Dan Simmons - Hard Freeze

Hansen led the other two into the woman's kitchen. He nodded at Brubaker, who beckoned to Myers, and the two began searching the other rooms of the house while the old lady wrung her hands.

"Ma'am, I'm Captain Millworth of the Buffalo Police Department. Sorry to bother you this morning, but we're looking for one of your neighbors."

"Arlene?" said the woman.

"Mrs. DeMarco, yes. Have you seen her? It's very important."

"Is she in some kind of trouble, Officer? I mean, she asked me not to mention to anyone…"

"Yes, ma'am. I mean no, Mrs. DeMarco's not in any trouble with us, but we have reason to believe that she may be in danger. We're trying to find her. What is your name, ma'am?"

"Mrs. Dzwrjsky."

"When did you see her last night, Mrs. Dzwrjsky?"

"Yesterday afternoon. Right after Wheel of Fortune ."

"About four-thirty?"

"Yes."

"And was she alone?"

"No. She had a Negro man with her. I thought that was very strange. Was she his hostage, Officer? I mean, I thought it very strange. Arlene didn't act frightened, but the man… I mean, he seemed very nice… but I thought it was very strange. Was he kidnapping her?"

"That's what we're trying to find out, Mrs. Dzwrjsky. Is this the man?" Hansen showed her the photo of John Wellington Frears.

"Oh, my, yes. Is he dangerous?"

"Do you know where they went?"

"No. Not really. I loaned Arlene Mr. Dzwrjsky's car. I mean, I almost never drive it anymore. Little Charles from down the street drives me when I have to—"

"What kind of car is it, Mrs. Dzwrjsky?"

"Oh… a station wagon. A Ford. Curtis always bought Fords at the dealership out on Union, even when—"

"Do you remember the make and year of the station wagon, ma'am?"

"Make? You mean the name? Other than Ford, you mean? My heavens, no. It's big, old, you know, and has that fake wood trim on the side."

"A Country Squire?" said Hansen. Brubaker and Myers came back into the kitchen, their weapons out of sight. Brubaker shook his head. No one else in the house.

"Yes, perhaps. That sounds right."

"Old?" said Hansen. "From the seventies perhaps?"

"Oh, no, Officer. Not that old. Curtis bought it the year Janice's first daughter was born. Nineteen eighty-three."

"And do you know the license number on the Ford Country Squire, ma'am?"

"No, no… but it would be in that drawer there, with the registration forms and the car-insurance stuff. I always…" She paused and watched as Brubaker rifled through the drawer, coming up with a current license-registration form. He said the tag number aloud and put the form in his coat pocket.

"You're being very helpful, Mrs. Dzwrjsky. Very helpful." Hansen patted the old woman's mottled hands. "Now, can you tell us where Arlene and this man were going?"

Mona Dzwrjsky shook her head. "She did not say. I'm sure she did not say. Arlene just said that something very important had come up and asked if she could borrow the station wagon. They seemed in a hurry."

"Do you have any idea where they might have been going, Mrs. Dzwrjsky? Anyone that Arlene might try to contact if there were trouble?"

The old woman pursed her lips as she thought. "Well, her late husband's sister, of course. But I imagine you've spoken with Gail already."

"Gail," repeated Hansen. "What's her last name, ma'am?"

"The same as Alan's and Arlene's. I mean, Gail was married, twice, but never had children, and she took back her maiden name after the second divorce. I used to tell Arlene, you can never trust an Irish boy, but Gail was always…"

"Gail DeMarco," said Hansen.

"Yes."

"Do you know where she lives? Where she works?"

Mrs. Dzwrjsky looked as if she might cry. "Gail lives near where Colvin Avenue becomes Colvin Boulevard, I think. Arlene took me to visit her once. Yes, right near Hertel Plaza, north of the park."

"And where does she work?" asked Hansen, his voice more impatient than he meant it to be.

The old woman looked afraid. "Oh, Gail has always worked at the Erie County Medical Center. She's a surgical nurse there."

Hansen patted her hands again. "Thank you, Mrs. Dzwrjsky. You've been a huge help." He nodded for Brubaker and Myers to head back to the DeMarco house.

"I hope that Arlene is all right," said the old woman from the back door. She was weeping now. "I just hope Arlene is all right."

Back in Arlene DeMarco's kitchen, Brubaker used his cell phone to call Dispatch. They got Ms. Gail DeMarco's address on Colvin and the phone number, and Hansen called. There was no answer. He called the Erie County Medical Center, identified himself as a police officer, and was informed that Nurse DeMarco was assisting in surgery right now but would be available in about thirty minutes.

"Okay," said Hansen. "You two get over to the house on Colvin Avenue."

"You want us to go in?" asked Myers, lifting the battering ram off the table.

"No. Just stake it out. Check the driveway and call me if the Ford wagon is there. You can ask neighbors if they've seen the car or Arlene DeMarco or Frears or Kurtz, but don't go in until I get there."

"Where will you be, Captain?" Brubaker seemed half-amused by all this urgency.

"I'm going to stop at the Medical Center on the way. Get going."

Hansen watched from the front window as the two drove off in their unmarked cars. Then he walked back across the yard, through the carport, across the alley, and knocked on Mrs. Dzwrjsky's back door again.

When the old woman opened the door, she was holding the phone but it appeared that she hadn't dialed a number yet. She set the phone back in its cradle as Hansen stepped into the kitchen. "Yes, Officer?"

Hansen pulled the Glock-9 and shot her three times in the upper chest. Any other time, he would take the chance that the woman would call someone rather than take the chance of leaving a body behind, much less leave two detectives as witnesses, but this was an unusual situation. All he needed was a day or two and none of this would matter for Captain Robert Gaines Millworth. Probably just one day.

Hansen stepped over the body, making sure not to step in the widening pool of blood, picked up his ejected brass, and took time to reload the three cartridges in the dock's magazine before walking back through the yards to his waiting Cadillac Escalade.

Earlier that morning, Kurtz and Angelina Farino Ferrara sat in the front seat of her Lincoln and watched Captain Robert Millworth drive away from his home. It was 7:15 a.m.

"There was another car in the garage," said Angelina. "A BMW wagon."

Kurtz nodded and they waited. At 7:45, a woman, a teenage boy, and an Irish setter backed out in the station wagon. The woman beeped the garage door shut and drove off. "Wife, kid, and dog," said Angelina. "Any more in there?"

Kurtz shrugged.

"We'll find out," said Angelina. She drove the Town Car right up the long Millworth driveway and they both got out, Angelina carrying a heavy nylon bag. Kurtz stood back while she knocked several times. No answer.

"Around back," she said. He followed her through the side yard and across a snowy patio. The nearest neighbor was about a hundred yards away behind a privacy fence.

They paused by the sliding doors to the patio as Angelina crouched and studied something through the glass. "It's a SecureMax system," she said. "Expensive but not the best. Would you give me that glass cutter and the suction cup? Thanks."

Yesterday evening, in front of the fire over brandies, with Kurtz almost too tired to concentrate, she had told him her story… or at least the part of it that had made her laugh when he'd told her that he would need a B&E man.

Angelina Farino had always wanted to be a thief. Her father, Don Byron Farino, had worked to keep her sheltered from the facts of his life and would never have considered allowing her to take part in the family business. But Angelina did not want to be involved in every aspect of the business—not then. She just wanted to be the best thief in New York State.