now, but whatever prayers you know, keep saying them.”
That means they must have located Jimmy, she thought. But what was happening to Brian?
Cally sank to her knees.
Chris McNally had known it the minute Jimmy spotted him. The radio was open between him and headquarters and was tied in to One Police Plaza in Manhattan. “He knows he’s being followed,” Chris reported tersely. “He’s taking off like a bat out of hell.”
“Don’t lose him,” Bud Folney said quietly.
“We’ve got a dozen cars on the way, Chris,” the dispatcher snapped. “They’re running silent and on dim lights. They’ll surround you. We’re bringing in a chopper, too.”
“Keep them out of sight!” Chris pressed his foot on the accelerator. “He’s going seventy. There’s not many cars out, but these streets aren’t completely cleared. This is getting dangerous.”
As Siddons raced across an intersection, Chris watched in horror as he barely missed slamming into another car. Siddons was driving like a maniac. There was going to be an accident, he knew it. “ Passing Lakewood Avenue,” he reported. Two blocks later he saw the Toyota skid and almost hit a tree. A minute after that, he yelled, “The boy!”
“What is it?” Folney demanded.
“The passenger door of the Toyota just opened. The inside light’s on, so I can see the kid struggling. Oh God… Siddons has his gun out. It looks like he’s going to shoot him.”
24
Jimmy Siddons was crazy. Brian had never been in a car before that was going so fast. He wasn’t sure what was going on, but there must be someone following them.
Brian looked away from the road for a moment and glanced at Jimmy. He had his gun out. He felt Jimmy tugging at his seat belt, releasing it. Then he reached across Brian and opened the door beside him. He could feel the cold air rushing in.
For a moment he was paralyzed with fear. Then he sat up very straight. He realized what was about to happen. That Jimmy was going to shoot him and push him out of the car.
He had to get away. He was still clutching the medal in his right hand. He felt Jimmy poke him in the side with the gun, pushing him toward the open door and the roadway rushing beneath them. Holding on to the seat-belt buckle with his left hand, he swung out blindly with his right. The medal arced and slammed into Jimmy’s face, catching him in his left eye.
Jimmy yelled and took his hand off the wheel, instinctively slamming his foot on the brake. As he grabbed his eye, the gun went off. The bullet whistled past Brian’s ear as the out-of-control car began to spin around. It jumped the curb, went up into a corner lawn, and caught on a bush. Still spinning, it slowed as it dragged the bush back across the lawn and out onto the edge of the road.
Jimmy was swearing now, one hand again on the wheel, the other aiming the gun. Blood dripped into his eye from a gash across his forehead and cheek.
“Jesus Christ, the kid’s out of the car,” Chris yelled. He jammed on the brakes and skidded to a stop behind the Toyota. “He’s getting up. Oh my God.”
Bud Folney shouted, “Is he hurt?” but Chris didn’t hear him. He was already out of his car and running toward the boy. Siddons was in control of the Toyota again and had turned it, clearly planning to run over Brian. In what seemed like an eternity but was actually only seconds, Chris had crossed the space between him and Brian and gathered the boy in his arms.
The car was racing toward them, its passenger door still open and its interior still illuminated so that the maniacal anger in Jimmy Siddons’s face was clearly visible. Clutching Brian tightly against him, Chris dove to the side and rolled down a snowy incline just as the wheels of the Toyota passed inches from their heads. An instant later, with a sickening sound of metal crashing and glass breaking, the vehicle careened off the porch of the house and flipped over.
For a moment there was silence, and then the quiet was shattered as sirens screamed and wailed. Lights from a dozen squad cars brightened the night as swarms of troopers raced to surround the overturned vehicle. Chris lay in the snow for a few seconds, hugging Brian to him, listening to the convergence of sounds. Then he heard a small relieved voice ask, “Are you St. Christopher?”
“No, but right now I feel like him, Brian,” Chris said heartily. “Merry Christmas, son.”
25
“Is he…”
“He’s fine. They’re sending him back in a police helicopter. He’ll be here by the time Mass is over.”
Noticing that one of the television cameras was trained on them, Ortiz raised his hand and made a circle of his thumb and forefinger, a symbol that for this moment, on this most special of days, everything was A-OK.
Those seated nearby witnessed the exchange and began to clap softly. As others turned, they stood, and applause began to slowly rumble through the giant cathedral. It was a full five minutes before the deacon could begin to read the Christmas Gospel, “ ‘And it came to pass…’ ”
“I’m going to let Cally know what’s happened,” Mort Levy told Bud Folney. “Sir, I know she should have called us earlier, but I hope…”
“Don’t worry. I’m not going to play Scrooge tonight. She worked with us. She deserves a break,” Folney said crisply. “Besides, the Dornan woman has already said she’s not going to press charges against her.” He paused for a moment, thinking. “Listen, there’s got to be some toys left in the station houses. Tell the guys to get busy and round some up for that little girl of Cally’s. Have them meet us at Cally’s building in forty-five minutes. Mort, you and I are going to give them to her. Shore, you go home.”
It was Brian’s first helicopter ride, and even though he was incredibly tired, he was too excited to even think about closing his eyes. He was sorry Officer McNally-Chris, as he had said he should call him-hadn’t been able to come with him. But he had been with Brian when they took Jimmy Siddons away, and he had told him not to worry, that this was one guy who would never get out of prison again. And then he’d gotten the St. Christopher medal out of the car for Brian.
