FIFTEEN

Charlie rubbed the back of his neck and walked to the window that overlooked the parking lot. He’d shown up early that morning, eager to start his new job, more eager still to start tracking down the files he and Mallory had discussed. He’d read straight through lunch and now, at three thirty, was certain anyone coming within a city block of his small office could hear his stomach rumbling.

He stretched, walked to the door, and opened it. He started down the hall, surprised that the department was so quiet for a Monday afternoon.

“I wondered when you’d be coming up for air,” Joe said as Charlie passed by.

“I just got sucked into this case file—” Charlie paused at Joe’s doorway. “—and I lost track of time. I thought I’d run out for a sandwich.”

Charlie looked back at the department, which lay behind him.

The large open room was quiet and practically empty. “Where is everyone?”

“Busy day,” Joe replied.

“Something you wanted …?” Charlie paused.

“Nothing that can’t wait. Go, eat. Stop in when you’re finished.”

Charlie took the steps from the second floor and exited the building through the front door. He’d noticed a deli across the street, and he headed in that direction. Fifteen minutes later, he was back at his desk, enjoying an exceptionally satisfying corned beef on rye and a large bottle of springwater.

It had been six weeks since he’d left Philly, and it felt good to be back on the job. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed it. While he ate, he glanced over his notes and made a list of things he still wanted to do. At the top of the list went a reminder to follow through on finding Courtney Bauer’s father. Charlie had called Mallory on Sunday afternoon, and she’d apologized for having forgotten to tell him on Saturday that the man may be living in western Pennsylvania.

“Timothy J. Bauer,” she’d said. “Courtney’s mother thinks he could be living out near Erie. He had a brother, Clark, in that area, and she thinks he might be there. At the very least, there’s a damned good chance that Clark would know where to find him. I’m sorry it slipped my mind yesterday. I should have referred to my notes while we were in the diner.”

“If he was there yesterday, chances are he’ll still be there tomorrow. I’ll see what I can find on him. You think Courtney and Ryan might be hiding out with him?”

“If they’re still alive, they are getting help from someone. They’ve been gone three weeks now. That’s a long time for a couple of kids to be on the run with no money.”

“There’s still that missing thousand to be accounted for,” he’d reminded her.

“I don’t see it having happened that way.”

“Frankly, neither do I, but the fact remains that the money is still out there somewhere.”

“Speaking of being out there somewhere, let me tell you what I learned about Regina Girard,” she’d said, then filled him in on everything she’d learned from Sally the night before.

“She’s known to be a stone-cold hard-ass,” she concluded. “There’s no doubt in my mind that if she’d been the shooter at Hazel’s and knew that Courtney saw her there, then she saw her again on the playground …”

“Courtney would have been scared to death.”

“Scared enough to run like hell and take Ryan with her. So it’s got me thinking. Maybe the meeting of the four friends in the park was about something more than poor Courtney didn’t get into Penn State. Maybe she asked the guys to meet her there because she thought Regina was looking for her. Maybe Courtney saw her somewhere, thought she was following her, and got scared shitless and wanted advice from her friends.”

“If Regina was following Courtney, she would have followed her into the park thinking she’d be able to take her out once and for all.”

“Then she gets there and there are these two boys there who would be able to identify her, so Regina gets rid of them even before she goes after Courtney. If you eliminate them right off the bat, you’ve eliminated possible future problems.” Mallory paused. “It would fit, Charlie. Sally said that Regina had no conscience, that it didn’t bother her to hurt people.”

“We need to share this with Joe,” Charlie said. “Even though it’s supposition, it’s good solid supposition. It feels right.”

“I already told him,” Mallory said. “He’s trying to figure out the best way to get to Regina. Street name, by the way, is Gigi.”

“I know. I pulled her rap sheet. She’s been in and out of the system since she was very young. Foster homes for a while. She spent more time in juvie than most of the guards. And she didn’t slow down once she came of age. Drug possession, assault charges … She’s been around the block.”

“So what are we doing to find her?”

“Talk to Joe. He’s got a couple of undercover guys trying to find her.” Before he could respond, she said, “By the way, I gave Sally your name.”

