're gonna be begging for more than a
pardon in five seconds if you don't cease this noise. 
Jesus.  Didn't you tell him he's not under arrest?"

"Haven't had a chance to get a word in
edgewise," Tony grinned.  "Thanks for the opportunity."

"You can't do this!" Denton protested. 
"I have rights."

"Then please," I groaned, "take advantage of
one of them and remain silent.  At least for the next ten
minutes.  Anybody ever explain the phenomenon of pressured
speech to you, Denton?  Take a breath.  Slow down. 
Stop to smell the roses once in awhile."

He held his tongue for all of thirty seconds
before the vehement protests bubbled forth once again.

"Look, if you've got to yammer on, could you
at least tell me why you lied about hiring men from the shelter to
work at Dupree's Farm?"

"That wasn't a lie!"

Tony scoffed, "So they're doin' what
exactly?  Tendin' your begonias in the back yard?"

"Tony, I think you nailed it," I said. 
"That's it, isn't it Denton.  The men you hire aren't working
for Dupree.  They're working for you."

Crevan leaned over and spoke low. 
"Helen, he works for Dupree, so doesn't that mean by default that
he's hiring people to work for Dupree?"

"Not if gullible Jean-Claude has no idea
what Mr. Denton is really doing in that laboratory.  I'm
right, aren't I?"

Denton started babbling nonsense at a rate
and pitch only dogs could hear.  The only cogent thing that
came out of his mouth was a single high-pitched wail.  "You've
killed me, you damned fool!  You've killed me!"

By the time we reached the division,
paramedics from the county ambulance service were waiting with a
nice big needle full of haloperidol to settle Denton down.  I
didn't expect him to be lucid again for another eight to ten
hours.  I perched on a chair outside his cell and watched the
drug work it's magic. 

The shrieking abated.  Denton's pacing
slowed.  He finally slumped onto the cot and curled into the
fetal position.  His eyelids drooped, but he wasn't down for
the count yet.

"Do you understand that you're in a safe
place, Dr. Denton?"

"You're a fool," he chanted softly.  "A
fool.  A fool."

"Dr. Denton…Thomas…tell me the name of the
person you think is going to kill you.  Say his name, and I
can make sure you're safe."

Glassy eyes met mine.  "He'll get you
too, you know.  You're as dead as I am.  Already
marked.  Wait and see, Dr. Eriksson.  He'll get you
too."

I waited until the snoring almost put me
into a coma and trekked back up to the squad room where Briscoe and
Conall were waiting.

"What?  You look like I interrupted a
super secret conversation."

Briscoe hiked his thumb in the direction of
the hallway.  "You got a visitor, Helen.  And I don't
think you're gonna be too happy to see him."

My heart skipped a beat, expecting to see
Orion, which contrary to what my brain was trying to convince me,
was something I wouldn't have minded so much at all.

Instead, the wave of anticipation shifted
and sent a chill straight down my spine.  The smirk on Mark
Seleeby's face didn't help much either.

Chapter 24

"No.  No, he can't be here.  He's
not supposed to be here."  I reached for my pocket.

"For God's sake, Eriksson, you can't shoot
the guy," Briscoe growled.

I pulled out my iPhone and glared at
him.  "I don't carry the Glock in my pocket, Tony.  I'm
calling David Levine and asking him what the hell he's doing
here.  Again."

Seleeby was moving toward me. 
Fortunately, Crevan and Tony intercepted him before he stopped me
from doing what he had to know I intended to do.  In any case,
his smirk vanished. 

My hands trembled.  David answered his
cell on the first ring.  This time, he sounded groggy.

"Levine."

"He's
here
!" I hissed.  "Seleeby
is here, in Downey Division, right now."

"What?  Helen –"

"What is he doing?  Is he insane?"

"Shit," David muttered.  "Tell me
what's happening."

I slipped into one of the interrogation
observation rooms and peeked through the crack in the open
door.  "Briscoe and Conall are giving him the third
degree.  David, I thought you said this was over.  And
less than a week later, here he is again."

"It's supposed to be over.  Mark
Seleeby was supposed to board a flight for Boise, Idaho this
morning and check in with the field office first thing
Monday.  We had no idea he was taking this detour.  Hold
on, Helen.  I'm calling someone higher up the food chain right
now."

