David Rosenfelt - Airtight

“But the Long Island one lasted for twenty minutes, so it doesn’t seem to fit what Bryan said. All the documents from the satellite company are in the folder, and I included a map showing where they are. The supervisor for that area was very helpful.”

Julie and I were having a quick dinner at a coffee shop near her office. Everything seemed to be quick these days, including the days themselves. Bryan was running out of time, so every second seemed precious.

“Terrific,” I said.

“What does it do for us?” she asked, picking at her French fries. Julie is the healthiest eater I know; she throws down broccoli and brussel sprouts like I do M amp;M’s. But this time she ordered a burger and fries, which probably said something about her mental state.

“At this point not enough. But if we get more information, we can cross-check it against this.”

She asked that I bring her up to date on the status of the investigations, which I did, starting with my concerns about Steven Gallagher’s ability to get to and from the crime scene.

“You really think he could have been framed?” she asked, her tone clearly displaying her skepticism.

“I think there’s a lot that a defense attorney could have used, if I had let it get to that.”

“He could have hitched a ride with a friend. He could have stolen a car and then dumped it.”

“There is no evidence that this kid ever harmed a fly in his entire life. He had probably been before a half-dozen judges on drug offenses in the past. All of a sudden he tracks down this one and becomes Jack the Goddamn Ripper?”

She seemed exasperated. “Come on, Luke, you’ve never arrested a first-time murderer? People snap, and drugs make them even more unstable.”

“You seem anxious for me to be wrong about this,” I said.

She shook her head. “I actually don’t care either way right now if Steven Gallagher was a killer or an altar boy. But I want you to focus on the prize, and not waste your time on re-solving the case.”

For some reason while she was talking I was looking at the wedding band she wore on her finger. I’m not sure why; I don’t think I’d ever noticed a ring on a woman in my life.

“You know, when I got there that day, the first thing Steven yelled was something like, ‘You said you wouldn’t come back here.’”

“So?”

“So maybe he thought he was talking to people that had framed him. Maybe they left the bloody clothes there, and he thought they had come back.”

She sighed. “You need to separate the facts there are from the facts that you wish there were,” she said.

“What does that mean?”

“It means he had motive. It means he probably couldn’t think clearly because of the drugs. It means he had the Judge’s blood on his clothes. And it means there’s not a jury in America that wouldn’t have convicted him.”

“That’s all true.” She was right in that I was having some difficulty in separating what I wanted to be facts from what I knew to be facts.

“But you’re not buying it?”

“Not entirely, no. I think there is a chance that Steven Gallagher was innocent.”

Julie seemed to decide there were much better things to do than continue pursuing that topic. “Let’s talk about the court case,” she said. “I’ve done some work on that.”

That sounded promising. “What did you come up with?”

“Carlton’s got some financial troubles.”

“His company? Or Carlton personally?” Remembering him in his robe in that hotel suite did not conjure up a picture of a guy worried about where his next meal was coming from.

“Both. The company has been bleeding money for quite a while now; it seems that each new generation of Carltons is less competent than the one before it. And Richard is in the middle of a tough divorce, which is sure to cost him a bunch of cash.”

“Interesting,” I say. “If he wins the court case, he gets four hundred million dollars. If he loses, he keeps a tract of undeveloped land near a depressed town. Pretty powerful motive. Not beyond a reasonable doubt, but definitely strong stuff.”

“Are you trying to convince a jury, or Gallagher?”

“Gallagher. Which might be harder.”

We got quiet for a while, neither of us eating our food. We were frustrated with each other, because neither of us could make the situation better.

Finally, she said, “Luke, I know it’s a long way from happening, but if you are able to do this, to prove his brother innocent, will he let Bryan go?”

“I might be crazy, but I believe that he will. He’s got a sense of justice that he follows, like an internal road map that tells him right and wrong.”

“But that would mean you would have killed an innocent man, his own brother. Wouldn’t he have to do the same to Bryan to satisfy that sense of justice?”

What she said made sense yet didn’t ring true. “I don’t think so; these are the rules he’s set up, and I think he’ll follow them.”

“And what if you can’t convince him that you have the proof? Will he…,” she said, unable to finish the sentence.

“I think he will.”

We were both quiet for a few moments, and then she said, “And then what will you do?”

“I’ll hunt him down and kill him, if it takes me twenty years,” I said. “So maybe he and I are not that different.”

She looked me in the eyes, so intensely that I thought she could see through the back of my head. “You’re very, very different. Did you tell Bryan I was sorry?”

“I did. Should I tell him you want him back? Back with you?”

She hesitated. “This is ground I’ve never covered before, Luke. Do I say what will make him feel good? Or do I tell the truth?”

“It depends what the truth is,” I said.

“The truth is that right now, at this moment, if you told me the only way to save his life would be for me to go on with our marriage, I would do it in a heartbeat. I care very deeply for him, and I would do anything to protect him. But if he comes back, and we resume as if nothing has happened, it ultimately will not work. He’ll know that as surely as I would.”

She smiled, and continued. “That’s how I feel right now, at this moment. Tomorrow, who knows?”

“Maybe you can make it work. Maybe you owe him that.”

“The problem is I don’t love him, Luke. I love you.”

That was something I had both waited a long time to hear and never wanted to hear. And under these circumstances, it was actually hard to process. I’m a disaster at being in touch with my feelings, and in this case my feelings and I weren’t on the same planet.

A hundred things raced through my mind as to how to respond to what she said, and I just as quickly rejected each of them. Finally, I settled on the only one I felt comfortable with.

“Oh,” I said.

But I said it with feeling.

We’re getting closer, Bryan. And there’s a definite chance that Steven Gallagher did not kill Brennan. I was played for a sucker … they sent me in there and I did their killing for them.

This is going to end well, Brother. I’m not saying we’ll laugh about it someday, but we’ll get through it.

Richard Carlton was worried and annoyed.

He wasn’t about to panic; that really wasn’t in his DNA. Things had always worked out for Carlton, and this situation would be no exception.

But it was very irritating, mainly because he thought this issue had been put to bed. With Brennan out of the way, there was nothing standing in the way of the Court of Appeals decision. That would end the legal battle, which would trigger the sale of the land, which would make Carlton unbelievably wealthy. The last roadblock had been removed, but the cop, Somers, was single-handedly dragging it back into the middle of the highway.