Sacrifice Fly (20 page)

One thing about my Uncle Ray: the man can fill a doorway.

“You and I,” he said, tapping my chest twice with his huge index finger as he stepped
into Rachel’s apartment, “are going to have a long talk after your sister’s on her
way to La La Land.” He then gestured over his shoulder. “You remember Jackson.”

Officer Jackson walked in and removed his blue baseball cap. He was dressed like my
uncle, in khaki pants and a yellow golf shirt. Like a couple of undercovers and their
colors of the day. We shook hands.

“Thanks,” I said.

“No problem.”

“Raymond,” my uncle said. “We will take your sister to the airport. Jackson will take
up a position down the block in my car and keep an eye out for anything out of the
ordinary.”

“Like a black guy sitting in a parked car in Rego Park?” I turned to Jackson. “Sorry.”

“No problem,” he repeated, not concealing his amused grin.

Uncle Ray pondered that. “Right. Jackson, take a position up here by the window until
we get back.” He walked over and pulled up the shade but let the curtain fall into
place over the window. “Anything you think I should know about, call me.”

“Understood.”

Rachel came into the living room holding a large suitcase. She put it down and gave
our uncle a hug. When the embrace ended, she turned to Jackson and said, “Hey.”

Jackson smiled. “Ma’am.”

“Ray tell you the story, Uncle Ray?” Rachel asked.

“And he will again,” my uncle replied. “After we get you in the air. Your car?”

“Around back.”

“Give the keys to your brother. He’s driving.”

Rachel went into the kitchen and returned with her car keys. She flipped them to me.

“Bring it around front,” Uncle Ray said. “Three minutes.”

I did as instructed. Three minutes later, I pulled away from the curb on the way to
LaGuardia with my sister and uncle in the backseat.

Uncle Ray badged our way into a parking spot in the red zone. We got Rachel ticketed,
her bag checked, and we were able to wait with her by the Passenger’s Only gate. Uncle
Ray again flashed his shield so we could escort my embarrassed sister onto the plane.
Her fellow passengers checked her out, as they probably would during the next five
hours.

When we got back to the car, Uncle Ray took the keys. “I’ll drive.” I was about to
object when he added, “Keeping my hands on the wheel will quiet the urge I have to
smack you.”

We drove back toward Rachel’s in silence.

Chapter 15

“YOUR LITTLE GAMES HAVE GOTTEN
you in over your head, Nephew.”

We were sitting in a booth at the pizza place under the BQE, not far from my place.
Uncle Ray was drinking an espresso. I had an iced tea. Jackson sat in the car, across
the street, with a Diet Coke.

“I wasn’t playing games, Uncle Ray.”

“Yeah,” he said. “You were. And you got caught not watching your back. It’s over now.
Your … involvement in all this. Let the real police do their job.”

“The real police,” I said, “were sitting on their asses while I took a ride upstate
and found something pretty damned important.”

About a year after my dad died, Uncle Ray caught me in the back shed smoking a cigarette.
He smacked me so hard I felt it for days. He had the same look on his face now.

“Great,” he said through his teeth. “I’m real proud of you.” He pointed at me with
his cigar. “Now look at the fucking results. Two of the people I love most in this
world are in danger. How’s that make you feel about finding a
clue,
Raymond? Was it worth it?”

“If it helps get Frankie home … yeah.”

“Goddamn, boy. Is this kid so fucking special he’s worth all of this?” He shook his
head, and before I could answer he added, “I’m thinking of sticking
your
ass on a plane. Get you out of town until this kid’s found.” He paused to make sure
I was listening. “One way or the other.”

“He was alive a few days ago,” I reminded him. “He’s a smart kid. He got himself and
his sister upstate. Maybe back.”

“Well, if he’s all that smart, Raymond, you need to consider the very real possibility
he does not want to be found. By you or the police. Why would that be?”

“He’s scared,” I said. “He doesn’t know who to trust. Something made him not tell
his cousin he was up at her place. Maybe he saw something that spooked him. Or someone.”

Uncle Ray shook his head. “You got a whole lotta answers, don’t you?”

I got a whole lotta nothing, he meant. He was right.

“You wanna disappear for a while?” Uncle Ray asked.

