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Jason Pinter inch flat screen in their bedroom, one of those cool wallmounted units that seemed to hover without wires or a bracket. It probably cost more than her education, so
Amanda figured she’d make use of it.
The remote control was some digital monstrosity that took Amanda ten minutes just to turn on. She was always amused by Darcy’s taste in television, so she decided to see what her friend had recorded. The DVR listed thirty-two episodes of Sex in the City, ten of
Gossip Girl, three of Desperate Housewives… and this morning’s newscast. Amanda laughed. One of those things didn’t quite fit.
She pressed Resume Playback on the news program, and saw swarms of cops roaming around what appeared to be a crime scene. A reporter’s voice-over spoke of some horrendous murder, some young man’s body found pulverized in the East River. The reporter was using her
“ultra serious” tone of voice reserved for crimes that were not just bad, but truly terrifying. Amanda felt her heart beat faster. Why the hell had Darcy taped this?
“Kenneth Tsang was survived by his mother and father and young sister. According to the police there are no suspects at this time, but sources confirm that the brutality with which the killer or killers ravaged Mr. Tsang’s body was done with some sort of message in mind. And since the city medical examiner Leon Binks has confirmed that over one hundred of Mr. Tsang’s bones were broken before the body was found in the river, that message will be heard loud and clear.”
Amanda shook her head. It was still hard to fathom just how much evil there was in the world. How normal people seemed to be at risk leading normal lives.
And then she realized why Darcy had taped the segment.
Standing by a yellow line of police tape, talking to a uniformed officer, was Henry.
Amanda watched. Henry was just doing his job, but something about him being so close to death always unnerved her.
When the clip ended, Amanda walked back into the guest room and grabbed the cell phone. She dialed Henry’s number at work. It rang through and went to voice mail.
Then she tried his cell again. Right to voice mail.
“Henry…it’s me. I know I just called, but I just wanted to say I love you and please be safe.”
Amanda hung up the phone and put on her pajamas.
Then she tucked herself under the warm covers and turned off the light. Not for sleep. That wouldn’t come.
Not until the phone rang. Not until she knew for sure
Henry was on his way home.
When I got home it was close to midnight. I sloughed off all the detritus from the day: wallet, keys, loose change, cell phone. The phone was off. I’d forgotten to turn it back on after Jack and I had left the crime scene. I turned it back on, saw there were two messages waiting for me.
My heart sank when I heard Amanda’s voice on both of them. In the first she seemed relaxed. The time stamp meant she’d likely sent it just after getting home from work. The second was sent less than half an hour later, but she sounded worried, hesitant. I had no idea what could have happened in that short time frame, but the moment I erased the messages I was calling her back.
She picked up before the first ring was finished.
“Henry?” her sweet voice said.
“Hey, baby, it’s me.”
“Are you home?”
“Sure am. Pretty exhausted, but it’s been a hell of a day. I’ll fill you in tomorrow.”
“Are you home for good?”
“You mean tonight?”
“Yeah.”
“Yes…just getting ready for bed.”
“Do me a favor. Make sure your door is locked.”
“Is everything okay?” I didn’t know where all of this was coming from. “Do you want me to come over?”
“No. Just promise me you’ll stay safe.”
“I promise,” I said.
“Good. Thanks, Henry. Now get a good night’s sleep.
I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
She hung up, but something gnawed at my gut. Like
Amanda knew something I didn’t.
6
Tuesday
I was on the corner of Fifty-seventh and Sixth. It was seven-thirty in the morning. Jack had told me to meet him at eight-thirty. So unless he showed up an hour early just to prove a point, I’d be the first one there. Of course you could make the argument that I showed up an hour early just to make my own point, but that was semantics. I wanted and needed Jack to respect my work ethic. If my professional accomplishments hadn’t yet convinced him, he’d just have to witness it firsthand.
I was still a little on edge from my conversation with
Amanda. We’d spoken briefly this morning before she left for work, and something was definitely wrong. Again she’d told me to promise that I’d stay safe. She’d never done anything like that, at least not without cause or some psycho killer breathing down our backs. I’d see her tonight.
We’d talk, and hopefully everything would be all right.
They needed to be. I needed that much stability in my life right now, and I needed her to know that I was reliable.
At eight-fifteen the familiar tweed jacket rounded the corner. Jack was clutching a large coffee and munching on a bagel. Cream cheese was stuck in his beard. He nodded as he drew close, said, “Henry. Way to be on time.”
“I could say the same thing to you. Hey, got a little cream cheese there.” I motioned to his beard. He ran his hand through it, but all that did was spread it around. I laughed, which Jack didn’t take kindly to. He took a napkin and wiped himself down thoroughly, finally getting it out.
“Better, Dad?” Jack said.
“Better, sport.”
“Good. Now that the silliness is over, let’s go talk to some of these 718 guys.”
“I don’t know all of them,” I said, “but the ones I did meet got pretty vicious. Two of them, Scott Callahan and
Kyle Evans, are dead. Two others I didn’t know, Guardado and Tsang, are dead, too.”
“They must have a hell of a life insurance policy,”
Jack said.
“I don’t get it,” I said. “Stephen Gaines worked for these people. He ends up dead. Tsang has his bones ground to powder, and there are still people dealing for these clowns. I mean, if your colleagues are dropping like flies, why do you stay on? Why not go to the cops, spill on whoever’s paying you? Seems like you have a better chance of staying alive at least.”
“That’s a good question, Henry, and it’s one that we’re going to have to answer because obviously these people disagree with your assessment.”
“Survival,” I said.
“Come again?” replied Jack.
“Human instinct. The number-one priority is survival. If someone isn’t opening up, it’s because they want to
