Dark Harbor (15 page)

Chapter Twenty-eight

F
INN HAD TROUBLE SLEEPING
that night. The evening with Linda Flaherty had awakened feelings of need and dependence, emotions he usually kept at bay. He’d been a loner his entire life, and every experiment with an alternative way of living had ended in misery. Still, his mind played with the concept of love, like a child with a new toy, turning it over and over again to inspect it and see if it worked.

When he wasn’t thinking about Linda, he was thinking about Natalie and the possibility that her death might not have been the result of a random attack by a serial killer, but a deliberate murder by someone she knew. Linda’s questions had suggested it was a serious possibility, which stirred an anger in Finn that had been lurking just beneath the surface of his grief. As long as he believed that Natalie’s murder was the random act of a deranged individual, the only place his anger could be directed was at God; and Finn had learned long ago that hating God was a waste of time and energy.

But now he could entertain the idea that Natalie’s killing might not have been random. And if he could help find the killer, he could direct his anger and his energy toward that cause. After tossing and turning in his bed for more than two hours, he finally got up. Taking some action might make him feel better, he thought.

He walked through the living room of his Charlestown apartment and into the second bedroom, which he’d converted into an office. He sat at his desk and took out a pad and pen. He’d promised Linda a list of all of the “connected” people Natalie had worked with, and he thought he might as well get started on it.

He covered the easy ones first. There was Rich Loring, the U.S. attorney for the District of Massachusetts. Natalie had worked with him when he was the Special Agent in Charge of the Boston office of the FBI and she was an assistant U.S. attorney. She never talked about Loring much, but Finn knew they’d had contact on the Bulger case. He also knew that Loring was in his late forties, married, and very attractive. Persistent rumors in the tight-knit legal community had placed him in amorous relationships with several unnamed women in his office. Finn liked to think Natalie was too smart to consort with the likes of Loring, but there was no way to know.

Next, Finn wrote down Jimmy Tribinio’s name. Tribinio was a local union politician who’d spent ten years carefully cultivating grassroots power and doling out support to other, better-known politicians until he had enough chits to run for mayor successfully. Because his power was based on his control over the local political machine, rather than on a defined public image, Finn knew relatively little about him, but Natalie had done some fund-raising for him as a favor to one of her friends.

Another possibility was Daniel Dolan. Dolan was a powerful political consultant who was based in Boston. He’d been credited with boosting the careers of several prominent politicians, and had connections at all levels of Massachusetts state politics. Natalie had represented him when he faced ethics charges under the Massachusetts lobbying statute.

Sheldon Seeley, the Middlesex County district attorney, also worked with Natalie for a few years at the U.S. Attorney’s office in the criminal division before being elected DA. Natalie never talked about him very much, but Finn got the feeling they knew each other. Finn wasn’t sure if Seeley was married or divorced, but he knew he had two children, because come campaign time they were paraded in front of the media.

Finally, there was Governor Clarke. Natalie had worked with him recently on one of his statewide Criminal Justice Enforcement initiatives. She had manned the phones and gathered necessary support from within the law enforcement community, helping to put the initiative over the top.

Finn sat back and looked at the list. Loring, Tribinio, Dolan, Seeley, and Clarke. It was quite a roster. They all fit the general profile of Natalie’s boyfriend. All were older, and powerful enough to help Natalie in her career. All had political interests that could be damaged by news of an affair. Finn took another minute or two and jotted down the names of a few lower-level politicos who might possibly fit the profile, but he realized quickly that these first were the most likely candidates.

He tapped his forehead with his pen. Was he missing someone? It felt like there were others, but he couldn’t think of anyone. Looking at the list, it seemed like there was a connection between them he should recognize, but he couldn’t fathom what it was.

His head hurt, and his eyelids were getting heavy. He looked at the list one last time. He’d type it up and give it to Linda tomorrow. Maybe he’d even drop it off himself.

Chapter Twenty-nine

“I
SHOULD HAVE GONE
in sooner.” It was a refrain Stone had repeated all night long. He couldn’t let it go.