I shook my head. “I got school. I can’t just
disappear
for a while.”

“School fall apart without you?”

“Yeah, Uncle Ray. That’s what I meant.”

“You’d be smart to lose the sarcasm, Raymond.” There was that look again.

“I’m going to live my life,” I said. “If these guys wanted to hurt me—I mean really
hurt me—they had the chance. I’ll just mind my business until this all gets settled.”

“You’d better.” He finished his espresso. “In the meantime, I’m gonna have some patrol
cars pass by your apartment for the next few days. The school, too.” Before I could
object, he said, “Don’t worry. They’ll be discreet. We—I—am also gonna have another
talk with Royce. I’ll set that up for tomorrow. See if anything rings a bell with
him regarding the two guys you ran into today.”

“He’s not going to be happy.”

“That’s not my problem, Raymond. In fact, he’s probably already unhappy that I made
an inquiry to the ME’s office into the COD.”

Cause of death. This got my attention. “What’d they say?”

“Blunt force trauma,” he said. “No big surprise there. But they’re not quite sure
which blow did the deed. The heavy object or the shot to the nose. Doc I spoke to
seems to be leaning toward a combination of the two.”

“What’s that mean?”

“Means that either injury by itself would—ordinarily—not’ve been enough to kill the
guy. Put the two together, though, and you got yourself one unlucky son of a bitch.”

Ordinarily. “So … what?” I asked. “Rivas got hit in the head by a … something heavy
and then got punched in the nose?”

“Or vice versa, Raymond. Can’t even be sure how much time passed between the injuries,
or if they were inflicted by the same person.”

“Great,” I said.

“It is what it is, Nephew.” He stood up. “Let’s get you home.” He handed me the keys
to Rachel’s car.

When we got outside, Uncle Ray explained the plan to Jackson. “Yes, sir.”

“I’m going to hang back,” Uncle Ray said. “Make some calls and get a ride back to
the Island. Maybe get a slice or three. Jackson’ll follow you home.”

Again, Jackson said, “Yes, sir.”

I thanked Jackson, and before I could cross the street to Rachel’s car, my uncle took
me by the elbow. “Be careful, Raymond.”

“I will be,” I said.

He pulled me into a hug, and then held me at arm’s length. I’m not sure what he saw
when he looked at me, but I saw my father’s brother. The man who’d hurt you if he
thought it would keep you from hurting yourself. The man I had wanted to be so many
years ago.

It took three minutes to drive to my apartment and another fifteen to find a parking
spot. It was two blocks away, and I’d have to get up early to move it, but this day
was almost over. Jackson was parked across the street from my place and would be until
he was relieved at ten. I was unlocking the second door to my apartment building,
when it occurred to me that I hadn’t heard the first click shut behind me. I turned
and saw why.

A small girl—seven or eight years old—was standing there, holding the door open with
her foot. A dark blue book bag hung from her shoulder.

“Are you Mr. Donne?” she asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yes,” I said.

“I am Milagros,” she said. “Frankie’s sister?”

Shit.

Chapter 16

“AND SHE JUST SHOWED UP AT
your place?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“No sign of the boy?”

“No.”

“She give you any idea where the boy—”

“His name’s Frankie,” I said.

“She give you any idea where Frankie was? Or is? Or might be?”

“No. She said Frankie told her not to tell anybody anything.”

“Well, damn, Mr. Donne, then maybe you won’t mind telling me why you got that shit-eating
grin on your face.”

“I guess I’m relieved Frankie’s still okay, Detective. Relatively speaking.”

“Relatively speaking.” Detective Royce turned to Jackson and said, “You see anything,
Patrolman?”

“Just the little girl, sir,” Jackson said. “I was keeping my eyes out for the two
suspects described by Mr. Donne earlier today to Chief Donne and myself. When Mr.
Donne identified the young female as the missing girl, we came here immediately.”

“Here” was the precinct’s detective squad, quieter now than the last time I’d visited,
but still busier than you’d think for an early Sunday evening. Two other detectives
were working at the moment: one on the phone, the other filling out a report, clicking
away on an outdated computer keyboard. Royce leaned back in his chair and stared at
Jackson for a few more seconds, wanting to chew him out just a little, but knowing
that Jackson had done everything by the book and was smart enough to drop my uncle’s
name into his verbal statement. Royce turned his tired eyes to me and took a deep
breath. The three of us looked over at Milagros, who was sitting at a desk and talking
with a female officer in between bites of Chinese food.

