Street Dreams (24 page)

When I got home, there were two new messages—another one from Dad, and another from Hayley. I picked up the phone but thought
better of it.

Instead, I turned on my computer and checked my e-mail. I saw his screen name sandwiched between an AOL discount special and
LOW-RATE MORTGAGES FROM HOUSE EQUITY FUNDING
. I wasn’t wild about electronic communication, but I was the one who had started it. I clicked on it.

Dear Cindy,

Doing a double shift. That is good. Better than thinking about the accident. Call you later.

Love, Koby

It was a rather curt e-mail, especially compared to my gushing phone calls. But he was probably dealing with life-and-death
issues and didn’t have time for the niceties. So I wrote him back, again telling him how impressed I was with his swiftness
of action. I wasn’t quite as effusive, but I was complimentary.

Maybe it would make him smile.

Maybe it would induce him to call.

T
his time,
Decker was late. From down the aisle, he saw her in the corner booth, sipping coffee while reading the paper. From this distance,
she looked so young and vulnerable. Maybe he just perceived her that way because she was his daughter. He took a deep breath,
his heart skipping in his chest, and slapped a smile on his face. He slid into the booth on the opposite side.

“Sorry. Bad traffic.”

Cindy put the paper down and squeezed her father’s hand. “It’s fine. Just relaxing.”

“That’s good.”

“It’s rare these days.”

“You’ve been busy?”

“Always.”

“How’s Koby?” Decker asked.

“Fine.”

Immediately, he heard the catch in her throat. Feeling like an idiot, he quickly changed the subject. “Well, our Tuesday breakfast
is turning out to be a ritual.”

“One that I like,” Cindy stated.

She was somber. That made him feel real low. One of these days, he’d disconnect from his kids. His heart felt heavy. “You
doing okay, sweetheart? Must have been pretty traumatic witnessing the accident.”

She started to talk, thought better, and answered him with a nod.

“Traffic accidents in general are horrible. One of my most vivid memories in police work is a bad accident from twenty years
ago. Just …”

Cindy regarded her father’s pained expression. “Did you witness it?”

“No …” Decker exhaled. “No, just the first unit to arrive at the scene. That was horrible enough. I couldn’t even imagine
seeing it unfold. I don’t understand how you can be working.” He held up a finger to the waitress for coffee. “You’re much
stronger than I am.”

“I don’t think so, Dad.”

“Oh, yes you are. I’d be a basket case.”

“Daddy, I have
never
known you once to be a basket case.”

“Then I did my job as a parent and hid it well.”

That gave Cindy pause. He must have handled hundreds of stressful cases over his career. And yet, except for the last few
months, he had always seemed so placid.

“How are
you
doing?” Cindy asked.

“All right.”

The waitress came over with the coffee. “Are you ready to order?”

Cindy ordered toast, fruit, and more coffee; Decker made it times two. They sipped weak brew and smiled uncomfortably.

“We’re dancing around each other,” Cindy told him. “You’re not so good and neither am I.”

Decker held out his hand to her. “Can I help?”

“No,” Cindy answered. “Can I help?”

“Absolutely not.” Decker patted her hand, then pulled away. “And even if you could, I’d say no. Parents take care of the kids,
not the other way around.”

“Will you ever stop thinking of me as your daughter?”

“Probably not. So tell me what’s on your mind.”

“I have lots on my mind. That’s why I have a therapist.”

Decker smiled. “I’m glad you’re still seeing someone. Rina tells me I need one.”

Cindy’s shrug was noncommittal.

“What do you think?”

She laughed. “You’re asking my opinion?”

“Yes, I am. I value your opinion. How’s your experience been with a shrink?”

She didn’t know if her father was patronizing her—trying to make her feel better—but she continued on the assumption that
he wasn’t. “It’s good, Dad. You get to unburden yourself without burdening other people. I don’t like to spill my emotional
guts. We’re more alike than you think.”

“I’d be honored to be like you.”

Cindy’s laugh was mirthless. “Man oh man, you must really think I’m bad off to be acting
this
nice.”

Decker laughed. “Okay. Now you’re sounding familiar. I feel better.”

“So, Loo, how do you feel about talking business?”

“It’s better than getting all weepy.”

