TPG (15 page)

“The way I look at
it,” O’Brien said, the reddish tint of his cheeks growing even deeper, “either
we get out on legal grounds, or we don’t. If we don’t, that two million is gone
through defense costs and whatever we have to pay out to the family. I’m not an
idiot. I recognize that. I saw the photos of those kids. I know what a jury
might do if it gets that far. They might be blinded by the kids. But they also
might think Trotter was a cheating piece of shit who got what he deserved.”
O’Brien shrugged. “You never know with juries. So, yeah, in my mind, we might
be out, or maybe we’re in for the whole thing. Who really knows? But what I do
know is exactly what Ricker’s doing. I think we all know what he’s doing. He’s
demanding excess of the policy to scare us with a bad faith claim.”

Paula had already
explained to Kyle that a bad faith claim would be a claim by Kyle against his
insurance carrier if a jury rendered a verdict above his policy limits and
there’d been a chance to settle the case within his limits beforehand. If that
happened, the insurance company could be on the hook for the excess. But to get
there, the settlement demand would need to drop below two million.

“So,” O’Brien
said, “the question he’s really posing is, do I want to gamble?”

“And the answer?”
Seybert asked.

O’Brien stared
back at him with a steely gaze and said, “Does he?” He let the question linger.
“Tell him we’ll offer ten thousand.”

Seybert’s eyes
dropped and he ran his hand through his hair. “If I may make a comment,” the
pained mediator said. “I’m pretty sure a response like that will result in the
same reaction as Paula’s. They’ll want to walk out. You probably want to go at
least six figures.”

O’Brien just
stared at him. “I have confidence in the legal defenses our counsel says we
have,” O’Brien said. “Tell him ten thousand, and if he walks out then that’s
fine, we’ll both just roll the dice.”

And that was how
it went for the rest of the day. Hours of waiting, heavy posturing, and paltry
incremental changes in the offers going back and forth. By the end of the day
the parties hadn’t seen each other again, and the positions hadn’t changed
much. Ricker’s side came down from their initial demand, but not by much. The
gap was still tremendous, and well above two million. A little before five
o’clock they decided to call it a day and reconvene the following week.

Kyle said his
goodbyes to Paula and O’Brien when they exited the building and thanked them
for their efforts, then walked toward the subway as they stayed behind to talk
some more. He turned on his phone, which he’d kept off during the mediation.

There were a few
texts from Liam. The first one said, “Have you heard?” The next few said to
call him “ASAP”. The last one read “HELLLOOOO?”

He dialed the
man’s number, not bothering to listen to his voice mail messages.

“Why haven’t you
called back?” Liam asked as soon as he answered.

“I was at the
mediation,” Kyle explained.

“I know,” Liam
said, “but you still could have responded.”

“I turned my phone
off.”

“You turned your
phone off the
entire
time?”

“Yes.”

“So you haven’t
been on the Internet either?”

“No.”

“Did you watch any
television at all?”

“No,” Kyle
answered, his nerves beginning to prickle. “Why?”

“It happened
again.”

Kyle stopped in
his tracks. “When?”

“Early this
morning in Union Square.”

“Who?”

“A girl,” Liam
answered. “Only seventeen.”

The blood in
Kyle’s face drained. “Was it a hemorrhage?” he asked, even though he was
certain he knew the answer.

“They say that
they’re not sure about the cause of death yet, but they’re reporting it
might’ve been an overdose.”

But it wasn’t.
They both knew that.

It was a
hemorrhage, and it was right before another Hillier start.

Just like the
others.

CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE

Kyle called Eddie after hanging up
with Liam.

“What do you
think?” Kyle asked as he walked toward Broadway.

“Someone’s timing
it,” Eddie said. “It’s too much of a coincidence.”

“But it can’t be
Hillier, right?” Kyle said. “You guys watched him the entire night after I
left.”

“Yeah, not
possible,” Eddie agreed. “And even if we hadn’t, the girl died while we were
all on the ferry. So it has to be someone else. Even Liam knows that now.”

Kyle could hear
the concern in Eddie’s voice, letting him know that Eddie was coming around to
the same reality confronting Kyle; these people weren’t dying of natural
causes, they were being killed.

