She's Not Coming Home (22 page)

Chapter Forty-Five

At 8:50 the
next morning, Lieutenant Weber’s silver Audi pulled up at one of the security booths guarding 1 Police Plaza. Matt was in the passenger seat. A uniformed officer stepped out of the booth and leaned over the car. Weber already had his badge and identification ready; he held it up to the officer who took it, studied it carefully, returned it, then stepped back into the booth to raise the barrier. Weber gave the officer a brief wave, then took the Audi over to a large parking lot adjacent to the main building.

‘You been here before?’ he asked Matt, as he looked around for a space.

Matt looked around out of his window, at the imposing brutalist structure, at the grounds and parking lots, and the  large numbers of uniformed officers milling around. ‘No. Seen it on TV, though.’

‘Haven’t we all,’ Weber muttered as he reversed into a space. He activated the parking brake, and switched off the engine. ‘Come on,’ he said as he climbed out of the car.

They walked out of the parking lot and along a road way towards the Plaza building. As they neared it, Matt looked up at the building, squinting in the morning sunlight.

‘Thirteen,’ said Weber.

‘Excuse me?’

‘You were trying to count how many floors.’

‘I wasn’t, but thanks. Thirteen.’

‘Thirteen above ground.’

‘Right. How many below ground?’

‘If I told you I’d have to kill you.’

Matt nodded. ‘Best not tell me then.’

They walked in the main doors. Once they had passed through the metal detectors and X-Ray machines, Weber led Matt to a large reception area. Not dissimilar to Matt’s office, there was a long counter behind which five uniformed officers were standing. One was unoccupied and was checking a computer screen; the other four were all individually engaged in conversation with other officers.

Weber stopped and turned to Matt. ‘Give me your cell phone,’ he said, holding out his hand.

Matt obliged. ‘What now?’ he asked.

‘Up on the eighth,’ replied Weber, ‘is what the boys here call the Real Time Crime Center. It’s one huge mother of a computer network which the NYPD use to assist officers in the field. I can get them, hopefully to triangulate – I think that’s the word – where your wife’s text message came from. No civilians allowed up there, I’m afraid; why don’t you wait over there?’ He pointed over to a waiting area with low soft chairs, a coffee machine and a table. On the wall was a sign stating that the restrooms were around the corner.

‘Okay,’ said Matt as he wandered off to wait.

‘I’ll meet you over there,’ said Weber. ‘Not sure how long I’ll be, though. Could be a long wait.’ He then walked over to the bank of six elevators.

Matt watched him step into one of the elevators and disappear from view as the doors slid shut. He sighed and slumped onto one of the chairs. He looked around. It was a busy place: figures in and out of uniform milling around. Two men, both wearing check shirts and jeans were sitting across the other side studying a map. One of them met Matt’s gaze and stopped talking. Matt quickly looked away; maybe they were planning an operation.

He checked his watch. It was now nine thirty. He stood up and walked over to the coffee machine. 75c for a cup. He fed in three quarters and got a plastic cup filled with a watery brown liquid. He tasted it and pulled a face. Should have pressed the button for extra sugar. He wandered back to his seat, picking up a copy of the
New
York Times
which was lying on the table. He sat down and opened it: it was last Friday’s copy. He leaned back and tried to figure out what day it was. Yes, it was Sunday. He was surprised the Plaza was this busy this time on a Sunday.

*****

The night before, after they had finished their meal, Matt and Weber stepped out into the street. The air was bitterly cold. Matt shivered and pulled his coat collar up.

‘You be able to make your own way back to your hotel? Weber asked.

‘Surely. Where are you staying?’

‘My sister-in-law’s place up in Harlem. Off 112
th
.  We’ll go down to Police Plaza in the morning. Should be quiet first thing. Especially on a Sunday.’

‘Shall I meet you there?’

Weber shook his head. ‘No point. You’d never get past the checkpoints. I have to come down past anyway, so be at Fifth and 57
th
eight thirty, okay?’

‘Where’s your car?’ Matt asked.

‘The same garage as yours,’ replied Weber.  As they got to Matt’s hotel, Weber began to cross the street to the garage entrance. ‘Don’t be late,’ he called out, weaving his way through a cluster of yellow cabs. Matt waved and stepped into the lobby.

Back in his room, he creased his nose up at the sight of the cold and now dried up burger and fries. He pushed it to one side and checked out the cheesecake. It still looked edible, though the beer was flat. He sat on the bed, ate the dessert, then made himself a cup of hot tea before leaving the tray outside his room and taking a bath.