“Why?”

“She’s a hooker,” she said matter-of-factly. “She gets picked up from time to time. She needs a friend on the inside. So tag—”

“Right. I’m it.”

“You won’t be sorry. She’s good, if she trusts you.” Mallory had paused again, as if she was about to say something else. He’d waited, but she hadn’t said anything more.

“So she sounded scared of Regina?”

“Totally. I just hope we find her before it’s too late.”

“Too late for what?” he’d asked.

“I’m not really sure …,” she replied.

She’d sounded worried but hadn’t said why. Too bad she was off the force, he thought as he balled up the bag his sandwich had come in and tossed it into the trash can near the door. Mallory Russo would have made one hell of a partner. She was every bit as smart as the chief said, and—from what Charlie’d seen—intuitive, not afraid to think outside the box, which to his mind was just about the best thing a cop could be. He was happy for the opportunity to work with her in any capacity, he realized, officially or unofficially. Happy to get a chance to know her better, happy to have an excuse to spend more time with her.

She was certainly one hot ticket, he was thinking as he tapped on the door to Joe’s office, in more ways than one. Smart and sexy.

“Come on in,” Joe called from inside.

Charlie found Joe seated on a small sofa covered in a dark blue fabric. A knitted afghan was neatly folded over one of the fat arms. The chief was reading the newspaper and sipping a cup of coffee.

“Have a seat.” Joe gestured to the two mismatched armchairs that stood opposite the sofa. “I was just catching up on the sports section. Haven’t seen a baseball game since the season started, between the playground case and the mess this damned sniper is stirring up.”

“I heard he shot at another pedestrian late on Saturday night,” Charlie said as he lowered himself into one of the chairs.

“Yeah, some young father with a baby in his arms, down on Madison this time.” Joe shook his head. “You gotta wonder how these people think sometimes, you know? You just wake up one day and say to yourself, Hey, I think I’ll go take potshots at some strangers?”

“I guess you’d have to ask a profiler that.”

Joe snorted. “Yeah, right. You ever talk to one of those people?”

“Actually, back in Philly …”

Joe waved a hand to dismiss whatever it was Charlie was about to say. “Don’t want to hear it. This guy isn’t out there shooting because he was potty-trained at too early an age. He’s out there shooting at helpless, defenseless people because he can. And because he likes it.”

“That’s pretty much what a good profiler would say, I’d think.”

“I don’t buy in to any of that psychological crap, you need to know that right off the bat.” Joe folded the paper in half. “Anyway, I understand you spoke with Mallory yesterday. I like the possible connection between the shooting at Hazel’s and the playground. Could be something to it. Girard is one nasty young lady. I could see her doing both.” He slapped the paper onto the coffee table that stood between the chairs and the sofa. “Then there’s the sniper. Bastard’s got the entire city on edge.”

“Anything new there?”

“Other than the shell casings that were picked up from the various scenes, no. We sent them to the FBI lab with a request for ASAP processing, see if they can be matched, but God knows how long it will be before we have a response.”

“Which reminds me, Chief, I’d like to have the shells from the Hazel’s Market and the playground shootings compared to see if they’re from the same gun, but I’m not sure what lab you use.”

“Give them to my secretary, Marlene, when she comes back from break. She’ll get them to where they need to be.”

Joe slapped the paper again on the tabletop. “So whose idea was it to connect the two shootings?”

“Mallory’s,” Charlie said without hesitation.

“I figured. I heard you were good—wouldn’t have hired you if you weren’t—so don’t take offense, but that’s the kind of thing she does well. Connects the dots. Not that she always connected them in the right way—too soon to say if she’s right this time—but at least she was always thinking and was never afraid to be wrong.” He nodded almost absently. “Be great if we could connect these two cases, though. Be brilliant if this was on the money, close two cases with the same shooter. We know she did the first one. The more I think about it, the more she feels right for the second. I’d love to put her away once and for all …”

“Mallory mentioned that you’re trying to find her.”

“She’s slippery,” Joe said. “We’re watching the boyfriend, too. He steps over the line—any line—we’ll bring him in for questioning. We get him, you can have him for a few minutes, see if you can get some information out of him that might help your case.”

