Michael Baden - Skeleton justice

"I said that Mycroft still doesn't seem himself. Maybe we should take him to Dr. Costello, his regular vet."

"Costello? Costello is the name of Manny's vet?"

"Yeah, the new guy. The one that Kenneth thinks is so hot. Why?"

Jake swung around to face his computer, his fingers wildly tapping the keys. "Nixon's coffee mug. Through a subpoena on the eBay seller, we tracked down the name of the seller. The seller sent me an e-mail with the info. It sounded vaguely familiar, but I hadn't yet tracked it down when Manny disappeared." A final mouse click and Jake leaned forward to squint at the screen. "The buyer is one Elena Costello. The billing address on her credit card is in Manhattan. This can't be a coincidence."

Picking up on his brother's excitement, Sam asked, "Where in Manhattan-uptown or downtown from Manny's place?"

"The fifties, midtown, near her. That could explain why she went out the back door of her building. Dr. Costello claims he told Manny to take Mycroft to the Animal Medical Center uptown, but he must really have told her to bring the dog to him."

"Is there anything else the eBay seller revealed?" Sam asked.

"It says the mug was shipped to a PO Box in Paterson, New Jersey," Jake continued. "The last known address for Freak, the guy who set the bomb, the guy who has a prior for organizing dog fights, was in Paterson. Pasquarelli tried to locate him, but none of his street friends are talking."

Sam jumped up. "I'll find him."

"I should have seen this earlier," Jake said. "The expertise in drawing blood, the rats, what happened to Mycroft-it all points to a veterinarian."

"No time for recriminations, Jake. You put the police on the Costellos' trail. I'm going to Paterson."

Jake's phone rang. He signaled his brother to wait, but Sam was already out the door.

"All right." Dr. Costello handed a remote-control device to his wife. "Are you ready?"

Elena smiled and nodded. Walking to the far corner of the room, she pressed a few buttons while her husband watched the screen of a laptop. Snapping her fingers to get Manny's and Travis's attention, she pointed above her head to a tiny camera by the ceiling. "Smile, you two. You're on Candid Camera. Or candid Web cam, I should say."

Manny looked up at the glass eye focused on her. She'd known military families who used Web cams to let the soldier mom or dad witness their kids' lives in real time. And she'd heard of live porn distributed over the Internet. But what exactly would be gained by showing her and Travis tied up in this otherwise-empty room? Stress, exhaustion, and ether had combined to dull Manny's mental reflexes. She tried to use her imagination to sort things out, but she came up blank.

She looked over at Travis, who stared listlessly up at the camera, then hung his head and coughed hoarsely. He'd been with the Costellos for days now, and he'd lost all his defiance, all his anger. What had they done to replace his youthful passion with this weary passivity? Travis had accepted his status as victim. Would she?

"Is it working?" Elena asked.

Dr. Costello tilted the laptop so his wife could see. A delighted smile spread across her face. Then the vet turned the laptop toward Manny and Travis.

Manny wouldn't have recognized the haggard red-haired woman on the screen except that she was sitting next to Travis, so it had to be her. Instinctively, she lifted her hand to smooth her wild hair. The woman on the screen's hand went up, too. Manny dropped her hand; the screen hand dropped. Creepy.

"What do you think?" Elena asked.

Manny sat stoically. She refused to perform.

"Come now, smile. Soon you'll be a star. Because we've sent an e-mail from the Vampire to every news outlet in the city, so that they can watch what's about to unfold here. And, of course, we'll ask your friend Dr. Rosen to tune in."

"What's about to unfold?" Manny asked.

"You'll see. The whole world will see. Finally."

"Lookin' for Freak."

Sam had circled Paterson in Jake's car, studying the clusters of young men gathered on certain corners. Although it was the middle of the day during the beginning of a work week, Paterson didn't lack for guys with no time clock to punch. After careful observation, Sam selected the group he would least like to meet in a dark alley, parked, and strolled up to them.

"Lookin' to get me a dog," Sam elaborated after his opening gambit elicited no response. "Friend of mine said Freak's the man to see about that."

The men shifted, dropping their hips and rolling their shoulders. The tallest man stared at Sam. Sam stared back. This lasted a good forty-five seconds. When Sam didn't wet his pants in fear, the big guy broke into a grin, revealing four shiny gold teeth.

"Nice grille," Sam said. "I think you must be the guy the fellas over on Fifteenth Street told me to look for."

This cracked them up. Sam smiled, too, happy to have brought a little sunshine into their lives.

"Freak ain't been around lately," the big guy finally said through his laughter.

"Well, like I said, it's a dog I want. Who takes care of his dogs when he's gone?"

The big man looked Sam up and down, trying to determine his line of work. Suburban drug dealer? Pimp? Pornographer? "You can't use his dogs for protection, man," he advised. "They fightin' dogs-too mean for much else. Ain't nobody but Freak can handle 'em."

"But Freak's not around. Who's taking care of the dogs?"

"Pauly feeds 'em. But he can't help you." The big guy touched his forehead. "He's not all there, know what'm sayin'?"

"Got it. Okay, then. Be seein' ya."

Sam got back in his car, slipped on his sport coat, and drove two blocks to the Mother of Mercy Soup Kitchen. He entered the crowded dining room, scanned the crowd, and walked purposefully toward a stocky middle-aged woman with a wooden cross on a leather string around her neck.

"Good afternoon, Sister." Sam beamed. "I'm looking for a young man named Pauly." He dropped his voice. "A little developmentally delayed? But I understand he's a hard worker, and I was hoping I could hire him for a few odd jobs around my warehouse over on Philips Street."

The nun clasped her hands in delight. "Ah, the Lord always provides! Pauly was just here, hoping for a loan to tide him over until his disability check arrives. I'm sure he'd love the opportunity to work, Mr.-"

"Pettengil," Sam said, lying without hesitation. "Where can I find him?"

"Right down the street. He lives above the bodega."

Sam felt a momentary twinge of guilt for having hoodwinked a nun, but it evaporated once he met Pauly. Not only was the young man happy to talk to Sam about his cousin Freak and the dogs, but also he immediately sought Sam's advice.

"Don't know what I'm gonna do. Freak said two days, watch 'em two days. But it's been five-no, six-no, five-five days he's gone." Sam trotted to keep up as the young man walked hyperkinetically along the dingy street. "Runnin' outta food, yes I am. And I ain't got money to buy more. Gotta give 'em meat, that's what Freak says. No dog chow, nope. Only meat."

Sam nodded sympathetically. Pauly didn't require much in the way of dialogue. When he finally got a chance to get a word in, Sam asked, "Where is Freak anyway?"

"Don't know. Bizness, he got bizness." They had reached a dilapidated house, one of only three still standing on the block. A tall board-on-board fence, sturdier than the building it was attached to, enclosed the small backyard. Pulling out a key, Pauly unfastened a thick padlock and pushed the gate as far as he could-about a foot. He slipped through the narrow opening, followed by Sam.

Recoiling from a tremendous volley of ferocious barking, Sam instinctively moved to duck back through the gate. But Pauly shuffled forward and Sam realized the dogs-at least twenty pit bulls-were all caged. They snapped and snarled, their small eyes rolling in fury, their powerful jaws seeking something, anything, to clamp onto. Pauly had been feeding them, but he obviously hadn't been taking care of any of their other needs. The dogs were covered in their own filth and some had bloodied their paws trying to escape their small pens.