“You couldn’t have gone in before you heard the screams. Don’t beat yourself up,” Kozlowski said. They were alone in one of the interrogation rooms at the station house. It had been a long night of gathering evidence at the little house on Cypher Street, and Stone had not yet had a chance to file his report.

“There were no screams, Detective. I just knew there was something wrong. I should have done something sooner.” He was holding his head in his hands, rocking back and forth.

“Of course there were screams,” Kozlowski insisted. “It must have been the screams that caused you to go into the house.”

“No, Detective, you don’t understand,” Stone started to explain, but Kozlowski cut him off.

“No, Stone, you don’t understand,” he almost growled. “If there were no screams, then there was no probable cause for you to enter that house. If there was no probable cause, it was an illegal entry. If it was an illegal entry, then every piece of evidence that was collected tonight—including what was left of that girl that this sick bastard tortured to death—will be excluded from evidence. It would be like none of this ever happened, and he’ll walk.” Kozlowski grabbed Stone’s shoulder and shook him. “Are you listening to me? This asshole will walk, and that means he’ll most likely kill again, and we’ll probably never find enough additional evidence to nail the son of a bitch. Can you live with that after what you saw in that house?”

Stone looked at Kozlowski, bleary-eyed. He was exhausted, and the shock of what he’d seen in the basement of that little, unassuming house still hadn’t worn off. “No, I can’t live with that,” he said after a moment.

“Good. Then tell me about the screams.”

“I heard screams. That’s why I went into the house.”

“Good. When did you hear the screams?”

“I don’t know, right before I went in?” Stone asked.

“Think about this, Stone. Think long and hard about this. By the time you got down to the basement, the girl was in no condition to scream, so it must have been earlier than that, right?”

“Right, that’s right.”

“Did you walk around the house, maybe looking for a way in without picking the lock? That might explain the delay.” Kozlowski was nodding at him as he said it, and Stone began nodding along.

“That’s right. That’s what happened,” Stone said. “I was looking for an open door or a window so I wouldn’t have to pick the lock.”

“And it was only after you’d spent some time looking for another way in that you came back and picked the lock, right?”

“Uh-huh.”

“And by then the screaming had stopped, right?”

“That’s right, by then the screaming had stopped,” Stone said, still nodding.

Kozlowski patted the younger officer on the shoulder. “Good. That makes sense, and it explains a lot. Just make sure you keep it straight in your report.”

“I will,” Stone was still nodding, but the thousand-yard stare hadn’t left him. He looked lost as he rocked back and forth again, like he was in some sort of a trance. Kozlowski grabbed him and shook him once more.

“Hey, kid!” he said loudly. “Stay with me! You know that if you hadn’t done what you did, we still wouldn’t have caught this guy. We would have found that poor girl dumped somewhere in the harbor, and it would have been just a matter of time before we found another, and another, and another. You saved lives with what you did tonight. Be proud of that.”

Stone looked up at him, and for the first time since Flaherty and Kozlowski found him unconscious at the scene, there was a spark of life in his eyes. It was like hope was returning, at least in some small part. “Yeah, that’s right,” Kozlowski said, feeding the spark. “You did good, kid. Real good. Don’t screw it all up now by checking out on us.”

Stone nodded again, but this time it looked as if he had a real understanding of what Kozlowski was saying.

“Okay, Stone, good to have you back.”

Just then the door swung open and Flaherty walked in. “You guys ready for me?” she asked, looking at Kozlowski. He nodded.

“Yeah, Lieutenant, I think we’re all set here.”

“Good,” she said. She sat down at the table across from Stone and took out a tape recorder, placing it on the table in front of him. “How are you doing, Paul, hanging in there?” she asked.

“I’m okay,” Stone replied. His voice was a little shaky, but he seemed to be getting his legs back underneath himself.

“Good. Now, what I want you to do is just walk through what happened this evening so we have a record of it. You think you’re up to that?”

“Sure,” he said, although Flaherty noticed that the idea of reliving the evening’s events didn’t make the young officer happy. “Where do you want me to start?”