I listened to his low voice, the irritated
words as he summoned the director himself from bed in the middle of
the night in D.C.  "Sir, I apologize for the late hour, but I
just received a phone call from the Darkwater Bay police
department."  Long pause.  "Yes, sir, that's the
one.  It would appear that Agent Seleeby is standing in one of
their police precincts right now looking for Helen Eriksson."

Much longer pause.  I was certain that
my heartbeat sounded like a bongo drum on the other end of the
call, hammering out some primitive tribal rhythm.

"Yes, sir, it was Dr. Eriksson who called
me.  She was informed about Seleeby's status."

"For God's sake, David, tell him that Johnny
told me!" I barked into the phone.

"I believe she was made aware of that
information through Commander Orion, sir."

Every sound slowed, echoed a little before
bouncing around in my head.  David's words slurred into slow
playback. 

"Very good sir.  I'll make the call
right away."  David came back to me.  "Helen, lay
low.  I'll call you back in a few."

He disconnected before I had the chance to
question him further.  Uncertainty uncurled in my belly, a
weedy vine that grew upwards, strangling the air from my lungs and
squeezing my heart with painful spasms.  What if Seleeby quit
his job and decided to harass me without the authority of the FBI
behind him?  Worse yet, what if he and Datello had reached
some sort of lopsided arrangement – one that gave both of them what
they wanted but was heavy on the sacrifice spectrum for
Seleeby? 

I peered at the scene unfolding in the squad
room.  Seleeby was waving his badge and demanding that Briscoe
and Conall let him pass, something about obstructing an official
investigation.  I uttered silent thanks to the cosmos that
they'd witnessed Johnny's promise to get Seleeby off my back. 
Without that knowledge, they'd surely have cooperated with him.

Then the hulk himself made an appearance in
the doorway.  I glanced at my watch.  Ten fifteen, three
hours since we apprehended Denton.  Chris Darnell looked as
crisp as if he'd just donned his state police uniform, even though
he was in civilian clothing tonight.  Tony and Crevan relaxed
when they saw him.  Seleeby didn't know what was about to hit
him.

I was tempted to come out of hiding and bear
witness with a front row view, but the vine of panic unfurled
inside me was still wreaking havoc on purposeful movement.  I
watched Darnell tap Seleeby on the shoulder. 

"Mr. Seleeby," his voice boomed through the
squad room, "I just got a phone call from one of your superiors in
Washington D.C.  You can imagine my surprise at finding you in
my state again.  I was under the impression that this matter
had been resolved."

"Who the fuck are you?  I'm a federal
agent with the FBI.  You don't tell me where I go or what I
investigate!"

Darnell flashed his badge.  "You're
pissin' in the wrong bowl of cornflakes, son.  Detective
Eriksson is a valued member of our law enforcement community. 
You've heard of the infamous blue wall, haven't you?  I'd
think you'd be intimately familiar with it by now, seeing how
you're butting your head against it."

"She is a criminal!"

My feet started moving, rather quickly at
that, before Seleeby could spew more of his theories to people who
were in a position to protect me from him.

"Commander Darnell, it's all right.  I
think I'm interested in hearing what lies Agent Seleeby is pedaling
this time.  Or don't I have that right anymore, Mark?  To
face my accuser."

"You have pulled the wool over these
people's eyes," he spat, "and they can send me off to Timbuktu
sifting through fertilizer receipts for the rest of my career, but
I won't go until these people know who you really are."

Darnell already knew.  Johnny knew some
of it.  Crevan and Tony were mostly in the dark.  I
sucked in a deep breath and turned to my new colleagues.

"My ex-husband was a man named Rick
Hamilton.  As you already know, I divorced him."

"Hell, that ain't no crime," Briscoe
growled.

"Hush, Tony.  You need to hear
this.  I divorced him after Rick was arrested by Agent Seleeby
here for one, because he was laundering money for Sully
Marcos.  Seleeby was convinced that Rick would turn on his
employer and provide the evidence they needed to finally put Sully
behind bars for the rest of his natural life."

"Oh my God," Briscoe's jaw dropped.

This much of the tale, Crevan already
knew.  I sucked in a deep breath and forged ahead.  "What
you don't know is that little more than a week had passed after
Rick was murdered in what to all involved in the investigation
other
than Agent Seleeby, appeared to be a mob-style
execution, that I turned up in Darkwater Bay.  But Mr. Seleeby
thought I, as his ex-wife, apparently had more motive than the man
who he insists Rick would've testified against.  The morning
of Rick's funeral, he served a search warrant on my home in
Georgetown."