Street Dreams (48 page)

“Yeah, I figured that out, Decker. You went and talked to Renaldes without telling me—”

“I never mentioned Sarah Sanders to him.”

“I told you
not
to talk to him. Stone told you
not
to talk to him. The DA told you
not
to talk to him.”

“Actually, it was just
implied
that I shouldn’t talk to him.”

Brill almost spat at me. “I just drove down here for nothing because
you
just fucked up the case.”

“I didn’t want Renaldes to go down for a rape he didn’t commit.”

“You fucked up
everything!”
His eyes tore into mine. “Do you have a single brain cell in your head, Decker?”

I crossed my arms, my eyes slicing into Justice’s orbs. My voice was low and menacing. “Someone shot at me, Brill. You think
I’m going to wait around and let some dickhead DA call the moves when it’s my life on the line? So yeah, I went and talked
to Renaldes. I wanted to know who was using me for target practice. And if he couldn’t tell me that, at least maybe he’d lead
me to the Nova. Which he did.”

“You’re an idiot!”

“You say idiot, I say survivor. The tag line here is I’m pretty sure I can get Renaldes to roll against Fedek and Chatlin.
If we get Renaldes and El Paso telling the same story, we can probably lock up Fedek and Chatlin for a very long time with
charges of rape and attempted murder of a police officer, and that’s what
I
want because one or both of those assholes tried to kill me!”

I was covered in ripe sweat. Brill was still glaring at me, but the intensity was gone. He said, “So what do we do with the
DA?”

“We tell him that we got El Paso to confess and name names. Then we tell him that we’re going to visit Renaldes and bring
him on board. We know he’ll cooperate because he didn’t participate in the rape. So that means we’ve got El Paso’s and Renaldes’s
testimonies against Fedek and Chatlin. And we can tell the DA that we found out about Renaldes because El Paso gave him up.
That’s it! Done! Okay?”

“No. Not okay. If you ever, ever, ever pull shit like this again, you’re going to be writing traffic tickets for a very long
time.”

“I am duly warned—”

“I mean it, Decker!”

I lowered my eyes, then returned them to Justice’s face. “I know you do. Thank you for going with me on this.”

“Who said I’m going with you?” The rage had returned to his eyes. “If I back you up, you’ll owe me big time.”

I spoke softly and with deference. “I know and I will return the favor. I am nothing if not loyal.”

“Maybe sooner than you think.” His eyes moved up and down my body.

“No, no, no,” I said. “That is out of the question.”

A smile came across his lips. “What on earth are you talking about, Decker?”

I wasn’t amused. “Sorry. My head’s a little scrambled.”

“I think so.” He rubbed his forehead. “If shit falls, I’m not getting dirty.”

“I’ll take the crap.”

“For a two-year vet, you’ve got steel. I’m surprised.” Brill’s eyes tore into my face. “You know what I think? I think you
had help with Renaldes. And I think you know what kind of help I’m talking about. Or should I say
who
I’m talking about.”

“And I think you should ask El Paso about Fedek and Belinda Syracuse.”

A blank look.

“The hit-and-run I witnessed?”

“Oh, that.” He was taken aback. “Why would Fedek have anything to do with Belinda Syracuse?”

“Both Belinda and Sarah Sanders lived at Fordham Community Center. Maybe Sarah told Belinda about the rape. Maybe Belinda
was about to go to the cops.”

“You have nothing to back that up. The hit-and-run was a different vehicle and a different MO. Why would a shit like Fedek
take out Belinda with a car instead of a gun?”

“You’re probably right, Justice, but it’s still a remote possibility. Just throw it at El Paso and Renaldes and let them deny
it.”

“You’re full of good ideas today.” His expression was sour. “Why the
fuck
am I putting up with you?”

“Maybe because you want me for your partner instead of that piece of dead meat you’ve been riding with for the last eighteen
months.”

“Henry’s not dead meat.”

“Henry is two months from retirement. When was the last time he put himself on the line?”

Justice frowned. “I don’t want you. You’re too damn impetuous. You need to slow down.”

“So be my rabbi, Justice.” I sighed. “Forget it. We’d better get back to El Paso.”

“Yeah, we’ve been gone so long, he probably thinks we’re doing it.” He smiled. “There’s still time.”

