The Blade Itself (28 page)

‘Oh God, he’s gonna see us,’ Debbie squeaked. ‘We’ve got to go.’ She reached for his arm, shook it. ‘Come on.’

He didn’t let the cable inside him snap. Just slip a couple of notches. An open-handed smack sent her tumbling toward the dash. He moved fast enough she didn’t even gasp. Just came back up with both hands at her cheek and the look of a scared little girl.

‘Be quiet,’ he said, locking the car doors with a flick of the switch and then turning back to the construction site. The door was open, and he could see Danny standing in the frame. The cops were both turned toward him now, their hands resting on their guns, neither drawn. Evan wished he could hear what was being said.

And then Danny raised his hands, turned around, and laced them behind his head. The white detective took the cuffs from his belt and locked Danny’s hands behind his back.

Danny hadn’t gone to the police at all. Somehow, they’d come after him.

Debbie had started whimpering, but kept it quiet enough that he ignored her.

The detective guided Danny into the back of the car, then closed the door and stood talking to the other cop. He gestured to the trailer, and the black one shook his head. Evan’s eyes narrowed. There might be enough inside to piece together what had happened. He hadn’t counted on
cops, and his heart raced as one of them climbed the cinder-block steps. But the guy only shut the door, then got into Danny’s truck and followed the blue Ford out. Maybe they didn’t have a warrant. Both cars stopped just outside the gate, and the white cop got out to close it.

Would you fucking look at that. Sean Nolan, from the parish. Small fucking world.

Nolan latched the chain, then took a long look up and down the street. There was no way they could be seen, not with the tinted windows and glaring morning sun, but Evan thought the detective’s eyes paused on the Camaro. He moved a hand to the ignition, ready to roll, but Nolan got back in his car. They pulled out, turned right, then left, and were gone.

What the fuck had just happened?

Evan twisted around to face the windshield, ignoring Debbie’s accusing stare as she wriggled as far against the door as she could. Somehow the police had found Danny. It couldn’t be an accident. He must have given himself away somehow.

Danny could’ve told him three reasons it had happened, probably have had them alphabetically. But at the end of the day, who cared why? The fact was that Danny was on his way to the police station, and when they got there, the police were going to start leaning on him. Hard.

Which made it cover-your-ass time.

The cops couldn’t have known about the kidnapping. He’d seen street fights where sixteen squad cars rolled up in minutes. No way they’d send just two detectives for this. So it all came down to what Danny did next. What he told them.

And that made his next move clear. He smiled, popped his head from side to side, and started the car. ‘Buckle up, honey pie.’

‘Where are you taking me?’ Her voice was cold, and the contempt in it amused him.

He turned to her. A bright red mark burned on her cheek. He smiled. ‘We’re going to get ourselves a little insurance.’

Square and six feet on a side, the holding cell looked like a janitor’s closet. The smell of industrial cleansers couldn’t quite overwhelm a lingering odor of diarrhea, the product of years of junkies. The walls were concrete, chipped and worn, with rebar showing through in spots. Graffiti was scratched into every surface – the walls, the floor, the heavy wooden bench, the rail where they cuffed down violent suspects. On TV, people were usually put in lockup with other prisoners, but that was nonsense. After all, he wasn’t being charged with anything yet. They’d been careful to make that clear.

‘What’s this about?’ Danny had asked Nolan in the car, wondering how much they knew.

The detective’s eyes had flicked up to the rearview mirror. ‘You’re a hard man to get hold of.’

‘I’ve been busy.’

‘So Karen told me. To track you down, we’ve had to visit all the construction sites your company is working on. Lucky we bumped into you, huh?’ The detective winked at him. ‘But you know, you really should return phone calls from the police. You know who doesn’t?’

Danny had stared back, seeing the line coming.

‘People with something to hide. You got something to hide, Danny?’

He’d shaken his head and looked out the window, telling himself to take advantage of this time, to use it to plan his next move. He was smart, he’d think of something.

But that had been four, maybe five precious hours ago.
In that time they’d driven him to the Area One station on Fifty-first, processed him, taken his watch, wallet, keys, and shoelaces. They’d put him in an elevator, taken it up one flight, and steered him through surprisingly corporate-looking halls to this holding cell. Unlocked the solid wood door, removed the cuffs, told him to take it easy, and then left him to pace tiny circles and think.

