Flight

“That’s about when his son died,” Pete said.

“Got your lock picks?”

“I’m better at it than he is,” Pete told the SWAT officer. “My first wife proposed to me after she saw me pick a lock.”

“On what, her chastity belt?” he asked.

But Pete was focusing on his work. Within seconds, he popped the lock on the first cabinet. He opened a drawer — it was filled with carefully labeled folders filed by date.

Frank pulled a few of them out. “Court cases. Transcripts. A few newspaper clippings.” He quickly looked through four of them. The charges varied in each case, from drug dealing to assault, from kidnapping to murder. They all had two things in common — the defense prevailed and Judge Lewis Kerr presided. All the budding confidence of a few moments ago left him, replaced by a sense of dread.

You’ve only looked at a few. Don’t jump to conclusions.

He absently reached to rub his forehead, felt the surface of the glove, and stopped.

“What was the name of the shooter at the bank?” Frank asked.

“What bank?” Pete was concentrating on the other file cabinets. But now he looked up and said, “Oh, you mean the one Lisa got involved with?”

“Right,” Frank said, feeling his hands dampen inside the gloves. “Christ, it’s hot in here.”

The SWAT officer and Pete exchanged a look.

“Carl Sudas,” Pete said. “Prime asshole.” He finished the file cabinet locks and moved on to the desk, which took even less time. “Empty,” he said. “Except for a book. Winging It.”

“By Bray and Killeen,” Frank said. “Look on page ninety-eight. You’ll find Dinterman’s Stunt Flyer.”

“That’s your plane, all right. You can even see where he traced the lines on the plans.”

“Not much by itself, but maybe it will help. Take it as evidence.”

“Paper airplanes?” the SWAT officer asked. “The guy builds a damned fortress for files and a paper airplane factory?”

Frank studied the access door. Haycroft’s ceiling had larger than usual joists — two-by-twelves. There was a gap of about eleven inches between the floor of the attic and the ceiling below it. “Maybe he’s swept it all under the rug. Let’s start over by that workbench.”

Frank lifted a corner of the carpet. “Not tacked down.”

“Bingo,” Pete said as Frank slid a long section of the plywood beneath it away.

Tucked in the spaces between joists were numerous small containers.

Frank gently lifted one. “Look at this. He’s sorted all the nuts and bolts by size, marked the containers.”

“Those are spools of fuse material,” the SWAT officer said, pointing to another section.

“Better let those bomb squad folks take a look at this stuff. They might be able to match up some of the hardware to the devices they defused last night.”

The SWAT officer used his radio to put in a request for a bomb tech.

Frank forced himself to go back to the files. He pulled a few more out and found that these, too, were defense wins in Kerr’s court. He moved to the end cabinet. More of the same.

“Jesus,” Frank said, feeling his stomach knot. “Kerr was the one who cut Sudas loose, right?”

“Yeah, but Hitch blew that case and everyone in Detectives knew it. The department doesn’t like to paint it that way, but that’s the truth.”

But Frank was thinking of Irene, at the courthouse with Seth, visiting the man who was so clearly the object of Haycroft’s obsession — Haycroft loose, nowhere to be found.

“I’ve got to go.”

“What?”

“Call Kerr — tell him he’s Haycroft’s next target.”

“Hoo, baby,” Pete said. “Hold on a minute. A judge? You’re going to tell Judge Curse we’ve got a nut from the lab on a twelve-year-old revenge trip — a guy who’s also been fucking with evidence all that time? Think twice about that one. Besides, I thought Carlson was supposed to handle all the release of information to media and other agencies.”

“Haycroft’s obviously focusing on Kerr. The man’s life might be in danger — and Seth and my wife are with him.”

“What?”

“Irene is interviewing him today. She’s got Seth with her. Never mind — I’ll call.”

“Look, there are guards and metal detectors at the new courthouse, and twice as much law enforcement there today as on any other. Besides, Irene will be watching for him,” Pete said. “If I were you, I’d take a minute to run it past Hale.”

Frank decided that might not be a bad idea — but not because he was seeking Hale’s permission. Hale could mobilize all kinds of personnel. Frank walked to the opening in the wall, where the signal was stronger. But when he made the call, the chief’s secretary said, “He’s not in, Detective Harriman. Shall I take a message?”