I held in a scream. “Brill, stop trying to get play. I’ve got a very serious boyfriend; you’ve got a wife; let’s both be constructive,
all right?”

He continued to stare at me.

“You want me to partner with you. I’m dying to do it. But if I have to worry about this kind of garbage, I’m going to ask
for a transfer. And then they’ll ask why.”

He thought about it and shrugged. “You still owe me.”

“I know, I know. …” I patted his shoulder. “Patience, Brill. The time will come. It always does. Shall we get a move on?”

He pointed to the door. “Ladies first.”

I went first.

It was nice to know that chivalry wasn’t dead. It just had been redefined.

A
s summer waned,
bleeding out the last bits of extended daylight, I found that time took on an urgency of purpose, all the pressure self-imposed,
of course, because no one was rushing me to the next step. But there I was on the threshold, one foot in the air, ready to
cross the line. When I pulled up at my father’s house that radiant Sunday morning, I still had reservations. Someone, please
tell me what important decisions were ever made easily?

He answered the door, a surprised look on his face. “Hi, baby. Did you tell me you were coming?”

“Nope. This is a pop-in, one of those times I get to catch you in dirty clothes and in need of a shave.”

He stroked his chin. “The shave, yes; the clothes are clean. Come in, honey.”

Dad was in a white T-shirt and jeans. I wore white cotton pants and a deep green blouse—the type of outfit that could be for
business or pleasure. I continued to stand outside. “How are you doing?”

“I’m fine.” He was perplexed. “Any reason you’re still at the door?”

“How about we take a walk?”

My father’s expression turned more quizzical. “If you want privacy, I’m the only one home.”

“In that case …” I came into the living room—quiet and peaceful. “Where is everyone?”

“Rina and the kids went to an Israel rally in town.”

“And you?”

“What can I say? My Zionistic fervor can’t compete with Sunday baseball.” He smiled. “Sometimes I just need to do something
mindless. Let someone else handle the strategy while I criticize.”

“Boy, do I know that feeling. You work hard, Dad, you’re entitled.”

The Loo studied my face. “Cindy, you look bothered. Is everything all right?”

“Great. I haven’t had a street dream in two months. Pretty good, no?”

Decker frowned. “Very good, except I didn’t know you were having them.”

“Well, they’re gone, so why worry you?” I smiled. “No feedback yet on my application to Detectives. But at this point, I’ll
assume that no news is good news.”

“It’s early, and by that I mean early in your career. If it comes, great. If not, don’t be the least discouraged, especially
not after what you did with those punks Chatlin and Fedek.”

“It was Brill’s bust.”

“It was your legwork. Even Brill’s not denying it.”

“Yeah, Brill’s been okay.”

“Sit down.”

“You know, I’d rather stand. I’m a little antsy.”

My father studied me. “If it isn’t work, it must be personal. Is everything all right with Koby?”

“Great.” I didn’t make eye contact with him. “We’re planning some vacation time together. We’re going away.”

“Fabulous. Where?”

“Israel.”

“What?” Dad was horrified. “
Now?
”

“Yes, now.” I took in Decker’s worried eyes. “Koby wants me to meet his family.
I
want to meet his family.”

Decker was stunned. “And this can’t wait until calmer times?”

“No, because who knows the future? Besides, I’ve survived bullets and maniacs before.”

“And that’s supposed to calm me down?”

I took my father’s hand. “I
need
to do this.” My smile was plaintive. “Daddy, I think he’s the one.” I took in a breath and let it out. “I mean, I
know
he’s the one.”

“Oh my, my.” The Loo’s eyes abruptly moistened. “Are you sure?”

“I can’t picture my future without him. So I guess that’s that.”

Decker covered his mouth with his fist. Then he dropped his hand and managed a wistful smile. “He’s a great guy, Cindy. A
great guy and a good man. You chose well.” His hug was brief but with feeling. “I love you, Princess.”

“I love you, too, Daddy. Nobody will ever replace you in my heart. Lots of guys out there in life, but a girl only has one
father.”

“You deserve the best.” His voice was choked. “You tell him that if he ever,
ever
gives you a hard time, I carry a gun and know how to use it.”

“Daddy,
I
carry a gun.”

