David Baldacci - Daylight

“What do you plan to do about it?”

“Blake probably has family around here somewhere. Maybe we can talk to them.”

“But I’m sure the locals will be doing that. Won’t you be encroaching on their investigation?”

“Probably,” conceded Pine.

“And I can’t see how what took place tonight is connected to our search for what happened to your sister.”

“I can’t see that it is, either,” admitted Pine, gazing determinedly at her.

“But I also know that look,” said Blum.

“That kid died violently right in front of me, Carol. I know stuff like that happens every day pretty much all over this country. And it’s not the first time it’s happened to me. But again, something just feels off and I’d like to know why.”

“But you let a series of murders in Andersonville interfere with your search for your sister.”

“And I helped solve them and at the same time learned a helluva lot about what happened to her. I can multitask, Carol. You should know that better than anyone.”

“But still.”

“Carol, the only reason I’m an FBI agent is because I want to see people who destroy other people’s lives brought to justice and pay for what they did. I want the families of their victims to have closure. I want . . . ” Pine’s voice trailed off, and she slumped over and stared at the floor.

Blum said gently, “You mean you want for others what you never got for yourself?”

Pine let out a long breath and said, “I can’t let this go. I can’t.”

“Well, as you said, we can find out who his family is and go ask questions.”

“Dobbs would have a stroke if he knew I was getting involved in another murder case. He wants me back ASAP.”

“Well, Clint Dobbs will just have to wait.”

“I don’t like putting you in situations like this, Carol. You work at the Bureau, too.”

“I chose to come on this . . . mission with you. I put myself into every situation we’ve faced so far. And I’m fully prepared to continue doing so.”

“You’re going way above and beyond the call of duty.”

“You’re not just my boss. You’re my friend, Agent Pine.”

“I wish you’d just call me Atlee.”

“I’ve been at the Bureau too long. Protocols like that are hammered into me. How will you go about finding any relatives of Jerome Blake?”

“Well, I can call Superman.”

“Superman?”

“John Puller. Didn’t I tell you? He’s able to leap tall buildings in a single bound.”

CHAPTER

13

THE FOLLOWING AFTERNOON THEY set out to visit Jerome Blake’s mother. She lived in an old part of Trenton that was being gentrified. They saw this in numerous homes being remodeled and expensive late-model cars parked in the driveways of some of the newly renovated homes.

“It’s good to see old neighborhoods getting new life,” said Blum. “But the downside is the people who’ve lived here a long time get pushed out because their taxes go up. Or the home prices get out of control and a working-class family can’t afford to buy.”

“Nothing fair about that,” said Pine.

Despite the cold, a group of young men played pickup basketball on a cracked asphalt court, pouring in three-pointers and slamming dunks through a rim with no net. As Pine and Blum passed by, some of the men stopped to watch them, their expressions not exactly friendly.

Blum said, “It’s the next house on the left.”

Pine pulled into the driveway of a one-story bungalow with a metal carport, under which was parked a Buick two-door. A pair of flowerpots were on the stoop. In the distance they could hear a dog barking.

“So how come Superman didn’t come with us?” asked Blum. “I’d like to meet the Man of Steel.”

“You will, Carol. But the fact is he’s got a ton on his plate right now and superiors to answer to. I can only imagine the debriefings and paperwork John’s having to do right now, what with losing an agent like that. But I told him what I planned to do, and I’ll report back to him what we find.”

Pine noted that the house had a fresh coat of paint and what looked like a fairly new shingled roof. The colorful curtains in the windows were warm and inviting.

They got out and walked up the sidewalk to the front stoop. Before they could knock, the door opened and a black woman in her forties stared back at them. She looked over their shoulders and said brusquely, “Come on in.”

Before she stepped through the opening, Pine looked back and saw a small knot of young men gathering outside on the street in front of the house.

“Are those friends of Jerome’s?” asked Pine.

“Just come on in,” said the woman. After they did, she closed the door firmly behind them and locked it.

She settled them in the front living room, where the large picture window overlooked the street. Pine kept one eye there and observed that the young men were coming closer.

“You’re Mrs. Blake?” began Blum.

The woman nodded, her expression both grief stricken and nerve-racked. “Cheryl Blake. Just call me Cee-Cee, everybody does.”

“We’re very sorry about Jerome,” said Pine.

“On the phone you told me that you were there,” Blake said, her voice cracking. “When it happened.”

She pulled a tissue from her pocket and dabbed at her eyes, which were red and angry looking. She had on a long sweatshirt and black running tights and tennis shoes with ankle socks. She was about five four with a strong, athletic build. Muscles in her neck flexed and receded as she spoke.

Pine said, “Yes, I was there. I tried to talk him into putting his gun down.”

“But you wasn’t the one to shoot him.”

“No. That was a local police officer. But another man was killed. An Army investigator. I’m trying to understand what, if any, connection Jerome had to that.”

“The police came by late last night. To let me know about Jerome. And to ask questions. And they came by again this morning. They took stuff from his room.”

“Do you have other children?” asked Blum.

“Two. My oldest, Willie. He’s on his own now. Living and working in Delaware. And then I got Jewel. She’s in middle school. Only fourteen. She’s upstairs sleeping. Cried her eyes out all night. She loved her brother.”

“I’m sure she did,” said Blum.

Pine interjected, “Jerome had a gun last night. A Glock. Have you ever seen that weapon around here?”

“Cops asked the same thing and I’ll tell you what I told them, Jerome didn’t have no gun. He never wanted a gun and he didn’t have one,” she added fiercely.

“Well, he had one last night. I’m just trying to piece things together.”

Blake eyed her suspiciously. “You say you’re with the government? You got something that says that?”

Pine pulled out her cred pack and badge and showed them to Blake. “I’m with the FBI. I was meeting with another Army investigator when the shooting happened. We’re working the case together.”

“What you want me to tell you?”

“What did you tell the police?”

“The truth, but they don’t want to believe it.”

“I’d like to hear it,” said Pine.

Blake settled back in her chair and rubbed her eyes and blew her nose into the tissue. Then her softened features turned hard and her expression became fierce.

“Look, I’m not stupid, okay? I know the police come here and think, ‘Okay, here we damn well go again. Same old shit. Black man kills a white man, so he got what he deserved.’ But see, the picture here is different. Way different.”

“Tell me,” said Pine.

“For starters, Jerome was smart, real smart, the smart that you’re born with and then you get smarter by sucking up all the information you can. He got straight As in school. He was going to college, already getting scholarship offers and he’s still a junior. Because of his brain ,” she added sharply.