David Rosenfelt - Airtight

I had strong doubts we would, but saw no need to mention it at that point.

Sitting with her right then was weird but not awkward, if that makes any sense. It was weird because of the awful situation we were facing, and because we were two people who had been in love with each other for six years.

After that one night, we never talked about it or our feelings for each other, and we definitely weren’t about to now. But it hung out there over the table like a fairly large-sized watermelon.

Since we couldn’t talk about that and we certainly didn’t want to discuss Bryan’s plight anymore, Julie asked me, “So, at the end of the day, did Steven Gallagher kill Danny Brennan?”

“No way. We can add that to the list of things I’ll have to live with.”

“He raised the gun, Luke. He was going to shoot either himself, or you. The fact that he didn’t kill Brennan didn’t make him less dangerous.”

“Yeah,” I said, with as little enthusiasm as I was feeling. “Did you see The King’s Speech ?”

“Yes. Great movie.”

“Bryan saw it the other night; he assumed I hadn’t seen it, because it seemed too upscale for my taste.”

She laughed and said, “I would assume the same thing.”

At least I think that’s what she said. I was focusing on the fact that when she said it she put her hand on my arm. It was like a jolt of electricity; she could have been reciting the Gettysburg Address and I wouldn’t have noticed.

Finally I said, “I saw it the night it came out.”

“Then you had a date that chose the movie.”

She had removed her hand, so I was hearing clearly again. “Guilty as charged, counselor. Anyway, Bryan wrote about the relationships that the brothers had, and compared it to the relationship between the Prince and the speech therapist. It showed him that family isn’t enough; you need to work at being friends.”

She nodded as if she understood; I guess when you live with someone for six years you get a good idea how they view things.

“Funny thing is, that’s not what struck me about it at all,” I said. “It got me thinking about how we’re all programmed from an early age to be what we’re going to be. Not because of any royal line of succession like those guys, but by our parents, or our intelligence, or whatever. For a lot of reasons, Bryan was going to be in business and I was going to be a cop.”

“I think you both wound up in the right place.”

We both realized at the same time the place Bryan was in at the moment, which put an end to the discussion.

“Let’s go,” I said. I paid the check, and we went upstairs. We walked down the hall to Julie’s room; mine was just a few doors past it. When we got to her door, I wanted to go in with her. I’m less in need of comforting than anyone I’ve ever met, but at that moment we both needed it, and we were uniquely in a position to provide it for each other.

“Good night,” I said.

She kissed me lightly on the cheek. “Good night, Luke. Tomorrow is going to be a great day.”

“Yes, it is,” I said.

She closed the door, and I walked the rest of the way to my room. It seemed like about four miles.

Hang in there, Brother. Big day tomorrow. Julie came up because she wants to be there when you get out; I hope that’s OK.

More tomorrow.

I was right about having trouble sleeping.

I lay there for a while, trying to ready myself for what we were facing, and trying to quell the fear.

I think I fell asleep, in fits and starts, and the only reason I say that is because I was having a dream. I don’t remember that much of it now, but Bryan was the King of England, or at least King of something, and I was sort of a dope in the castle who nobody paid any attention to. It was the Paterson, New Jersey, version of The King’s Speech.

I had the dream a little after five in the morning, and the reason I know that is because that’s what time it was when I jumped up like someone shoved a hot poker up my ass.

I grabbed the phone and called Julie and Emmit. “Meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes,” I said to each of them. They both asked what was going on, and I just repeated, “Meet me downstairs in fifteen minutes.”

I was down there in twelve, and Julie was already waiting for me. Emmit was there a few seconds later. There was coffee in the lobby, and we each grabbed a cup and sat down.

“Bryan e-mailed me that he watched The King’s Speech,” I said. “He’s had television service throughout.”

They didn’t say anything, probably hoping that I was going to offer more than this old news.

I was.

“I read an article a while back, I think it had to do with targeting advertisements to people, but the point of it was that the satellite and cable companies know what you are watching. They keep records of it; they even know what people record.”

“I think I read that,” Emmit said.

I could see excitement building in Julie’s eyes, but it was tempered. “But you know how many people watched The King’s Speech that night?”

“That’s the first thing I thought about,” I said. “There’s no way we’d be able to narrow it down in time. But it doesn’t matter what Bryan watched; what matters is what he’s going to watch.”

“What do you mean?” she asked.

“You have a friend at the satellite company, right? The guy you got the weather outage info from.”

“He was helpful; I wouldn’t call him a friend.”

“Either he’s going to be your friend today or I’m going to strangle him with my bare hands.

“Let’s find out where he is and get him up and in his office,” I said to Emmit. “And get a court order just in case.”

“I’m lost,” Emmit said. “What are we asking this guy to do?”

“I’m going to e-mail Bryan and tell him what to watch. We’ll do it in a way that stands out. Then we’ll get this satellite guy to sit at his computer and find out where the house with that watching pattern is.”

Julie opened her purse and took out a notebook. She turned a few pages, and said, “His name is Daniel Robbins. I think his office is in Morristown.”

Emmit stood up, said, “I’ll make the calls from the room phone,” and walked away, his large frame moving faster than I thought it could walk and showing no ill effects of the shooting. If I were Daniel Robbins, I would do whatever Emmit asked.

“This had better work,” I said.

“I think it can,” Julie said. “They should have the technology to pull it off.”

I didn’t take too much comfort in what she said, since she had as little knowledge of technology as I did, which is to say she had none. For the moment there was nothing to do but e-mail Bryan and wait for Emmit.

Ten minutes later my phone rang. I took a quick look and saw that it was a number I didn’t recognize, so I figured it was Emmit calling from upstairs. “Emmit?”

“Lieutenant Somers, this is Alex Hutchinson,” the caller said, in a female voice that sounded nothing like Emmit’s.

It took me a moment to place the name, and when I did I said, “Alex, yes … I-”

She interrupted me. “You said I should call you if I knew something important, and I know it’s early, but-”

I returned the interruption. “I’m sorry, Alex, I’m in the middle of something. Can I call you back at this number?”

She seemed uncertain. “Yes, I guess so. But I think you’ll want to hear it. It’s about that man that was killed.”

“I definitely want to hear it. I promise I’ll call you back soon,” I said, though I didn’t really plan to. I’d have Emmit call her back when the opportunity presented itself. I knew she was a serious person who would not be wasting my time, but I was going to focus on Bryan, and only Bryan.