My father laughed and so did I. Then he turned serious. “When are you leaving?”

“We’ll be in Israel for Rosh Hashanah—that’s the main reason we’re going right now—but we’ll be back before Yom Kippur.” I
shook my head. “Listen to me, planning my schedule around Jewish holidays. I’m beginning to sound like you.”

“There are parallels in our lives,” my father noted.

I considered his words. “Yes, you’re right. Except Koby’s more flexible than Rina. He may not go out to a restaurant or a
movie on
Shabbat,
but he does drive and turn on lights … watch TV if there’s a play-off game. He’ll even work if the hospital’s short staffed.”

“He’s still a far cry from what you were raised with.”

“That’s true. So I suppose some of your current lifestyle has rubbed off. Keeping kosher doesn’t seem as daunting as it once
did. Of course, people often revert to what they grew up with when they have children. So we’ll see what Koby’s like when
the occasion arises.”

“You have
plenty
of time for that.”

I bit my lower lip to keep from smiling. I had hit a sore spot. The Loo wasn’t ready for the role of grandpa. I said, “Can
we talk business for a moment?”

Dad turned all cop. “Of course. What’s wrong?”

“Something’s really bothering me. I figured I’d bug you about it.”

“Go on.”

“I’ve got these loose ends, an unsolved crime that at first I thought was connected to Sarah Sanders’s rape. I thought it
might have been the work of Joseph Fedek or one of his cohorts. But after talking to them, grilling them extensively, I don’t
think Fedek was involved.”

“What crime are you talking about?”

“Belinda Syracuse. The hit-and-run that Koby and I witnessed.”

“Yeah, yeah. How’s that going?”

“It isn’t. It’s dead in the water.”

“They’ve got the car, don’t they?”

“They hauled it in a long time ago. They’ve even got some DNA from a blood smear on the license plate. But they don’t have
a suspect, so there’s nothing to match.”

Decker held out his hands and shrugged.

“I went to Fordham Communal Center the other day. I saw a picture of her—Belinda Syracuse. Weird to see what she looked like
with her face whole.”

My father nodded.

“I went there to check in with Mr. Klinghoffner, to see if by any chance David Tyler had contacted him. He hadn’t, of course.”

“Still looking for him?”

“Off and on. Anyway, Klinghoffner had pictures of both Belinda and David Tyler posted on his wall. Like a memorial.”

He waited. “And?”

“I suddenly remembered seeing her before, when she was alive. The first time I went to Fordham to find the information that
led to Sarah Sanders’s discovery, Belinda Syracuse was working in the backyard garden.”

“She lived there, Cindy.”

“I know. But it was something else. The way she looked when I saw her. She had this longing in her eyes … like a girl in the
throes of heartbreak. I can’t get that expression out of my mind.”

I looked around the living room, shoving my hands in my pants pockets.

“I have this gnawing in my gut about it. Like I’m on top of it, but I have no evidence. Just this vibration … like she’s talking
to me.”

“Tell me about it.”

“Okay. Here goes. There’s this real obnoxious guy who works at Fordham. His name is Buck. The first time I went there, we
started talking—Buck and me—and I saw Belinda Syracuse staring at us through the window, holding a hoe, her nose pressed against
the pane of glass. With this hurt look in her eyes …”

I was seeing the memory as I spoke.

“This man Buck, he turned around and smiled when he saw her. Then he got up to talk to her. It was completely out of character.”

“I don’t understand.”

“He’s an
asshole.
Why was he being so nice to her?”

“Maybe he’s not as big an asshole as you think.”

“Or maybe he can be charming when he wants to be … when there’s something in it for him.”

“And your point is …”

He knew what my point was, but he wanted me to tell him. “Let me see if I can formulate some theories.” I collected my thoughts.
“When we last talked to Sarah Sanders, she was embarrassed when talking about sex.”

“Yes.”

“And we thought she was sitting on something else.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think that she and David … Do you think that they would have sex with each other without having had it before?”

“Absolutely. It’s a natural thing. Being mentally disabled doesn’t mean your plumbing doesn’t work.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Did you need someone showing you how to do it? I didn’t.”

“Daddy, we knew about sex way before the actual feelings came about. We knew about it because we’re of normal intelligence
and we had information about it that we could comprehend.”