“Thanks. Maybe he knows what she’s been up to. I’d like an opportunity to question him. In the meantime, I’m trying to track down Courtney’s father. I’m guessing Mallory mentioned that possibility. I have a call into the state to see if he has a current driver’s license.”

“I’m one step ahead of you. I just happened to be talking to a friend this morning, and while we were on the phone, I got him to run the name. Timothy Bauer is living about eighty miles from here.” Joe got up and walked to his desk. “He’s in Beaver Creek. Not far from Penn State, by the way.”

“I have a feeling that’s supposed to be meaningful, but I’m afraid it’s lost on me,” Charlie admitted.

“Penn State, where Courtney suddenly decided she wanted to go to school. Some coincidence, eh?”

“So maybe Courtney got spooked and decided to run to Daddy?”

“Possibly.” Joe sat in his desk chair and leaned back.

“But Courtney sent in her application back in March, before Regina got out of prison.”

“Maybe Regina found a way to get a message to her: I’ll be home soon and we have some unfinished business.”

“I’ll take a drive out to speak with him. See if she’s been in touch, and if so, when.”

“Here’s the address.” Joe handed him a piece of paper. “You might want to think about asking Mallory to go with you. She knows the area.”

“Did she go to school there?” Charlie frowned. Odd; she hadn’t mentioned it when they were discussing Penn State last week.

“She grew up not far from there.” Joe reached for his phone, which Charlie took to mean their talk was over. “Do her good to go back.”

“Sure. If she wants to go.”

“She’ll go. She’s hooked on this case.” He looked at Charlie from across the expanse of his desk. “Thanks for letting her work with you.”

“Like you said, she’s good.” Charlie shrugged then, before he thought twice, heard himself asking, “Why’d you let her go?”

“She handed in her resignation.”

“Why’d you accept it?”

Joe returned the phone to its cradle, his hand still on the receiver.

“One of my detectives—off duty, that’s the key here—decided to involve himself in a high-speed chase into the next town.” He leaned back into his chair, his expression stony. “Unfortunately he had his six-month-old son in the backseat.”

Charlie felt his jaw drop in spite of himself.

“Yeah.” Joe nodded. “You get it. But my detective did not ‘get it.’ When he was reamed out for it, he tried to tell me that when the chase started, he was in the parking lot of a local convenience store talking to Mallory, who just happened to be there, and that he’d handed the baby off to her before he set off in pursuit.”

“I take it it didn’t happen that way.”

The chief’s expression made a reply unnecessary.

“So how did Mallory end up being the bad guy?” Charlie asked.

“She didn’t lie for him.” Drabyak cleared his throat. “There’d been some talk that …” He looked out the window as if searching for words. “Right from day one, anyone could tell that Mallory had the makings of a great cop. She made detective faster than anyone else in the department ever had. When our previous chief announced his retirement and I was moved up to fill the office, the lead detective’s job was coming up for grabs. There were a couple of men who had more seniority than she, but none of them was as good. And they all knew it.”

“So when an opportunity arose to push her out …”

“They jumped on it. Said the only reason her name was on the short list was because she and I had a thing going, if you follow.”

“I follow.” Charlie hesitated before asking, “Did you?”

“No. Not that it’s any of your business, but no. She was just an exceptional cop, and she deserved the promotion. And for the record, the former chief was the one who put her name on the list.” Drabyak looked up at Charlie. “Not that I wouldn’t have recommended her. He just did it first.”

“So when Mallory didn’t step up as a team player to bail out this other guy’s ass …”

“He’d been her partner.”

Charlie nodded slowly. To a cop, not supporting your partner when he or she was in trouble was unforgivable. “With the lead detective spot about to open up, what better time to get rid of the opposition.”

“That’s pretty much what it boiled down to.” Drabyak drummed his fingers on his desk and looked sad. “Anyway, suffice it to say that her coworkers were less than kind when the word was spread that she’d lied to get her partner out of the way so she’d have a better shot at the job.”

“Wait a minute. Did he or didn’t he have the baby in the car?”

