Everywhere That Tommy Goes (20 page)

“A guest. Is this how you treat your guests?” I pull at my handcuffs.

“Procedure, I’m sorry. We’re still gathering our information, and until we have a complete story, we have to keep you this way.”

“Hey, man, you’ve got nothing on me. This is bull.”

“Well, Mr. Sullivan, that’s not exactly true. We’ve got a lot on you, and the evidence is mounting as we speak.” The cop steps around to the other side of the table and sits down across from me.

“Evidence? What kind of evidence?”

“Sorry son, you’ve invoked your right to counsel, we can’t talk to you unless you agree to talk to us without your lawyer being present.”

“So get me a lawyer then.”

“Okay, I’ll contact legal aid, but before I do I want you to know that I’d be willing to tell you what we’ve found if you give me something in return.”

“And what would that be?”

“Tell me about your friend Troyer Savage first.”

That takes me by surprise. “You know about Troyer?”

“Yes. And we also know about the bartender from Manhattan and the girl from the motel in New Jersey. Oh, and by the way, we also have your friend Aurora Storm in custody.”

When he says that, it just blows me away. I do my best not to show it. “Well then you have to know that Troyer is the one who did all of this, not me. It’s all because of him that I’m
even sitting here in the first place. The guy has gotten me into so much shit in the last couple of weeks you wouldn’t believe it. Just ask Aurora. She’ll back me up.”

“Well, then, why don’t you tell me all about him.”

I eyeball Parker and squint at him. I think he’s playing me and trying to get me to talk without a lawyer. “If I clue you in about Troyer, what’s in it for me?”

“Well, son, you have the right to remain silent, and you are entitled to a lawyer, and anything you say can and will be used against you. But if Troyer is the culprit, then you shouldn’t have anything to worry about.”

“I don’t know, man; this sure doesn’t feel right. I watch
CSI
, and every time they talk, they get screwed royally.”

“Look: Why don’t you start at the beginning and tell us all you know about Troyer? Don’t say anything about yourself, and you should be fine. And you know what, if Troyer is our man and you help us to capture him and put him away, I’m sure I can get the DA to drop our charges against you.”

“You could do that?”

“I could.”

Now, this cop doesn’t seem like any cop I’ve seen on TV, and he really sounds like he can help me. I think for a minute, and then I say, “Okay, if you tell me what kind of evidence you’re talking about, I’ll tell you what I know about Troyer.”

“Sorry, Tom, but it doesn’t work that way. You have to give me something first; then I’ll tell you what I know.”

At this point, I’m really conflicted. I mean, I really want to tell this cop about Troyer, but I ’m afraid that if I do, somehow it’s going to be used against me. After all, that’s how those
CSI
shows always go—and I’m a lot smarter than that. “This shit is way too much for me. I know I’ve done nothing wrong, so I’m just gonna wait until I talk to a lawyer.”

Parker looks back at the two-way mirror, then looks back at me. “You know what, Tom, maybe we can compromise a bit here. I’ll give you some information and then you tell me about Troyer? You can always call a lawyer after that.”

I tilt my head sideways and look into his eyes. They say the eyes tell all, so I figure maybe I can see something that’ll help me make a decision . . . but they don’t. I can’t read anything other than a cold-steel, dark-eyed stare. I swallow hard and nod. “Fair enough, tell me what you’ve got.”

Parker turns and looks at the mirror. Then he stands and begins pacing on the other side of the table. “Okay, Tom, the victim tells us that while she was working at the front desk at the Port Jervis Lodge, you grabbed her from behind and choked her. She blacked out, and when she came to, she found herself inside the trunk of a car. Minutes later, the car stopped and you pulled her from the trunk. She screamed, you dropped her, and she fled. A motorist picked her up by the roadside and upon investigation we discovered a tire iron in the vicinity. We ran it for prints. I’m sure you already know that the prints are yours. We’ve got you dead-on for attempted murder and kidnapping.”

With that, my entire body goes limp, and I just collapse into myself. I can’t look weak or guilty, though, so I think fast and quickly force myself to sit straight up and act like it’s no big
deal. “I can explain that. When I packed the car, back in Cape May, the tire iron was lying in the trunk, so I picked it up and moved it. I’m sure that’s how my prints got on it.”

