I know, but this is deep inside. Come on. I gave my word and this is exactly how we broke the jetliner story. We were tipped by an unnamed source.
You also got the document that nailed it, Sikes said. Got any paper on this tip? A warrant? A police report? A memo?
No, not quite.
What do you mean, not quite'?
My information is solid.
Jack, is your source on this information a cop? Wallace asked.
Yes.
With the New York State Police?
My source is a cop inside the investigation. Thats as far as I want to go. I gave my word.
This storys huge, Derrick said. Who else did you call?
Gannon told them.
Christ. Wallace ran his hand through his hair. We need a story like this. Hes got the investigator on the record, and the suspect.
Alleged suspect, Sikes said. His eyes were like black ball bearings as they bored into Gannon. You trust your source with everything, Jack? Because with this kind of story, if youre wrong, we could all pay dearly.
Gannon took stock of the faces staring at him. Beyond the office, a few reporters raised their heads to look at the sombre group, curious about what was happening.
I stand by my story.
Sikes kept Gannon in his gaze for a long time.
Were taking a risk here.
I trust my source completely.
Write it up, Sikes said. Ill take it for front. Better find a picture of Karl Styebeck. Then he pointed his finger at Gannon. Youd better be right about this.
8
That night in a quiet neighbourhood of Ascension Park, Karl Styebeck sat alone before his television.
It was the only light in his darkened living room. Flickering images lit up the creases of his taut face. As he surfed from channel to channel, he chewed on his thumb while his wife descended the stairs after checking on their son, whod gone to bed.
Goodness, why are you keeping it so dark in here? She swept into the room and switched on a light.
Keep it off, Alice.
Why?
Just keep it off.
Fine, you vampire. She smiled and switched the light off. Dont you think youre taking this a little too seriously, Karl?
Taking what too seriously?
You lost the game and some of the parents got upset. Taylor told me what happened at the diamond.
No. It was a good game, couldve gone either way. Nobody got upset.
Alice retrieved her needlepoint from the sofa and tapped his shoulder.
Im going to need some light, here. She switched on a low-wattage table lamp and he didnt object. Would you find something to watch. I hate it when you channel hop. Men. Sheesh.
Styebeck landed on a local channel just as it offered a brief news update between commercials, reporting, No new developments on the murder of Bernice Hogan, the former nursing student from Buffalo State.
Thats such a sad case, Alice said. Well, Taylor told me some guy you were talking to at the game made you mad.
No, its nothing.
Is it work? Youre awfully pensive these days.
Something like that. Im getting a drink, you want anything?
Some water would be nice, thanks.
In the kitchen Styebeck poured himself a glass of orange juice, stood at the window over the sink, looked out at his yard and continued ruminating.
Immediately after that reporter, Gannon, had confronted him, Styebeck made a round of calls on his cell phone to detective friends. It was odd. Few of them had time to talk, and those that did seemed cagey.
Yeah, a cop from Erie County told him. There was a joint-forces case-status meeting today out at Clarence Barracks. Hush-hush. Mike Brent was running it. You didnt miss much, just a bunch of wild-ass theories about suspects.
Any names come up?
Names? No, Karl, they had no names on the board. As far as Im concerned, Brents a prick. Theyve got no evidence and the way hes headed, hell never clear this. Sorry, Karl, I have to go.
Why hadnt he been called to that meeting?
Now, as he finished his glass, Styebeck asked himself again.
Why wasnt he invited to that meeting?
He didnt know Brent, but hed talked to him and his partner earlier about his theories on the Hogan homicide. Theyd come to him because he had a lot of confidential informants downtown.
Thats what they said.
Then this reporter, Gannon, bushwhacks him with this crazy allegation.
Where the hell was that coming from? What did he know?
Oh, Karl, I forgot to tell you. Alice entered the kitchen, startling him. Some guy called for you when you were out.
Who?
I dont know. He didnt say. He didnt leave a message and the number didnt come up. I figured it had something to do with the game and told him you were at the park.
He said nothing.
It was likely Gannon, he thought. Well, he wasnt worried. Theres no way the Sentinel would run a story based on that B.S. he was peddling. No one could possibly know what he knew about Bernice Hogans murder.
Karl, is something going on? Weve had quite a number of strange calls over the last few weeks. And youve been so edgy. Is there something youre not telling me?
Styebeck turned away from his wife and went back to searching the night through the kitchen window.
No, Alice. Its all work related. Everythings fine.
9
Jolene Peller surfaced through the haze of semiconsciousness.
A low monotonous rattling sounded in her head as memory and awareness fell upon her in ominous drops.
Where was she? What happened?
Bernice.
Shed had a bad feeling and had gone to help Bernice; had followed her into the night where shed heard pleading.
Bernice begging in the confusion then a scream.
The man.
Jolene had glimpsed him in the chaos and he saw her; hit her with a blazing light, blinding her, locked onto her, chased her, hunted her.
She ran but could not outrun the darkness.
It was a nightmare. Shed had a nightmare. Okay, then wake up.
Wake up!
SHE WAS AWAKE!
Jolenes heart thumped as her memory gave way to an onslaught of crushing fear.
What was happening?
Bernice? What happened to Bernice?
Whats going to happen to me?
The blood rushing in her ears roared with the droning.
What was that noise?
Why was this happening?
Why her?
The air smelled of old wood, cardboard and something foul. Oh God. Oh God. She trembled, her stomach roiled. She kept her eyes shut tight, fought to stem her mounting hysteria and clear her mind.
The air smelled of old wood, cardboard and something foul. Oh God. Oh God. She trembled, her stomach roiled. She kept her eyes shut tight, fought to stem her mounting hysteria and clear her mind.