“Oh, the kid was in the car, all right.” Drabyak nodded. “But by the time the story circulated throughout the ranks, the baby had mysteriously disappeared.”

“So he denied it, said she made it up, and everyone believed him?”

“Not everyone, but enough that it made her job hazardous. No one wanted to partner with her, when someone had to ride with her they ignored her …” The chief rolled his eyes. “It was all bullshit, but by that time the truth hardly mattered. The story was out there, and the detective was the one doing all the talking. He’d been busted back to patrol and he wasn’t liking it one bit. Took it out on Mallory.”

“He’s still with the force? What’s his name?”

“Cal Whitman. Two years away from retirement—from a nice fat pension and him with a new young wife who can’t wait to move someplace warm—and he blows it to play cowboy to go after a hijacked car, then lies about it.” Drabyak shook his head. “Things would have gone better for him if he hadn’t made up that stupid story and brought someone else into it. The chief wanted Whitman fired on the spot, but this was three weeks before he was set to leave, and the union was up in arms, so he let it go rather than get embroiled in something that would have kept him involved in the department long after he wanted to be sitting on his patio out in Arizona with a cold beer in hand.”

Drabyak reached for the phone. “Anyway, that’s the story. Whitman in, Russo out.”

“I still don’t understand why you let her go.”

“There was no one to watch her back out there. Sooner or later, she was going to get hurt,” he said softly. “She wouldn’t have seen it coming, and I wouldn’t have been able to stop it. It was just better for her to go, with everyone lining up to pile on.”

Charlie stared blankly at him. “With all due respect, sir, why couldn’t you just grab the guy at the bottom of the pile and bounce his ass out of here?”

“Because it wasn’t just one guy.” Joe crossed his arms over his chest defensively. “It was a good portion of the force, all of the detectives lined up against her. And as for bouncing the guy responsible for creating the wall?” Joe laughed. “He’s a decorated detective with over twenty years on the force and his brother-in-law is the union rep.”

Charlie nodded slowly. He’d seen the union in action firsthand.

“Frankly, I was more concerned about Mallory’s safety than her job. But trust me on this, Wanamaker.” Joe lowered his voice. “The guy at the bottom of the pile will screw up big-time one of these days. And his brother-in-law isn’t going to be able to bail him out.”

“With any luck.”

“When the time comes, luck won’t have anything to do with it.”

“Anything else you want to know?”

“Who made lead detective?”

“No one.” Drabyak smiled for the first time since Charlie came into the room. “The position is still open. They’re all bucking for it, but no decision’s been made. And frankly, I’m not in much of a hurry to make one.”

They both fell silent for a moment, then Charlie said, “Thanks for filling me in.” He got up to leave. “I appreciate the history lesson.”

“Everything under control at home?” Joe asked as Charlie reached the door.

“Yes. Thank you.” Charlie turned around, his hand still on the doorknob. “My sister’s going to go back to Riverside on Thursday. She’ll be staying there. Thanks for arranging the interview for her, for getting her bumped up on the waiting list. I think being there is going to be the best thing for her. So thanks. I—we—my mother and I—appreciate your help.”

“Glad there was a string I could pull. I hope everything goes well for her.”

“I feel certain it will. Thanks again.”

“You’re welcome.” Joe looked back at the phone and began to dial.

Charlie left quietly and returned to his office.

He walked through the door and found Frank Toricelli leaning over his desk.

“Something I can help you with?” Charlie stood in the doorway, blocking it.

Toricelli jumped at the sound of his voice, but when he turned, there was no trace of embarrassment or apology in his demeanor.

“Just stopped by to see how your first day on the job was going. You weren’t here, so I thought I’d leave you a note. Just looking for something to write on. No need for that now, though,” Frank said. “So how’s it going? I see the chief has put you to work.” He snapped his fingers. “That’s right. He had you working before you officially started.” He shook his head and chuckled drily. “Way to make points with the boss, Wanamaker. Take home work before you ever get on the clock. I see he even gave you his old office. Is this arrangement only temporary, or should we be reading something into that?”

“Was there anything in particular you wanted?”