Parker looks at me crossways and says, “That’s the story you’re sticking with?”

“It’s the truth. Troyer is setting me up.”

“Okay, Tom—fine. So tell me about him. Who is this guy, and why do you think he’s setting you up?”

“That’s not an easy question.”

“Why is that?”

“It’s like this: I met him a couple of months ago when he saved my ass outside this bar in Brooklyn. But with all of the shit that’s come down these last few days, I’m starting to think we must have known each other before. I get this feeling that he’s been planning this for a while and for some strange reason he’s trying to set me up. Otherwise, why he would be doing all this to me?”

“I see what you mean. Go on.”

Parker gives me this sympathetic look, and I proceed to tell him the short version of everything from the night Troyer pulled that MMA shit, to the night he sliced the bartender’s throat, to kidnapping Aurora and then leading me to her and running away when he saw that she had escaped. I don’t say anything about the Indian girl from the motel, even though Parker seems to know all about it.

Parker just keeps writing shit on this pad in front of him while looking up at me every few seconds. Finally, he puts his pen down and pushes the pad away. “Okay, Tom, I get what you’re saying, and I promise we will investigate all this. Meanwhile, we’re still searching Camp
Lakewood. So far, there’s been no sign of Troyer Savage. And, if he was there, as you say, we will eventually find him.”

“I hope so, because he’s the key to all of this. I’m an innocent victim.”

“We’ll see, Tom. But procedure requires me to put you in a lineup. If you’re telling the truth you have nothing to worry about. If not, and if the motel clerk identifies you, charges will be filed. And if we can’t find your friend Troyer, you will probably be extradited to New York City to be charged in connection with the disappearance of the bartender. After that, you will also have to face charges in Seaview.”

“A lineup? For what? I had nothing to do with any of the crimes you’re talking about. Can’t you just tell them what I’ve said and let me go?”

“I’m sorry, but things don’t work that way.”

“Well, I’m not going into any sort of lineup right now. My head feels like it’s been crushed in a vice. I need my migraine pills. I’m really getting nauseous.”

“I can get you some aspirin.”

“No, that won’t help. These are prescription, and the only ones that help.”

“Well, where can I find them?”

“In the glove box of Aurora’s car.”

“Fine, I’ll get someone to check out your story. Meanwhile, you just sit tight.”

Parker gets up and walks out, leaving me all alone again.

CHAPTER 61

Stone and Watts witnessed the entire interrogation from the other side of the two-way mirror, watching as Parker exited and came into the viewing room.

“What do you two make of all that?” Parker asked.

Watts answered first. “Well, Captain it’s quite a story . . . if you believe it.”

“Sounds like you don’t.”

“Actually, I’m leaning against,” Watts said, “but still open to the theory.”

Stone interjected. “I’m not convinced, either. My guess is the two of them are in this together.”

“I’m with you, partner, but if we press him now, he could shut down, and then we may never find out what happened to Jamie Houston. Even worse, the way Sullivan tells the story, a jury may still want answers to the Troyer angle. And you know that a defense attorney will distract them with all of that. Collaring an accomplice is good, but landing the actual assailant is what it’s all about. I think Sullivan can lead us to Savage, but more than anything, we need to find Jamie Houston . . . alive or dead. And Sullivan is the key to that.”

Stone nodded and directed her attention to Parker. “No disrespect intended, Captain, but I have a lot more questions to ask Mr. Sullivan. I think we should let him stew for a while though . . . he seems like the type that will crack if left alone. Then I want to have a go at him.”

“No problem, Detective,” Parker said, “but until you do, what is your position on getting him his medicine?”

Stone’s voice had an edge now. “Use it as leverage, of course. Meanwhile we’ll just wait. The DNA from the blood spatter Morgan collected at the home on Gilgo should be back soon, and if it matches our vic, we’re one step closer to solving this.”

“Perhaps, Detective. In the meantime let’s hope my men track down Savage.”

“I never like to rely on hope,” Stone said, “but it’s better than nothing. Anyway, where are you with the lineup?”

*   *   *

A half hour later, a local drunk, two officers, and Sullivan were paraded into a room separated by a two way mirror.