But by who and
how, and even why, still remained anyone’s guess.

“Liam told me more
about the healing part the other night,” Eddie said. “He said this energy stuff
has been known to heal the sick. Not just give them more focus, but actually
heal them physically.”

“Certain holistic
treatments use it, sure. But I’m not sure how effective it is.”

“That’s what I
thought. But then he told me about this John of God guy down in Brazil. You
ever hear of him? He’s the one who’s been curing cancer by shoving energy rods
up people’s noses.”

“I saw a special
on Oprah about him a few years ago.”

There was a pause.
“Oprah, Ky?” Eddie sighed. “Really? Fucking Oprah?”

“Can we just stay
on topic, please?”

“Jesus, even for
you that’s petty fucking gay,” Eddie said. “But anyway, yeah, Oprah did a big
piece on him a few years ago. So Liam was telling me about him when were
waiting for Hillier outside his building, and he tells me about the miracle
cures this guy pulls off and how nobody’s been able to say it’s bullshit. He
says it’s energy that’s doing it. The guy’s an energy healer. And the shit I
read on Google says he’s right.”

“So?”

“So maybe
whoever’s doing this is an energy healer too, just like Liam thinks.”

“I guess. If you
buy into the fact someone’s actually
siphoning
energy. But regardless of how they’re doing it, I think the more important
question is
who’s
doing it, and why
are they timing it to the day Hillier pitches?”

“Maybe whoever it
is needs the extra energy to heal someone pretty sick.”

Kyle paused,
surprised at how serious Eddie was taking Liam’s theories rather than just
brushing them off as he had before. “Possible,” Kyle said. “But even so, why
time them to Hillier’s starts?”

“No idea.”

“And what has you
all of a sudden becoming an expert on this? I thought you said Liam was crazy.”

“He
is
crazy. He’s a fucking whacko,” Eddie
said. “But the evidence is what it is, right?”

“So then you agree
that I should talk to the police again?”

“Not necessarily.”

“And why’s that?”

“What are you
going to tell them that they don’t already know? You told them about the
pattern, right? And they obviously know about the girl who died this morning.
So what else is there for you to tell them?”

Kyle drew a deep
breath. “There’s more.”

“More?”

“The night I found
Allie passed out, she wasn’t alone. There was a man there.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know. He
took off as soon as I got there.”

“So you think the
guy you saw is the one doing this?”

“If there is a
one, then it’s probably him, right?”

“Why didn’t you
say anything to them before?”

“Because I didn’t
want them to know I was there. I didn’t want it to get back to the school that
I was trying to have sex with one of my students.”

“And you were
right,” Eddie said. “You shouldn’t let them know that. It’s none of their
fucking business.”

“Not to mention
it’ll get me fired.”

“Fired? I thought
that stuff went on all the time.”

“It’s in the code
of ethics, you can’t do it.”

“You do realize
you might be the only person who’s actually read that thing, right?” Eddie
said. “But it doesn’t matter. You’re right not to tell them. No need to cause
yourself anymore trouble.”

“But now I have no
choice.”

“And why’s that?
What exactly did you see? Did you see the guy’s face?”

“No,” Kyle said.
“It was too dark.”

“So what good will
it be if you tell them? You don’t even have a description of the guy. Why screw
yourself over like that?”

“Because just the
fact that there was
a guy is
something they should know. I can’t worry about getting fired anymore. This is
too big. Besides, I think Liam might already know what I was doing with Allie.”

“Why?”

“He has some
computer guys trying to find Allie’s deleted texts and he said they’ve already
found some with my number. I’m assuming they’re the ones I deleted. And if they
aren’t, I’m sure they’ll get to them.”

“Really? You think
he knows you were trying to bang his niece? He sure as hell hasn’t been acting
like it. In fact, it seems like he wants to be your damn BFF.”

“Maybe he hasn’t
read them yet. Or maybe they’re different texts. But it’ll only be a matter of
time before they get to them.”

“Or maybe he has
and he understands.”

“Understands? It
was his niece.”

“Right, so more
than anyone he should realize how hot she is.”

Kyle shook his
head. “Doesn’t matter. I’m going to talk to them.”