After his bath, he laid down on the bed. Lying on the bed dressed only in a bath towel, he felt nervous. After all this time, there was a pretty good chance that tomorrow he was going to find out where Ruth was. And maybe get some answers.

*****

After reading Friday’s
New York Times
for the second time, Matt bought himself another plastic cup of plastic coffee. He noticed this time, however, he had the option of pressing a button for
Extra Strong
as well as
Sugar
. He pressed both, and this time the coffee was more palatable. He sat down again, peering over to the coffee table to see if there was anything else to read. Just as he had picked up a copy of
Time
magazine, he heard Weber’s voice. He looked up.

‘Here, catch this.’ Weber tossed Matt’s phone back.

Matt caught it and put it back in his pocket. ‘Any luck?’

‘Come on,’ said Weber, heading off to the doors. ‘We have our location.’

‘We have?’ Matt asked, as he scurried after the Lieutenant.

‘Midtown,’ Weber called back over his shoulder. ‘East 57
th
.’

Chapter Forty-Six

‘
How could you
tell that?’ Matt asked as Weber took the Audi out of the parking lot and back out onto Pearl Street.

‘To be honest, I don’t know exactly,’ replied Weber. ‘I gave two of the guys up there your phone, told them which message it was, and left them to it. I think they link up with your service provider’s network. I saw hundreds of damned figures and letters on one of their screens, and then it showed a map of Midtown Manhattan.’

‘Right. I see. Impressive.’

‘Ain’t it just? I’ve no idea how it works; one of the guys working on it referred to it as GIS – or Geographical Information System – as he called it once. They use it to track down suspects; you know, the places where they are most likely to flee to.’

‘Is that how you tracked me down last night?’ asked Matt.

‘Hell, no. I did that the old-fashioned way. Staked out where you were and followed you everywhere.’

‘You didn’t use GPS, then?’

‘What? Listen, you’ve been watching way too much TV. What am I going to go? Slip by one evening and shove a transponder up your tailpipe? No, the City of Boston’s budget doesn’t stretch to that kind of expenditure. In any case, I’m on sick leave, aren’t I?’

‘So where exactly are we headed?’ Matt asked looking out at the buildings and streets they passed. The Sunday Manhattan traffic was building up. The sky was an iron grey.

‘They pinpointed the location as a building on Sutton Place. On Sutton and East 57
th
. Just by the East River.’

‘East 57
th
? But that’s just -’

‘Up the road from where you’re staying? Ironic, isn’t it?’

‘What do we do when we get there?’ asked Matt.

‘We do nothing. We just sit there and assess the situation. Or should I say
I
will assess the situation. If and when I think the time’s right, I’ll call for back up.’

‘We can’t just sit there!’

‘Oh yes we can. For the moment. We need to get it right. We can’t just go storming in there, on our own.’

‘But there are two of us -’

‘You are a civilian. You stay put, or I’ll cuff you to the wheel here. When it’s time to make a move, I’ll put in a call. There’s a big operation going down near Wall Street this morning – and I haven’t told you that – so manpower is in short supply right now. Another reason to sit and wait.’

Matt made a tutting noise and looked out of his window.

‘Look,’ said Weber as he swung the Audi onto First Avenue. ‘Think about it. If Nathan’s been taken, he’s most likely with his mother. So is he likely to come to any harm with her?’

‘No,’ said Matt, not entirely convinced. ‘I guess not.’

‘And don’t forget: this location is where the message was sent from. There’s no guarantees she’s there now. She could have been walking past when she sent it.’

Matt said nothing; just nodded.

Weber took them further up First Avenue: past Bellevue Hospital, past 42
nd
Street and past the United Nations building.  Made a right when he reached 54
th
; one block later they were in Sutton Place South. Weber pulled up outside an apartment bock.

‘Is this it?’ Matt asked.

Weber nodded across the street. ‘It’s that building over there,’ he said. ‘For now, we can get a clear view of the entrance. Tell me if you recognise anyone going in or out.’

Matt looked around the street. ‘Quiet, isn’t it?’

‘That building over there,’ said Weber pointing to the next block, ‘was where they shot part of that movie
How to Marry a Millionaire
. You ever seen it?’

‘Can’t say I have.’

‘That was where Marilyn Monroe’s character lived.’

‘And how do you know that? You a fan or something?’