“Does anyone look familiar, Chrissy?” Parker asked.

Visibly uncomfortable, Chrissy spent a few minutes examining each man, one by one.

After a time, she shook her head and spoke. “I’m sorry, Captain. I just can’t tell. None of these men look familiar. I wish I could help, but I can’t. I never got a good look at him. I just jumped up and ran as soon as I hit the ground. I had no time to look at anything or anyone. I’m so sorry.”

“That’s okay, Chrissy. We understand. We just wanted to make sure.”

“Well, which one of them do you think it is?” Chrissy asked.

“I’m sorry, but we can’t say. It would compromise our investigation.”

CHAPTER 62

Sitting across the table from Aurora Storm, Stone examined the label on the vial she had found in the glove compartment of the Mustang. “Do you know anything about these pills, Ms. Storm?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know, like the label is clearly not from a regular pharmacy, and the date on it is from two days ago? Which means you had to be with him when he filled this.”

“As a matter of fact, I was. So what of it?”

“As I said, the label is not from a pharmacy. It is direct from some laboratory or something, and it says ‘Experimental’ on it. So I was wondering if you could shed some light.”

“Well, Tommy told me that he gets terrible migraine headaches sometimes, and that he’s been taking these pills as part of a study he signed up for a few months ago. He said the pills are the only thing that has ever worked to stop the pain.”

“Is that all?” asked Stone.

“Pretty much.”

“Fine, that will do for now, but I’d like you to remain here while I make some calls. Can you do that for me?”

“To tell you the truth, I have no place else to go. And until you release Tommy, I really don’t want to leave anyway.” Aurora stood up. “Two questions, though.”

“Yes.”

“First, do I really have to stay in this room? Don’t you have some place more comfortable? I feel like a prisoner here. And second, when can I see Tommy? I really want to talk to him.”

Stone turned and looked toward the mirror. “Well, Ms. Storm, I’ll inquire with the Captain about a more comfortable place for you. As to your friend, however, he’s off-limits. You will not be permitted to speak with him. I’m sorry.”

“I don’t understand. Why can’t I talk to him? That makes no sense.”

“Procedure, Ms., and unless you’re his lawyer, that’s all I can say.” Stone rose from her chair and headed out the door. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I will look into your accommodations.”

Stone, Watts, and Parker gathered inside the viewing room.

“I’ll leave her accommodations up to you, Captain,” Stone said, shaking the vial of pills. “But before I agree to give any of these to Sullivan, I’d like to speak with the doctor who prescribed them. Can you set us up with a quiet place to work and make some calls?”

Parker led them to an office, ushered them in, and closed the door behind them.

Once alone, Watts prodded Stone. “Where you going with this, partner?”

“Not sure, but I have a hunch. I need to talk to the doctor, though.”

“What makes you think he’ll talk to you? You know doctors. He’ll claim doctor-patient privilege and clam up . . . especially over the phone. The only chance we have is in person, with a threat that we’ll upset his study if he doesn’t answer our questions.”

Stone had her back to Watts and stared out the window. “We don’t have time to go back and talk to him in person, so I’m hoping we can pressure him by phone.” Stone slid into the desk
chair, opened the vial, and spilled its contents on the desktop. One by one, she counted every pill as she placed it back into the vial.

Drowning in curiosity, Watts plunged into the seat opposite the desk. “What are you doing?”

“No time to explain,” Stone answered, reaching for the phone. “You’ll understand in a minute.”

The phone rang at the Center for Migraine Pain Management. Stone exchanged pleasantries with the receptionist and eventually made contact with Dr. Baruch Diamond.

The phone was on speaker. “Dr. Diamond, this is Detective Theresa Stone. I’m with the Third Precinct in Manhattan, and I have a delicate situation that I need to speak with you about.”

The doctor put down the chart he was reading and refocused. “Excuse me—did you say you are a detective?”

“Yes, Doctor, I did. And as I said, I’m with the Third Precinct in Manhattan.”

Dr. Diamond was a professional with thirty years of experience and countless degrees to his credit. “Well, how do I know that you are who you say you are?”

“Fair question. You can certainly call the Third and inquire, but before you do, give me a minute of your time and perhaps that won’t be necessary.”