neighborhood, but did I ever see one?”
“Were you burglarized?” Daphne asked. “A patrol car may have in fact come by.”
“That’s a crock of shit, and we both know it.”
“On any other occasions did you-”
“The next time I was in my car.
“An exterminator,” Daphne answered, feeling weak in her stomach. This matched Daech’s information.
“An exterminator!” Weinstein agreed. “And I swear he was watching me, even though he looked away. It may sound crazy to you but-”
“It doesn’t,” Daphne assured him. She appreciated witness testimonies and put more faith in them than her colleagues. Sometimes the content was off, but the littlest details right on target.
“And so I called again. Right? Same thing from you people: Was he on my property? Did he make a verbal threat? Was there any physical contact?” He shook his head disgustedly. “And now this …,” he mumbled.
“The vehicle?” Daphne asked, displaying no excitement in her voice. “A van, you said. What color van?”
“So now you care? Is that what you’re saying? You people are too much, you know that?”
“The color of the van?” Daphne pressed.
“White.”
“Tell me about the driver,” she encouraged.
“What’s to tell?” he asked. “Face was covered up. Goggles. One of those mouth things.”
“A respirator,” she supplied.
“Yeah. And what do I get from the cops? Questions. And here you are again, same thing. What’s any of it matter to Hayes? A dollar short and a day late is what it is. I’m going to sue you people. Goddamn it, I’m going to sue you!”
The door was opened by a woman doctor wearing a white lab coat and a grim expression. She took in both Weinsteins with her sad eyes and slowly shook her head. “I’m sorry to have to tell you this-” she said.
CHAPTER 12
“Lou! We have a situation!” Daphne shouted frantically as she ran past his office door. Boldt knew her well enough not to question. He left his office at a run and followed her down the stairs, two at a time. The fifth floor, Crimes Against Persons-Homicide-remained his emotional home. His time with Intelligence, required for his advancement, felt more like a probationary sentence.
He guessed: two officers going at it; a suspect loose; a threatened suicide-police work did strange things to people.
They reached the entrance to Homicide and peered through the safety glass. “Who is that?” Boldt asked, seeing a man waving a police-issue 9mm at a semicircle of a dozen uniformed and plainclothes officers, all perfectly still.
“Sidney Weinstein. Father of the second child,” she answered. “His mother is the homicide. We asked him down to view mug shots because he may have had a look at the Pied Piper.” Her breath fogged the glass.
“This is not good,” he said.
“You see who I see?” she asked.
“Wish I didn’t.”
Well behind Sidney Weinstein and just around the corner, Dunkin Hale and Gary Flemming, there for the four o’clock task force meeting, observed the chaos.
Boldt signaled the receptionist to admit them. Weinstein was shouting obscenities and complaints about the incompetence of the police. “My mother
The receptionist slowly lifted her arm and depressed the button that freed the secured door. Sidney Weinstein, hearing the electronic buzzing, waved the gun frantically, parting the semicircle. “No one comes in here!” he shouted.
“It’s only me,” Daphne announced, stepping inside. “I’m with Lieutenant Boldt. He’s the one who has been looking into those nine-one-one calls. Your grudge is with them, Sidney, not any of these people.”
Boldt stepped through behind her, knowing nothing of any 911 calls.
The heavy door closed with a thump, distracting Weinstein.
In that instant, Boldt caught a signal from Flemming, who pointed to the coffee lounge-the glass wall on which Weinstein was leaning. Formerly a copy room, the lounge had two doors around the corner from each other. Flemming intended to reach Weinstein through the lounge if Boldt could shift the man closer to the door that stood open to Weinstein’s left.
Daphne continued to work with the man, Boldt blocking out her words, his attention riveted on Flemming, who gently twisted the doorknob and slipped into the lounge. Daphne ignored Flemming, her methods psychological, not physical. “Let’s think about Hayes for a moment,” she encouraged, winning back Weinstein’s attention. She didn’t want any mention of his deceased mother-there was still hope for Hayes. She stepped closer.
“You stay where you are!” he thundered, shaking the gun at her.
Daphne stopped short. “Okay … okay … let’s think about this. Together. Sidney? Okay. You are an intelligent man,
“He’s never coming back. Not one of those kids has been found.”
“Are you giving up?” Daphne asked. “Do you want us to give up?”
Weinstein strained to make a decision. “My mother,” he moaned.
“Put down the weapon, Sidney,” Daphne advised. “Right now.” The man continued to wave the gun. “What if Hayes, right this minute, has a weapon aimed at him, the same way you’re aiming it at us? Are you going to condone that?”
The weapon bobbed in Weinstein’s grip, his finger dangerously on the trigger. Daphne took another step forward.
“No,” Boldt hissed at her.
She motioned Boldt away. She had spotted Flemming and wanted to prevent a violent solution.
Boldt knew that her ambitions could blind her. She carried an ugly scar on her neck from an encounter with the Cross Killer and wore turtlenecks and scarves to cover her mistake.
She asked Weinstein, “How do you think these people feel with a gun trained at them?”
Weinstein swept the crowd with the barrel of the weapon. To Boldt, he looked unpredictable and crazed.
Flemming, unseen on hands and knees, reappeared briefly at the door nearest Weinstein. He needed Boldt to move Weinstein closer.
Boldt edged right, threw his hands over his head, and said loudly, “Most of us in this room have children, Mr. Weinstein. I have two. Miles and Sarah.”
Weinstein tracked Boldt with the gun and in the process shifted slightly closer to Flemming. “You stay where you are.”
Daphne glared at Boldt, angry that he would assist a violent solution. “Yes,” she said, “you stay where you are.”
Keeping his hands over his head, Boldt continued to his right, maintaining Weinstein’s attention.
“You see this man?” Daphne asked Weinstein, gesturing at Boldt. “He has been working around the clock on these kidnappings, and now here he is having to deal with you instead. Is that fair to Hayes, Sidney? Think about it.
Flemming, still on all fours, again appeared in the doorway to Weinstein’s left. Everyone saw him but Weinstein, whose back remained pressed against the wall.
