Andrew Vachss - The Weight

“One man’s luck is another man’s loss. And I still say you got off cheap.”

“Let’s say I did. But if the sex-crimes cops hadn’t gotten her to ID me, you wouldn’t be saying what you just said. That’s true, too.”

“Okay. But I’m still waiting for the punch line.”

“I want to get off the RSO list.”

“So you can sue the city? It’s a little late for that now, don’t you think?”

“Five years-”

“I’m not a lawyer,” the cop said, like he was proud of it. “If some shyster told you there was money in this, you’re brain-dead, Caine. You pleaded guilty. I don’t care if they found enough of some other guy’s DNA to fill every test tube in Quantico, it wouldn’t do you any good.”

“I don’t have a lawyer. I’m not going to sue anybody. You know why I took that plea.”

“So? What, then?”

“So that DNA, it would do me some good. A lot of good.”

“You brought up the RSO, not me.”

“Right. You know what that means, being a Registered Sex Offender? I maxed out, but I still got to keep an address, let them know when I move, stuff like that.”

“Cramps your style, does it?”

“No, that’s not it. They don’t actually do anything. It’s just a stupid Web site. And you know who uses it the most?”

“Uses what the most?”

“This ‘registry’ thing. The people who use it most are those… ‘pedophiles,’ they call them. See, what they do, when they’re trying to worm their way in someplace, like with a single mother who’s living with her little daughter, they tell her to check them out. On this Web site, I mean. When that comes up empty, it’s like the government is saying, ‘This guy, he’s all right,’ see?”

“How come you know this?” Woods asked me. He was way too casual-I could see he really wanted to know.

“When I first went in-on the last bit, I mean-they put me in this group for sex offenders. It was supposed to be voluntary, but all of them know, if they don’t go, the Parole Board’s gonna nail them.”

“And you didn’t want to call attention to yourself, so you played along?”

“On the nose. I didn’t last long-they threw me out-but that was one of the things they talked about in ‘group.’

“They talked about this registry a lot . Some of them, they were all… outraged, like. It was a violation of their rights, they were branded for life, blah-blah. But a couple of them said the truth: that was one scam they could never use again , which was a shame because it always worked. That’s how I know about it.”

Woods went back to looking bored. “So what d’you want, Caine? You think I’m going to sign an affidavit or something?”

“I think you want the same thing I do.”

“What? Justice for the victim?” The cop took a drag of his smoke. For a second, I was sorry I quit-he sure made it look like it tasted good.

“Not for her. For him.”

“Jesus. You did too many fucking crossword puzzles up there, Caine.”

“What d’you get out of making fun of me, cop? I know I’m no Einstein, but I don’t need to be one to add this up.”

“Huh?”

“The guy who raped that girl, he owes you guys for doing it. But he also owes me, for doing the time.”

“You want me to help you find him so you can shake him down?”

“You get a kick out of saying things like that? I thought you were a right guy. You fucking well know what I’m saying, but you’re still just jerking my chain. So how’s this? The guy who raped that girl, his life isn’t worth five years of my time. But I can’t find him without help, so I’ll settle for him going down. And he’d go down hard , no matter where he’s locked.”

“And I care about that because…?”

“I’m not asking you to tell me anything. Just listen. No way he was someone the girl knew, or you would have nailed him. He got away with that one, so he probably got away with a lot more. Maybe he still is.”

“Or maybe he’s already doing time on one of the others.”

“If you know that, just tell me. What could it hurt? Hurt you, I mean.”

“Oh, I know what you mean, pal. And even if I did know, I wouldn’t tell you-I’m not playing bloodhound for a hit man.”

“I’m not-”

“You’ve got no rep for that, I know. But for this guy, I’m betting you’d make an exception.”

“Try me and see.”

“Can’t,” the cop said. “Far as I know, nobody’s ever been convicted of that rape. Besides you, that is.”

“But he could be in the system, right? Those sex-crimes guys, they ‘solved’ the case, so they’re all done. But you might get a DNA match off someone who’s still locked up and-”

“If there was DNA, maybe. I never asked.”

“There you go. That proves we could help each other. If you want the help, that is.”

He changed position on the bench. Dropped his cigarette to the ground and stomped it out . “How come you didn’t go to Sex Crimes with this?”

“How come you knew I didn’t do it?”

“What do you want, Caine? I’m not asking again.”

“I want you to tell the girl I didn’t do it. I want the chance to talk to her. I don’t think anybody ever really did. Nobody’s looking for this guy. But me, I’d look for him.”

“You carrying?”

“No, sir.” He had to be asking for some reason I didn’t understand. Anything I got caught “carrying” would guarantee me another few years inside a State box.

“You’d take a polygraph?”

“Right this minute.”

“And that’s the only crime you want to talk about?”

“Come on.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“If you catch a terrorist from another country-catch him here , I mean-how come you ship him back where he came from for questioning?”

The cop didn’t say anything.

“I could be that other country for you. I find this guy, he’s going to tell me everything. Not just about the rape I did his time for, about every one he’s ever done.”

“Somehow, I can’t see you wearing a wire.”

“Wouldn’t need one. On every rape this guy committed, they found something . Maybe he’s got a trophy case. Maybe he takes pictures. Maybe he had a partner. I don’t know. But, whatever I get, add it to what you already got, wouldn’t that be enough to nail him?”

The cop pinned me with his eyes. Wasting his time-I wasn’t going anywhere.

“I’ll get back to you,” he finally said.

“How?”

“That’s a good question.”

“I’ll call you, okay? Just say when.”

The cop looked at his wristwatch. Maybe it had one of those calendar things in it.

“I got two years until I pull the pin,” he said. “Retire. Me and the wife, we’ve already got a place picked out. Far from here.”

“It was worth a shot,” I said.

“I said two years, Caine, not two days. There’s benches by the other river, too. You know the Hospital for Special Surgery?”

“I can find it.”

“Just keep walking on Seventy-first; you’ll find a little bridge, takes you up to where you can look at the river over the FDR. Next Friday, two o’clock, I’ll be on that bridge.”

“Me, too.”

Walking around without a gun felt good. I never liked them-they always seemed to make things worse. But what I really didn’t like was guys who liked guns. Some of them, when they handed over what they were carrying so I could see all the special stuff for myself, it made me feel… slimy, like.