Tainted (27 page)

“No. You just said that's not him, Holl. He's gone. I won't let you go up there again. I don't mean to seem callous—

Callous—the callous nature of 11-year-old Thomas Grainger . . .

“But I need to know what happened. I mean, did Jack say anything to you? When he came back from his fishing trip?”

“He said they'd caught a lot of fish, but I knew that already.”

“How?”

“Because of his jacket—it had a lot of fish blood on it. Anyway, he said Henry was going to go pick up Bones from the vet and then do chores in town so there was no point in coming here for coffee. It must have happened when he got back from his chores. It's weird . . .”

A lot of fish blood. A lot of fish blood. Shit, no. This can't be happening. What did Holly just say? “It's weird.” What's weird?

“What's weird?”

“It happened before, with Mom and Dad. I had this weird reaction, this calm came over me. You know, as if I didn't have any emotions at all. I was rational and calm. About a half-hour after I found out that they'd . . . Anyway, it's the way I'm beginning to feel right now. It won't last long.” Her hands fluttered in the air briefly. “It's really weird. I have to call Jack again.” She pulled out her cellphone from the pocket of her jeans, dialed. “No answer. Straight to voicemail. I can't say what's happened in a message. Where is he?”

“Where the hell are the police?” Billy looked out the window before turning back to Holly. “Listen, this is important. There's something on Henry's computer. He was looking—”

“I can't believe I was mad at him yesterday. That never changes. I mean, you always want to take back whatever you last said. Even if you said, ‘I love you,' like I did to Mom before she went to see Dad in the funeral home. I don't mean I'd take it back, what I mean is I'd add to it. I'd say so much more. If you know someone you love is dying, you have a chance. Henry yelled at me once when I didn't finish the peas on my plate. That's the only time he was ever really angry with me.” She looked up at the ceiling. “How could I ever have been angry with him?”

She's in shock.

A lot of fish blood.

But maybe they did fish. Maybe that's not a picture of Jack or maybe I read it wrong. I have to go look at that computer again.

He walked back to the desk. The page was still up, the photos still there. He leaned forward, stared at the last one. It was Jack. It was definitely Jack. He switched his gaze to the young boy holding the piece of paper with his name written on it in front of him. A juvenile mugshot. Which could easily be Jack as a young boy. But maybe it wasn't. And maybe Jack's picture when he'd been involved in the Mafia somehow got mixed up and ended up on this page by accident.

Be careful, Billy. This is one time you can't afford to make a mistake. There's way too much at stake here.

“Billy? What are you doing?”

“Just a sec, Holl.”

OK—say Henry was looking at this page when Jack came in. But what led him to it?

He heard it then, a siren in the distance. Halfway down the Birch Point Road by the sound of it.

The T-shirt he'd taken off was on the back of the desk chair. He picked it up, used it to push the “Back” symbol at the top of the page—the name Thomas Grainger came up on the Google page. He pushed “Back” again.

McCormack. Eliza McCormack?

He looked up from the screen as a police car screamed up on the lawn, looked back at the screen and pushed “Back” yet again.

He saw two policemen get out of the car; he heard Holly's voice saying, “Jack—I can't get you on your cell. If you're home please pick up. I need to talk to you. Right away. Call me. Please. I need you.”

Two doors slammed shut; two men started walking up the steps.

Eliza McCormack is a lawyer. She represented Jack. And Jack—Jack is Thomas Grainger. Jack killed those little girls when he was eleven. And he went to jail . . . and then he got out and was given a new identity and somehow he ended up here. Henry put it all together . . . all of it . . .

“Where's Katy?” He whirled around to face Holly. “Where's Katy?”

“I told you—she's with Jack, in town.”

“No, no, no. He didn't take Katy. Tell me he didn't take Katy.”

“I told you before.” She frowned. “Now isn't the time to talk about Jack and Katy, Billy.”

He sprinted to the door, opened it. They were there. Two officers, one short with red hair who looked about nineteen; the other older, dark, tall and stocky. The taller one looked authoritative. He chose him.

