The Night Is Deep (A Liam Dempsey Thriller Book 2) by Joe Hart

electronic masking of the man’s voice, there was nothing peculiar or defining about it. When the thumping rose in the background, Liam turned up the volume one notch, replaying the portion several times. Dunk, dunk, dunk, dunk. A pause. Dunk, dunk, dunk. It sounded like someone was knocking on a door with a large piece of iron. When the video finished playing and reset, he pulled the ear buds out and handed them to Heller.
    “What do you think?” Heller asked, twisting the cords in his fingers.
    “Well we know it’s a basement. Looks old, unused. I’d say it’s either in an abandoned building or somewhere run-down, but that doesn’t really narrow our search.” Liam felt a flicker of amusement as Heller scrambled for a piece of paper and began to jot down notes. For the first time he noticed how young the man was, definitely not older than twenty-five. “The water stains are interesting. Looks like the building was flooded at one point.”
    “We had a really terrible flood here a few years back.”
    “That’s right, I remember seeing it on the news. Was there anywhere specific in the city that got hit hardest?”
    “No. Everything from the top of the hill down was partially underwater. There was less damage on the north and south ends of the city but everything in between got nailed.”
    Liam sat forward and stared at the computer screen. “That sound near the end, the thumping, it’s really familiar but I can’t place it.”
    Heller put the buds in his ears and ran through the video before drawing them out again. “Sounds like music from a passing car.”
    “I thought that too at first but if you listen closely there’s no increase or decrease in volume like you’d have with a car driving past,” Liam said.
    Heller frowned. “You’re right. Maybe it was someone playing a song upstairs or outside.”
    “Maybe, but it didn’t sound like that. I think we might’ve heard some lyrics or melody alongside the bass with it that loud.” Liam sat back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head as he looked out through the kitchen windows at the lake. With the falling dark the water had turned a lurid black draped with patches of the last light drifting on its surface. The sound in the video replayed in his head as clearly as if he were hearing it again. There was something exciting about listening to it.
    Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew what it was.
    Heller continued to take notes as Perring and Sanders circled the table, stopping at several computer stations to gaze at the screens. Owen appeared from the direction of the bathroom and Liam rose, walking beside him into the living room.
    “You okay?” Liam asked.
    “No.”
    “Stupid question. Would you like something to help calm your nerves? I’m sure Perring could have a prescription sent over from your doctor right away.”
    “No. If I could have a drink I think that would help.” Owen’s watery eyes met Liam’s and then slid away.
    “Go ahead,” Liam said. Owen swallowed, then made his way to the liquor cabinet before taking his drink to the couch. From the dining room, Perring’s voice asked for the task force’s attention. Liam walked to the doorway and leaned against it.
    “Okay people, what do we have?” she said, placing a digital recorder down in the middle of the long table. A slender woman with mousy hair stood up and held a notepad before her.
    “Generally we all agree that Mrs. Farrow is being held underground, some type of old basement by the looks of it. It’s been flooded to a height consistent with most basements and properties below the hill so that’s where we think we should begin the search. As far as the kidnapper goes, I’m guessing age to be somewhere between twenty-five and fifty, and by the width of his shoulders over two hundred pounds. We didn’t pick up any voice tags or any other significantly revealing speech patterns. Obviously he was using a type of voice distortion, but he sounds