Dog Tags (26 page)

He just looks at me, noncommittal.

“You know, I could be upstairs in bed with Laurie, but instead I’m down here with you. Isn’t that worth anything?”

Again no answer, and when I look over at Tara, she looks away. She doesn’t seem inclined to get into the middle of this.

“Tara, talk to him, will you? Put in a good word for me.”

I guess my walk the other night with Tara didn’t get me as many points as I’d hoped, because she’s sticking with her new friend.

“Milo, if Laurie’s asleep when I get up there, I’m not going to be pleased, and I’m going to blame you.”

I swear, I think he shrugs his lack of concern.

“Just remember, pal, you may be neutered, but I’m not.”

I
T WAS A SURREAL MOMENT FOR
R
AYMOND
S
ANTIAGO.
For weeks he had been holed up in a motel room just outside Detroit, spending all his time watching television, venturing
out only long enough to get food and newspapers. Ever since he heard about the Erskine killing, he had behaved like a man
on the run, because running was what he believed necessary to survive.

It wasn’t just Erskine’s death that sent him into a panic. Erskine was an asshole; the kind of guy at whom many people would
want to take a shot. And Greer had mentioned that Erskine might try a new scheme of his own as a way to get rich. What was
more disconcerting to Santiago was his inability to reach the others, Lawson, Chambers, Iverson, and Greer.

They had agreed to keep in contact, so they could better monitor the situation. The army could not prove anything other than
negligence in Iraq, and their subsequent discharge actually did them a favor. With the kind of money each of them received
for their efforts, the last place they wanted to be was the army.

But Santiago was a man who trusted his gut instincts, and the combination of Erskine’s murder and his inability to reach the
others
filled that gut with certainty and dread. So he went to Detroit, where he had no connections whatsoever, paid cash to stay
in a dive of a motel, and almost never went out. There was no way anyone could find him.

That all changed the night that a stunned Raymond Santiago watched that lawyer show his picture and say his name on national
television. Raymond was keenly aware that in that moment, his future was drastically altered. Now there were a million people,
maybe more, looking for him. Now the supermarket cashier, the motel chambermaid, the guy selling newspaper on the corner…
they were all enemies.

Raymond was going to be found, maybe by someone sent to kill him, but more likely by the public. They would locate him for
the lawyer, and then his cover would be blown. He had no fear of the law at this point; he wasn’t even charged with anything.
He was afraid of exposure, because that could lead to the same fate for him that it had likely brought to his friends.

Staying underground was no longer an option for Raymond. He was going to come out of hiding, and was willing to reveal all
that he knew, in return for ironclad immunity and protections. The only question was whether to go to the authorities or that
Carpenter guy.

He couldn’t be sure what would happen to him if he went to the authorities. He knew how high up the corruption went; in a
way he would be walking into the enemy camp, and might never be heard from again.

Carpenter was another story. He only cared about getting his client off the hook on the Erskine murder. Raymond was a key
to that, and Carpenter would want to protect him. And he obviously had the public visibility to expose anyone who got in his
way.

Raymond was again going to trust his instincts. Carpenter was the way to go.

* * *

M watched the Larry King interview as well, hoping Carpenter would inadvertently say something he could use. His hope came
to fruition, though it was a decidedly mixed bag.

He was not particularly concerned that the sketch of him was shown. It was far from an exact likeness when it was done, and
he looked considerably different now. Then he had a mustache and small beard; now he was clean-shaven. He had also changed
his hair color, and the overall effect was to make him unlikely to be recognized by the average citizen. Since law enforcement
had been in possession of the sketch for a while, there was little about the televised release that was particularly threatening.

More concerning was that Carpenter had only shown photos of Greer, Iverson, and Santiago, and not Lawson or Chambers. Since
he clearly was looking for them because of their potential involvement in the Iraqi explosion, the fact that he was not looking
for the other two was a sign that he already knew their fate. That was unfortunate, but increased his level of respect for
Carpenter as an adversary.

But outweighing all of this was M’s pleasure that Carpenter had revealed Santiago’s photograph to the world. He knew that
Santiago was not particularly good under pressure, and this would likely panic him and draw him out. And when he came out,
he would be committing suicide.

M’s frustrating search for Santiago was soon to come to an end, courtesy of Andy Carpenter.

It took Raymond Santiago until ten o’clock the next morning to completely settle on his strategy for survival. Once he did,
he drove forty miles outside of Detroit before stopping at a pay phone. If it didn’t work out, he didn’t want the call to
be traced back to the motel.

He dialed the number that Carpenter had broadcast on the TV show, and it was answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

He was surprised that it was a woman’s voice, but didn’t hang up. “I want to talk to the lawyer… Carpenter.”

“He’s in court. Who’s calling?”

