“That’s ’cause it is.” Denton stood, picked up his nearly full cup and tossed it in the trash. “Fucking worst coffee I’ve ever had.”
He sat back down and looked at Mauser. Denton’s eyes seemed to be searching for truth without asking for it, as if waiting for Mauser to shed some light he hadn’t been able to find on his own. Mauser stayed stone-cold, giving away nothing. Denton was in this for his career, nothing more. And while Joe could use that to his advantage, the case was personal to him and him alone.
“So,” Denton said, breaking the silence. “We haven’t talked about this, but how are you holdin’ up?”
Mauser shook his head, ran his fingers through his hair. His eyes were bloodshot, clothes so heavy they weighed him down. Sleep was out of the question.
His brother-in-law. One of his best friends-one of his only friends-was cold on a slab in a basement. His heart punctured by a bullet, shot by a stranger. A man who didn’t know his family, didn’t know Linda. A goddamn junkie whose only use to society was as an organ donor.
Mauser could feel hatred coursing through his veins, lighting his nerve endings until he was ready to explode. But he held it in, let the rage out through his gnashed teeth and clenched fists. Mauser knew as well as anyone that you didn’t work smarter when fueled by anger. Mistakes would get in the way. Precision over passion.
Let the pain boil just below the surface. Let it simmer awhile. You’ll know when it’s time to let it boil over.
Joe stood up, tucked Parker’s file underneath his arm. “I want a plane on standby. If Davies gets within a hundred miles of St. Louis, I want to be in the air in half an hour.”
“You got it,” Denton said, a smile on his face. “Anything else?”
“The Steins’ residence in St. Louis. I want phone taps.”
“Done.”
Mauser said, “As of right now, Amanda Davies is our number-one lead. Keep a lock on her E-Z Pass, it’s accepted on every major highway in this country, if they used it once they’ll use it the whole trip. But we can’t assume anything. I don’t want to end up in St. Louis, find out he was wishing her happy birthday and managed to catch a ferry to the Azores. Parker’s got a limited supply of cash so keep his credit cards active in the event he tries to hit an ATM.”
“What about that package the Guzmans mentioned? The drugs? Christine Guzman said he stole a bag of dope, carried it out in some sort of briefcase or knapsack. She said he left the crime scene with it last night.”
“We don’t even know if he still has it. Parker could have stashed it anywhere, a train station or bus terminal locker,” Mauser said. “The dope is secondary. Once we have him, we’ll find it.”
Denton didn’t seem relieved by this. “John was killed over that dope, Joe. Maybe if we find it we’ll get a lead on Parker.”
Mauser shook his head.
“Right now, we’re looking for Henry Parker, not a fucking dime bag. We’ll find the dope, the pot of gold at the end of the rainbow, Elvis, JFK and any other shit he stole once we get him. But right now Parker has precious few friends and seems smart enough not to give himself away. We’re going to have to be creative.”
Denton nodded, headed for the door. Mauser’s arm lashed out, catching the younger man’s shoulder. Denton whirled around, caught by surprise. Mauser’s grip tightened, feeling Denton’s bones shift beneath the skin. “But make no mistake. Right now, Amanda Davies is a possible accomplice to murder. If I think they’re heading west, I want to be in the air before the next commercial break. If anyone gets to Henry Parker before we do…”
Denton’s face paled. Mauser could tell he understood.
“They won’t,” he said. “We’ll be there first.”
When Denton left the room, Joe locked the door and picked up the phone. He took a long breath, felt a weight descending behind his eyelids. He dreaded this, dreaded every second speaking to her. Parker had done this to him. He’d made the simple activity of talking to his sister an event to be feared.
After a moment, when his breathing slowed, he dialed. Part of him hoped nobody would pick up. Out of sight, out of mind. His heart fluttered when he heard her voice answer with a tired, “Hello?”
“Linda. It’s Joe.”
“Joe,” his sister said, her voice heavy. She sounded sedated. “How are you?”
“I’m okay, Lin.”
“It’s good to hear your voice, Joe. These people won’t stop calling. Newspapers and reporters. Goddamn vultures.”
“Maybe you should book a hotel for a few days,” Mauser said. “The department will pick up the tab.” He could almost hear her shaking her head on the other end.
“The kids need to be able to reach me. I don’t want to hide. I don’t want to upset their lives any more than they already have been.”
“The kids’ll be fine, Lin. You need to take care of yourself.” He heard a wistful laugh on the other end. Then Linda began to sob. Joe felt his cheeks go flush as his sister wept for her lost husband.
“Linda?” he said, his chest contracting, hot tears filling up his eyes. “Lin, please talk to me.” She blew her nose, a pitiful rattle.
“Funny,” Linda said. “It was always John who said he’d take care of me. He never said anything about me taking care of myself. I guess I just believed he’d always be there, and I wouldn’t have to worry. Why’d he have to leave me? Jesus, Joe. I loved him so much.”
Mauser felt a tear slide down his cheek, sobs racking his throat.
“I know you did, Lin. I did, too. I know it’s no consolation, but I’ll be there for you. Now and always.”
“Thanks, Joe. I know you will.”
“You want me to come over?”
“No,” she said with an air of finality. “I need to be alone right now. I know that sounds selfish since he was your family, too-but I need this. Do you understand? Please tell me you do.” Mauser said he did.
“Can I do anything for you? Bring you anything?”
“You can do one thing for me,” Linda said. Mauser felt a chill run down his spine.
“Name it.”
“I want you to kill the man who killed my husband. I don’t care what it takes, Joe. You find him and you fucking cut his head off.”
“Lin…”
“I know, I know,” she said. “Thanks for calling, Joe.”
“I’ll talk to you soon.”
“I love you.”
The words leaked from his mouth like a balloon’s final gasp of air. “I love you, too.”
Mauser put the receiver down. He dropped his head into his hands as convulsions of sadness and rage seized his body. When Joe looked up, his vision was streaked, his eyes burned.
For Linda, he thought.
For me.
17
The Ringer sat baking in his car, going over the conversation in his head. He’d just spoken with the Arab deli owner, confirming that the man had, in fact, seen and scared off Henry Parker that morning.
“Just picked up my bat,” the man said, smacking the wooden mallet against his palm. The Ringer held his hands up in mock surrender. “And the cocksucker ran outta here lickety-split. You know one of the greatest things about this country is baseball. This Parker fellow probably saw it in my eyes. If I was born here I woulda made the majors. I would’ve thumped him a good one.”
The Ringer placated the man for a minute, then returned to his car. He tuned the radio into 1010 WINS, where a rumor was circulating that the cops had found Parker-and lost him-in the area nearby Columbia’s campus.
