What Have You Done Page 17

  Guzio stood on shaky legs and walked into the hall where the keypad to his alarm system waited. The numbers were fuzzy, his eyesight coming in and out of focus. He stabbed at them with a fat finger and set the code to activate.

  Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

  “One more day,” he said aloud to the empty room. “Tomorrow I’m back in business. Enough with those cops. Tomorrow night the Tiger reopens, and it’s gonna be huge.”

  He rushed toward the landing before the ground floor sensors came on, and when he reached the top of the stairs, he heard the alarm sound off to indicate the device was now live. He had door alarms on both the front and back doors, window sensors on each ground floor window, and motion sensors in his living room, kitchen, and hall. There was nothing on the second floor. A full system was too expensive. If someone were to break in, they’d use the bottom floor. If they bothered to climb a gutter or scale one of the large oaks in his backyard or drop in from the roof, they could take whatever they wanted. At that point, they would’ve earned it.

  Guzio stumbled into the bathroom and started the shower. He turned on the radio that sat on the side of the sink and could feel the beating of his heart in his head. A few minutes in the hot shower before turning in would surely make him feel better. Then it was back to business tomorrow. Back to life.

  The water was hot, just the way he liked it. He took off his clothes and kicked them into a pile under the sink. He stepped into the tub and allowed the slow burn to run over his head and down his body. He lay down in the tub and let the shower massage him. The heat felt good. He placed a washcloth over his eyes and winced as it hit the bandage on his nose. The sound of the radio began to carry him to a different place. Tiny dots of light starred the black canvas of sightlessness and randomly popped different colors as his thoughts began to run into one another, eventually trailing off into nothing. He fell back to sleep in a matter of minutes.

  Again, Guzio opened his eyes, and again he momentarily lost his center, forgetting where he was. The darkness. The pain. His sight line was partially obstructed by the water splashing onto his chest. He moved to sit up. The washcloth that had been on his face fell into the tub.

  A noise had woken him, but in his dreamy state, he couldn’t place it. It was beeping. Something was beeping. He knew the sound. He’d heard it before. In the fogginess of near sleep he tried to make the connection.

  Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

  It was so familiar.

  Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

  What was it?

  Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

  His alarm.

  Guzio scrambled to his feet as both fear and anger caught him off guard. His head whirled when he straightened up, the bathroom tilting slightly to the left, then the right, then back to center. The pain tried to overtake him, but he fought through it. He turned off the shower and listened.

  Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

  Footsteps now. He could hear them bending the wood of the stair treads, climbing to the second floor. The alarm counted down the final seconds before it would activate the siren and automatically notify the police. In the background, behind the footsteps and the alarm, the radio played on.

  Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

  “Who’s there!” He stepped from the tub and bent to grab his towel from the floor. He wrapped it around his belly and walked to the edge of the bathroom. “Who the hell is that? You better turn around and leave before you get an ass kicking! I’m not fooling around!”

  The footsteps continued. Almost to the top now. The alarm and eventuality of the siren did not cause the intruder to move any faster. The slow, methodical footsteps carried on.

  Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

  Guzio poked his head out into the hallway in time to see the shadowy figure reach the top landing and turn toward him. “Get out of here!” he cried, but his voice cracked and gave away the fear he tried to keep hidden. He backed into the bathroom and frantically looked for something to defend himself with. If only he hadn’t been asleep when the alarm was initially tripped, he would’ve had time to get to the bedroom, where his .38 sat in the top drawer of his nightstand. He had nothing where he was now. The figure kept coming.

  Beep . . . beep . . . beep . . .

  Guzio stopped when he saw the person standing before him. He was confused. What was happening?

  Then he saw the gun.

  The siren began to sound, screaming through the house.

  The visitor held up one gloved finger. “First thing we need to do is shut off that alarm. After that, the police are going to call. You’re going to tell them you didn’t make it to the code panel on time and that everything’s fine. They’re going to ask for your password, and you’ll give it to them. You got that?”

  Guzio nodded.

  “Let’s go.”

  Guzio and his visitor made it back to the first floor, siren blaring. Shaking hands fumbled with the keypad, fat fingers punching the numbers until the house was silent again.

  The phone rang.

  “Showtime,” the visitor said. “Password and an excuse. Then we need to talk.”

  41

  Sean and Don sat in front of what remained of a bucket of wings and a handful of beers. The Hard Rock was packed. Every table was taken, and the bar itself was two rows deep. The Sixers were playing the Cavs, and it seemed tonight was as good a night as any to catch LeBron in action.

  “You take the last one,” Sean said, pointing to the remaining wing among the bones of its brethren.

  Don shook his head. “That’s all right. I’ve had enough. It’s all you.”

  Sean grabbed the wing and drowned it in blue cheese. Don watched him as he ate, his thoughts elsewhere as the night drifted on. There was a part of him that wanted to come clean about having made that second copy of Kerri’s computer files and the fact that Rocco was hacking into them, but it seemed secrets and distrust was the way things were playing out lately, so he swallowed his guilt and put on his best poker face. If there was information to share after Rocco broke into the files, it would be easier to apologize then.