“Exactly. So let me tell you what I found out and you tell me if I’m thinking straight or what.” Cindy recapped her discussion
with Russ MacGregor, mainly her thoughts about the two cases— Belinda Syracuse’s hit-and-run, and Sarah Sanders’s rape—and
how they might be related. By the time she was done, the food had come.

Decker buttered his toast. “As much as I’d like to agree with you, Cin, I think I’m going with MacGregor on this one.”

“That they have nothing to do with one another,” Cindy stated.

Decker took a bite and nodded. “You don’t even know if the hit-and-run was intentional or not. Have they even found the car?”

“I don’t think so, no.”

“Okay …” Decker polished off a piece of toast. He was hungry this morning. “Even if we assume that the hit-and-run was intentional,
why would the two cases be related?”

“Maybe Belinda knew something about Sarah Sanders’s rape?”

“So why would someone bother to murder her now instead of six months ago?”

“That’s just what Russ said.”

“I’m not surprised. Care to answer the question?”

Of course, she didn’t have an answer. “I haven’t thought it all the way through. Don’t want to talk prematurely.”

Decker spooned fruit into his mouth. He chewed and swallowed. “Good stall tactic. I’ve used it myself. Find another link,
Cin. In the meantime, why don’t you wait until the SUV turns up before you continue on? I’m sure you have better things to
do with your time.”

“Not really.”

“Should I ask?”

“Nah, just feeling a bit blue. It’ll pass.”

Decker didn’t dare intrude. She’d just bite his head off. “Get a hobby, Princess. Didn’t you once want to make ceramics or
something?”

“That was in tenth grade, Daddy.”

“See, I listen.”

Cindy smiled. “I still intend to go back to the Fordham Communal Center. I want to find out about Sarah Sanders’s boyfriend.”

“This guy David.”

She nodded.

“Who might be dead.”

“He might also be alive.”

“And MacGregor’s okay with that?”

“Yes, Father, he is.”

“So let me know what you come up with.”

“I will. Any suggestions?”

“Same ones that you used when you were looking for Sarah— shelters, halfway houses, drunk tanks, flophouses, homeless camps.
It’s not fun work, Cindy. Sure you wouldn’t rather throw clay onto a wheel?”

She tossed a small piece of apple at him. “I don’t mind going back to the center. At least, Oliver won’t be standing over
my shoulder this time.”

Decker tried to sound casual. “He give you a hard time?”

“Oliver’s Oliver. But he let me handle it.”

“That’s good.”

“Actually, it was. He’s a jerk but a good detective. No complaints.”

But Decker still sensed how unhappy she was. Probably the effects of witnessing something so traumatic. It blunted the senses
for a while. For her, it also revived horrid memories from not too long ago. And who knew what it did to Koby, sticking his
hands in all that blood and muck? Decker guessed that they were probably not offering each other too much in the way of mutual
support.

Cindy saw the concern on his face. “I have an appointment with my therapist tomorrow. I’m sending you the bill. So stop worrying
about me, all right?”

“I’m getting the bill?” Decker frowned. “How much does he charge?”

Cindy rolled her eyes. “First off, it’s a she. Second, I’m kidding. The Department is paying. It was part of the settlement.
‘Go to anyone, Cin, just so long as you don’t sue our asses off.’”

Decker smiled.

“I’ll be fine, Daddy. It just takes time.”

Decker took her hand and squeezed it. “I’m an impatient man when it comes to my kids. I love you, Princess.”

“I love you, too.” Her first thought was to steer the conversation back to work. Then she realized that’s exactly what her
father would have done.

“I’m very proud of you,” Decker blurted out.

Cindy felt a lump in her throat. “Thank you, Daddy. That means so much to me.”

“I’m proud,” Decker reiterated, “but I have a confession to make. I’m very angry with you for joining the police.”

“Lordy-Lord, what a shock.”

“I know I’ve said it before. But this is the new part. After I got the news of the accident, my stomach was in an absolute
knot. And then it hit me. I was not only angry for what you put me through by joining the academy, I was angry with
myself
for all the aggravation that I put my own family through—including your mother. I’ve gained a little insight and it isn’t
pretty. I think I may have actually
wronged
your mom.”