“Nope. Just trying to be friendly.” He pointed to the stack of paper on Charlie’s desk. “But I see the old Hazel’s Market file here. That was my case, you know? Just curious, what you’d want with that?”

“The missing girl in the playground case—Courtney Bauer—was working at Hazel’s the night the kid on the cash register was killed. Some coincidence, huh?”

“How’d you know about that? About her being at Hazel’s?”

“The chief mentioned it. Said he’d thought the girl’s name sounded familiar, then remembered where he’d heard it before. I thought I’d take a look at the file, read over her statement.” Charlie stepped behind Frank and pulled a sheet single of paper from the file. “Doesn’t look as if she had much to say, does it?”

“The statement is short because the girl wasn’t in the store at the time of the shooting, so she wasn’t really a witness. Didn’t really know anything about what went down that night.” Toricelli’s eyes narrowed suspiciously. “Couldn’t add a thing.”

“You think she could have been lying about that?”

“What, that she wasn’t there when the kid was shot?” Toricelli laughed out loud. “Nah. Why would she lie?”

Charlie wondered if the thought had ever crossed Toricelli’s mind that the kid could have been scared shitless of the shooter.

“What about this suspect you had …” Charlie pretended to look through the file as if searching for the name.

“Gigi. Regina—Gina—Girard.” Toricelli shook his head in disgust. “What a piece of shit that one is. She should have gone down for that.”

“What happened? How’d she slip by?” Charlie folded his arms over his chest and leaned against his desk. “There was one witness, right? The customer who’d ducked down behind a display when he heard the shots? He said he saw her, right? Gave you a description of her and the two guys who were with her?”

“Yeah, he described her. White, tall, thin, black hair … like no one else in that neighborhood looks like that. And those two shit-heads who were with her?” He snorted. “The wit said he only saw them from the back; he never did see their faces. But he picked out Gigi from a lineup of other tall, thin, dark-haired white women in their early twenties. He was adamant it was her in the beginning, but once trial day came around, he was nowhere to be found. Gone, no forwarding. Just vanished.”

“Wasn’t that convenient?” Charlie said drily.

“Yeah, no shit. We knew she had a hand in that somehow, maybe had one of her boyfriends on the outside take the guy for a ride, if you know what I mean. But we could never find a thing. The guy just disappeared one day and hasn’t been heard of since. So there was no witness to testify at trial. We tried to make her think there was someone else who saw her who was willing to testify—trying to smoke her out, you know. Even put her in a second lineup, a fake one this time—you know, made her think someone was behind the glass and all—but she just shrugged and said she wasn’t there so our so-called witness must be lying.”

“Who did she think the witness was? Didn’t she wonder why this witness didn’t testify at trial?”

“We told her that the wit was a minor and her mother wouldn’t agree to have her testify.”

“So, in other words, you let Regina believe that a sixteen-year-old girl witnessed her killing Christopher Jackson that night in Hazel’s, and that the girl was willing to testify.” It was all Charlie could do to not put his fist through Frank’s face.

“We didn’t tell her that, exactly.”

“You think she didn’t read the papers, Frank? The reports all said that no one else was in the store that night except for a sixteen-year-old high school student named Courtney Bauer who said she was in the back of the store at the time of the shooting.”

“Yeah, well, Regina didn’t fall for it. Besides, I never said who the witness was.”

“But if Regina had seen Courtney there that night, she’d have known who it was, wouldn’t she?”

“How could she have seen the girl?” Frank frowned. “The kid was in the back of the store. She never came out front. She didn’t see the shooting.”

“Like I said before, maybe she lied.”

“Well, it don’t make much difference now, because no one testified against her and she got off.”

“She walked on that murder, but now she’s out.”

“Yeah, she walked to the back of the courtroom and we slapped cuffs on her, took her back into custody on another case. And yeah, she’s out. Been out about a month. Haven’t heard much about her, so I guess she’s been keeping her nose clean.” He laughed again. “Which would be a first.”

“How about the guys who were with her at Hazel’s that night? I read in the file that there were two young guys there, one on the door inside, one outside.”

“Couple of yahoos from the neighborhood. Both kept their mouths shut. You know the drill, right? They weren’t there. They don’t know who was there. They had alibis. They didn’t know a thing. So when she walked, they walked.”