And despite all that time, he hadn’t come up with a plan worth a goddam.

Okay. Methodical. What do you know?

It was a short list. He knew that the exchange would happen sometime today. He knew that the police could hold him for something like forty-eight hours without charging him. Which meant he knew time was not his friend.

The list of things he didn’t know was more daunting. He had no idea where Evan had stashed the boy. No idea what his time line was. No idea where he would set the meet – though now it surely wouldn’t be Union Station. He didn’t even know where Evan lived, or what his phone number was.

Somehow everything had ended up backward and upside down. Evan was free and holding all the cards, while Danny was in jail and helpless. Frustration rattled through him, and he dropped on the bench, head in hands. How had this all happened? Just a few weeks ago he’d been lying on a different bench with his head in Karen’s lap. That day at the zoo, a million years ago, sunlight filtering through the trees. They had talked about having children, and he’d let himself wonder if such a thing was possible.

It seemed absurd that his entire life could be ripped away so quickly.

The bare wooden bench felt oddly comfortable, and he had the urge to lie down and close his eyes. Give it all up. Quit this unwinnable fight. What would be the harm at this
point? Evan would go through with the exchange and vanish, and that would be that.

After all of this, you’re going to lie to yourself? You know that if you don’t stop this, Tommy and Richard are dead
.

He shot upright. Was that true?

He thought of Patrick on a lonely morgue slab. Imagined the poor citizen in the parking lot, murdered for bad timing.

Evan had killed twice in the month he’d been out of prison. Why stop now, especially when with a few more squeezes of the trigger he could assure that no one came after him?

Bile burned his throat. Danny got to his feet, walked to the door, raised one fist, planning to bang on it and demand his release. Caught himself. If he played this wrong, he’d spend the next two days sitting here, while Evan finished the job and disposed of the evidence. It wouldn’t matter if the cops found out about the kidnapping – he’d have the blood of two more innocents on his hands regardless.

He had to be careful. If Nolan had anything on him, he’d trot it out soon enough. Otherwise, this was a fishing expedition. If that was the case, he might be able to talk his way out of here in time to prevent more violence.

He turned and began pacing again, counting his steps and trying to focus.

Thirty minutes passed before he felt a tingling on the back of his neck, a subconscious warning. He scanned the room, the walls, the door. There. The peephole was dark. Someone was looking in at him. He turned, his hands at his sides.

‘I’d like to make a phone call, please.’ He used his citizen voice.

There was a moment of silence, and then the scrape of a bolt being drawn, and the door opened. Nolan stepped into
the door frame, his posture calm. The other detective stood beside him. He’d taken off his fedora.

‘Calling your lawyer?’

‘Calling my girlfriend.’ He smiled, shrugged. ‘Karen was expecting me home. Don’t want her to worry.’

Nolan smiled, playing the game. ‘Sure. Detective Matthews, would you take Mr Carter to make his phone call?’

Matthews nodded, and put one hand on Danny’s arm, his grip firm but civil.

‘And when he’s done, could you bring him into Interview One?’ Nolan made it sound like he was asking Danny in for coffee.

The detective guided him out of the bank of holding cells and down the hall, keeping the grip on his arm. For a moment, Danny imagined throwing him off, making a break for it, but rejected the idea immediately. That was panic, and that he couldn’t afford.

Matthews sat him down at an officer’s desk, a black fabric half-cubicle. He cuffed Danny to the chair, gestured to the phone, and stepped across the aisle to chat with a guy in a suit.

He dialed carefully, trying to collect his thoughts. One call to Karen to let her know what had happened. The phone rang. Then he had to convince Nolan that he didn’t know anything useful, and do it fast. The phone rang. If they didn’t have anything on the kidnapping, it would just be about Patrick. The phone rang.

Where was Karen? She had said she’d wait by the telephone.

The machine clicked on, his own voice playing back at him. He felt his pulse quicken. Had she panicked? That wasn’t her style, but he was supposed to have called hours ago. She might have come looking for him, wanting to help.