Think.
Youre alive.
Youve got to get out of this.
She was lying on something padded. A disgusting-smelling mattress. Her tongue burned with an awful aftertaste and her jaw ached. Something between her upper and lower teeth was splitting her mouth open. It felt like a leather belt strapped so tight to her head her eyes hurt.
She raised her hand to try to relieve the pressure, but her hands were welded together by something cutting into her wrists. Some sort of binding.
Breathe.
The stench of the air was choking.
Jolene clawed at the buckle at the back of her head in vain. Her nose was clear. If she stayed calm she could breathe.
Did she dare open her eyes?
She had to.
Okay. All right. Easy. Breathe.
She opened them wide to absolute blackness.
She raised her hands to her face and saw nothing. It was as if shed been disembodied.
As if she were dead.
She was terrified of the dark.
Terrified of being buried alive.
Overcome with vertigo, she was consumed by a sickening sense of whirling and falling. A muffled whimper escaped from deep in her throat and echoed in the silence.
Breathe, she told herself. Stay calm.
Youre alive.
If youre alive, you can fight to survive. Be strong. Dont cry. Fight. The earth shifted.
Jolene was jolted across the mattress. Humming, hissing and, now, mechanical grinding grew louder. What was happening? The world started moving.
Jolenes dark prison was now mobile and gathering speed.
10
The next morning, victory called out to Gannon from his front-page story.
On every street corner with a Buffalo Sentinel newspaper box, his exclusive took up six columns on page one, above the fold, under the headline:
Hero Cop Suspected in College Students Murder
This was a clean kill against the competition, the Buffalo News. Those guys had squat. Looking at the bank of news boxes while waiting for a downtown traffic light to change, he savored the rush of pride.
Dont get cocky. Glory was fleeting in this business, where youre only as good as your next story.
But a cop? Man, hed hit this one out of the ballpark.
His story was the line item in the Sentinels morning edition. It went to homes, stores and news boxes across Buffalo, across Erie, Niagara and eight other counties; everywhere the Sentinel battled the News for shrinking readership. It also anchored the Sentinels Web site, where most people went for their news these days.
He had scored. No doubt about it. Buffalo radio and TV morning news led with the story, wire services picked it up.
It was the win he needed.
The light changed and Gannon continued through traffic, turning into the Sentinels parking lot, concentrating on the reason hed come in early today: to work on a follow-up. Beating the competition always meant theyd come back at you big-time.
He was not going to lose this one.
He grabbed a paper from the security desk in the lobby before stepping into the elevator. Ascending alone, he studied the front-page photo of Styebecks handsome hero face next to one of Bernice.
What a heartbreaker.
During his years on the crime desk, hed encountered tragedies every day: the deaths of children, school shootings, gang murders, fires, wrecks, calamities, manifestations of evil in every form. He went at things wearing emotional armor.
But something about Bernice Hogans tragedy got to him.
Looking at her face, he vowed to see that, in death, she received the respect that had eluded her in life.
The elevator stopped and he went to the newsroom kitchen for coffee.
The best follow-up to this mornings exclusive would be a feature on Styebeck. Hed go into Styebecks life, his upbringing and how he came to be a hero cop and suspected killer. Maybe hed call some criminal profilers, talk about cases of murderers leading double lives.
Hed need a few days but it might work.
Youre in early. Jeff kept his eyes on his computer screen where he was playing solitaire.
Anything going on out there?
Its deadsville, Jack. Nice hit on the cop. You blew away the Buffalo Snooze. Jeff nodded to the managing editors glass-walled office across the newsroom. Nates been trying to reach you.
About what?
Dont know. Cant be good. Id give it a minute.
Gannon didnt like the scene he saw playing out in the office. Nate Fowler kept jabbing his finger at Ward Wallace who kept throwing up his hands. Their voices were raised but Gannon couldnt make out what they were saying. As night editor, Wallace never came in at this hour unless there was a problem.
A serious problem.
Whats going on in there? Gannon set his coffee down. Whats Wallace doing here?
Beats me. Oh, and theres a lady here to see you. I told her you usually get in later, but shes been waiting in reception for about an hour.
She say what she wants?
No. Ill get her.
Gannon did a quick check of e-mails and sipped some coffee before he saw Jeff direct a woman in her fifties toward his desk.
She wore no makeup, had reddened eyes and unkempt hair. Her sweater and slacks had frayed edges. She held a slim file folder, her fingernails were bitten.
Youre Jack Gannon, the reporter?
Thats me. And you are?
Mary Peller, and I really need your help, Mr. Gannon.
Its Jack. Gannon cleared a stack of justice reports from an extra chair for her. How can I help you?
My daughter, Jolene, is missing.
Missing? How old is she? Gannon fished a notebook from a pile, flipped to a fresh page.
Twenty-six.
Twenty-six? Whats the story?
What came next was a tale Gannon had heard before. Jolenes dad walked out on them when Jolene was eleven. When Jolene hit her teens, Mary lost her to drugs and the street. A year ago, after Jolene nearly died from overdosing on bad drugs, she started going to church and decided, for the sake of her three-year-old son, Cody, that she had to get clean.
Jolene got a fast-food job, took night courses, and through a service, landed a junior motel manager position in Orlando.
Jo was over the moon because it was her chance to start a new life. She wasnt proud of the things shed done to get drugs Mary Pellers voice trailed off and she stopped to regain her composure. We dont have much money, Mr. Gannon. Jo left last week on the bus to Florida. She was supposed to set herself up then return for Cody. But I havent heard from her.