Santiago hesitated, not sure what to do.

“Is this Raymond Santiago?” Laurie asked.

Another hesitation, then, “Yeah.”

“I can help you, Raymond.”

D
ETECTIVE
D
ONN
S
ANFORD IS VERY ANNOYED AT HAVING TO TESTIFY.
That is obvious by his body language and the short, curt answers he gives to Eli’s questions. I have seen Detective Sanford
testify a number of times, and he is ordinarily an outstanding witness, authoritative and confident. Not today.

Sanford is Billy’s friend; they joined the police force in the same class. It is not part of his makeup to betray a friend—but
neither is it part of that makeup to lie under oath. So he’s here, but he’s obviously not happy about it.

Hike has once again joined me at the defense table, having returned from his trip with Willie. I was glad to see him, both
because he’s a valuable trial resource for me to call on, and because his arrival means that Willie didn’t drop him out of
the airplane. The last thing I needed was another murder trial.

Eli leads Sanford to say that he and two other detectives went with Billy to a Knicks game at Madison Square Garden soon after
Billy returned from Iraq, and afterward they went to a bar on West 35th Street.

“And the four of you had a conversation at the bar?” Eli asks.

“Yes.”

“Did Erskine’s name come up?”

“Yes.”

“Who first mentioned him?” Eli asks.

“I believe it was Billy Zimmerman.”

He barely whispers it, and Judge Catchings asks him to speak up, so he says it more loudly. I’m annoyed with Eli for putting
Sanford through this. I know from the witness list that the other two detectives who were part of the conversation are going
to testify. They are not friends of Billy, and have little compunction about doing so. Sanford is not necessary for Eli’s
case, but he probably wants to show the jury that even Billy’s buddy has evidence against him.

Eli gets Sanford to say that Billy had some drinks in him, and talked about how it was Erskine’s fault that he lost his leg,
which in turn cost him his jobs with the army and then the police force when he got home.

“Did he say what he would like to do about it?” Eli asked.

“He didn’t say anything. It was the alcohol doing the talking.”

Eli objects and Catchings admonishes Sanford for the unresponsive answer. “He said he’d like to kill the son of a bitch,”
Sanford says. “That if he had the chance he’d strangle him with his bare hands.”

On that dramatic note, Eli turns the witness over to me. Sanford and I have tangled quite a few times over the years, and
there have been times he would admit he wanted to strangle me with his bare hands. But right now he’s looking to me for help.

“Detective Sanford, when you heard Billy Zimmerman say those things about Mr. Erskine, did it worry you?”

“No.”

“Did you caution him against taking violent action? Or contact Mr. Erskine and warn him his life was in danger?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it was just talk,” he says. “We were drinking and saying stupid things. I knew Billy well enough not to take it seriously.”

I nod my agreement. “Detective, does the name Randall Brubaker mean anything to you?”

“Yes, it does.” He just about lights up at the question, since he knows where this is going. I draw out of him the fact that
Brubaker was a drug dealer who preyed on local high school kids. One of those kids, Joey Davidson, died of an overdose, and
Brubaker was arrested in connection with it.

“Who was Joey Davidson?” I ask.

“He was Billy’s nephew. His sister’s kid.”

“Was Brubaker convicted of that crime?”

“No, he got off on a technicality. Mishandling of evidence.”

I frown, as if this is unpleasant news to me. “And how did Billy react?”

“He was very upset. He said he wanted to put a bullet in his head, so he couldn’t destroy any more kids.”

“And did he put a bullet in his head?”

“No. But he watched him, on his own time when he was off duty, and caught him doing it again.”

“So he arrested him?”

“No, he called in backup to do it. That way Brubaker’s lawyer couldn’t claim that Billy set him up, and the case wouldn’t
be compromised.”

“How did it turn out?”

“Brubaker got thirty years.”

“Thank you.”

This testimony from Sanford is a little risky. In truth it shows that Billy had a grudge against Brubaker, and it caused him
to go above and beyond the call of duty to nail him. It could be thought by some to show that Billy acts on his grudges, and
that in Erskine’s case he just took it a major step farther.

On the positive side, it showed that Billy operated within the law and did not commit violence against someone deserving of
it. Billy could probably have killed Brubaker and gotten away with it, but he chose to risk the legal system messing up again.

I have less luck with the other two people at the bar that night, since they are not friends of Billy and have no reluctance
to testify against him.

Eli has successfully conveyed to the jury that Billy had a grudge against Erskine, was at the scene of the murder, and had
a gun in his hand.

It’s getting ugly.

L
AURIE IS AT THE COURTHOUSE WAITING FOR ME WHEN THE AFTERNOON SESSION ENDS.
This no doubt means big news, good or bad. Since 95 percent of all news has been bad lately, I’m not too thrilled to see
her.