Lee Vance - The Garden of Betrayal

“None. I wish I could help you.”

“No link between Mr. al-Shaabi and Mr. Coleman that we should be aware of? Nothing you were working on with either of them that might have made someone unhappy?”

“No.”

“Did Mr. al-Shaabi and Mr. Coleman know each other?”

“No. I’d been careful to keep my relationship with Rashid quiet, even from Alex, because Rashid hadn’t wanted his employees to know that he spoke to me.”

The chief nodded and turned to the lieutenant.

“What do you think?”

“I think he’s a lying sack of shit.”

“Mr. Wallace is a citizen,” Reggie said, giving the lieutenant a look that would have made me take a few steps back. “Courtesy, professionalism, and respect. That’s the new department, isn’t it?”

The lieutenant glared back at him.

“Detective Kinnard’s correct,” the chief said mildly. “I apologize for Lieutenant Wayland’s rudeness. But I incline toward his point of view.” The chief came a step closer to my bed and touched his forehead. “That piece of shrapnel you caught. The doctor tell you what it was?”

“No,” I said, confused by the change of subject.

“A splinter of Mr. al-Shaabi’s skull. Doctor thinks maybe it’s a tiny piece of his lachrymal.” The chief lowered his finger and touched the bridge of his nose, next to his eye. “Little bone right here. Although how the fuck he could tell with all that mess, I got no idea.”

I fought back the urge to vomit again.

“I mention it to make the point that you’re involved here, Mr. Wallace. You’re as involved as it’s possible to be. And there’s no skating away from that. The NYPD and the FBI and God only knows how many other agencies are going to be crawling all over this case and all over you. If I discover you’ve been lying to us, I’ll do my best to nail you for hindering prosecution and get you three hots and a cot courtesy of the city. The Feds are doing some interesting things with conspiracy law. They might be able to get you on that as well. You understand me?”

“Perfectly,” I managed.

“Good.” He turned to Reggie. “Walk me to the elevator, Irish. You and me got a few more things to talk about.”

I dozed restlessly for about ten minutes until Reggie came back.

“I got hold of Belko,” he said. “He’s on his way in from Queens. He’ll keep an eye on Claire and Kate until we figure out some other arrangement.”

“Thanks,” I said. “So, tell me. The chief show you the carrot or the stick?”

“Chief’s a stick guy. He read your file and wanted to know where I’d gotten with the e-mail. I gave him the abridged version and told him we had divers looking for the car in Staten Island. He’s in your camp-he doesn’t like all the coincidences. He suggested I use my relationship with you to win your confidence and find out what’s really going on. Or else.”

“You worried?”

“Not yet. Long as I can argue I’m working Kyle’s case, I’m okay.”

“Should I be worried?”

“About the hindering-prosecution thing or a conspiracy charge? No. That’s a load of bullshit. But you’re the one who has to be comfortable going down this road. Means a lot more strain on you personally. Be easier to punt the whole thing. I got a friend in the FBI you could talk to.”

“FBI less political than the NYPD?”

He laughed.

“No such thing as a nonpolitical cop over the rank of sergeant-city, state, or federal. But the FBI’s not pissed off at you yet.”

“I’ll take my chances with you.” My eyes closed involuntarily, and it was an effort to open them again. “You said you knew what I meant before, when I told you how overwhelmed I was feeling.”

“I’ve seen a lot of bad stuff over the years,” Reggie said, shrugging. “It comes with the territory.”

“So, why not just walk away? Transfer back to auto crime, or something less onerous.”

It was a question I’d been wanting to ask him for a long time.

“I wish I knew,” he said. “Seriously. I wonder about that all the time.”

“I was thinking about walking away. I talked to Claire about it the other night. Get Kate settled in college and then relocate to Europe or the West Coast and try to put everything behind us.”

“You don’t feel that way now?”

“No,” I said, feeling resolved. “I don’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because for the first time ever, I think we have a real shot at learning what happened to Kyle and finding the people who took him,” I said, the words tumbling out of me. “And because I think these same people are responsible for what happened to Carlos Munoz, and to Rashid. It’s all knotted together somehow. But mainly because I think these people came after me deliberately, and they might be coming after me again. I’m not going to rest until I find them and put them down.”

Reggie nodded.

“Flip side of my philosophy. You don’t hurt people who aren’t trying to hurt you, but if they are, you hit back hard. Some things demand a response.”

“Right,” I said, my eyes closing again. “That’s exactly right.”

“Rest,” he said. “I’ll see what I can do about getting you out of here.”

I slept another hour, waking when the same doctor turned up to peer into my eyes again and make me do more mental arithmetic.

“Your friend the cop says you’re in a hurry to be released. That true?”

“You have many patients who aren’t?”

He laughed.

“Issue is where they go. Some don’t have anywhere, and others are afraid of a place worse than this. But I think you’re okay. Tell you what-it’s just after two now. You spend a couple of hours in the observation ward, and-if you stay stable-you can go home at five. The nurse there will explain what you need to do. Someone’s going to have to stay with you today and tonight, and to wake you up every couple of hours to make sure you’re still alert. Concussions can be tricky.”

“My wife and daughter will love that.”

“And you should consider talking to a counselor of some sort,” he added in a more somber tone. “Priest, therapist, whomever. You’ve had a difficult experience today. You want a recommendation?”

“No, thanks. There’s a family guy we go to sometimes. If I have a problem, I’ll call him.”

“Fair enough. Good luck to you, Mr. Wallace.”

An orderly came to fetch me ten minutes later, moving my bed to a room with a glass wall that looked out onto a nurse’s station. Claire and Kate were waiting for me. After the kisses and the tears, they wanted to know what had happened with Rashid. I asked Kate to summon Reggie and Joe from the waiting room, so they could hear the story at the same time. I was doing a good job of describing it all dispassionately until I got to the bodyguard handing Rashid the phone, and then I lost it. The nurse who’d carped at Reggie’s presence earlier was watching through the window. She pounced, insisting I was emotionally exhausted and threatening to hold me overnight unless everyone left immediately. I made Claire and Kate promise to head straight back to the Meridien with Joe, and not to go anywhere without protection. Neither protested.

True to the doctor’s word, the hospital began processing my release at five, but it was almost six by the time I’d finished all the paperwork. A cheerful orderly rolled me out the front door in the obligatory wheelchair and helped decant me into the front seat of Reggie’s waiting car.

“Better,” Reggie said, nodding approvingly as he scrutinized me. “You got some color back. Thought you might be done for when I first saw you this morning. You looked like fucking Casper.”

“Thanks, I guess. Any more news on Rashid?”