As soon as he put his weight on the first rung, the ladder shot down to its full extension and he felt his lungs fly out of his chest as he tried to hold on.
Sure youre okay? Rashid asked from above him.
Im fine, Francis snapped. Why you gotta keep asking me?
He climbed down and then jumped the last few feet to the ground, almost twisting his ankle.
Fuck.
He found himself in a thicket of tall damp weeds. What was he thinking, stumbling around in the dark, forty-nine years old and going blind? He tried to stand up and feel his way back toward the fire escape ladder, but it had merged with the night and disappeared. He wasnt sure he couldve chinned himself up that high anyway.
He heard something move in the weeds ahead of him and cautiously swept his beam across the lot. The field of forgotten things. His eyes slowly adjusted, picking out old tires, sparkling shards of broken bottles, empty Budweiser cans, scattered bricks, a caved-in television screen, cereal boxes, a collapsed birdcage, and a large 1950s-style GE refrigerator with the door hanging off. The weeds shivered again and he became aware of another presence nearby, breathing heavily.
Hoolian?
Hoolian recognized Loughlins voice as he crouched behind the refrigerator, hiding from the beam. The cop had probably come to finish off what he started. Probably had all the rest of the squad in on it too, to cover for what he did. By the morning, thered be DANGEROUS EX-CON GUNNED DOWN in the headlines.
Hoolian, come on out. Im not mad at you, G. Francis patted the Glock at his side, keeping the flashlight steady in his other hand. We can still talk about this. Youre not in that much trouble yet.
Nothing.
He could see nothing beyond the hazy little aura his beam was making. Everything else was indigo ink on black paper.
I know you just freaked. You didnt mean to hurt anybody.
Three feet.
Loughlin was less than three feet away now. Hed walked right past the refrigerator. The flashlight beam came around again, strafing the weeds and revealing a hand-size hunk of cinder block within easy reach. Hoolian found himself looking from the stone to the back of the cops head, noticing how Loughlins bald spot glowed in the moonlight.
Who would know?
Theyd never be able to prove anything. No witnesses at all. I could split his head open. Then Id take his gun and finish him off, like he deserved.
The cop suddenly turned. For a full second, he seemed to stop and look right at Hoolian, who froze, standing halfway, his lungs pinned to his spine. He held his breath, terrified the wild thumping of his heart would reveal his location. But the cop kept looking at him blankly, his beam only an inch off Hoolians face.
Hey, Rashid. He keyed the radio mike on his shoulder. Any of you guys helping me search this lot?
Slowly it dawned on Hoolian that this man really could not see him. Somehow he had become invisible. It was meant to be, he realized. Theyd been brought together under the cover of night for a reason. This was his chance to collect justice, to avenge his life. The brick was right there. The cop turned again, presenting his pate once more as an unprotected target.
So why couldnt he make himself do it? The command got stuck halfway down his arm.
Whats the matter with you?
He tried to send the hot impulse down again, but it just came back cold.
żQué pasó?
This man took everything from you. And hes about to do it again. Break his head open.
He shouldve noticed it before, Francis realized. That lurking presence. That peculiar heat in the air. That panting that he hadnt distinguished from the lap of water on the nearby pilings or the throb of blood in his own ears. It had crept up and caught him unaware. He caught the odor of wet fur just as he turned.
The dog was snarling, gathering everything it had behind its jaws, as it came out of the weeds. It looked from Loughlin to Hoolian and then back again, like it was something the two of them had conjured together with their enmity. Then it bared its teeth and made a throaty burr, one of those muscular pit bulls you heard about in prison sometimes: the kind drug dealers would train as attack dogs. Hoolian had seen a couple of them wandering the streets and scavenging the lots in daylight around here, abandoned by owners who couldnt control them anymore.
More than once, hed had to pull Eddie back from petting them, warning the kid that once these animals locked their jaws on you, they never let go. Theyd tear the muscles right out of your leg if you tried to pull them off. He dropped his duffel bag and started to run for the projects.
Francis almost tripped over a waterlogged mattress, with the dog right behind him. God was trying to make him give up another bargaining chip.
No, dont help me. I can do it myself.
He stepped on a lightbulb lying in the weeds, shards almost cutting his ankle.
Let me find my way out on my own. Nobody else put me here.
He felt the dogs hot breath on the back of his leg. No way could he outrun it. He pulled his gun and turned, ready to blow the animals head off, praying he wouldnt hit one of the other cops searching the area. He steadied his grip and aimed at nothing. No clue where the attack would come from. But the weeds had stopped moving. He realized the dog had veered off, somehow having lost his scent. He walked out into the street and hunched over, sucking wind and ready to throw up from the exertion. The rhythm of his breath matching a
sup, sup, sup
sound drawing nearer. He looked up and saw light shafting down from the sky, the Star of Bethlehem searching the courtyards of Red Hook Houses. Gradually he tracked it back to the police helicopter hovering above the projects.
What is it?
Hoolians chest was bursting and his bare feet were sore from slapping the cobblestones. He got to the projects entrance and saw there were already police officers flooding the courtyards. The helicopter was circling overhead. He sagged against the wrought-iron fence, knowing it would be only moments before they picked him up. He looked back toward Coffey Street. By now they wouldve told Zana who he was. They would have showed her a warrant and maybe even old pictures. They would have made her understand that he was a liar, a criminal, a danger to her and her child.
Youre lucky you got away from him in one piece, lady.
When he tried to think of how he could answer and explain himself, saying how he would never do anything to hurt her, terrible ache welled up inside him.
It was useless to keep running. You could stay out of the water for only so long. The whir of blades grew louder and the beacon of light from the sky finally found him leaning against the fence, looking up at the sky with open arms.
40
FRANCIS, YOU ARE a miserable son of a bitch.