  “So you ready?” Sean asked, the corners of his mouth a combination of dressing and hot sauce. “Back on the big board tomorrow.”

  “Never stopped being ready. Had to wait for your trigger-happy ass.”

  Sean laughed. “Yeah, this one’s definitely on me.”

  “You think you can still keep on top of things with Liam when we’ll have our own caseload to handle?”

  “I have no doubt. Being on the inside is much easier than poking my way around when I’m not on duty. I’ll keep an eye on things, and I won’t let our load slip either. I figure Heckle and Keenan have about two or three more dead ends to follow up on in the next week before they can file the case away unsolved. That’s all I want. Let’s get this thing filed away, and then we can get to the bottom of what really happened. If Liam is being framed, I’ll find the son of a bitch that’s doing it. But if my brother really did have something to do with Kerri’s homicide, I’ll get him the help he needs.”

  “Have you even had a chance to mourn Kerri?” Don asked. “I mean, she was your friend and a huge part of Liam’s life, and it seems like all you’re doing is trying to make her go away. Have you even stopped for a second to mourn her?”

  “I think I have,” Sean replied. “In my own way.”

  Don fell back against his seat. “It’s tough even being out here drinking and eating with all this mess going on.”

  “This isn’t a celebration. This is camouflage. We have to look like everything’s normal. Like it’s all mundane, okay? We start sulking around and acting nervous, people will start asking questions. And the more questions they ask, the more risk we take of this getting out in the open. We play it cool, let Heckle and Keenan put Kerri’s case to bed, and then we find the truth. You with me?”

  Don nodded and held up his beer. “Always. You know that. You don’t even
have to ask.”

  42

  Deep within the peacefulness of a sleep that was heavy and uncompromising, Liam began to hear a faint buzzing sound that was neither loud nor soft but simply there. He opened his eyes and was instantly blinded by light peering down at him from a sun that was rising over the Delaware River. He sat up slowly, suddenly aware of the ache in his head.

  The storage containers were piled three high in rows that seemed to stretch on for miles. They were different colors, each one having come in from the Atlantic for distribution throughout the eastern half of the United States. He looked down at himself and could see his clothes were dirty and stained with oil. The ground under him was dusty and dry. He could hear seagulls squawking as they circled the sky offshore. He was at the shipyard.

  His phone began to ring, and he recognized the sound from when he was asleep. He leaned against one of the containers as he climbed to his feet.

  “Hello?”

  “What in God’s name are you doing?”

  It was Sean. Liam rubbed his head and looked up at the sky again. “What are you talking about?”

  “Where are you?”

  “At the shipyard.”

  “Why?”

  “I . . . I don’t know.”

  As reality began to seep into his clouded mind, Liam looked up and down the rows of containers. He appeared to be alone. What was he doing in the shipyard?

  “It was almost over,” Sean barked from the other end of the phone. “Heckle and Keenan were going to put the case away, and that would’ve given us the time we needed to figure out what to do next, but you had to go back for more. What’s wrong with you?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Liam replied. Little flashes of memory began to burst in his mind’s eye. The bar. Police. His house. Had he been home last night? He couldn’t recall any of it with certainty.

  “The hotel owner from the Tiger was drowned in his tub last night. A neighbor called it in after they found his front door open and went to make sure he was okay. His hands were tied behind his back. Sound familiar?”

  “Wait. What?”

  “Jane found a set of partials on the outside of the tub that didn’t belong to the victim. Where were you last night?”

  “After I left your place, I went to a bar in South Philly. I don’t know the name of it. Sean, I had a fight with the hotel owner last night at that bar. It’s on record. The cops came. That’s all I can remember. I just woke up in the shipyard.”

  “Yeah, I know about the fight at the bar. You wanna know how I know? Jane tried your cell when they got the call. You never answered. If you’d picked up, they could’ve given you the prints to run, and you could’ve made them go away like you did with Kerri. We could’ve ended this and gotten you the help you needed. But you weren’t around, so she ran them herself. The prints are yours.”

  Liam fell to his knees as his vision blurred with tears. “Sean, I just woke up in the shipyard, and I don’t know how I got here.”

  “You’re sitting there feeding me lies about being framed. I tried to help you. I don’t understand. Why? I told you to come inside my house and talk with Vanessa. I begged you. We could’ve worked it all out. Why didn’t you call me after the cops came to the bar you were at? I could’ve come and picked you up. I was already in the city at the Hard Rock with Don.”

  “I don’t know what’s happening.”

  “After your prints hit as a match, the fight at the bar came up as a cross-referenced incident. So did Guzio’s name. Internal Affairs went into your files and found the match report from Kerri’s scene. They checked all your records and found out about what happened with Mom. It all comes back to you. They know everything. They got a warrant for your house and pulled hair samples. They’re running them now. Liam, there’s an APB out on you.”

  “I got rid of the match report and all that stuff.”