“They were tried together?”

“Yeah. Some genius in the DA’s office thought that was a good idea.” Toricelli looked disgusted. “So when he couldn’t get a conviction on her, he lost all three of them.”

He was leaning against the side file cabinet. “Tell me again why you’re interested?”

“Just curious about the other case Courtney Bauer was involved in.”

“Oh. Right.” Toricelli yawned. “Well, gotta go get me some sleep. This sniper’s been running me ragged, you know what I mean? Toughest case I ever handled.” He stepped around Charlie on his way to the door. “You take care out there. Conroy’s a dangerous place these days. You never know where that sniper will turn up next.”

Charlie stood over his desk until he heard the department door close, then began to check through the papers he’d left sitting out. It was apparent that things had been moved around, though why the other detective would be interested in what was on Charlie’s desk was a mystery. Charlie checked through the file, through the pages of notes he’d made during his review, and through the notes he’d made later during his conversation with Mallory. There was no indication that he’d been speaking with her, as far as he could see, though that in itself may have been of interest to Toricelli.

“Just because he’s an asshole, he’d want to know about that,” Charlie muttered under his breath. Talk about a dog with a bone. That was pretty much the way Toricelli seemed to be fixated on Mallory. For whatever reason, he just wasn’t going to let go.

Charlie tucked the papers back into the file and closed the folder, then slipped in the pad containing his notes for safekeeping. He was annoyed as hell that Toricelli would come into his office, and annoyed with himself that he hadn’t made that more clear. His first inclination had been to bodily toss the shorter man out of his office, but he’d wanted an opportunity to question him about the Hazel’s Market case.

Everything’s a trade-off, he reminded himself.

All in all, he’d gotten the best of the bargain anyway. There’d been nothing on his desk that Toricelli could have been interested in, but Charlie now knew that not only was Frank an asshole, he was a lazy asshole. He hadn’t bothered to pin down the testimony of their key witness, and he’d taken Courtney’s word that she hadn’t been in the store when the shooting occurred.

And he’d probably given Regina Girard cause to paint a target on Courtney Bauer’s back.

He’d just have to make it a point to remember to keep his desk clear when he was out of his office, he told himself, and to keep his files locked up.

He glanced at the clock. It was almost five in the afternoon. For some reason, if his mother was going to have a meltdown, it usually occurred around this time. He called home to see how things were going, but there was no answer. She might have turned the ringer off, he rationalized, knowing how the sound hurt Jilly’s ears so. Or she could be passed out on the living room sofa.

His good mood having vanished, Charlie walked down the hall to the department kitchen where the vending machines were located. He’d sworn off soda after having read an article spelling out the dangers of all that unnecessary sugar and had kept to his resolve to drink springwater, but between having found Toricelli hanging over his desk and not knowing what his mother was up to, Charlie was feeling peevish. He pulled an assortment of change from his pocket and plunked four quarters into the Pepsi machine. The can clattered out from its slot, and he retrieved it. He popped it open and took a long swig.

Giving in to temptation did little to improve his mood. He returned to his office and closed the door.

It was this whole thing with Toricelli, he told himself. And this thing with Mallory. She was a good investigator and she’d been totally screwed. What kind of an idiot went on a high-speed chase with a civilian—an infant civilian, for Christ’s sake!—in the backseat. Was anyone really that stupid?

Apparently so.

He wondered if Cal Whitman was one of the patrol cops he’d passed on his way in to the station this morning as everyone was rolling out to their cars. He wondered, too, why any of his fellow officers would support a member of the force who’d displayed such poor judgment. Of course, he wasn’t privy to just what exactly had been said and by whom. That gossip chain could be wound pretty tightly—over the years, he’d seen it ruin the career of more than one fine officer.

Charlie reached for his cell phone and dialed Mallory’s number, wondering who, if anyone, had taken her part. The chief had specifically requested that he take Mallory along when he went to find Courtney’s father. Today was shot, but tomorrow was wide open.

“Mallory, it’s Charlie,” he said when she answered her phone. “Got time to take a ride with me tomorrow?”