James Grippando - Hear No Evil

A Coast Guard ring.

He grabbed it, lifted it, then dropped it on the spot, recoiling quickly. The ring was still attached to a finger. The finger was still attached to a blackish-purple hand.

The hand had been severed at the wrist.

“Sheila!” He dropped his metal detector, jumped to his feet, and wobbled back the cabana as fast as his bony legs would carry him, shouting over and over again at the top of his lungs, “SHEEEI-LAH!”

The Miami-Dade County medical examiner described it as “Foreign matter, triangular-shaped cartilaginous material, 2.5 cm × 2.3 cm × 2.7 cm, embedded in the palm of the left hand of an African American male.” A marine biologist confirmed that it was a shark’s tooth. Fingerprint and DNA analysis confirmed that it was in the left hand of Lieutenant Damont Johnson. No other body parts were recovered, so the rest of the story was conjecture. But the possibilities weren’t exactly endless: Either he’d decided to swim with a school of hammerheads, or someone had used him for shark bait.

Lindsey told the prosecutor all that she knew about Johnson’s drug trafficker connections. Jack made sure that her proffer implicated only the guilty parties, namely her and Lieutenant Johnson, and not Brothers for Freedom or the Pintado family. Since she hadn’t dealt directly with the druggies, she wasn’t able to offer any specifics that might help law enforcement track down Johnson’s killers. Still, it was useful enough to persuade the prosecutor to back away from the death penalty. Judge Garcia followed the government’s recommendation and sentenced Lindsey to life in prison. Lindsey didn’t seem to think a life sentence was fair, since she wasn’t the trigger person, but she’d have a chance to draw her nice distinctions between murder and conspiracy to commit murder at her parole hearing in about sixteen years.

Jack decided to have no contact with Brian or the Pintado family until he felt that the time was right. On the first Saturday morning after Lindsey’s sentencing, that time had come. He and Theo drove to Coral Reef Park, where Brian played intramural soccer.

“You sure you want to do this?” asked Theo as they walked across the parking lot.

“Positive,” said Jack.

They followed the wood-chip footpath past several playing fields. Jack glanced at the different games that were being played simultaneously, one field after another. It was like a stroll through the sporting life of a child, everything from the four-to six-year-olds, where a few kids hustled after the ball while others picked flowers, to the middle-schoolers, who were already starting to play like future Olympians. Jack and Theo stopped at the south field.

Jack spotted Alejandro Pintado seated in a lawn chair on the sidelines, and he knew he was in the right place. He and Theo found a spot about twenty yards down the line and watched some of the game, blue jerseys versus yellow jerseys.

“That’s Brian over there, isn’t it?” said Theo. “Goalie for the blue team?”

Jack looked toward the net, and he smiled. “Yeah. That’s him.” Jack watched him make a couple of nice saves, then turned at the sound of Alejandro’s voice, startled to see that he’d come over to talk.

“You just a big soccer fan, Jack?” said Alejandro. “Or do you have a kid out here, too?”

Jack wondered if he had any idea how ironic the question was. “Actually, I came to see you.”

“In the middle of my grandson’s soccer game?”

“I wanted to catch you at a time and place where I could see Brian do something other than testify in a courtroom. Hope you don’t mind.”

“Depends on what it’s about.”

The referee’s whistle blew. A boy in a blue jersey was down. A group of parents on the opposite sideline was about to have a cow, but the kids just kept playing. Theo wandered off quietly, allowing Jack to have a little one-on-one time with Alejandro.

Jack said, “It’s about a couple things. One is just something I’m curious about. You remember that newspaper article that came out in the Tribune right after the trial? The one with the anonymous source?”

Alejandro was watching the game, not so much as glancing at Jack. But Jack could tell he was listening. Jack continued, “I thought that article was a stroke of genius. It prompted Lindsey to talk to the prosecutor, because it made her think that Johnson was on the verge of turning state’s evidence. At the same time, it effectively put a target on Johnson’s back, since it made the drug people think he was going to rat them out. In hindsight, I have a sneaking suspicion that none of it was true. Johnson had no intention of going to the U.S. attorney. Somebody had a very well-conceived plan, and he got the whole thing in motion by burning a favor with a reporter who was willing to work with an ‘anonymous source.’ ”

Alejandro lit a cigar, saying nothing.

Jack said, “You think I’m on to something? Or am I totally off base, Alejandro?”

They watched the kids battle for the ball in the near corner, then Brian made another save. Pintado said, “The boy’s good, isn’t he?”

“Yeah, he is,” said Jack.

“Being deaf’s a disadvantage most of the time. But out here, it shuts out all the noise and distractions, lets Brian focus on the ball. In some ways I think it makes him a better goalie.”

“Could be,” said Jack.

Finally, he looked right at Jack and said, “It’s like everything else in life. You keep your eye on the ball at all times. You identify your strengths, and you use them. Whatever they are. You know what I mean, Jack?”

Jack considered it, but not for long. He didn’t even want to think about what he might do if his own son were murdered, even if his son had been a lousy husband and an even worse father. “Yeah,” said Jack. “I think I know what you mean.”

They turned their attention back to the soccer game. Then Pintado said, “You said there were two things. What’s the other thing you wanted to talk to me about?”

“Brian,” said Jack.

His expression turned more serious. “What about him?”

“I just wanted to let you know that I think he landed where he belongs. Plenty of bad things have happened to him, but that’s all in the past. I think he’ll have a good life. And I’m happy about that.”

He looked at Jack curiously, as if wondering why he cared. “I appreciate that.”

“Good luck to you.”

“Thanks. Same to you.”

They shook hands, then Jack walked away, leaving Alejandro alone on the sideline to cheer on his grandson.

Jack caught up with Theo a couple of fields away. He was watching the four-year-old players, laughing it up with an attractive mom on the sidelines. He tucked something into his pocket, probably her phone number, then gave her a little wave good-bye as he hurried over to catch up with Jack. They talked as they walked down the tree-lined path that led back toward the parking lot.

“Did you tell him?” asked Theo.

“Tell him what?”

“That Brian isn’t your kid?”

“Didn’t have to. No one ever told him he was mine. Not me, not Lindsey.”

Theo put a hand on Jack’s shoulder, giving him a friendly shove. “Hey, man, I’m sorry it turned out like this.”

“No problem. I’m okay with it.”

Jack had been glad to find out the truth, though he didn’t condone Theo’s tactics. When Jack had visited the Pintado house during the trial, Alejandro had told him how worried they’d been for Brian’s safety after some fool had stolen his backpack. That fool turned out to be Theo. Unbeknownst to Jack, Theo’d snatched the boy’s backpack from under the bleachers at soccer practice. Inside, there was a goal tender’s protective mouthpiece, which contained more than enough traces of saliva for a DNA test. It took weeks to get the lab results, and Theo didn’t tell Jack about it until after they were in.