  “They went through the FBI’s back door in the database program. They found it all.”

  “Jesus,” Liam whispered. He banged the back of his head against the steel container, trying to loosen the cobwebs so he could think clearly. “I’m going to turn myself in. I have to. Before anyone else gets hurt.”

  “No,” Sean replied. “You’re going to run and hide until I figure out what to do. If you turn yourself in now, they’ll nail you with everything they’ve got. You’ll go away for life. You know what happens to cops behind bars. Let me see what I can work out on my end with IA and the DA, and we’ll go from there. Maybe we can make a deal or something.”

  “If I run, I’ll look even more guilty.”

  “You are guilty! This isn’t about guilt or innocence anymore. This isn’t about you being framed and finding some shadowy culprit pulling the strings from behind a curtain. This isn’t about Don or me or Vanessa or whoever else you had on your list of suspects. We’re beyond all that. This is about avoiding the death penalty. Let me do what I have to do. I need you to stay hidden until I call. Don’t answer your phone unless it’s me. Don’t even answer it for Vanessa. The cops are over at your place.”

  Vanessa. Liam couldn’t imagine how this news could be impacting her. “I can’t believe this.”

  “Stay hidden, and I’ll be in touch. Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  “I’ll call you when I know more.”

  “Help me, Sean.”

  “I’m trying.”

  The connection was terminated. Liam dropped the phone into his pocket and fell farther to the dusty ground, the sunlight warm on his skin.

  “Hey! You can’t be here!”

  A small group of dockworkers was rushing toward him, pointing and yelling. They were dressed in identical blue overalls and yellow hard hats. Two men from the group broke from the pack and started to run.

  “This area is restricted! Get over here!”

  Liam scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as his aching legs could carry him. He was dizzy, his head a mass of pain. His boots slipped on loose gravel, and he crashed into the side of one of the containers. The men were coming. He could hear them approaching like horses galloping. He got to his feet and sprinted toward the river, weaving in and out of the container rows.

  “I think he went this way!” one of the men shouted.

  Liam ducked behind a stack of old railroad ties and scurried along the bank of the river. The men were only a few feet away. He thought about what Sean had said.

  This is about avoiding the death penalty.

  He kept running.

  The half circle of a storm drain peeked from the base of the river about twenty yards away. Liam scurried to the edge of the water and stopped, his heart beating in his chest so hard he thought it might explode. The tide lapped lazily against the shore, lulling him into a false sense of calm. It looked so unassuming, but he knew that death was just beneath its surface.

  The men were closing in. He could hear them. Closer.

  Liam swallowed the lump in his throat and waded into the water until he was waist-deep inside the mouth of the storm drain. Each step was agony. He felt as if he might slip and could feel the current reaching for him, trying to drag him out to sea. The men’s boots crushed the gravel beneath them as they came closer. He eased himself forward, pushing ahead until he was hidden in the darkness. No one would be able to see him without coming into the water. He was safe for now.

  The footsteps carried past the drain, and Liam let out the breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He would remain in the drain until half the day had passed, trying to figure out his next move, a fugitive from the law. A murderer.

  43

  Sean hung up his phone and then turned it off completely. He stared at the note that was written on a piece of copy paper, scribbled quickly and taped to his computer monitor. LT wants you. As he walked through the floor, the others stared at him from the safety of their own desks. They’d said little to him since word of Liam’s crime had spread through the department. What could they say? His b
rother was wanted for a double homicide.

  The lieutenant was talking on the phone when Sean knocked. Phillips motioned for him to come in. “I understand, sir,” Phillips said. “Yes, I’ll look into it. We’ll get some units on it right away, and I’ll call you back in an hour with a progress report. Yes, sir. Thank you. Goodbye.” He hung up and collapsed into his seat. “Too much,” he said. He looked outside his office. “I need traffic cam footage from the Guzio house!”

  “On it!” a voice replied.

  Phillips turned his attention back to his detective. “Sean, talk to me. What’s happening? Where did this come from with Liam?”

  Sean held out his hands in surrender. “I don’t know.”

  The lieutenant leaned forward in his seat, his eyes focused, cold. “Tell me the truth. I have no time or patience for anything else. I need to hear it straight from you. One time, between you and me. Did you know her? The victim? This Kerri Miller?”

  “Never saw her in my life.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “You’re hearing it straight.”

  “I better be.”

  “You are.”

  There was a beat of silence before Phillips rubbed his eyes and let out a tired sigh. “We got all our men on it. It won’t be long before we find him.”

  “I’d like to be there when you bring him in. If that’s okay.”

  “Yeah, I’ll talk to the captain and IA. I’m sure that’ll be fine.”

  “No perp walk. We bring him in through the back, and I’m there with his PBA rep.”

  “I know how it works.”

  Sean rocked back in his seat. “I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Because this is a first for me.”

  Phillips shook his head and started playing with a rubber band that was on his desk. “Known that boy for as long as I can remember. Was in Don’s wedding party. Part of my sister’s wedding. How can this be?”