The machine beeped, and he spoke loudly. ‘Karen? Karen, pick up.’ There was a crackle and a click as the machine cut off. ‘Thank God. Karen, listen –’

‘Partner.’

Evan.

Danny’s stomach fell, and he gripped the phone with white knuckles.

‘I’m sorry,’ Evan continued, ‘Karen can’t come to the phone. She’s tied up, if you know what I mean.’

Danny’s heart beat against his chest like a wild animal trying to free itself from a snare. ‘I’m warning you –’

‘Shut up, you arrogant prick.’ The playful tone dropped from his voice. ‘She’s okay. But you just be very careful what you say to our friends, huh?’

It all fell together. Somehow Evan must have known that he’d been brought in for questioning. This was his way of making sure Danny didn’t bring down the police. He forced himself to breathe. ‘I understand.’

‘Good boy. Gotta go.’

And then the phone went dead.

Oh God
. The unthinkable had somehow gotten worse. He didn’t buy Evan’s deal for a second. There was no way he’d let Karen go, not now. He’d almost certainly kill Tommy and Richard, and they were far less dangerous to him. If Danny couldn’t stop him, Evan would leave three bodies in his wake.

One of them hers.

Detective Matthews stepped over and looked at Danny inquisitively. ‘Bad news?’

For a moment, Danny thought of confessing everything, telling him the whole story and enlisting the cops’ aid. But then he remembered the easy speed with which Evan had put his pistol against Tommy’s forehead. The risk was too great. The police would only make things worse.

He was the only hope Karen and the others had.

Danny looked up, let his breath out. Made himself smile. ‘Nah. You know women.’ He hung up the phone, hoping the detective didn’t notice his finger shaking. ‘You guys ready for me?’

The two-way glass between them dimmed Danny’s features, but even so, he looked pretty calm to Nolan. Danny sat at the table, cuffs off, glancing around the room with just the right blend of interest and discomfort. Acting the citizen.

‘How do you want to do this?’ Matthews asked.

‘I’ll start alone.’ Nolan straightened his tie, fingers feeling as clumsy as usual. Every morning Mary-Louise tied him a perfect half-Windsor – it was part of her morning ritual, a domestic incantation to bring him home safe – but by day’s end, the knot had usually degenerated into a lumpy half-hitch.

‘You know, the dude seems awfully cool. You sure he’s dirty?’ Matthews asked.

Nolan smiled. ‘Your experience, how’s somebody done nothing wrong react when you put the cuffs on?’

‘They start telling me I don’t need them.’

‘Exactly.’ Nolan made a final tug at his tie. ‘Danny, he just turned around and stuck out his wrists.’ He shot his cuffs, stepped out of the observation room, and opened the door to the interview room.

Danny glanced up at him with a bland smile, but Nolan kept his own expression neutral as he took measured steps to the table. He stood for a moment sizing Danny up, letting the silence draw out a few seconds longer than was comfortable. Finally he pulled out a chair.

‘So,’ he said, ‘I’m obligated to remind you that you can have counsel here if you like.’

‘Do I need it?’

Nolan shrugged. ‘I just want to ask you a few questions.’

‘This is about Patrick?’ Danny’s voice caught slightly, and the sadness that flickered across his face seemed real enough.

‘Mostly.’

‘I can’t believe what happened. We’re still shocked. If there’s anything I can do to help, I’d be glad to.’

The mask was back up, Nolan noticed. ‘Let’s start with you telling me how you knew him.’

‘We grew up together.’ Danny continued, talking about Bridgeport and Back of the Yards, their mutual old neighborhood. How they’d been friends in grade school, and how when Patrick’s parents died, he’d come to live with Danny. A very Irish, very old-school story, and one Nolan mostly already knew.

Still, Nolan let him talk, prompting here and there with questions to keep it flowing. Timing was crucial. He spent more than an hour establishing the basics, just letting Danny get used to talking. He asked about their friendship, about Danny’s past. Every time he spoke about Patrick’s death, he saw that same flash of sadness. Once, Nolan had thought that Danny might have had to dig deep to come up with someone still in the life, someone he could pay to get rid of Evan. But that obviously hadn’t been the case.

‘You guys have been friends all along, right? So you knew what he did.’ Nolan made it a statement, holding his gaze on Danny’s.