“God damn,” Royce said and squeezed the bridge of his nose. He hadn’t made it home
today either. And I was to blame. “Girl’s gonna have to get checked out over at the
hospital. Make sure she gets a clean bill of health before…”

“Foster home?” I asked.

“Until we figure out something better.”

“How about the grandmother’s?”

“It’s not my call. I’m still waiting for someone from Children’s Services to get back
to me. Tough to get a social worker this time on a Sunday.”

I gave that some thought and figured the last thing we needed was some overworked,
underpaid city employee who wouldn’t be too happy to trek out to Williamsburg on a
Sunday night. “You need a licensed social worker to sign off on that, right?” I asked
Royce.

“That’s why I called ACS, Mr. Donne.”

“What if I can get someone here quicker?”

“Licensed?”

“Woman I work with at the school.”

“You think she can pull off a temporary kinship foster with the grandmother?”

“That’s what I’m thinking.”

Royce thought about that for a while. “It’s worth a shot.”

“Can I borrow your phone?”

Royce handed it to me. “Dial nine first.”

I got Elaine’s home number from information. She said she’d be there in a half hour.
I called information again and asked for Elsa’s number. I got a recording telling
me it was unlisted. Royce was able to get it by identifying himself and giving his
badge number to a supervisor. I called Elsa and, after an awkward greeting, told her
what was going on. She said they’d be at the precinct as soon as they could get a
ride. I gave the phone back to Royce.

“Want me to arrange for you to get a ride home now, Mr. Donne?”

“Actually,” I said, “if it’s okay with you, I’d rather stay.”

“Yeah,” Royce said. “I had a feeling.” He turned to Jackson and pointed to the big
coffee machine across the room. “You know how to work one of those?”

Jackson stood. “I’ll figure it out. Sir.”

“There’s a good rookie.” Royce turned back to me. “Since you’re gonna be here for
a while longer, you wanna give it another go with the girl? Maybe she’ll be more cooperative
now that she’s had something to eat. I’d try again myself, but I don’t think she’s
warmed to me yet.”

“Yeah,” I said and walked over to the desk where Milagros was sitting. The female
officer gave me a forced smile, and I gestured for her to leave Milagros and me alone.
Milagros looked like she was feeling better now and began spinning the chair around,
making humming noises. I put my hand on the back of the chair to bring it to a stop
and crouched down to be at her eye level. “Hey,” I said. “You like that food?”

“It was a little spicy,” she said. “But it was good. Thank you.”

“You feel like talking now?”

“’Bout what?”

“About Frankie.”

“He told me not to tell anybody anything,” she said. “I promised.”

“I know you did,” I said. “But sometimes it’s not really breaking a promise if you
are trying to help somebody.”

“Are you trying to help Frankie?”

“Yes. I am.”

“Then he said you would understand.”

“But that’s just it, Milagros,” I said. “I don’t understand.”

“Yeah,” she said, nodding her head.

“Okay, let me try to help you understand. If you can tell me where you were before
you got to my apartment, that would be a big help.”

“I was with Frankie.”

“I know that, Milagros, but
where
with Frankie?”

“He told me not to tell anybody anything.” She sounded like a recording. “I promised.”

“Okay,” I said, barely hiding my growing frustration. “Just tell me
how
you got to my apartment. Did you take the subway? A taxi? What?”

“We took a taxi to Anita’s house,” she said with a smile. The smile went away and
she added, “But we didn’t go in and say hi.”

“Yes,” I said. “I know that. Why didn’t you go in and say hi?”

“I don’t know. We got to the front of Anita’s house—by the bushes—and then Frankie
said ‘Let’s play hide-and-seek,’ so we went behind the bushes and stayed there for
like a thousand minutes but nobody found us, so I guess we won.”

I guess you did.

“And Frankie never told you who you were hiding from?”

“Nope. I thought it was from Anita and John and Gracie, but then we never saw them,
and then they never got a chance to hide. And then we left.”