“Mom knew that it went with the territory.”

“No, Cindy, I blindsided her. She thought I was going to become this nice liberal, upper-class tax lawyer. Going back into
police enforcement wasn’t on the agenda.”

“But you were unhappy as a lawyer.”

“I was, but she wasn’t. I must have put her through hell on so many different levels. First off, I made much less money. Then
I worried her to death. Also, I was never home. I’m getting paid back for my transgressions.”

“If you consider doing your job a sin.”

“Neglecting her and you was wrong.” He took his daughter’s hand. “I want to thank you for not holding it against me.”

“You did the best you could, Daddy. That’s all that we can ever ask.”

“In some ways, Cin, you are so much more mature than I am.”

Cindy choked on her words. “You know how to make a girl feel good.”

“I’m reckless when it comes to myself, but a worrywart when it comes to my family. It’s hypocritical, but I’m too old to change.”

“I don’t want you to change. I think you’re terrific.”

“Cindy, I am so honored to be your father!”

“Thank you.” Her eyes started to water. Spontaneously, she leaned over the table and kissed his cheek. “Do me a favor, Pops.
Hold that thought the next time you get frustrated with me.”

T
here was no love lost
between Buck the bureaucrat and me, and tragedy did not bring us closer together. He was as obnoxious as ever, wearing a
black turtleneck and jeans. His hands fluttered as he growled out the words.

“We’re rather busy, Officer. Our secretary is out, and we’ve had some bad news.”

“Do tell.”

“Then perhaps you can come back tomorrow with your pesky little questions.”

As he started to close the door on me, I pushed my way in. “Please get Mr. Klinghoffner for me, Buck.”

Having lost that battle, he sat down at his desk and glared at me. “You’ll have to wait! I’m elbow deep in paperwork.”

I went over to his desk. In a single sudden motion of my arm, I cleared his desktop. “Well, now you’re not. Go get him.”

“I could have you reported!” Buck was fuming.

“Last I checked, the phone lines were open. So if you don’t have the balls to do it, go get Klinghoffner.”

Slowly, slowly, he got up. “Typical heavy-handed cop. What is it, Officer? Are you jealous because most women still prefer
me to big, strong you?”

I ignored him and checked my watch. I had only an hour before Sarah Sanders was coming in to make a statement. I set my angry
eyes on him and waited. He tried out a glare, but it was more like a sneer. In the end, he picked up the phone and punched
in some numbers. He turned his back to me and spoke quietly. After he hung up the receiver, he told me that Klinghoffner would
be down in five minutes.

I told him thank you.

His eyes went from my face to the mess on the floor. I bent down to pick up the papers.

“Don’t touch anything!” he blurted out. “I … Let me handle it. Please.”

I stood up. “Sorry.”

He squatted down, scanned the mess, then began by picking up a pile of papers. “You’re not forgiven.”

I surveyed the room. I found what I was looking for—the requisite coffeemaker. “Can I make it up by fetching you a cup of
home brew?”

He was still sitting on his haunches. “My mug is the blue one. One packet of creamer, one packet sugar.”

I went over to the stand and filled his order with the efficiency of the neighborhood Star$s. “Mind if I help myself?”

“That’s why the Styrofoam cups are there.”

I poured myself a half cup, then placed his mug on his desk.

Buck said, “You were there when it happened?”

“Yes.”

He turned some pages over in his hands, then placed them down on the floor. He began to collate the piles. “It must have been
awful.”

“Yes.”

“What exactly happened?”

“Some other time, Buck.”

“Did you at least find the idiot?”

“It’s coming,” I fibbed.

“That means no.”

“No, it means it’s coming.”

He huffed disdain.

“It’s good to see you obnoxious again. I was getting worried.”

He started to talk but changed his mind. Instead, he stood up and shuffled the pages.

“Are your papers in order?” I asked him.

“For the most part, yes.”

“Want me to mess them up again?”

“I want you to go away. But since that’s not going to happen, at least don’t talk.” He sat back down at his desk, straightened
a pile of papers, then sipped coffee.

“Did you know the girl, Buck?”

“I know everyone here.” He looked up at me. “Are you going to ask me more questions? Because if it’s yes, I won’t even start
to concentrate.”