“I’ll go with you to the hospital if…”
“No. It’s okay. I’m going in the morning. Warner says there’s not anything to do. She’s taking lead on the investigation, and she’s got it under control.”
He was starting to babble and slur his speech. Julie decided that if he wasn’t going to worry, neither was she.
Lynch’s last thought before he fell asleep was of Kelly’s text message.
I DIDN’T HAVE ANYTHING 2 DO WITH IT.
He wouldn’t understand what she meant until the following evening.
BATTLE OF THE BANDS
Tuesday
1. The ICU
“We’ll get him for you, bro.”
Ian Reilly was in the ICU with his wife, Molly, and son, Braden. His daughter, Sian, was a freshman at Northwestern University and wouldn’t get the news of her uncle for another hour.
Sons of bitches
Ian lied to his brother’s partner. Kevin was clear in his instructions before hollering at the punks in the scrap yard. No matter what happened, the cops could not be put onto the Unjudged.
“Don’t worry, Kev. I got this.”
Ian would find who sent that brake drum flying, and he’d make them pay. The cops and the criminal-protecting justice system they represented could suck it.
Braden had just turned fifteen, and like many of his generation, didn’t deal well with things that required a response beyond a text message. He loved his Uncle Kevin. The thought of losing him sent the boy to a horrible place. All he wanted was to recede into his secret pastime: the only activity in his life that gave him pleasure. He kept it all in a trunk under his bed. His mom would shit if she found it. His dad? Hard to say.
Please open your eyes, Uncle Kev.
A familiar, heavy hand fell onto his shoulder.
“After we leave, son, I’m going to tell you what caused this, so you understand sacrifice…so you understand what it means to be a man.”
Braden had heard the phrase “what it means to be a man” at least twice a day since his first Communion. It no longer had any meaning or effect.
Please.
The operating surgeon said the injury could permanently affect Kevin’s eye movement and ability to speak. The chances of him returning to the Detective Squad were slim at best. The most he could hope for was a crappy desk job and early retirement.
Molly knew that Kevin would rather hear the news from a family member than a doctor. Neither of his brothers would be able to get the words out. It would have to be one of the women. It would have to be her…that is, if he ever woke up.
She put her head on her husband’s shoulder and spoke.
“Kevin is tough, and this is a good hospital. He’s going to be fine, boo.”
Ian didn’t hear a word.
“We’ll get him, bro.”
The Reillys had been weakened. The other cheek would not be turned.
2. The ICU - a bit later
Lynch stepped out of the hospital elevator a little after seven am. The automatic doors swung open as he approached the entrance to the sixth floor’s south wing. The ICU entrance was in view, so too the edge of the waiting area. There were a few chairs lining the hallway. Carrie Warner was sitting in one of them. Lynch could see the Reilly family gathered in a circle. His instinct was to go toward them, but Warner waved him off. He wanted to offer his sympathies and ask permission to see Kevin, but Warner was right; both of those things could wait. With a gentle smile and open arms, he walked to her. She stood, and they shared an embrace.
“Carrie, I am so sorry.”
“I know, Jim. Thanks.”
He pulled a chair next to her.
“Any news?”
“No. They just need to keep an eye on him until he comes out of it.”
There was a folder and a note pad on the floor next to her. She’d already started interviews. The name “Ian Reilly” was at the top of the first page with noticeably little writing below. He nodded towards it.
“What have you got so far?”
Warner picked up the pad and handed it to him, leaving the folder on the floor.
“A little bit more than I told you over the phone. Three witnesses: Ian Reilly, Jimmy Cutillo, and the kid they chased.”
Lynch read Ian’s short and semi-accurate account of the evening.
“So…am I reading this correctly? They just happened to stumble upon a rumble?”
“That’s what he said.”
“And neither Reilly recognized anyone in either gang?”
“Nope.”
Lynch flipped the page to find the notes taken from Jimmy Cutillo’s interview. By his own account, he drove his Fleetwood around to the north gate, per Kevin’s instructions, and spotted the kid sneaking between telephone poles. Lynch was not surprised to discover that the kid’s name was Gordon Weiss (Gordy familiarly). He lifted his head to say something, but Carrie beat him to the punch.
“Jim, we’re not New York City, right?”
She wasn’t making eye contact. Something was up.
“What do you mean?”
“We do our best. We’ve all been trained as well as any other cops, but Potterford's a small town. We don’t get a crazy amount of murders. We don’t get the practice or have the gear that the big cities do. We miss stuff, don’t we?”
Lynch turned his chair to face her.
“Carrie, I’m not following you.”
She reluctantly picked up the folder from the floor and held it out to him. He took it and opened it, recognizing the contents immediately.
“I’ve read these already, Carrie. They’re the UJ statements taken from Saturday.”
She nodded.
“They were taken at the barn, not the station.”
“I know.”
“And Kevin took all of them while I was dickin’ around with Crime Scene.”
“I know. I still don’t follow.”
Carrie rubbed her eyes.
“Read them again. Read them as though Reilly isn’t the lead investigator, and you are.”
“What am I looking for?”
“I’m not going to tell you. I just want to see if you notice the same thing I did. And if you do, I want to hear your explanation…because there has to be one. Reilly wouldn’t…I mean he’s a