“Brilliant
decision, Ky. Absolutely brilliant. Just like your brilliant idea to rat
yourself out to the Board about Trotter.”

“Better than
living with a guilty conscience.”

“Is it?” Eddie
asked. “Tell me, how much did they hit you up for in the mediation today?”

“They said they
want a million dollars.”

“Shit.” Eddie’s
tone dropped. “Is your insurance company going to pay it?”

“That’s the amount
they want from me personally. They want another two million from my insurance
company.”

“Are you fucking
kidding me,” Eddie said, the pitch in his voice hitting an octave higher.
“Jesus, Ky. What did your lawyer say?”

Kyle eyeballed the
subway station and said, “She said we have strong legal arguments, but there’s
always the danger of it getting before a jury. We have another session
scheduled, so we’ll see what happens then.”

“And so now you
want to go fuck yourself over again?”

“I don’t know,”
Kyle said as he approached the stairs leading down to the subway. “I’ll think
about it and give you a call later.” But he knew that was a lie. He already
knew exactly what he was going to do; he was calling the police. The stakes
were too high. People—innocent young men and women—were dying.

He had to let the
police know.

Not doing so
wasn’t an option any longer.

CHAPTER THIRTY

The next morning Kyle headed
straight for Slattery’s precinct. Eddie had called again trying to convince him
not to do it, but Kyle wouldn’t budge.

He had to tell
them.

He waited in the
lobby for about fifteen minutes before a muscular man in his early forties,
square jaw framed by a dark, closely kept goatee with more than a few specks of
gray, came out to meet him. The man had rigid brown eyes behind thin black
metal-framed glasses, with a full thick head of choppy hair petrified by a
healthy dose of mousse.

“Kyle Vine?” the
man asked in a thick Long Island accent while eyeballing Kyle, who was sitting
in an uncomfortable blue plastic chair that had probably been a fixture at the
precinct since the days of Barney Miller.

“Yes,” Kyle said.
“Detective Slattery?”

The man nodded and
motioned for Kyle to follow him into the back. Kyle obliged, following Slattery
as they snaked around a few desks until stopping at an empty one where they
both took a seat.

“There was another
death the night before a Hillier start,” Kyle said.

“Yeah,” Slattery
said, lowering his glasses to stare at Kyle, “I know. Homicide detectives tend
to get that information funneled to them.”

“But did you
realize it happened again the night before Hillier pitched?”

“I did.”

“And?”

“And I saw that he
gave up three runs in the fifth,” Slattery smiled. “Not exactly a stellar
start.”

Slattery was
right, and Kyle didn’t know what to make of the performance, didn’t know if
there was any correlation between Hillier’s so-so outing and their confronting
him on the ferry.

“We’re also not
certain of the cause of death just yet.”

“You know what
you’ll find though,” Kyle said, leaning forward. “But to be honest, the cause
doesn’t even matter anymore. The point is someone was murdered the night before
a Hillier start. So the cause isn’t the issue, the pattern is. Something’s
going on.”

“I agree that it’s
odd,” Slattery said. “Very odd.”

Kyle paused and
drew in a deep breath. He knew what he had to say, and he couldn’t chicken out
this time. He had to throw it out there. So he did.

“There’s more.”

“And what’s that?”

“I saw Allie
Shelton the night she had her stroke. I saw her right after it happened.”

Slattery shrugged.
“So?”

“She collapsed in
an alley,” Kyle continued. “And when I got there, I saw someone in the alley
with her. A man. He ran when I got there.”

Slattery leaned
back and opened a manila folder. Inside were a few loose pieces of yellow pages
from a legal pad with some scribbled notes. He glanced at them and said, “Says
here she’s twenty and that the EMTs responded at about one thirty in the
morning.” He looked up. “Why were you there?”

“Is that
relevant?”

“Might be,”
Slattery said, his eyes more focused, showing an interest that hadn’t been
there before, “if you’re telling me she was attacked.”

“Look,” Kyle said.
“My point is that there was a man there.”

“I heard you,”
Slattery said. “And now I’m asking you, why were
you
there?”

“Don’t you want to
know about the man? Don’t you want to know why
he
was there and who he was?”

