Pariah

hurt my family, doing everything he can to cut me off from people because of some crazy idea he has that I wronged him in the past. .’

‘What about him? Have they caught him? Do they know who he is?’

‘No. See, that’s the problem. They haven’t caught him. They haven’t got a name for him. They can’t find a shred of evidence that pins anything on any of the people I’ve collared or had beefs with in the past. For a while now, I’ve been thinking that the job doesn’t really care about me. The shit I’m carrying around, there are some cops who don’t care if I live or die. The longer I’m off the squad the better, far as they’re concerned.’

‘Cal, that’s nonsense. Sure, there are a couple of cops who won’t be sending you Christmas cards this year, but they’re not all like that. I know. I’ve talked to them. Mo’s talked to them too.’

Doyle nods. ‘Yeah, I’m beginning to believe that. I’m beginning to believe that they really are doing their damnedest to catch this guy, or at least work out who might hold such a grudge against me. Me too. I’ve been going through lists of perps in my mind over and over again. The most likely suspects are either dead or locked up or have ironclad alibis. The rest. . well, to be honest, I just don’t see it. I don’t want to sound like I got no modesty or anything, but I just can’t see any of these people hating me enough to do this.’

‘Yeah, but Cal, you’re forgetting how people can change. The guy you locked up ten years ago is probably not the same guy today. He’s had time to brood. Maybe things happened to him in prison that he blames on you. And then there’re the lunatics. The people who see you through their crazy eyes as someone who was responsible for a lot more than you did. They could blame you for 9/11 — who knows with these people? Or maybe it’s a relative of a perp you put away — someone who sees himself as a victim of yours even though you’ve never met him. There are a lot of possibilities, Cal. Maybe you just need to give it more time.’

‘Yeah. Mo said similar things to me.’

‘And he’s right.’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ Doyle says, but the doubt is evident in his voice.

‘You don’t buy it, do you? So what’s the alternative?’

Doyle looks at her. Her logic seems so impeccable, it almost seems ridiculous to suggest anything else.

‘The alternative is, the reason nobody can identify this guy, me included, is that. . is that he doesn’t exist.’

He watches her face for the reaction. She looks as though she hasn’t heard him. As if she’s still waiting for him to say something. Or at least something intelligible. Finally, she blinks several times as if coming out of a hypnotic trance.

‘Cal, what are you talking about?’

He has to look away from her, so as not to let her expression of incredulity prevent him from voicing his train of thought.

‘I met a guy last night. He knew the name of the person doing this to me, but he was killed before he could tell me. The very last thing he told me was that I could stop digging into my past. At the time, I thought he meant there was no need to keep looking through the files because I was about to discover the name. But now I think what he was telling me was that I was looking in the wrong place. That it had nothing to do with my past. That maybe it didn’t even have anything to do with me.’

There’s a silence, and he has to slide his eyes to her again to try to discern her thoughts. He decides that she still assumes he’s gone ga-ga.

‘Cal, I seriously think you need to get some rest. How can one ambiguous statement from a guy who’s now dead make you start to think that none of this is real? Look at what’s happened. To

your partners, to your wife, to your friend Spinner, to this guy you were speaking to last night. That’s not imaginary, Cal. Horrible though it all is, you have to start accepting that you’re the common factor in this or you’ll lose your mind.’

‘Yeah, I admit that’s how it looks. .’

‘That’s how it looks?’

‘. . but when you break it down I’m not so sure. The guy last night was killed to shut him up. Spinner was also killed because he knew too much, not because he was close to me. Rachel wasn’t even hurt; I was just tricked into thinking she was. Take all of them out of the equation, and that just leaves Joe and Tony.’

‘Aren’t they enough? And anyway, it’s not true. What about the two hookers who died, and that pimp?’

‘Cavell. Yeah, I been thinking about them too. You know what the funny thing is? All along, people kept asking me, “You got the cop killer yet? You got the guy who whacked your partners?” It would get me so pissed off, I would say to them, “Don’t forget the hookers and the pimp; they died too, you know. They were human. They mattered.” And you know what? I was wrong and they were right. To most people, the killer included, they didn’t matter. They didn’t count. Their only use was as bait to set traps. The problem was, I couldn’t see that I was wrong. I kidded myself that I was on some kind of moral high ground. Hell, I never even bothered to find out that second hooker’s name, that’s how much I cared about her.’

‘But that still leaves Joe and Tony. Your partners. Or do you have a way to cross them off your list too?’

‘Sure, Joe was my partner. But Tony never was. Not really. I worked with him for a few hours, that’s it.’

‘So what are you saying? That it’s just pure coincidence that you happen to be linked to all these people? Come on, that’s kind of a stretch.’

‘No, what I’m saying is that somebody killed Joe and Tony, and then made it look like just a part of a greater plan to hurt me. That’s why the killer sent me revenge messages: to make me and everyone else think I was the focal point.’

‘Why? Why would they do that?’

‘To shift the attention away from Joe and Tony as the real victims. And it worked. Nobody is looking for links between Joe and Tony because they’re all too busy looking at me.’

Nadine stares for a while, then shakes her head. ‘I don’t know, Cal. To do all this, just as a diversionary tactic. .’

‘What, you don’t think escaping the death penalty is sufficient motive? The killer’s got the whole NYPD looking in the wrong direction, and that means they’re never going to find him. I’d say that makes his efforts pretty damn worthwhile, wouldn’t you?’

Seeing that Nadine still looks doubtful, he says, ‘Look, if this guy really wanted to hurt me, why didn’t he just kill Rachel and Amy rather than go through that whole charade of making me think they were in trouble? Why didn’t he kill Spinner after my first meeting with him, rather than wait until Spinner became a danger to him? Where’s the consistency?’

Another pause from Nadine. ‘If you’re right, and I still think it’s a huge if, then that still means somebody wanted Joe and Tony dead. Why would they do that? You knew Joe better than most. Why would someone want to kill a nice guy like that?’

Images of Joe Parlatti laughing and smiling jump to Doyle’s mind. He feels slightly guilty that the events of the past few days have not allowed him more time to think about his partner. Yes, Joe was a nice guy. One of the nicest. His wife, Maria, said the same. She said a few other things too.

‘I don’t know why,’ Doyle says, although he could venture a guess. ‘But I got some ideas as to who.’

Nadine’s eyes narrow. He can almost feel the touch of her gaze flicking over his face, searching it for clues.

‘Are you going to let me in on it?’

‘A cop.’

‘A cop. Any particular reason?’

‘Several, actually. The details don’t matter.’

‘Ooo-kay. Any particular cop?’

And this is where it gets difficult, thinks Doyle. This is where friendships are tested. This is where bonds are stressed to their breaking point. This is where hearts are broken.

‘You remember the night after Joe was killed?’ he begins. ‘When I came home, and you were there with Rachel?’

Nadine doesn’t move. Her eye-line doesn’t shift even a degree away from Doyle’s face.