“I’m in,” Mike said. “Commissioner Scully will be looking for my scalp.”
“Yours?” I said. “I might as well just hand him mine.”
“I’ll take it back with me. May be my only hope to keep my gold shield.”
The
I wanted the brisk, fresh morning air. I stayed outside, watching the sun begin to rise, and letting my hair blow wildly in the wind.
Somehow, no matter what turmoil awaited me at the office, the peace and beauty of my island home always managed to bring back an inner calm. A few days and nights here would give me the emotional energy to deal with repairing Gina Borracelli’s delicate emotional health and getting her in the proper professional hands. Mike would follow up on my hunch that Bishop Deegan had no idea who Fyodor Zukov was when he nodded at the stranger in the clerical collar, and instead that Zukov had the defendant, child molester Denys Koslawski, on his pariahs-of- the-church hit list.
There was a strong chop in the water and the whitecaps gleamed in the morning sunlight. I had dozens of questions for Chat Grant, but they would have to wait until doctors treated her and determined that she was able to cooperate with us to give us every detail of her long encounter with the crazed murderer.
I looked inside the cabin. Mike had engaged Maggie with tales of his exploits, no doubt. He had a bruise developing on his right cheekbone and lacerations on his chin, but his legendary resilience was already on display in full force.
I turned back to the soothing vista of the sea and the chain of Elizabeth Islands. The district attorney and police commissioner would shortly share a podium to describe the capture of the clergy killer. They could do nothing else publicly but praise Mike and me for hunting him down and saving Chat’s life, but I smiled when I thought how Paul Battaglia would get me in his office alone to take me apart for risking so much in that effort. I would spend part of my day composing an apology to him and to Scully for disobeying their orders, but they would know as well as I did that it wasn’t going to be sincere.
I wanted this serene interlude for a few days. I needed it. I had no illusion about the stack of cases — serial attackers, date rapists, domestic violence, child abuse — that would pile up on my desk to review on my return. But for now, I was headed for my own safe haven.
The strong boat worked its way through Canapitsit Channel, between Nashawena and Cuttyhunk, on its way to Menemsha Harbor. I would never be so happy to step onto the gas dock and look across the pond at the home I loved more than any place in the world.
FIFTY-FIVE
“I’VE got a surprise for you, Alex,” Mercer said, calling in from New York.
It was seven o’clock in the morning. I had showered and changed into a sweatshirt and leggings, and Mike was upstairs in the guest room, rummaging through my brothers’ summer clothes to cobble together a pair of jeans and a sweater to wear.
“I’m off surprises for the day. Be gentle.”
“There’s an NYPD helicopter on its way to Penikese to help the feds with a thorough crime-scene evaluation.”
“Excellent.”
“And I guess Keith Scully still has a soft spot for you. He’s letting them drop Luc off on the Vineyard.”
“That’s amazing, Mercer. Do I have you to thank for this?”
Luc had been due in from France on Friday evening for a quiet weekend with me. Now we could spend it in front of the fireplace, far away from the madman who had carved such a murderous path up the coastline.
“Nan and I were in cahoots on this.”
“Well, then. You and your spouses need to keep my reservation at Patroon tonight. You can have their perfect steak and mashed potatoes, and we’ll have oysters and lobster and a bucket of champagne on this end. I might even have a date for Mike.”
“A blind date?”
“Nope. I think he’s hooked on a sea captain,” I said. “How is Faith taking all this?”
“She’s on her way to Boston. We haven’t told her yet that she was Zukov’s intended target. I don’t think she’ll be able to cope with that until she sees that Chat’s going to be fine.”
“And Zukov? Have they given you an update on him?”
“He’ll live. He’s in surgery right now. They’re sure they can put his hand back together again. And the docs in Bellevue can start treatment while he’s incarcerated,” Mercer said. “I’m not so sure he deserves it, but I’ll keep that thought to myself.”
“Remember that when you’re in church tomorrow.”
“I don’t think there’s a disease that’s still as wrapped in ignorance as leprosy.”
“You’re right.”
“The nurse at Bellevue told me that they can’t even put a sign outside the clinic that says Hansen’s disease.”
“Why not?”
“’Cause there are still people — most people — who won’t even put their hands on the door handle if they think there are lepers inside.”
It was an appalling image, and a disease with such a stigma that had attached itself to almost every society and culture, every religious faith, since ancient times.
“Do you mind if I take a few days up here?” I asked.
“Don’t you come back till you’re good and ready. Let your man take care of you for a change. Can you do that?”
“Of course I can. Have you checked with Reverend Portland?” I asked. There were endless lists of things to be done in cases like this. “Is she all right?”
“Safe and sound in Hyannis. Probably on her way home right now.”
“That’s good news.”
“You better get yourself to the airport, Alex. That package I’m sending your way should be there within the hour.”
“Thanks, Mercer. Thanks for everything.”
Mike came down the stairs and flopped onto one of the livingroom sofas.
“Want me to make some coffee?”
“Are you kidding, Coop? I don’t want to smell any java for a month. I’m just going to stretch out right here and sleep for the next twenty-four. Will I be in your way?”
“No more than usual.”
“All copacetic with Mercer?”
“Oh, yeah. He’s on top of everything,” I said. “So I’m going to shut off the phone, if that’s okay with you. Luc’s flying up from the city. I thought I’d go down to Larsen’s Fish Market and pick up some lobster for the three of us. Put my
“Luc? Coming here?” Mike asked. “I almost forgot about your romantic weekend plans. Sorry to let something like murder almost interfere.”
“How about if I put something on your cheek so it doesn’t swell? Or get a doc up here to check your leg?”
“How about you just get on with it and let me sleep? Stop yammering.”
He rolled over on his side and closed his eyes.
“Want anything special with dinner?”