“Let’s start from the time you first saw this guy.” “Okay.” Stone nodded. He closed his eyes for a moment, steeling himself against the torrent of memories he now had to pick his way through, like the charred remains of a holocaust. Then he opened his eyes and began telling the story.

It took about forty-five minutes, and he spared no detail, walking through the entire evening’s events, describing everything he could remember. The only lie he told was about the screams, and he touched only briefly on those, moving back to the truth as quickly as possible. Flaherty didn’t press him on the issue, and at that point in the narrative Stone thought he saw her and Kozlowski share a knowing glance. He didn’t care, though, and pressed on, eager to conclude his description so he could put the nightmare out of his head.

By the time he was done, he was exhausted. Flaherty seemed to understand, because she had few questions and soon dismissed him. “Go clean yourself up, Stone,” she said. “We’re probably going to have to go over some of this stuff a few times, but don’t worry about that now. I’ll have someone type this up so you can take a look at it later and see if you think you left anything out.”

“Thanks,” Stone said. He stood up and turned toward the door. “I need a shower more than I’ve ever needed one before,” he said. “I feel so disgusting, I could scrub my skin off to get clean.”

Flaherty nodded. “Stone,” she said as he was headed out the door.

“Yeah?” He poked his head back into the room.

“Thank you. You did really good work out there. I know it wasn’t easy.”

“No, it wasn’t. But it’s part of the job, isn’t it?” He shook his head. “I should have gone into real estate.” He turned to head back out, then stopped and turned back to Flaherty. “I haven’t even asked yet,” he said. “Where is he?”

She hesitated. “He’s at Mass General,” she said after a pause. “They had to take two slugs out of his shoulder, and he lost a lot of blood, but they think he’s going to make it. We’ll get to interrogate him in the morning. It might be useful to have you there, so that you can hear what his story is.”

Stone nodded, then headed down the hallway toward the men’s locker room.

Chapter Thirty

M
AN, THIS PLACE IS CRAZY
, Finn thought as he walked into the station house for Area A-1. There were reporters everywhere, some setting up cameras and lights, others scribbling notes into floppy, well-worn notebooks, and still others scurrying to interview any cop at any level who was willing to talk.

“Excuse me,” he said to the desk sergeant. The cop didn’t hear Finn, or perhaps he’d heard him and was simply ignoring him. “Excuse me!” Finn said again, louder this time.

“Yeah, what the hell do you want, buddy?” the big, thick-jawed man responded.

“I need to speak to Lieutenant Flaherty,” Finn said politely. He hoped that by using Flaherty’s name he might get some deference. He was wrong. The desk sergeant just laughed.

“Yeah? You and everyone else in this place, I guess. Who are you with?” he asked.

“What?” Finn asked, not comprehending.

The desk sergeant looked impatient. He was a huge man in his late fifties, with a prodigious gut that folded over his thick police utility belt, making it difficult for him to get too close to the desk. “What outfit are you with?” he asked again. “The
Globe
? The
Herald
? ABC? NBC? Who?”

Finn shook his head. “I’m not a reporter, I’m a lawyer.”

The desk sergeant’s glare became hostile. “You’re not representing this scumbag, are you?” he asked, pointing a thick finger at Finn’s nose.

“What scumbag?” Finn asked. Then he thought better of engaging the sergeant; the man clearly had a bias against lawyers. He shook his head, waiving the question off. “I’m helping Lieutenant Flaherty on a case. She asked me to put together some information and drop it off.”

The sergeant looked only slightly less suspicious. “What’s your name?” he demanded, leaning over the counter and putting his jowly face too close to Finn’s.

“Scott Finn,” he replied.

The sergeant picked up the phone and pushed a button, then turned around as he spoke into the receiver so that Finn couldn’t hear. After a moment, he turned back around and hung up. Without uttering a word to Finn, he went back to his paperwork.

“Excuse me?” Finn said politely again. The sergeant looked up, obviously perturbed. “Should I go in, or what?”

“I didn’t tell you to go in, did I? You’re supposed to wait out here and she’ll be out in a little while.”

