Darkness First (23 page)

Maggie returned Ganzer's tough-guy stare. Almost said, ‘None of your business.' Instead, on impulse, she asked a question of her own. ‘Where is she, Emmett?'

‘Where is who?'

‘The child. Tabitha. Tabitha Stoddard. Her body's not in the house with her parents. What have you done with her? Is she dead? Did you kill her as well? Or have you hidden her away somewhere?'

Ganzer looked incredulous. ‘Have you lost your mind?'

‘Have you been around here the whole time, Emmett? Finding a place to keep her or maybe hide her body while you were supposedly racing up from a motel in Machias to the crime scene?'

‘Jesus Christ all fucking mighty. You have lost your mind.'

‘Just out of curiosity, exactly where were you between eight and ten
P.M.
on Friday night? In the state park at Machiasport getting your rocks off ? And where were you at two
A.M.
this morning? Busy setting up the scene inside? By the way, that suicide note was clumsy. Pike Stoddard was nowhere near that illiterate. Though I am sure you managed to get his prints on it before you shot him. I always said you weren't stupid, Emmett. Just fucked up.'

‘What is this? Some weird notion of yours to get your crazy brother off the hook? Well, it's not going to work, Savage. We know he killed Tiff Stoddard and probably killed her parents as well.'

‘Goodbye, Emmett.'

H
arlan Savage continued his silent watch from the camouflaged position he and Tabitha and Harold had been hiding in for over an hour now. He heard nothing. Saw nothing. For all that time he'd been lying flat on his gut, with Tabitha forced into a prone position next to and partly under him, his right arm pressing down on her back to hold her in place, his left hand clamped over her mouth to keep her from crying out. The soft flow of air coming from her nostrils assured him she wasn't suffocating. As they lay there he kept whispering a message of reassurance and caution in her ear. ‘It's okay, Tabitha. I'm a friend of Tiff's. I'm not going to hurt you. But you have to be quiet. Very, very quiet.'

In the distance Harlan saw the beams of two flashlights moving unsteadily in their direction. Now visible, now disappearing behind a tree, now behind some low brush, now visible again. ‘Don't move. Don't breathe,' he told Tabitha and then stopped whispering, put his head down and held her even more tightly. The camouflage he'd used for their position wasn't quite up to Marine Corps standards. He felt terribly exposed.

‘Tabitha!' a man's voice called out from behind one of the flashlights. ‘Tabitha Stoddard, are you out there?'

‘Hey, dumbass,' the second flashlight shouted, ‘she ain't gonna answer you if she's dead.'

‘We don't know she's dead just 'cause the parents are.'

Harlan felt the muscles in Tabitha's jaw clamp tighter at the words. Felt a tremor course through her body.

‘Well, I figure that fucker Pike got what he deserved. Killed himself's what I heard. First Donelda, then himself.'

‘It's the kid I feel sorry for.'

A pair of black steel-toed boots stepped within a few feet of where Harlan and Tabitha were hiding. So close Harlan could have reached out and grabbed the man by the ankle. The circle of light swept past them. The man stopped. Harlan held his breath. Hoped Tabbie would as well.

‘Tabitha? You out there?' the first flashlight shouted.

‘Ssssh. What was that?' The second flashlight said.

‘What was what?'

‘I thought I heard something.'

The two of them stood and listened.

‘Nah. You're just spooking yourself.'

They started walking again. Their voices slowly receded in the distance. Beneath his right arm, Harlan felt Tabitha's body begin to shake with sobs. He felt the wetness of her tears and snot begin to cover the back of his hand.

Harlan didn't ease up on the pressure until the men were long gone and his arm was shaking with fatigue. One good thing about having these searchers tramping around. Make it a hell of a lot tougher for dogs to pick up a scent. Especially if he carried Tabitha at least part of the way.

One thing for sure. They couldn't stay here for ever. He just didn't know where to go.

He leaned in close to Tabitha's ear, hoping she'd recovered enough to be capable of listening, of doing what he asked. He whispered in the gentlest voice he could muster that he was going to loosen his grip on her back and uncover her mouth. But he would only do that if she promised not to make a sound. Not a shout. Not a cry. Not a word.

‘Promise?' he asked. ‘Nod if you promise.'

He felt her head nod tentatively.

‘Listen, Tabitha, Tiff told me when you make a promise you always keep it. Is that true?'

She nodded again. More vigorously this time. Tried to turn her head at the same time to get a look at him.

‘Do you promise to be quiet?'

She nodded a third time.

He uncovered her mouth ready to clamp his hand over it again if she cried out. She didn't.

‘Who are you?' They were the first words Tabitha had spoken since he grabbed her.

‘I told you. I'm a friend of Tiff's.'

‘Tiff's dead.'

‘I know.'

‘What's your name?'

‘Harlan.'

‘And you're a friend of Tiff's?'

‘Yes.'

‘Her boyfriend?'

‘I guess so. At least I told her I loved her and I think maybe she loved me back so I guess that makes me her boyfriend.'

‘Did you really love her?'

