“There’s still one thing we don’t know,” Mac said. “These bastards knew we were coming. I want to go see Lindsay and find out how.”
“Have at him, boys,” the chief replied.
Ted Lindsay was sitting in a cinder-block interview room. There were no windows, just a bright overhead light. He was sitting in a metal chair, his right arm handcuffed to the table. He was still in his dress suit, but it was rumpled now, with blood spattered on his lapels and white dress shirt. His tie was off kilter. He had a fat lip and bruising over his eyes and along the left side of his face.
Captain Peters joined the three of them in the interview room, carrying a plastic bag that contained Lindsay’s personal affects. There was a wallet, watch, keys, and his cell phone.
Mac sat in the center of the table, Lich and Riley on either side of him. Peters stood behind them. Mac thought back to the interview with Lindsay from a week before, when the bastard had a smirk on his face and answers for everything.
“Tables have turned here a little bit haven’t they, Mr. Lindsay?” Mac quipped.
Lindsay didn’t respond.
“We’ve got you, at a minimum, for the murders of Claire Daniels, Jamie Jones, Senator Mason Johnson, and Dirk Knapp-and those are just the ones we know about. So we have you for that. And the feds?” Mac shook his head, taunting. “They’re not real happy with you right now. They’re going to want to spend a lot of time with you. I doubt we’ll have any objection to spending the rest of your life at the federal pen in Marion. Selling your country out with that Cross business-not too good for you there, Teddy boy,” Mac said in a semi-mocking tone. Lich and Riley just stared at Lindsay.
“Lawyer,” was Lindsay’s response.
Mac grabbed for the plastic bag of belongings while Peters jumped in. “Later. First you’re going to tell us how you knew we were coming.”
“Lawyer.”
“No!” Riley howled. “Tell us who tipped you off.”
“Lawyer.”
Lich snorted. “Boys, he looks like he was roughed up riding around in the van today don’t you think.”
“I do,” Riles responded. Peters nodded. They all moved around to Lindsay’s side of the table.
“I don’t think anyone would notice if we added a few more bruises.”
Fear overtook Lindsay’s face. He pulled at his handcuffed arm, trying to get away. It wouldn’t be a fair fight.
Mac ignored them and looked at the last call made on Lindsay’s cell phone, 11:34 a.m., just before they left for the PTA building. The number was familiar to him. He’d seen it somewhere. He sat back in his chair, looking at the number and ran it around in his head. He pulled out his own cell phone, pressed menu and looked at the previous calls made on his phone. A smile creased his face.
“Boys,” Mac said.
They ignored him or didn’t hear him, moving in on Lindsay.
“BOYS!”
They stopped and looked back at him, annoyed, fists still raised. “What?” Peters asked.
“I know who tipped them off.”
Chapter Forty-Two
Chief Flanagan and Sally joined Mac, Riley, Lich, and Peters on the ride over to the Ramsey County Courthouse. A squad car was leading in front of them and two were behind. They pulled up onto the curb and filed out of the van. The chief led them through the doors inside, where the crowd that was milling around stopped what they were doing to watch. Given the day’s events, Flanagan and the rest of them were immediately recognized.
They took the elevator up to the tenth floor and the District Attorney’s office. Sally led them through and past the reception desk. The receptionist started to say something, but then just watched them go by.
Sally walked them right to Helen Anderson’s office. Anderson was at her desk, on the phone when they barged in. She looked up to see them. Held up her hand for them to wait while she finished her call, oblivious to what was happening. Mac walked over to her phone and cut the call off.
Anderson looked up at him, astonished, “What do you think you’re doing?”
“Let me see your cell phone,” Mac replied coldly.
“What?”
Lich, Riley, and Peters moved to take position around Anderson. Mac asked again, tersely, “Let me see your cell phone.”
“Why?”
“LET ME SEE IT!”
Anderson cowered back into her chair, looked to her purse on the credenza behind her desk and pointed weakly.
Mac rifled through the purse, finding her phone. He hit menu and looked at the call record. There was Lindsay’s cell phone number, as well as his own from earlier in the day. He turned to her.
“Is your cell phone number,” he said, reading the number on her phone.
“Yes,” she replied quietly.
“Sally called you earlier when we were coming downtown today, letting you know what we’d found.”
“So?”
Mac produced Lindsay’s phone from his pocket and held it so she could see it. “This is Ted Lindsay’s cell phone. Let me show you who he called at 11:34 a.m. this morning.” He showed Anderson the number. The district attorney slumped back in her chair, knowing she’d just been nailed.
The chief took over. He probably hadn’t slapped the bracelets on anyone in years, but he remembered Miranda, “Helen Anderson, you have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney… and you’re going to need a good one.”
Mac plopped himself down on the couch in the den at Sally’s place. She was on the phone, still working.
It had been a long day that was supposed to have been the start of a little mini-vacation for them. That was out of the question now. There would be tons of follow-up work to do. Sally was going to be swamped with the prosecution of Lindsay and the remaining PTA people who’d been working in their little unit. Some were still at large. The FBI, Homeland Security, and the CIA were on the case as well. They seemed confident they would find all of them. Just in case, two squads were parked out in front of the house.
His cell phone had been going berserk. He finally shut it off after he’d had a chance to speak with his mom, sisters, Uncle Shamus, and various other family members. He didn’t want to be at home, knowing the media would be calling him.
He took his pain medication. His shoulder was sore, and the sling would be an annoyance in the days to come. Putting on a clean shirt had been a five-minute ordeal that he might not have accomplished without Sally’s help. What Mac really wanted was to have a beer, but it wouldn’t mix well with the meds. Sally had made him some apple cider, and that wasn’t too bad. He reached for the TV remote.
All of the local stations were doing special reports regarding the events of the day. A lot of issues had been resolved and the department came out looking pretty good. They had been up against professionals, with resources Mac could hardly imagine, yet those PTA professionals had been beat by a little bunch of locals. Mac’s name was