“Officer, you have to find Jack Dane. His real name is Thomas Grainger. He killed two girls and he killed Henry Barrett and he has my daughter.”

“Are you the person who called 911?”

“Yes, but that's not the point. This man has my daughter. He's a killer and he has my daughter.”

“We're responding to your call, sir. You said there's been a break-in and a murder here. Would you tell us where the body is, please?”

“We don't have time to go through all this shit. You have to find Jack Dane. Now.”

“Billy?” Holly had come up behind him. “What the hell are you doing?”

“I'm telling the truth, Holly. I'm telling the fucking truth. Jack killed Henry. He killed two girls before. He has Katy. We have to find him. Now.”

“You're crazy. You're out of your mind. I can't stand this. Henry's lying upstairs. How can you be saying this when Henry's lying upstairs? How
dare
you?”

“I'm Lieutenant Garth Galloway and this is my partner Walter Farley.” The older one gestured to the red-haired younger man. “What exactly has happened here?”

“My grandfather, Henry Barrett—he's . . . someone has killed him. He's upstairs. My name is Holly Dane. My maiden name is Barrett. Someone broke in and killed him. There's a knife. Don't listen to anything this man is saying. He hates my husband. He'd do anything, he'd say anything, to destroy my husband.”

“Jack killed him. Look at Henry's computer, Holly. Jack killed him.”

“Why don't we come inside now and I'll go upstairs and my partner can stay down here with you two while you both calm down, all right?” Galloway took a step forward.

“Jesus,” Billy shouted. “We don't have time for this.”

“Calm down—it's Mr. Madison, isn't it? That's the name you gave when you called.”

“Yes. You need to listen to me. You need to look at the computer.”

“We will, all right? But for now, I'm going upstairs. I'd advise you to calm down. I'll be back in a few minutes.”

“His bedroom is upstairs on the left. There's a dog up with him. His dog, Bones,” Holly said.

“Does the dog bite?” the one named Farley asked.

“This is a fucking joke,” Billy shouted. “We don't have time.”

“You're a monster. You're a fucking monster.” Holly turned on him, began to pummel his chest with her fists. Farley grabbed her, dragged her away.

“Stop this right now, both of you,” Galloway barked. “Or I'll be forced to restrain you both. Wait here now with my partner. Both of you. I'm going upstairs. When I come back down I'll need to ask you folks some questions and I expect you to stop this fighting.”

When Galloway headed up the stairs, Holly and Billy followed Farley into the living room. Holly sat in Henry's chair, refusing to look at Billy while Farley went and stood in front of the fireplace; he had his hand on his gun, Billy could see. Waiting for the madman and woman to start shouting again? He had to restrain himself before they restrained him, but he had to tell them what had happened. He had to get them to find Jack and Katy. He had to make Holly understand even if she wanted to kill him for doing it.

“Holly, please, just look at the computer. That's all I'm asking. This is about Katy, not me and Jack. Just look at Henry's computer.”

She didn't respond, but she did stand up and walk over to Henry's desk.

“Eliza McCormack, QC, has made her name fighting cases no one else will touch . . .” she read out loud, then turned back and faced him.

“So what? You knew she was involved with Jack's case. He told you that.”

“He told us she was in charge of giving him his new identity, not that she was his lawyer. But forget that—press the ‘Forward' button on the computer, look at what comes—”

“She can't touch anything,” Farley interrupted. “This is a crime scene.”

“She can use something—a Kleenex, my shirt. Whatever. She needs to go forward, she needs to see the pictures, the text.”

“She can't touch anything. She can't contaminate the scene.”

Dumb cop/dumber cop and I'm stuck here with dumber. Somehow I have to make them see. I have to get them to pull up the page with the photos.

“I know you,” Farley said, staring at him. “Billy Madison. Of course. You were at that beach party Charlie Thurlow threw—what was it? Ten years ago?”

Billy shook his head in despair.

“Great party. Awesome. You don't remember?”