‘Not specially. Just know. Might have had to come up here when I was on the streets.’

There was a pause in conversation. They both watched a smartly dressed man lead an equally smartly dressed boy down the street. Both were dressed in dark suits, white shirts, shiny black shoes and bright orange ties.

‘All dressed up,’ Matt remarked.

‘Probably off to church.’

‘Oh, yes. Of course.’

Another pause.

‘You’re pretty close to your boy, aren’t you?’ Weber asked.

Matt looked over at the Lieutenant, puzzled. ‘Isn’t every father?’

‘No. What about your own old man? You get on with him okay?’

‘Yeah, I guess so. He’s not very demonstrative, if that’s what you’re getting at. But yeah, we get on.’

‘Always have?’

‘Yeah. Why? Where are going with this?’

‘Nowhere in particular. Just curious. On account of seeing that guy and his boy, I guess. Fathers and sons should always get on.’

Matt wriggled round in his seat. ‘What about you? You got any kids?’

‘Two. One of each. The boy – Sam Junior – is twenty now. His sister – Shanice -’

‘An unusual name. Nice, though.’

‘Thanks. It’s an old African American name. She’s eighteen now.’

‘They live with you?’

Weber shook his head. ‘They live with the first Mrs Weber in DC.’

‘Right. I’m sorry. How often do you see them?’

‘Two or three times a year. Maybe.’

‘What about your father?’

‘He died years ago. My mother passed away two years later.’

‘Sorry to hear that. You got on?’

‘Not really. Not sure if anybody did. He was an elder or something in the local church. Always quoting from the Bible at us. Keen on retribution and punishment.’

‘He was a disciplinarian?’

‘He was strict to the point of being cruel.’

‘Shit. I’m sorry.’

Weber shook his head. ‘Too long ago to be sorry.’

There was another pause.

‘He used to beat me and my brother at the slightest opportunity. With his belt,with a paddle, with his fist.’

‘Jesus.’

‘I must have been six or seven when it started. Then when I was thirteen – maybe fourteen – and by that time taller than him, I hit him back.’

‘Good on you.’

‘I’d just had enough. I turned round, said “never touch me again”, and hit him in the jaw.  Clean knocked him across the room. It must have hurt him. My knuckles were sore and drew blood.’

‘Jesus,’ Matt said again. ‘What happened then?’

‘He stood up, wiped his mouth, and walked out the house. Was out for hours. He died a couple of years later, and hardly spoke to me after that night. I sat on the porch for a long time also.’

‘How did you feel?’

‘Mixed feelings, I guess. Hitting him, I never felt better.’

‘It had to be done.’

‘I know, but at the same time, I never felt worse.  It was something I never should have done.’

‘You were forced into it, though.’

‘I know. But you want to know something: like I said, for the rest of his life, he hardly spoke to me. But the bastard never laid a finger on me again. Or my brother. Or my mother, for all I knew.’

Matt nodded silently, nodding.

‘So,’ said Weber. ‘That’s why I think fathers and sons should get on.’ He could see Matt starting to well up. ‘Don’t worry, Matt. We’ll get your son back.’

‘I need the bathroom,’ Matt said, looking around.

‘There’s a Walgreens over there on the next block. See? There’ll be a restroom there. I ain’t going anywhere.’

Matt crossed over the street and into the store. He located the restroom, and bought a couple of candy bars for himself and the Lieutenant. As he crossed over the road on the way back to the Audi, he heard a voice cry out.

‘Daddy!’

He spun round and saw on the corner of 58
th
, Gail carrying Nathan. Nathan was waving at him. Matt froze in the middle of the street and called out, ‘Nathan!’

Gail also froze momentarily, then, still carrying the boy, began to run back up 58
th
Street. Dropping the candy bars on the pavement, Matt ran after them.

‘Matt, wait!’ Weber called out as he leapt out of the car. ‘Wait!’

Half way up the street, Gail turned and entered a building by a side door. By that time, Matt was only twelve or fifteen feet behind. Weber was half a block back, still calling out for Matt to wait.

Gail had almost closed the door when Matt reached it; the opening was only six inches wide. He could see the expression on her face: anger and exertion as she tried to push the door with one hand. Matt leapt at the door, pushing it open.

‘Daddy,’ Nathan called again. Matt was inside the building. He could still hear Weber’s voice from outside. Then he felt in intense pain at the back of his head. He reached up to feel it, but by that time he was crashing to the ground.