Long Gone

She mouthed the request to Hank, who gave her approval to recite the number of her disposable cell.

“I’ll call you back in twenty.”

She looked at her watch. Twenty minutes before she’d know whether she was going to jail or-well, she didn’t know the alternative.

Twenty minutes came and went in silence. After thirty, she tried Art, and then continued dialing every five minutes.

When her cell rang shortly before the one-hour mark, she picked up immediately, continuing her ritualized pacing of the narrow path between the foot of the hotel bed and the fake mahogany television stand. Art’s voice sounded hoarse when he apologized for the delay.

“Jesus. I hope a screaming match wasn’t involved.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Your voice sounds like you’ve been yelling.”

“No, but there’s something I need to tell you.”

“That does not sound good. The police wouldn’t listen about Mia? Hello?” She looked at the signal bars on her cell. The call hadn’t dropped. “Can you hear me? Art?”

“Yeah, I’m here.”

“Seriously, you sound weird. If there’s bad news, go ahead and give it to me. I can take it.”

When he finally spoke, he was all business. “Okay, you need to pay very close attention. I want to talk to you first about where we stand with the police. And you have to promise me that you’re going to follow through on whatever course of action we decide is best, no matter what. Can you promise me that?”

“Of course. Why wouldn’t-”

“So here’s the deal. I talked to Danes. He sounded put out. And very skeptical. But I got him to agree to a knock and talk with Mia Andrews-check her out, see what she might have to say about this matter.”

“Thank God-”

“Not so fast. It was obvious he’s only shining us on, which means he might believe any story this gal hands to him. It’s always possible she’s going to say something that actually hurts you.”

“I’m willing to take that risk.”

“Plus his agreement to check out Mia was conditional. He’ll only question her if I produce you on the warrant.”

“I don’t want to turn myself in on the warrant until after they see Mia. What if I turn myself in, and Mia’s off in Mexico with a fake name, never to be seen again?”

“Which leaves us in a standoff. Here’s what I was able to negotiate: you agree to return from wherever you’ve been hiding. Once we’re together in the city, Danes and his partner will reach out to Mia. Once the interview is over, he calls me, and I deliver you to them.”

“What if they can’t find Mia?”

“Then I made no promises. They’ll have to keep looking for you themselves. What do you think?”

“What other choice do I have?”

“I can get one of my own investigators on it. We could put together what would eventually be our defense case, and present it to the DA’s office to try to preempt an indictment. In the meantime, the longer you go without turning yourself in, the less likely it is they’ll be willing to help you out. And to be honest, police pressure can be a lot more effective in getting a response than a private investigator.”

“So basically I should turn myself in anyway, and if we go with Danes’s deal, the police will at least be the ones asking Mia questions?”

“That’s how I see it.”

“All right. Let’s do it.” She swallowed, realizing that tonight she would probably be sleeping in a jail cell. “What’s the next step?”

“Can you be in Williamsburg by six o’clock?”

That would give her nearly four hours.

“No problem.”

“I didn’t know how far away you were, so I asked for some time to make you available. Danes wants you near Mia’s house so you can turn yourself in as soon as the interview’s over.”

“That quickly, huh?”

“They’re worried you’ll renege. I’ll meet you down there. I think it’s good for us to be close by. Hopefully, something will come of their talks with Mia, in which case we might be able to help tie up some loose ends. I’m looking at a map now. There’s an intersection about a block from Mia’s address. Rutledge and Lee. I’ll meet you there a little before six. Now are you sure this is what you want to do?”

Of course it wasn’t what she wanted. She wanted her life back. She wanted anything else but her current circumstance. “Yes. I’m sure.”

“Okay, now remember that you promised not to change course, no matter what.”

“Why do you keep saying that?”

“Because your father called me. He begged me for your number so he could tell you himself, but I was worried he’d lead the police right to you.”

“You’re really scaring me. Are they okay?” Hank mouthed a silent What? from the threadbare chair in the corner of the hotel room.

“They’re fine, but it’s Ben. His sponsor hadn’t heard from him for a while and got worried enough to go by his apartment. He found Ben in the bathroom. There’s no easy way to say this. Your brother was using again. He overdosed.”

“Where is he? Did he go to the hospital? Is Down with him?” Despite Ben’s at least initially regular attendance at NA meetings, he’d never found anyone with whom he was as comfortable discussing his addiction as Down.

“It wasn’t just an OD. Ben’s dead. They think it happened sometime yesterday. Heroin. I’m so sorry.”

She remembered Ben’s unlocked apartment. The unoccupied loft. The cracked bathroom door that she had never opened. Her ugly rush to grab his money and cell phone. Maybe if she had nudged that door. She imagined rubber tubing around her brother’s bare arm, a syringe still hanging from his vein.

“Alice, I’m so, so sorry. You had a right to know immediately, but remember your promise. You need to focus on yourself right now-for the sake of your parents, if nothing else. They can’t lose both of you.”

From his choked-back sob, she knew he’d been holding himself together for her benefit, playing the role of the unflappable lawyer who was going to take care of everything. Practical intelligence, her father had called it.

She felt the phone slip from her hand before Hank grabbed her shoulders to break her fall.

Chapter Fifty-Three

I t was nearly four o’clock, and Jason was still pissed at those fat-slob NYPD-ers who had fucked him over. He also had a crick in his neck from spending the entire night tossing and turning on Joann Stevenson’s sofa, unsure whether the lack of sleep was from the fact that he hadn’t slept on a couch since college, or because he knew he had no business being on that particular one.

To top it off, Nancy had to go and say something about the fact that he looked exactly how he felt. “Holy moly, Jason. You’re much too young to have bags under your eyes the size of mine. You’ve got to take care of yourself, honey.”

“Just allergies, Nancy. Nothing to worry about.”

He’d been steaming all day, but decided he had to draw a line in the sand with those detectives in the city. Willie Danes picked up after two rings.

“Danes.”

“It’s Jason Morhart from Dover. My victim’s mom heard about your arrest warrant on the news last night.”

“Now if only we could find the defendant.”

He emphasized the last syllable to rhyme with ant, the way Jason noticed lawyers often did. He always thought it was a person’s way of trying to sound like an expert.

“You should have kept me in the loop, Danes. Our departments had an agreement. Full exchange of all