Brian Freeman - Marathon

“I don’t defend extremists of any kind,” Stride said.

“I know you believe that, Jonathan, but you’re the one protecting Dawn Basch. You have to live with that, and I don’t know how you can.”

Stride wanted to fire back, but he didn’t. He was angry, but he held himself in check, because blind anger was the root of everything that had gone wrong. He wanted to tell Haq that if he’d trusted Stride, there would have been no loss of life. If he’d brought Ahdia to him, instead of hiding her away, she and her child would still be alive. It didn’t matter. He found it hard to blame Haq for his choice, because trust was in short supply.

“Where is Khan?” Stride asked.

“I have no idea.”

“Haq, I want him safe . If he reaches out to you, you need to tell me. No one else. Just me. I’ll make sure nothing happens to him.”

Haq shook his head. “No. I’m sorry, Jonathan, no. We are done. We are over. No more information. No more secrets. I will not betray my community. You stay in your world, and we stay in ours.”

“That’s not how it works,” Stride said.

“It is now.”

Haq stalked away toward the crowd of reporters. Seeing him come, they shouted questions and lit him up with klieg lights. Stride could hear Haq begin to unleash his bitterness in front of the press, and he walked away, rather than hear the next volley of hatred. Tit for tat. It never ended.

Maggie waited for him in the middle of the street. “You okay?”

Stride wanted to say no. No, he was not okay. He’d lived too long and worked too hard to accept the notion that his city was going backward.

“I was thinking about something Scott Lyons told me when he was the chief,” he replied. “He said he became a cop to save the world, and it took him a long time to realize that the world had no interest in being saved.”

Maggie blew the bangs out of her face, which was dirty with ash, like his. “We’re just Dutch boys, boss. Fingers in the dike.”

Stride knew she was right. It was late, and there was nothing more he could do there. He wanted to go home; he wanted to watch Cat sleep; he wanted to get into bed with Serena and talk to her, because he knew he’d never sleep himself. This was a night that made him glad he was married.

“Remember I told you about that case twenty years ago when I was filling in as interim chief in that small town for the summer?” Stride asked.

“The missing boy? Joshua?”

“That’s the one. He was out walking with his brother on a dirt road. Brother hears a car while he’s in the woods, and when he comes back, Joshua’s gone. I figured it was all a misunderstanding and Joshua would be back home by nightfall. I mean, a stranger kidnapping in the middle of nowhere? What were the odds of that? But Joshua never came home. I spent the whole summer looking for him, and I swore I wouldn’t leave that town until we solved the case. But summer ended, and we didn’t find him. Twenty years later, his parents still don’t know what happened to their boy. I didn’t deliver. I didn’t do what I’d promised to do.”

Maggie was quiet. Then she said, “What’s your point, boss?”

“The day I left that town at the end of the summer was the only time in my life I thought about quitting the job,” Stride said. “Until now.”

“It’s a bad day. There are always bad days.”

“Yeah. I know.”

“Go home, boss.”

Stride nodded wearily. He headed for his Expedition, but then he backtracked. “I want you all over this one, Mags,” he told her. “Find out who did this.”

Cat knew that Curt Dickes would call her, not Serena, when he found out where Eagle was hiding. And he did.

She spent the morning spying on Drew Olson and her baby from the parking lot behind the elementary school basketball court. She watched them through binoculars as she sat on the hood of her beat-up Civic. Even from far away, Cat could see a lot of herself in her son. There was something about his smile that made her think she was looking in a mirror. His eyes were her eyes. Even the shape of his ears, with the sharp little edges like wing tips, reminded her of photos she’d seen of herself as a baby.

Yes, Michael was her son. He had a stable home, which was more than she could have given him herself. He had a father and mother. He had everything he needed in life. It should have made her proud, but it made her feel lonely.

She put down the binoculars. She didn’t want to watch anymore.

It was summer, and summer made her restless. When she was in school, she had things to do. She was good at her classes, and Serena watched her like a hawk to make sure she got her homework done. Now she had nothing constructive to do until September. Serena kept lining up tutoring sessions and volunteer work for her, but some days Cat had an itch to do bad things. An itch to steal or drink or smoke or run away to the Graffiti Graveyard. That was who she really was. There was no point in trying to change.

“Cat?”

Her head flew up. Drew Olson, holding Michael, stood on the edge of the school basketball court, no more than twenty yards away. He’d spotted her from the backyard of his house.

“Oh, damn,” she murmured, sliding off the hood and throwing open the driver’s door.

“Cat, wait!” he called.

Cat didn’t listen. She sped off in the opposite direction, casting a glance in the rearview mirror to see father and son behind her. Drew waved at her to come back, and part of her wanted to turn the car around, but she kept driving. The house disappeared in her mirror. She couldn’t see them anymore, and she was glad they couldn’t see her. Her face felt hot from embarrassment.

As she turned on Grand Avenue, her phone began to ring. She wondered if it was Drew calling her, but when she answered it, she heard the all-too-familiar voice of Curt Dickes.

“Hey, babycakes!”

Cat pulled to the curb. She knew she should hang up. Tell Curt to call Serena and put down the phone. But talking to Curt made her feel as if she was back in her old world, and that was where she felt comfortable. Besides, she liked Curt. He always had crazy ideas, but he was funny and knew how to make her laugh.

“Hey,” she said to him.

“You guys still looking for Eagle?” he asked.

“Yes. Did you hear something? Do you know where he is?”

“Maybe.” His voice teased her.

“Come on, what does that mean?”

“I mean, maybe I can help you, and maybe you can help me.”

Cat squirmed in her seat. “Help you how? What are you talking about?”

“Well, here’s the thing. Everybody’s bored. The whole city is shut down because of the bombing. One of my customers called — guy over on Congdon Park Drive — and he’s trying to set up a party for tonight. High-class, lots of champagne, the works. He said he’d pay two hundred bucks to every pretty girl who shows.”

“Yeah, and what do you get?”

“A tiny finder’s fee. The big money goes to the girls.”

“No, thanks.”

“It’s a party! That’s all!”

“That’s all? They’re not expecting any action?”

“Fun, friendly, cute, nothing else. I swear on my five sisters. Somebody gets fresh, you can slap ’em.”

Cat chewed a fingernail and debated with herself. She’d been down this road with Curt before. She’d been at one of his parties on the Charles Frederick and knew what the men expected. It was more than fun and friendly. Even so, two hundred bucks was a lot of money. And she had an itch.

“I don’t know.”

“Come on, Cat, it’s summer in the city!”

“I’ll think about it. Where’s Eagle?”