Robert Crais - The Last Detective

Lucy:Please don't hurt him! Let him go!

The Voice:Shut up and listen! You listen! Cole killed them! I know what happened and you don't, so LISTEN!

Gittamon stopped the tape.

"Is this the man who called you last night?"

"Yes, that's him."

Everyone in the room watched me, but Richard and Lucy most of all. Richard was slumped back in his chair with his arms crossed, looking sullen, but Lucy was leaning forward, poised at the edge of the table like a swimmer preparing to race. I had never seen her looking at me that way.

Gittamon noted my answer in his pad.

"All right. Now that you're hearing the voice a second time, does anything about it ring a bell? Do you recognize him?"

"No, nothing. I don't know who it is."

Lucy said, "Are you sure?"

The sinews and tendons stood taut on her hands and her breath labored as if she was holding an enormous weight.

"I don't know him, Luce."

Gittamon touched the button again.

"All right, then. We'll go on."

When he pressed the button, their voices overlapped, each shouting to be heard over the other.

Lucy:Please, I'm begging you -

The Voice:I was there, lady, I know! They slaughtered twenty-six people -

Lucy:Ben is a child! He never hurt anyone! Please!

The Voice:They were in the bush, off on their own, so they figured, what the fuck, no one will know if we don't tell them, so they swore each other to secrecy, but Cole didn't trust them -

Lucy:– tell me what you want! Please, just let my son go -

The Voice:– Abbott, Rodriguez, the others – he murdered them to get rid of the witnesses! He fired up his own team!

Lucy:He's a baby -!

The Voice:– sorry it had to be your son, but Cole's gonna pay. This is his fault.

The message stopped.

The tape recorder hissed quietly for several seconds, then Gittamon rewound the tape. Someone shifted behind me, either Starkey or Myers, then Gittamon cleared his throat.

I said, "Jeez. If he knows all that, I must've let one get away."

The skin under Lucy's eye flickered.

"How can you joke?"

"I'm joking because it's so absurd. What do you want me to say to something like this? None of that happened. He's making it up."

Richard tapped the table.

"How do we know what happened over there or what you did?"

Lucy snapped an irritated glance at him. She started to say something but didn't.

Gittamon said, "We're not here to make accusations, Mr. Chenier."

"This asshole on the tape is making the accusations, not me, and to tell you the truth I don't give a rat's ass what Cole did over there. What I care about is Ben, and that this sonofabitch -"

He jabbed at the tape recorder.

" – hates Cole so much that he's taking it out on my son."

Lucy said, "Just calm down, Richard. You're making it worse."

Richard squared himself as if he was worn out and tired of talking about it.

"How totally blind about Cole can you be, Lucille? You don't know anything about him."

"I know that I believe him."

"That's perfect. Absolutely perfect. Of course, you would say that."

Richard waved at Myers.

"Lee, let me have that."

Myers passed him the briefcase. Richard took out a manila folder and slapped it on the table.

"FYI, since you know so much: Cole joined the Army because a judge gave him a choice, jail or Vietnam. Did you know that, Lucille? Did he tell you? Jesus Christ, you've exposed yourself and our son to lowlife dangerous trash ever since you've been with this man and you act like it's none of my business. Well, I made it my business because my son is my business."

Lucy stared at the folder without touching it. Richard stared at me, but he was still talking to her.

"I don't care if you're mad, and I don't care if you like it. I had him looked into and there it is: Your boyfriend has been a magnet for trouble ever since he was a kid – assault, assault and battery, grand theft auto. Go on, read it."

A hot wash of blood flooded my face. I felt like a child who had been caught in a lie because the other me was a different me, so far in the past that I had put him away. I tried to remember whether or not I had told Lucy, and knew by the tight expression in her eyes that I hadn't.

"How about my SAT scores, Richard? Did you get that, too?"

Richard talked over me without stopping, and never looked away.

"Did he tell you, Lucille? Did you ask him before you left your son with him? Or were you so caught up in your own self-centered needs that you couldn't be bothered? Wake up, Lucille, Jesus Christ."

Richard stalked around the table without waiting for Lucy or anyone else to speak, and left. Myers stood in the door for a moment, staring at me with his expressionless lizard eyes. I stared back. My pulse throbbed in my ears and I wanted him to say something. I didn't care that I was in the police station. I wanted him to speak, but he didn't. Finally, he turned away and followed Richard out.

Lucy stared at the folder, but I don't think she was looking at it. I wanted to touch her, but I felt too hot to move. Gittamon breathed with a raspy wheeze.

Starkey finally broke the silence.

"I'm sorry, Ms. Chenier. That must have been embarrassing."

Lucy nodded.

"Yes. Very."

I said, "I got into some trouble when I was a sixteen- year- old. What do you want me to say?"

No one looked at me. Gittamon reached across the table to pat Lucy's arm.

"It's hard when a child is missing. It's hard on everyone. Would you like someone to take you home?"

I said, "I'll take her."

"I know this is hard, Mr. Cole, but we'd like to ask you a few more questions."

Lucy stood, still staring at the folder.

"I have the car. I'll be fine."

I touched her arm.

"He made it seem like more than it was. I was a kid."

Lucy nodded. She touched me back, but still didn't look at me.

"I'll be fine. Are we finished here, Sergeant?"

"You are, yes, ma'am. Are you going to be all right tonight? You might want to stay at a hotel or with a friend."

"No, I want to be home if he calls again. Thank you both. I appreciate what you're doing."

"All right, then."

Lucy squeezed around the table, and stopped in the door. She looked at me, but I could see that it was hard for her.

"I'm sorry. That was shameful."

"I'll come by later."

She left without answering. Starkey watched her walk away, then took one of the empty chairs.

"Man, she married a prick."

Gittamon cleared his throat again.

"Why don't we get a little coffee, then keep going. Mr. Cole, if you'd like the bathroom, I'll show you where it is."

"I'm fine."

Gittamon left for his coffee. Starkey sighed, then gave me one of those weak smiles people make when they feel bad for you.

"Rough, huh?"

I nodded.

Starkey pulled the folder across the table. She read whatever was inside.

"Man, Cole, you were a real fuckup when you were a kid."

I nodded.

Neither of us spoke again until Gittamon returned.

I told them about Abbott, Rodriguez, Johnson, and Fields, and how they came to die. I had not described those events since the day I spoke with their families; not because I was ashamed or because it was painful, but because you have to let go of the dead or the dead will carry you down. Talking about it was like looking down the wrong end of a telescope at someone else's life.

Gittamon said, "All right, this man on the tape, he knows your team number, he knows the names of at least two of these men, and he knows that everyone died except you. Who would know these things?"