Deborah Aaron, in a ribbed turtleneck and jeans, spotted him talking to the duty sergeant after shed pushed her way through the media locusts outside and walked in the front doors of the 19th Precinct.
You couldnt just pick up the phone like a human being. I wouldve brought him in any time you wanted. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. But
noo.
You always have to be running your little power trip.
Nice to see you too, Counselor. Francis signed the log book and gave it back to the sergeant. Youre looking very relaxed.
Obviously, you thought you were going to catch me going away early for the Columbus Day weekend, so youd get Julian to yourself. Unfortunately, I had to drop off some papers this morning and my little one had a second-grade dance performance that youre making me miss. I was up all night sewing his turtle costume and trying to write a brief for Judge Del Toro. Thanks a lot.
Whaddaya want me to do, Deb? Coordinate with his teachers?
Youre the one whos always bitching about not getting a heads-up.
He turned his back on her and headed for the stairs without bothering to see if she was following. Even though the building had been gutted and rebuilt from the ground floor up since 83, somehow the place had quickly reacquired a banged-up, old-school feeling, as if the energy field from certain long-forgotten crimes had forced its way up through the foundation.
You must really be desperate, she said. Barging in on my client with a half-assed warrant and searching his girlfriends apartment.
At the top of the steps, he threw open a door and made it seem incidental that he was holding it for her. After you, Counselor.
In the corridor on the way to the Detective Bureau, there was a Wanted poster with the ghostly black-and-white image of an unnamed passenger in the backseat of a livery cab. The picture, taken with a hidden camera, was of a small-eyed young man in a Timberland sweatshirt with the hood up, who would soon pull out a .22 and shoot the driver, a Mr. Sandeep Singh, of Jackson Heights, Queens, in the back of the head, spraying skull fragments all over the windshield. No witnesses so far to ID him, no reward offered. A grim reminder to Francis that he actually still did have other cases.
And I dont appreciate you calling up Judy Mandel and the rest of the working press and making me run the gauntlet out there.
Deb tracked him into the squad room and through the warren of desks, rubber soles squeaking on the wooden floor, an odd feature of the precinct contributed by its grateful well-heeled citizens.
Hey, I dont know who tipped them off about Hoolian being here. Francis shrugged. Im not his publicist.
A plastic barn owl stood on top of a file cabinet, keeping a watchful eye on a sleeping figure in a holding cell across the room and reminding Francis this precinct had always been a little too slow for his tastes. A half-dozen girls just a little younger than Christine and Allison would have been stared down from the Missing Persons posters on the wall. Highway to Hell blared from the radio and a copy of
The South Beach Diet
sat next to an open salad container on a detectives desk.
You at least get him something to eat? Deb asked.
Would you? Francis gave her a backward glance.
Sleazy intimidation tactic.
Hey, it wasnt exactly
The Sound of Music
when you were prosecuting.
She sucked in her cheeks, knowing just as well as he did that she used to badger starving defendants relentlessly and make their lawyers cool their heels for hours in corridors that were like tuberculosis wards.
I never had you pull a guy off the street twice without probable cause.
How do you know its without probable cause? You got a police band radio or something? I didnt think you were that much of a buff anymore.
He saw the insult cut more deeply than hed meant it to, then remembered a half-second later that shed had to have her husband, the detective from the Nine-Oh, locked up for beating on her.
Look, we had a signed warrant to search his property, he explained, trying to get back on a more professional basis. It was his decision to assault an officer and run out the back.
Yeah, assault with a Dorling Kindersley Eyewitness Book, Deb snorted. Like thats really going to stand up in court if you try to charge him for it. What were you looking for anyway?
Obviously we think he had material in his possession thats relevant to a case were working on. You can figure that out, Deb.
Like what? You think hes been holding a dead girls blood twenty years so he can sprinkle it around a crime scene?
Okay, we brought him up here to play Pin the Tail on the Donkey.
Wouldnt be any stranger than some of the rumors Ive heard about this investigation. They stopped outside the interrogation room. I hope youre proud of yourself, Francis.
Whoosh.
Hoolian clapped his hands in relief when his attorney finally walked in. Beam me up, Scotty. Ive had it.
Hed been in this room since six this morning, trying to keep from crying or breaking down while Ms. A. was tied up. Everything physical had changed about the precinct; only the fear was the same. That one-hundred-blue-jays-screaming-in-your-head, about-to-piss-in-your-pants terror he remembered so well.
You doing all right? Ms. A. squeezed his shoulder.
Yeah. But I think I done enough talking around here already.
Wearily, he started to his feet as the black detective whod been with him the whole time pushed off the wall.
Good afternoon, Ms. Aaron. He offered his hand and smiled, all sweet and silky playa charm now. Rashid Ali. Ive heard good things.
Not from your partner, you havent.
Then he doesnt appreciate a truly
fine
attorney.
Hoolian looked around, realizing that he had not, in fact, seen Loughlin since hed arrived at the station. One more thing different from the last time.
You mind telling me why you brought my client in?
Fucking bitch, said Paul Raedo, coming over to join Francis at the glass.
Is that any way for a future state supreme court judge to talk?
I never got along with her, you know, Paul muttered. Always shoving her tits in the DAs face when they were on the same elevator. Like
that
was going to get her into Homicide after only three years.
Actually that didnt sound like Debs style at all, Francis had to admit. She was more the diligent, industrious grind, hyperconscious of scoring most of her points on the merits and hardly ever trading on her looks.
On the other hand, Paul was in the Top Ten on Franciss Shit List these days. Letting Hoolian get out of prison in the first place; neglecting to contact the victims family; getting his ass publicly scorched by Judge Bronstein; and worst of all putting those papers in the case folder about his disciplinary hearing in 81. Francis had been trying not to obsess about it too much because
