I nodded.
He flipped open a badge holder. “Detective Thomas Cassidy.”
Cody ran over and bit his ankle.
3
CASSIDY GAVE ONLY THE SLIGHTEST WINCE, then picked up the cat and scratched him gently beneath the chin. Cody started purring. Fickle little feline has always been too easy.
“This is Detective Henry Freeman,” Cassidy went on, nodding toward the skinny kid.
“Shit. Tex and the Dweeb,” Vince grumbled. “We’ll never find Harriman alive.”
I felt as if I had been kicked. Hard.
“Christ, Vince,” Reed said, looking over at me. “Shut up.”
“What time is it, Hank?” Cassidy asked the kid, all the while looking at Vince.
The kid pulled back the sleeve of his suit coat and looked at an instrument that appeared to be the Swiss Army knife of watches. Apparently one of the things it could do was tell time, because the kid said, “It’s twelve thirty- four, sir.”
“Note that as an entry in the AD, would you, please, Hank?”
“Yes, sir,” Hank said, grinning as he pulled out a notebook.
Vince took the bait. “What the hell is an AD?” he asked.
“Asshole Diary,” Cassidy replied. “Twelve thirty-four A.M. is a little early to make an entry, grant you, but it would have happened sooner or later. I’ve been keeping track, and I swear I come across at least one asshole a day. The frequency alone is pretty wondrous. Y’all must be breeding with each other. How big is the average litter of assholes, Vince?”
“Screw you, Cassidy.”
“Oh, no, thanks. That’s finding out the hard way. You know what, Vince? What’s really startling is the new and amazing ways y’all strive to perfect your craft. Take that remark you made a minute ago. Insulted at least three people in a few short words. Yep, I’d say you were a perfect asshole.”
“You write in that notebook and I’ll break your fingers, kid. Call Carlson, Reed,” Vince said.
“No need to do that,” Rachel said. “He’s in the living room. Why don’t we all move out there? It’s a little stuffy in here.”
I wasn’t looking forward to facing Carlson. Given all the pressure he had put on Frank lately, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to control my temper with the lieutenant. As it turned out, there was an even higher-ranking cop in my living room. Captain Bredloe.
Bredloe stood up when he saw me, walked over, and put an arm around my shoulders. “Irene… I got here as fast as I could.”
“You have news about Frank?” I asked, scared to hear the answer. What would bring the captain out to my house?
“No, nothing yet, I’m sorry.” Bredloe nodded toward Vince and Reed. “These guys treating you okay?” Vince looked a little pale all of a sudden.
“Sure,” I said, wondering if Bredloe had heard me shouting at them as he’d walked up to the house.
“That’s good,” he said. “They won’t be able to stay, though.” He glanced over at Carlson.
“I won’t be able to stay, either,” Carlson said, standing up. “I know this must be upsetting for you, Ms. Kelly. We’re making every effort to find Frank.”
I was just as perfectly polite. “I’m sure you are. Thanks.”
“Vince, Reed, let’s go outside,” he said. Reed followed him, but Vince lagged a little, moving closer to me while Rachel introduced the captain to Jack.
“Thanks, Irene,” Vince said. He looked down at his shoes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Earlier — what I said — that was crap. I don’t know what got into me. I’m sorry….”
He was upset, and this time I saw it for what it was. He was worried. Not about the possibility of Bredloe calling him on the carpet, or what I might tell the paper, but about Frank.
“Damn,” I heard Cassidy mutter behind me. “I guess I’ll have to look for a new one before midnight, Vince.”
Vince smiled a little and said, “If anyone can find one, Cassidy, you will.”
Vince left, and the rest of us took seats in the living room. Jack and Rachel were apparently going to be included in any discussion. She stayed near the phone. Jack was sitting cross-legged on the floor, petting the dogs, keeping them calm. I moved to my great-grandfather’s armchair. It’s big and old-fashioned and doesn’t match any of the other furniture in the living room. Frank likes to sit in it. I held on to the armrests.
Bredloe cleared his throat. “Irene, I brought Tom Cassidy and his partner, er….”
“Freeman, sir. Henry Freeman.”
“Yes, of course. Detective Freeman. I brought them here because they are specialists. Cassidy has worked extensively not only in kidnapping cases, but as a hostage negotiator.”
“So you believe Frank is a hostage?” I asked.
“It’s the most likely possibility, as far as I’m concerned. Other people in our department will work other angles.”
Other angles. Most of which implied that my husband was irresponsible at best, criminal at worst.