“Did she say how long it would be?” Finn asked. He was pushing his luck, he knew, but he had to get to work.

The sergeant rolled his eyes. “No, buddy, she didn’t say. Things are a little hectic around here today, so you’ll forgive us if you’re not exactly our first priority at the moment.”

“I noticed. What’s going on?”

The police officer frowned at Finn, as if in disbelief. “Didn’t you listen to the news this morning? We caught the guy. We caught the Little Jack bastard who’s been killing the whores.”

Finn felt his heart skip a beat. “Caught him?” He couldn’t believe it. He had no idea how to react. “When did you catch him?”

“Last night. He killed another girl, but we got him. Put a couple holes in him, too. Enough to put him on his ass at Mass General.”

“How did you catch him? Is Lieutenant Flaherty all right?” A thousand questions streamed through Finn’s head.

“What am I, your own personal news service? Why don’t you pick up a paper and read about it? In the meantime, you can wait over there. I got a lot of work to do, and I don’t have time to hold your hand.”

Finn walked over to the corner and sat in an empty seat. All around him, the room buzzed with activity as reporters mined their sources for any nugget of information they could get their hands on. A television journalist began filing a report from inside the precinct house, only to be shut down and told to go outside by several large, surly officers. Finn noticed none of it, though. He sat dumbstruck, trying to work through the implications of the arrest. He’d lain awake nights over the past weeks, wondering what he’d do if they found Natalie’s killer. He’d played out a thousand fantasy scenarios in which he found a way to get close to the man and kill him with his bare hands. He’d never do it, but that didn’t make the fantasies any less satisfying.

He looked down at his hands in his lap. The list of Natalie’s political contacts was typed neatly and folded into an envelope.
Linda probably won’t need this anymore
, he thought. He was sorry he hadn’t been more help in catching the bastard. Maybe he should just leave. He wasn’t needed anymore, and Linda would contact him if there was anything more he could do. He
should
leave, he knew, but he couldn’t seem to get his legs to work. In part, he wanted more information about the man they’d arrested. In part, he just wanted to see Linda again. They’d made a connection, and he wasn’t willing to give that up, at least not yet.

He must have been sitting there for fifteen minutes before she came out. She was flanked by the Neanderthal—Kozlowski was his name, Finn remembered—and a younger officer Finn had never seen before. They were moving quickly as they came into the room, heading out the front door, but they were immediately swarmed by a mass of reporters shouting questions. The mob slowed them down, but Kozlowski and the other man locked arms in front of Linda, forming a wedge that drove through the wall of microphones and Dictaphones. Finn stood up, but hung back from the crowd, unsure what to do. He could see Linda over the bobbing heads of the reporters, and he waved to her, but her head was down as they pushed their way through. Halfway through the room the crowd of bodies became too thick, and even the wedge of muscle leading Linda was not enough to make significant headway. That was when Kozlowski pulled out his gun.

Finn was shocked when he saw it. Having met Kozlowski before, he feared the man wasn’t pulling it out for show, but actually intended to shoot someone. The reporters must have had the same thought, because there was a collective gasp, and those closest to the officers immediately backpedaled. Instead, though, Kozlowski pointed the gun up in the air, as if he intended to fire a warning shot. The room got much quieter after the initial shouts of alarm from the press corps, and Kozlowski began giving orders.

“Ladies and gentlemen!” he shouted. “This is a police station, and we are charged with protecting the public safety! We will
not
have that role jeopardized by a press mob in the station house! We are
not
giving any statements at this time about any ongoing investigations, but there will be a press conference later this afternoon outside the station, at which time Lieutenant Flaherty will take a limited number of questions. Until then, please clear out of here and let us do our jobs!” He motioned to the desk sergeant, who gave a hand signal to those behind him. An instant later, several large uniformed officers materialized and began pushing the press corps back. There were initial protests, and Finn could hear the squeals of “First Amendment” from those being pushed, but they were to no avail, and within a minute or two the room was largely cleared out.

One of the uniformed officers moved over toward Finn with a menacing look. He had his nightstick out and was using it as a battering ram. “Clear out!” he shouted as he got close.

