“YOU HAVE a chance to live,” I tell Disco. “You have a chance to get a deal that will give you witness protection if you help us catch the general. But none of that happens—I don’t even call that ambulance—until you give me some answers.”
He stares at me, fading. He’s out of options. And his fear of self-incrimination can’t be that high. He knows Augustina flipped on him. He must realize we already have him on any number of state and federal human-trafficking charges, not to mention attempted murder charges, that will put him away for decades. He’ll never see daylight again. Admitting to one more crime isn’t gonna make a difference.
The only question is his will to live. Some people in his position would rather bleed out, end it right there, than suffer the penal consequences.
“Ask him, Billy,” Patti whispers. “C’mon, there’s no time.”
I turn on my handheld recorder. “Vasyl Discovetsky, do you know a man named Nathan Stofer?”
“Nathan Stofer?” Patti says. “That’s your question?”
I glare at her. “My way,” I remind her. “My call.”
Disco coughs, sputtering.
“Disco, how do you know Nathan Stofer?”
His head lolls to the side. “I…killed that man.”
“How?” I ask. “Where? Why?”
“I shot him…in parking garage downtown.”
“Why?”
“The general…”
“Give me his name.”
“I need…ambul—”
“Tell me the general’s name!”
“General…Kostyantin…Boholyubov.”
“What about him?”
“This man Sto—Stofer…was stopping the general from being in…business deal. The…Stratton hotel.”
“And what did the general do about that?”
“He…told me…to kill him.”
“And you did?”
He nods.
I nudge his shoulder. “Give a verbal answer for the recording device.”
“Yes,” says Disco, “I did.”
“Billy, what are you doing?” Patti says. “We don’t have time.”
“Do you know why Antoine Stonewald pleaded guilty to Nathan Stofer’s murder?” I ask.
Disco nods. “I threatened…his family…if he did not.”
“Did Antoine Stonewald have anything to do with Nathan Stofer’s murder?”
“No.”
I turn off the recorder.
Just as the faint sounds of an ambulance’s siren grow louder, having responded to Patti’s call for a 10-52—an ambulance.
Disco hears it, trains his fading eyes on me. “You…already called…ambulance.” His words a bare whisper. A small smile crosses his face, as if he admires the deception, one bullshitter conning another.
“Did you kill Val?” Patti shouts at Disco. “Did you kill Billy’s wife?”
She kicks his foot, some boot he’s wearing. Disco faintly grimaces and shuts his eyes. He may not make it to the ambulance.
As he lies on his back, the blood follows the path of gravity back through the entrance wound by his kidney, forming a pool beneath him.
“Did you kill Billy’s wife?” Patti shouts again.
The paramedics rush through the backyard and get to work on Disco. Patti and I back up and let them do their work.
“You didn’t ask him,” she says, half question, half accusation.
“Ran out of time,” I say. “I went in order of importance.”
“Order of importance? Suddenly something’s more important than knowing how Val died?”
“As a matter of fact, yes,” I say.
Because I can’t bring Valerie back. But I can save Antoine, precisely the thing Valerie was trying to do before she died.
It’s what she would have wanted.
This audio recording, with both Patti and me as witnesses, will exonerate Antoine Stonewald. And help take down General Boholyubov, if he hasn’t escaped to some country without an extradition treaty. Valerie wanted to free Antoine, save these girls, and punish the traffickers. It took me four years, but I finally completed her mission.
“You said you were gonna kill him.” She flips a hand. “Instead, you get him medical care.”
“Right.”
Patti gives me a sidelong glance. “I suppose you’re gonna say Val would’ve wanted that, too.”
That’s exactly right. But suddenly I can’t speak, too choked up with emotion. Patti, using her twin superpower detector, finally gets it, pulls me into a hug.
“She was a better person than I am,” I whisper. “She was stronger than me. God, I miss her so much.”
I say those words without tears, feeling some strength in a newfound connection with Valerie. Regret, no doubt, that I didn’t do more to understand what she was going through at the time. But cognizant enough, objective enough with the benefit of hindsight, to cut myself a little slack, too—I was focused on our beautiful little Janey.
Both of us, in our different ways, were doing the best we could.
That’s gonna have to be enough.
The paramedics working behind us lift Disco onto a gurney and rush off with him. Maybe they can save him. I don’t love his chances.
“Maybe he pulls through,” says Patti. “And maybe he’ll tell you the truth.”
“That’s a lot of maybes,” I say. “In the meantime, we have work to do. We have to see about all those girls, make sure they’re getting treatment and help them find their way home. Plus,” I add, “tomorrow we go see Antoine in prison and deliver him the good news.”
Patti raises her eyebrows, makes a face. “After all this, you didn’t even ask him the question.”
I watch the ambulance pull away. Police squadrols pulling up, too. This sleepy little corner of the city is about to turn into a circus.
“I didn’t need to ask him,” I say. “I already know what happened to Valerie.”