“Let me guess,” Slattery
said, easing back, “you’re going to tell me it was Evan Hillier, right?”

“I didn’t say I
knew who he was. I have no idea who it was. I didn’t see his face. But it
could’ve been Hillier, I guess. Although if last night was any indicator, it
probably wasn’t. Hillier was probably on the Staten Island Ferry when Allie had
her stroke.”

Slattery lowered
his chin. “What makes you think that?”

“I followed him
last night. He was on the ferry. He said that’s where he goes every night
before a start and I think he was telling the truth. But even if he wasn’t, he
was definitely on the ferry
last
night, so at the very least he couldn’t have been the one who killed that girl
in the park.”

“Of course, that
assumes someone actually killed her.”

“Seriously? You
really think the fact that these people are dying every night before Hillier
pitches is just a coincidence.”

“Do
I
think that? Yes, I
do.”

“What about the
man I saw in the alley.”

“I’ll let them
know about it,” Slattery said as he closed the manila folder.

Kyle stared at
Slattery. “Let
who
know about it?”

Slattery rubbed
the side of his cheek and looked away.

“Who are you going
to let know about it?” Kyle asked again.

“To be honest,”
Slattery said, turning back, “I’m not even sure myself.”

“Not sure about
what?”

Slattery reclined
in his chair and relaxed the tense muscles in his weathered forehead. “Someone
else is investigating this.”

“Who?”

“Doesn’t really
matter, does it? You wanted us to look into it, and I’m telling you that’s
what’s being done. So we’re good.”

“But what do you
mean, someone else? Like someone else in the NYPD? Another detective?”

“No, it’s not us.
Anything we get, we turn over. So I’ll let them know you saw someone the night
the Shelton girl had her stroke. And I’ll also let them know you saw Hillier on
the ferry.”

“Wait,” Kyle said,
seeing Slattery about to get up. “Is someone going to contact me?”

“They might, I
guess,” Slattery said. “Like I said, it’s their investigation.”

“But whose
investigation? The FBI?”

Slattery sighed.
“I told you, Mr. Vine, I’m not even sure myself. I assume it’s the FBI. They’re
the usual suspects. But all I’ve been told is the government took this one
over. I didn’t really question which specific department. I hand what I get up
to my boss, and he sends it over.”

“So they’re the
ones who requisitioned the files,” Kyle said, thinking out loud.

Slattery raised an
eyebrow. “Which files?”

“The Medical
Examiner’s files.”

“How do you know
they’ve been requisitioned?”

“I tried to get
them through a FOIL request,” Kyle lied to protect Tom. “Just like you said.
But I was told they’d been marked sensitive and weren’t available. So I assume
they’re with whoever’s investigating from the government.”

Slattery narrowed
his eyes. “Yeah,” he said, his voice hesitant, “I guess so.”

“Can you give me
the name of someone I can contact?”

“Contact?”

“Yes. Whoever’s
investigating this. Who can I talk to?”

“To say what?”

“I don’t know. Ask
what they’re doing, I guess. Find out what they know.”

“And what makes
you think they’ll tell you any of that? Like I said, they know what you know.
They know what your buddy Murdock knows. And they’ll know what you told me
today. If they want to know more, I suppose they’ll contact you.”

“I want to know if
they really think there’s a killer out there.”

“Well, they are
investigating it, so that should tell you something.”

“But I need to
know how they think it’s being done, and why it’s happening right before
Hillier pitches.”

“And you think
they’ll tell you?”

“Maybe.”

Slattery stood up
and said, “I’ll ask around. See what I can do.”

And that was it.
Kyle’s big secret was hardly even discussed.

But now he knew
someone was taking the deaths seriously, that there was an investigation going
on. A real one. Someone, perhaps the FBI, agreed the pattern was too much of a
coincidence to ignore.

But what did they
know? What did they suspect?

He wondered if it
was anything similar to what Liam was thinking, some kind of energy transfer in
reverse. He also wondered if Evan Hillier was a suspect. Was the FBI following
him? Had they been on the ferry?

He had no idea,
but was pretty sure he’d be getting a call soon. After all, he was probably the
only person alive and conscious who saw the killer. That fact
alone
had to draw some interest.