“Oh, no,” Finn tried to explain, “I’m not a reporter.”

The officer looked him up and down, still skeptical. “Who are you, then?” he asked.

“My name is Scott Finn. Lieutenant Flaherty asked me to stop by and drop off some information.” He decided he was better off not identifying himself as an attorney.

The officer narrowed his eyes and held out his hand. “Give it to me, and I’ll make sure she gets it,” he said.

“I’m sorry, she asked me to give it to her personally,” Finn explained. He was polite but firm, and the officer stared at him for a moment longer, debating whether a battle of wills was worth his time. In the end, he relented and turned toward the middle of the room.

“Lieutenant! There’s a guy over here who says you wanted to talk to him!” he shouted.

Flaherty saw Finn and nodded. “It’s okay, Jimmy!” she yelled back. She turned and said something to Kozlowski and the other man, and then walked over toward Finn. Finn could see the younger man talking to Kozlowski, gesturing toward Finn as Flaherty walked over. “What are you doing here?” she asked. He was thankful, at least, that she was smiling.

“You asked me to drop this off,” he replied, showing her the envelope. “It’s a list of all the politicos Natalie knew or worked with.” Finn noticed she wasn’t reaching for it. “It may be moot, now,” he said, sounding disappointed.

“No,” she said, taking the envelope. “We may as well have all the information. But you’re right, we think we’ve got our guy.”

“Yeah, I just heard. That’s terrific,” he replied. “I guess you won’t be needing my help anymore.”

“Probably not, but I’ll let you know what’s going on as soon as we’re sure ourselves. We’re going to interview him right now.”

“What do you know about him?”

Flaherty hesitated. “We’re not releasing any information at this point,” she said.

“I understand.” Finn backed off.

“I’ll let you know what we have as soon as I can, but I’ve got to go now.”

“That’s okay, we can talk later,” he said. She nodded and started to walk away. Finn wanted to say more, so much more, but it didn’t feel like the right time. He couldn’t just let her walk away, though. “Linda!” he called out.

She turned around and looked at him, taking two steps back in his direction as he caught up with her. “What is it?” she asked.

“I know you’re going to be swamped for the next week or two, and I’m not going to bother you, because you need to focus on what’s going on here. But sometime after that, once you’re starting to put this behind you, do you think we could have dinner again?”

She smiled. “I think I’d like that,” she said. She looked over her shoulder and saw Kozlowski and Stone staring at them. “I’ll call you,” she said quickly.

He nodded, and she turned to go. This time he let her. He knew somehow he’d see her again.

Flaherty caught up to Kozlowski and Stone as they headed out the door. The two men exchanged a look. “What was he doing here?” Kozlowski asked.

“I asked him to put together a list of possible suspects for the Caldwell woman’s older boyfriend. He was just dropping it off.”

“You sure he wasn’t just looking to get some information about the investigation?”

“He didn’t even know we caught the guy until he got here.”

“He doesn’t read the paper?” Kozlowski scoffed. “He doesn’t listen to the news?”

“I don’t know. He was on his way to work. Maybe he doesn’t read the paper until he gets in. Who knows? What difference does it make?” Kozlowski shook his head, which pissed her off even more. “What’s up your ass about this guy, Kozlowski?”

Kozlowski nodded at Stone. “Tell her,” he instructed.

Stone shrugged his shoulders and looked at Flaherty. “He was the guy from the bar,” he said.

“What bar?” Flaherty asked.

“The Kiss Club. He’s the guy from the Kiss Club. He knocked around a hooker who looked like the Caldwell woman a few nights ago. I reported it at the time, but I couldn’t catch up with him to get any sort of ID. The man you were just talking to is the guy I saw that night, though.”

Flaherty took a deep breath and tried not to show any emotion. “You’re sure?” she asked.

Stone nodded. “I got a really good look at him.”

The three of them walked in silence toward the parking garage. No one knew what to say.

“I thought you should know,” Kozlowski said at last. “Sorry.”

“Yeah,” Flaherty responded. “Me too.”
I knew it was too good to be true
, she thought.