‘Yes,' Harlan told her, ‘I really did.'

‘So did I.'

‘I know.'

‘So you didn't kill her?' asked Tabitha.

‘No. A man named Conor Riordan killed her.'

‘The December Man.'

‘Who?'

‘A man Tiff called Conor Riordan came to our house in December. I call him the “December Man”.'

‘Did you see him?'

‘Only for a second. From my bedroom window. When the light went on in Tiff's car when she opened the door.'

‘Would you recognize him if you saw him again?'

‘I don't know. Maybe. I think so.'

‘What did he look like?'

She told him. He nodded, wondering how good a look she'd really gotten in a split second from an upstairs window.

‘Does he know you saw him?'

‘I think so. He looked at me.'

Harlan wondered if Tabitha had been Riordan's primary target tonight. If Pike and Donelda weren't just collateral damage. Shoot the kid. Take out a witness. Someone who'd seen his face. Seemed reasonable. It meant Riordan would be after her not just for the drugs but also to kill her. He had to take her with him.

He slung the M40 upside down over one shoulder. Picked up Tabitha and her bear to keep any dogs from catching her scent. They started walking.

‘Can I talk now?' she asked.

‘Whisper in my ear. I can hear you.'

‘Those men said my mom was dead. My daddy too.'

‘Yes, they did,' said Harlan. ‘I'm very sorry about that.'

‘Do you suppose they're in a better place?'

He didn't really know what Tabitha was talking about so he just shrugged and shook his head. She started crying again. Softly. To herself. He could feel wet tears rolling down the back of his neck. He rubbed her back in little circles as he walked, trying to comfort her as one would a baby but not really succeeding. He remembered walking this way with an injured infant in Iraq, until he got it to an aid station, where a nurse told him the infant was dead. ‘Ssssh, ssssh, ssssh,' he whispered in Tabitha's ear. It didn't do much good. She just kept weeping.

The orange stripe in the sky was wider now. Tinged with red. Harlan knew they had to put more distance between themselves and the searchers before it was fully light. He picked up the pace and tried to figure out how they were going to get off the island. The troopers would be out in force now following the murders of the Stoddards. Most likely the locals as well. They might even try to blame him for the killings. They were probably already blaming him for Tiff's. It seemed like his plan, such as it was, was all shot to hell. He supposed even Maggie would be against him now.

‘Where are we going?' Tabitha asked after about ten minutes.

‘I don't know,' said Harlan who was still carrying her in his arms. Truth be told his arms were getting tired. She wasn't exactly an infant. She wasn't even light for an eleven-year-old. ‘We need someplace we can rest up and talk about what we're going to do next. Where nobody will see us. You have any good ideas?'

She thought about that for a minute. ‘We could go to Toby Mahler's grandfather's house.'

‘Yeah? How's Toby Mahler's grandfather gonna feel about that?'

‘I don't think he'll care. He's in a better place too.'

‘That mean he's dead?'

‘Since last spring. He died in the fullness of his years.'

‘You always say stuff like that? “In the fullness of his years”?'

‘That's what the minister said at his funeral. Me and my mom went. My dad said he didn't give a fuck about Toby Mahler's grandfather so he wasn't going to go. The church has a handicapped entrance so he could've gone if he wanted to. But he said he didn't give a fuck.'

Harlan was thinking this kid was more than a little weird. He wondered if Tiff was like her when she was eleven but doubted it.

‘The house is just sitting there,' Tabitha said. ‘All by itself at the end of Kendall Point Road. Toby's mom says they can't sell it so maybe they just ought to burn the damn thing down. It's kind of a dump anyway. Nobody ever goes there except me and Toby.'

It sounded perfect. ‘Anybody know you go there?'

‘Just Toby.'

‘He going to tell anybody?'

‘I don't think so. He goes there to smoke dope and I don't think he'd want anybody to know about that.'

‘He your age?'

‘He's twelve.'

‘And he smokes dope? Where the hell's he get that from?'

‘Steals it from his mom. She smokes it all the time.'

‘You ever try it?'

‘Just once. I didn't like it.'

‘How far is it?'

‘How far is what?'

‘The house.'

‘Couple of miles. I usually take my bike.'

She seemed better now thinking about other things and he figured maybe they'd put enough distance between her earlier scent and the dogs. Enough to buy them some time anyway. ‘You think maybe you could walk for a little while?'

She told him she could so he put her down and they walked in silence, side by side. She slipped her hand, the one that wasn't holding Harold, into his.

‘Did Tiff love you back?' Tabitha asked.

‘I think so. We were going to go away together.' Harlan figured that was only a little lie. It
was
something they talked about.

‘Get the hell out of Dodge?'

‘Something like that.'

They walked hand in hand until it was fully light. Mostly they stayed away from the roads but sometimes were unable to avoid them. Harlan was worried somebody might stop and start asking questions but none of the few people who drove by, including one state police car, gave them a second glance.

