Джеймс Паттерсон - NYPD Red 6

So, as luck would have it, we were standing at his side when the phone call came.

He stiffened, looked at the caller ID, and shook his head. “I don’t recognize the number. Area code 713,” he said.

“Houston, Texas,” I said. “Put it on speaker when you pick up. TARU will be on the other end tracking it. Keep him on as long as you can, and whatever you do, don’t call him by name.”

He hit the green button, and his entire life changed.

“Jamie … it’s me.”

“Erin, baby, I love you. Are you okay?”

“I … I …” And then she wailed, “Oh God, Jamie.”

“Is he hurting you?”

“No, no. Not anymore. I … I made a razor blade. He followed me into the shower, and I … oh God … I cut his throat. He fell down bleeding, and … ”

“And what, baby, what?”

“I escaped.” With that, the dam broke. She began sobbing hysterically.

A man’s voice came on the phone. “Hello. Hello.”

“Who’s this?” Jamie demanded.

“Hello. My name is Hector Gonzalez. My wife and I see this woman on the road, and she’s waving hands, and she say, ‘Help, help,’ so we stop, and we help.”

“Is she hurt? Is she okay?”

“She’s crying very much, but I think she’s crying happy now that we find her. We are waiting for police.”

Kylie grabbed Jamie’s arm. “Where are you?” she yelled into the phone.

The man turned away from the phone and yelled something in Spanish. A woman, probably his wife, responded, “ ¿Quién es? ”

That I understood. But in case I hadn’t, he asked again, in English, “Who is this, please?”

“Detective Kylie MacDonald. I’m with the New York City Police Department. Where are you now?”

“ Es la policía ,” he informed his wife. “Apple farm,” he said to Kylie.

“What apple farm? Where? Texas?”

“No, no. New York.” His accent was so thick it came out “Noo Jork.”

And then we heard the sirens in the background.

“I no speak such good English,” Gonzalez said. “You a police. You talk to other police.”

The sirens got closer and then died away. We could hear voices as cops came on the scene.

And then my phone rang. Benny Diaz from TARU.

“Zach, the phone belongs to Hector Gonzalez, Galena Park, Texas. The call is coming from Ball Road in Warwick, New York.”

I thanked him, then called Captain Cates and told her what was happening. With cops on the scene, anyone with a scanner would know that Erin Easton was alive and safe. The word would go out on Twitter within seconds. I had to make sure my boss called her boss with the news, rather than the other way around.

For the next five minutes all Kylie and I could do was listen to the background commotion of first responders coming onto a crime scene and trying to put the pieces together in a hurry. We knew the drill. Victim first.

We waited until Jamie’s phone came alive again. “Hello, this is Officer Georgene Fredericks, Warwick PD. Who is this?”

“This is Detective Kylie MacDonald, NYPD. My partner and I—”

Jamie wrenched the phone away. “This is Jamie Gibbs. Do you see my wife, Erin Easton? Is she okay?”

“Yes, sir. I recognized her. She’s in shock right now, but she’s okay. We have her in custody. We’ll be taking her to the hospital. Please put the detective back on the phone.”

Jamie handed his cell back to Kylie. “Officer Fredericks, Ms. Easton was abducted by a white male named Bobby Dodd. I can text you a photo with his pedigree. In the few seconds that we had Ms. Easton on the phone, she said she cut his throat before she escaped. I have no idea where she was being held or how badly she hurt him.”

The Warwick cop’s answer was quick and confident. “We’ll find him.”

“Officer, be advised that we’re also looking at Dodd for the murder of Ms. Easton’s mother-in-law. He’s ex-military, combattrained, and incredibly dangerous. Please be careful.”

“Don’t you worry, Detective,” Fredericks said. “We’re on it.” Her voice was eager. Too eager. I could picture a bunch of country cops champing at the bit to get on with the biggest adventure of their careers.

Kylie caught it too. “My partner and I will be in Warwick in thirty minutes,” she said.

“Thirty? Where are you now?”

“Brooklyn.”

“You’re a good two hours away, Detective. More like two and a half with rush-hour traffic.”

“Don’t you worry, Officer. We won’t be sitting in traffic.”

CHAPTER 51

YOU HAVE A helicopter?” Jamie said as soon as Kylie hung up.

Kylie nodded, knowing what was coming.

“I’m going with you,” he announced.

By all rights we should have said yes. The man was a victim; his wife had been abducted, his mother murdered, and his life turned into a living nightmare. But the last thing we needed when we were trying to interview Erin Easton was her loose cannon of a husband getting in our way.

“That’s not a good idea, Jamie,” Kylie said.

“Why not?”

“Because first and foremost, Erin needs medical attention. If you get there before the doctors are finished, you’ll either distract them from the job at hand or you’ll wind up pacing the hospital waiting room for two hours. You just told us your mother wouldn’t want you to abandon her at a time like this. Don’t leave her alone. When you’re done here, Detective Koprowski will drive you to Warwick.”

Jamie nodded. Once again Kylie’s cop logic made sense to him. It also worked for us. We’d have Erin for a few hours without interruption, and Koprowski could drive us back to New York.

The chopper set down in the parking lot of the vast complex, and we were picked up by none other than the chief of detectives himself, Harlan Doyle. No surprise. Our mission was to work the case. His was to work the media.

We landed at the Hickory Hill Golf Course and were greeted by Patrick Brown, the Warwick chief of police.

Our chief of Ds is not big on foreplay. “Where’s Easton?” Doyle asked, skipping the introductions.

“St. Anthony Community Hospital,” Brown said. “Two guards at her door, four more covering the entrances and exits.”

“And the perp?”

A small smile crossed Brown’s face, and he took a deep breath. I doubt if he realized he was puffing out his chest, but I knew he was feeling good about the news he was about to drop.

“We were able to determine where she was held, a house on Ball Road, not far from where she was found. The front door was wide open. We did a tactical entry, and we found one white male, naked, deceased on the shower floor. His throat was slashed from the right ear to the left jugular. The ME wasn’t on the scene, but the paramedic from the volunteer ambulance corps said he must’ve bled out. I didn’t see much blood, but then the shower was still on, so I figure most of it went down the drain.”

“ID?”

“We found a wallet in his jacket pocket. Tennessee license issued to Robert Allen Dodd. Photo matched the dead guy, but I figured you might want to see for yourself, so I took a quick pic of the body.”

He handed Doyle his cell phone. The chief took a look and passed it over to Kylie and me.

“That’s the man we’re looking for,” I said. “Brooklyn Homicide is looking for him too. Great work, Chief Brown.”

The chief of Ds picked up on my lead. “Absolutely. Top-notch. I think I have all I need to deal with the press.”

“There’s a slew of them gathering at the hospital,” Brown said. “I’ll have one of my officers drive you.”

“Excellent. I’d like you personally to take my two lead detectives to meet with the victim. NYPD will be sending a crime scene unit to go over every inch of the house where she was held. Until then, secure it and leave the body where it dropped until they get there.”