We drove in silence for several long minutes. Because the streets weren’t plowed, Sanchez went more slowly than normal, only twenty-five miles per hour. There was only a handful of other cars on the road.
I decided to break the silence.
“It’s really coming down.”
He nodded but said nothing at first, just drove with both hands on the wheel. Finally, he cleared this throat.
“They’re calling for another foot by tomorrow. There’s talk the governor will issue a state of emergency, which is going to royally piss everyone off with Christmas days away.”
“It’s sorta like déjà vu.”
“How so?”
“The two of us in a Crown Vic, riding the streets.”
He snorted a laugh.
“Yeah, I guess it is.”
“Only we’re in Jersey.”
He nodded but said nothing.
“Where’d you get the car, anyway?”
“They were getting rid of them. Got a great deal. Plus, to be honest, it always felt weird riding in anything else.”
He paused, shook his head.
“Eli, what are you doing here?”
“I told you, my daughter-in-law and grandchildren were murdered.”
“Right, right. I understand that, and I’m sorry to hear it, I am, but what are you doing here tonight? Were you following me?”
I hesitated a beat.
“I was, yes.”
He glanced at me, his eyes narrowing.
“Why?”
“To be honest, I didn’t know who else to turn to.”
“There’s the police.”
“Right, and tell them what exactly? I haven’t been in contact with my son for almost twenty years. Besides, my daughter-in-law and grandchildren murdered and my son missing? He’s a prime suspect.”
Sanchez didn’t say anything to this, his focus back on the street, but I knew what he wanted to say.
“Go ahead and say it.”
“What?”
He glanced at me again, stared for a moment, then shook his head.
I said, “Say it. Get it off your chest.”
“Christ. Fine—how can you be so sure he didn’t do it?”
“That’s a good question. To be honest, I don’t know, but I have a hunch.”
“A hunch.”
“I don’t want to get too much into details right now, but I have a suspicion my son is being set up.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“That’s why I need some extra eyes on the scene.”
Sanchez paused.
“Say that again?”
“How many murder scenes did we work together?”
“You can’t be serious.”
“You’ve been retired now, what, fifteen years? You have any buddies still on the force you could call in a favor, find out some information?”
“No.”
“Exactly. That’s why you and I need to do this ourselves.”
“The place is going to be locked up. There’ll be crime scene tape everywhere. Besides, how long ago did this happen? Whatever evidence there may have been will be long gone.”
“I still want to check it out. Look, if you don’t want to help me with this, that’s fine. I don’t want to force you into anything. But I could use the help.”
He sighed, shaking his head again as we merged onto the highway headed east, toward Manhattan.
“Goddamn it. How do you always talk me into this shit?”
“My charming good looks.”
“Yeah, right. Look, I don’t know just what kind of help you think I’ll be, but I’ll do what I can to help you. First, though, I need to make this stop. It’s only going to be a minute, that’s all, and then we can be on our way. Where’s the scene, anyway?”
“Crown Heights.”
He shook his head again.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this.”
“Sanchez, can I ask you something?”
“I suppose.”
“What’s in the bag?”
I watched his face by the glow of the dashboard, and I saw it tense, just briefly, but then he shook his head.
“Dirty underwear. Why, you got a pair you want to get rid of?”
I didn’t press the issue. It had been twenty years since I’d seen him last. His life had changed, just as my life had changed. He had secrets, just like I had secrets. No use digging into something that would cause a rift.
We entered the Lincoln Tunnel. No other cars ahead of us.
Sanchez said, “Hold on tight.”
He slammed on the gas.