Brad Meltzer - Dead Even

Reaching into the pocket of her pantsuit, Sara rechecked the gun that Conrad had given her before he left for Hoboken. Seeing what Sara was doing, Guff said, “Stop worrying about it. You don’t have to use it – he just thought you should have it.”

“It’s fine,” Sara said. “I can handle it.”

At Rafferty’s door, Sara rang the bell.

“Who is it?” Rafferty asked.

“Mr. Rafferty, it’s Sara Tate from the district attorney’s office. I spoke to you last week.”

Suddenly, the door opened and Rafferty looked out at his visitors. His features were drawn. His usually combed-back hair was a stringy mess. And his Brioni sportswear had been replaced by creased khakis and a rumpled shirt with the cuffs undone. “What is it, Ms. Tate?” he asked abruptly.

“Sorry to bother you again, but I was wondering if we could ask for a bit more of your time.”

“If this is about Claire, I want you to know that I’d never-”

“We can deal with that later,” Sara said. “Right now, we were hoping to take a quick look around your apartment. We have reason to believe that Tony Kozlow might be here.”

“Why would-” Rafferty fought to keep his composure. “You’re welcome to come in.” As Rafferty stepped aside, Guff and the two officers made their way into the apartment and began their search. Sara stayed with Rafferty. Studying his tired eyes, she tried to figure out what he knew.

“I understand you sent a fingerprint crew to my office this morning,” Rafferty said, breaking the silence.

“I did. And I was surprised to find out that you weren’t at work today. Why’d you take the day off? Busy with other things?”

“Ms. Tate, your lack of subtlety is disgraceful. If you want to accuse me of murder, then arrest me.”

“I plan to,” Sara said. “Believe me, we’re going to be speaking again soon.”

At that moment, Guff returned to the living room. “No sign,” Guff said. A minute later, the two officers followed.

“He’s not here,” one of them said. “The place is empty.”

“Thank you,” Rafferty said, showing everyone to the door. “Now if you don’t mind, I have to make some funeral arrangements. Claire had no close relatives.”

As she was about to leave, Sara turned around. “I thought you two weren’t close.”

“She’s my former partner’s wife. Good friends look out for each other.”

“I’m sure they do,” Sara said as Rafferty slammed the door.

Walking toward the elevator, Guff said, “I can’t believe she wasn’t there.”

“Did you check everywhere?” Sara asked.

“It’s a three-bedroom apartment in New York City. There aren’t that many places to hide.”

“I guess that means he doesn’t have a wine cellar,” Sara said as they stepped into the elevator.

“Do you think he knew?” one of the officers asked.

“Of course he knew,” Guff said. “By now, the whole world knows.”

“How can you say that?” Sara asked.

“Sara, I don’t mean to stomp on your fairy tale, but I think it’s time to take a second look at Jared. If you never would’ve told him-”

“That’s not true,” Sara insisted.

“It is true,” Guff shot back. “Trust me, I agreed with you yesterday. I thought you were right to tell him. But you have to pay attention to what’s going on here. I don’t think Claire snuck out of the basement on her own – someone must have told her what was really happening. And the only way that could’ve happened is if someone knew what we were doing.”

“No one knows, Guff! And even if McCabe let her out, that doesn’t mean it’s my husband’s fault!” When the elevator doors opened, Sara burst through the lobby and headed for the police car.

“Where’re you going?” Guff asked, chasing after her. “Don’t run away.”

“We have to go to Elliott’s,” Sara said “He’s the only other person who has a stake in this.”

“But what if Conrad-”

“If Conrad’s still there, we’ll go along with his story. If not, we’ll tell Elliott we’re following up.”

“That’s great. I agree,” Guff said. “But you have to start dealing with your husband. Let one of these guys check up on him.”

“How many times do I have to tell you: Jared would never do that!”

Guff wiped his hands on his pants. He was torn. He didn’t want to challenge her, but he was starting to get frustrated. In a softer voice, he said, “If you’re so confident, why can’t you find him? Why has he suddenly disappeared?”

Sara stared coldly at her assistant. “Give me your phone,” she said to one of the officers. She quickly dialed Jared’s number. Again, no one picked up. She shut the phone and handed it back to the officer.

“Now do you understand what I’m saying?” Guff asked. “It’s not like you have to arrest him – I just think you should send someone to his office to check him out. With everything that’s happening, we should know where he is.”

Silently, she considered Guff’s proposal. “And that’s it? They’re not going to question him? They’re just going there to find him?”

“That’s up to you.”

Sara opened the door to the police car and got inside. “Okay,” she said, slamming the door shut.

Turning back to the officers, Guff said, “Can you send someone to Wayne and Portnoy?”

“I’m on it,” the taller of the two officers said, pulling out his walkie-talkie.

“And maybe one of you guys should stick around here,” Guff added. “In case Claire decides to come by.”

“I can do that,” the other officer said.

As the first cop called in the instructions, Guff got in the backseat of the car. Sara was stoic. Her arms were crossed in front of her and her eyes were glued to the side window.

“Sara, you know it was the right thing to-”

“Don’t bother,” she said. “It’s done.”

Peering out his living-room window, which overlooked the front of the building, Rafferty watched to make sure that Sara and the rest were actually leaving. When he was convinced they were gone, he walked to his front door and stepped out into the hallway. He checked again for observers, then went down the hallway to the garbage room. Inside were Kozlow and Claire.

“Man, to get that warning, you must’ve given the doorman one hell of a Christmas gift,” Kozlow said.

“Lucky for you,” Rafferty said.

“No, lucky for you,” Kozlow said. He left the room and walked back to Rafferty’s apartment.

Rafferty and Claire embraced in the hallway. “Were there any problems?” Claire asked.

“Not at all,” Rafferty said, still hugging her. “Not anymore.”

“Can you two save the reunion for another time?” Kozlow called out. “I want to get out of here.”

“Relax,” Rafferty said. He walked back to his apartment and put on his coat. “As long as we can avoid the cop Sara left behind, I want to have a little talk with the person who got her involved in the first place.”

“There’s a cop in the lobby? How’re we going to get past him?”

“This building has twenty-four floors, a rooftop pool, its own gym, an underground garage, and a dry cleaner in the basement – you don’t think it also has a side door?”

As Sara and company raced downtown, the officer driving the police car asked, “Where exactly are we going now?”

“Hoboken,” Sara said from the passenger seat.

The car screeched to a halt. “No way,” the officer said. “Not in this car. Hoboken’s in Jersey. New York City cops have no jurisdiction over there.”

“You have jurisdiction if you’re in hot pursuit,” Sara said.

“Does it look like this guy Elliott is directly in front of us? Does it look like he’s avoiding us only by running across state lines? Does it look like we’re in hot pursuit?”