4:51
A.M.
, Monday, August 24, 2009

Eastport, Maine

A
fter she left Perry Road, Maggie drove over to the waterfront, where she hoped to catch Luke Haskell before he headed out for a day's lobstering. The eastern sky was barely painted with the first rosy glow of a summer dawn but the harbor was already bustling with lobstermen clad in orange waterproof overalls. One of the younger captains pointed Maggie to Pike Stoddard's boat tied up at the end of the dock, its stern stacked with green wire-mesh lobster traps. A balding man sat in the wheelhouse, sipping a mug of coffee.

‘Luke Haskell?' Maggie called out.

‘Not here,' the man responded, dragging out the word
here
into the two-syllable ‘he-ah' distinctive to the speech of downeast Maine.

‘You're not Luke?'

‘Nope.'

‘You know where Luke is?'

‘Nope.'

‘Doesn't he usually sleep on board?'

‘Ayah.'

‘But he's not here now?'

The man seemed to give the question some thought before responding. ‘Don't see him anywhere.'

This was going to be like pulling teeth.

‘You Luke's stern man?'

‘Ayuh.'

‘You have a name?'

She half-expected him to acknowledge that he did have a name without revealing what the name might be. But he fooled her. ‘Name's Waltah,' he said. ‘Who're you?'

‘Well, Walter, I'm a police officer. Detective Margaret Savage.' She pulled back her jacket far enough to reveal the gold shield clipped to her belt. ‘I need to ask Luke a few questions. Do you think he'll be here soon?'

‘Hope so. Like to get goin'. Be the second day in a row Luke hasn't shown up.'

‘Didn't show yesterday?'

‘Nope.'

‘Any idea why not?'

‘Nope.'

‘Mind if I wait with you?'

‘Suit yourself.'

Maggie climbed on board. Walter held out a large thermos and a chipped mug. ‘Care for any coffee?' he asked.

Hoping the offer of coffee represented some sort of communication breakthrough, Maggie smiled her thanks, took the offering and poured some of the steaming black liquid into the mug. It smelled and tasted better than she expected.

‘Luke ever been this late before?' she asked.

‘Yestahday.'

‘I mean aside from yesterday.'

‘Nope. Not usually. Fact is, he usually sleeps right down there in the cabin.'

‘But he's not there now?'

‘Nope.'

‘You looked?'

‘Didn't look. But I knocked. Twice. He didn't answer.'

Maggie got up and knocked on the hatch herself. Getting no reply, she slid it open, framing her argument, as she did, for probable cause to enter what constituted Haskell's home.
When there was no answer to my knock, I was concerned, Your Honor, that Haskell might be wounded or ill. Might need medical attention.

As the hatch slid open, a putrid odor of sweat and dirty laundry smacked her in the face. Holding her breath, though not hopeful she could hold it long enough, Maggie went down the two steps into the small cabin and looked around. No Haskell. She knocked on the narrow door of what had to be the head. No answer. She opened the door. No Luke. The cabin itself was a mess. Dirty laundry piled in one corner. Half a dozen porn magazines scattered on the floor. The bunk looked like it had been slept in, but, since it seemed unlikely Luke ever made his bed, there was no significance to that. She took out her cell phone and punched in Haskell's number. She heard electronic chirps from inside the pile of laundry. Taking the latex gloves from her pocket and putting them on, she sorted through Luke's dirty laundry and finally found the phone under one of his shirts.

It still had some battery life. Holding it by its edges, she checked recent voicemails. Four in the last few days. Two from her, asking Luke to call her back. One from Pike Stoddard: ‘Hey, Luke, some female cop's gonna be stopping by asking you questions 'bout last January. Like I told you, you want to work for me again, maybe even keep your skinny ass out of jail, you don't know nothin'. Deaf and dumb. You got it?' One from Dirty Annie's: ‘Hey, Luke, it's Annie. You haven't been by tonight, so I thought I'd call and make sure everything's okay. Let me know.' Maggie slipped the phone back into Luke's shirt pocket, buried the shirt in the pile of laundry and climbed back on deck.

She noticed an empty pint bottle of Jack Daniel's lying in the corner of the deck. Its cap about a foot away from it. She picked it up. For the time being, at least, Luke's disappearance could be considered a missing-person case and not a murder. That'd give the Eastport PD legitimate jurisdiction. She'd drop the bottle off at the station and have Frank Boucher's people check it for prints and DNA.

‘Luke ever sleep anywhere else?' she asked Walter.

Walter shook his head thoughtfully. ‘Sleeps over at Annie's every now and then when she's in the mood. But not regular. Nothin' regular since Mary Mayo tossed him out on his ear three years ago.'

Maggie nodded, more to herself than to Walter. ‘Thanks for the coffee. Here's a card. Luke turns up, tell him to call me right away. It's important.'

Climbing up the gangway to Water Street, Maggie called Frank Boucher. He was still at the Stoddard house.

‘What now?' he asked.

‘Luke Haskell.'

‘What about him?'

‘He's missing.'

‘Jesus Christ, Savage.' She heard a giant sigh on the other end of the phone. ‘How on earth did I ever fill my days before you walked into my life?'