“Yeah, it was awesome. Look, there must be a way to access the pages Henry was looking at on the computer without
contaminating
the crime scene, OK? You can do it, you must be able to—”

“It would be a good idea if you sat down, Mr. Madison.” Galloway had returned, was standing at the threshold. “And you too, Mrs.—what is it again?”

“Dane,” Holly replied. She'd wandered away from the desk and was by the window, staring at the cellphone in her hand. “My daughter and husband must be back by now. I need to go over to my house. It's a two-minute walk.”

“You need to answer some questions first. You two sit down in those chairs across from each other and we'll get started. I've called the crime scene investigators. You know, the CSI folks who get all the publicity.” Galloway tilted his head. “But wouldn't you know it, in a one-horse town like this we don't qualify for them being on the spot. They'll have to come from Fall River. It's a hike, but if they put their skates on they'll be here soon enough.”

“You need to look at the computer, Lieutenant.”

Galloway wants to be in the movies. He wants to play the part of a folksy cop in a movie. Shit. How do I get this through his thick head?

“Henry Barrett was at that computer on his desk before he died, before he was killed. He was finding out the real identity of—”

“So what time did you find the body, Mrs. Dane?”

Billy saw her flinch at the word “body.”

“Around nine-thirty, I think. Henry's dog was barking and I came over to find out why. He doesn't usually bark like that.”

“Lieutenant—”

“You heard the dog barking, you came over here and then you . . . ?”

“I saw Bill—I saw Mr. Madison. He had heard Bones the dog barking too. We came in the house and we went upstairs. I don't—there's nothing more. Can I go home now? I need to get to my daughter.”

“Holly, where did Jack take Katy? Did he tell you where he was taking her?”

“Oh, for God's sake.” Holly shook her head, closed her eyes. “I can't take this from you any more. You need help. Go get help.”

“From now on, Mr. Madison, you're going to shut up. And when I say that, I mean it. Understood?”

Billy nodded, faking an apologetic air.
Galloway's like my father. He'll only believe the truth of something if he gets there himself. If someone else tells him black is black he'll shout, “No, it's white.” I have to shut up and hope he has at least one brain cell in that bulky head of his
.

“Do you know who might have been the last person to see your grandfather alive, Mrs. Dane?”

“My husband Jack went fishing with him early this morning. When he came back he said Henry was going into town to get Bones from the vet and do some errands. So I guess the vet or someone in town would have been the last one to see him.” She glared at Billy. “You see how stupid you're being? How crazy? Henry went to pick up Bones, and Jack left with Katy, so Jack has nothing to do with anything. I fucking hate you. I hate you for doing this. I knew you were bad, but I never thought you could be this bad. You're evil.”

“Dr. Haffner—the vet—sometimes delivers the animals home.” Walter Farley took a step forward from the front of the fireplace. “He delivers my mother's cat to her. I think he likes getting out of that surgery, getting free cups of coffee.”

“Call him,” Holly said, but she was looking at Billy, challenging Billy as she said it. “Call him. Go ahead. You'll see. He didn't come here. Henry went to him. Like Jack said.”

“I have his number on my cell. My mother put it there.” Farley's face reddened slightly as he brought his cellphone out of his pocket. “In case something happens to her she wants me to call him about the damn cat. OK, here it is. Do you want me to call?” he asked Galloway, who nodded.

He punched a button, put the phone to his ear. “Yes, hello. This is Walter Farley, Dr. Haffner. I'm in the middle of an investigation and I have a question pertaining to the investigation I want to ask you. Did you deliver a dog, name of —”

“Bones,” Holly and Billy said simultaneously, Holly looking at him as if he had no right to say it, to mention anything connected to her or Henry.

“Bones—to Birch Point Road, Mr. Barrett's house ? Right. I see . . . This morning? What time was that? Right . . . Right . . . Thanks. No . . . I can't talk to you about it at the present time . . . Thank you. Goodbye.” Farley whipped the phone shut, pocketed it.