by side. Jack removed the top bundle. There were more beneath it. The box was stuffed with cash, top to bottom, front to back.
“There must be a couple hundred thousand dollars in here,” said Jack.
“At least,” said Theo. “Which certainly makes you wonder.”
“Why would a guy live in an abandoned car if he’s got all this money in the bank?”
“Maybe for the same reason he wants to jump off a bridge,” said Theo. “Or maybe he just wants to be homeless.”
Jack laid a hand atop the money, thinking. “Or both.”
chapter 4
W hen Vincent Paulo was a little boy, he was afraid of the dark. He and his older brother shared a bedroom. The lower bunk was for Danny, who never had trouble falling asleep. Vince had the top bunk, which was part of his mother’s strategy. She knew that no matter how frightened he became, little Vince wouldn’t dare crawl down from the top bunk in the middle of the night. He couldn’t risk waking his big brother, unless he wanted a certain bloody nose. Vince would lay awake for the longest time-for hours, it seemed, the covers pulled over his head, afraid to make a move. “Just close your eyes and go to sleep,” his mother would say. But Vince couldn’t do it. The room, at least, had a night-light. Closing his eyes would mean total darkness, and it was in that black, empty world that monsters prowled.
Ironic, he thought, that he now lived in that world-and that it was indeed a monster who had put him there.
Vince tried not to think about the day he’d lost his sight, or at least not to dwell on it. Hindsight could eat you up, even on the small stuff. If only I’d remembered that Elm Street was a speed trap. If only I’d sold that stock last month. But how many people could say, “If only I hadn’t opened that door, I would never have lost my eyesight”? Of those, how many could actually live with the result-truly live with it, as in live a happy life. Vince tried to be one of those people. He refused to be doted on or smothered by those of good intentions. He refused to change careers. He refused to stop living. There would be major changes and adjustments, to be sure. Teaching at the police academy wasn’t exactly active duty, but it was important work. It was certainly better than taking disability and fading into oblivion. Hopefully there would be more cases like Falcon on the bridge, where Vince could play a role in a real-life hostage situation. But even if that didn’t happen, he would go on with his life, and he would be happy. That was a good place to be, emotionally, and it had taken him many months to get there.
It had taken only the sound of Alicia’s voice to send him tumbling back to square one.
“I’m taking off now,” his uncle said. “Are you going to be all right?”
Each evening, Uncle Ricky picked Vince up from work, drove him home, and helped him cook dinner-usually grilled steaks and ice cream. Richard Boies was the uncle everyone wanted, sort of a second father and best friend rolled into one. The things he did for family were from the heart, not out of obligation, and his mischievous streak and quick sense of humor always lifted Vince’s spirits. Just the thought of this tall, slender man with bright red hair, blazing blue eyes, and glowing red skin from the Miami sun was enough to make Vince smile. They could no longer share Uncle Ricky’s love of photography, but they would listen to music, tell stories, and play cards or dominoes until it was time for bed. Uncle Ricky was a dominoes master. Vince got even at poker. He had a long way to go before he mastered Braille, but Vince knew a full house when he felt one.
“I’m good,” said Vince.
“You sure?” said Uncle Ricky. “Nothing I can get you? Glass of water? Remote control? Winning Lotto ticket?”
“Get outta here,” said Vince, smiling.
“I have to be going too,” his brother said. Danny had a wife and three kids, but he did manage to visit Vince on poker night. Uncle Ricky made sure he didn’t cheat.
“There’s a nasty cold front coming through tonight,” his uncle said. “You want me to drag an extra blanket down from the closet?”
“I can get it,” said Vince. “Thanks anyway.”
The goal was for Vince to do more and more for himself every day. A caregiver came at six every morning to help him work toward his goal of complete independence in various personal matters, everything from grooming and hygiene to little tricks in the closet that would prevent him from walking out of the house wearing black pants with brown loafers. Uncle Ricky would be back at seven a.m. to take him to work.
His uncle slapped him on the shoulder and started toward the door. Danny followed and said, “Texas Hold ’Em next week?”
“I’ll be ready,” said Vince.
The front door opened, then closed. Vince remained in the armchair as he listened to the fading sound of footfalls on the sidewalk. Uncle Ricky was the first to leave. His brother waited behind on the porch. It was the same drill every week. Danny would stand there alone, searching for the right thing to say to Vince, and wishing that he had Uncle Ricky’s easy way about himself even in the face of adversity. Vince knew in his heart that Danny wanted to open the door, step back inside, and have that conversation they’d been avoiding-to be the big brother. But it never happened. He would give up and go home, saying nothing.
The engine fired, and Vince could hear the car pulling away. His brother was gone, and it was like old times. Back then, they would lay awake at night in those bunk beds, talking. Oh, the things brothers could talk about while staring into the darkness. Then Danny would fall asleep, and Vince would be alone. And afraid.
Get over it, Vince told himself.
His childhood fears notwithstanding, Vince had grown up to be brave, good-looking, and full of confidence. He came to the police force straight out of the marines, after a tour of duty in the first Gulf War. Before enlisting, he’d earned a degree in psychology from the University of Florida, where he was also a standout on the swim team. At six-foot-two and 190 pounds of solid muscle, he was a walking Speedo advertisement. He hated those banana hammocks, however, and he wore them only to compete. What he loved was police work, and he loved being a cop. The psychology degree and his coolness under pressure made him a natural for crisis management. In his five years as a negotiator, he was known as a risk taker who didn’t always follow the conventional wisdom of other trained negotiators. His critics said that his unorthodox style would eventually catch up with him, and they were right. A few of them predicted that he’d end up dead some day.
Even they didn’t see blindness coming.
The telephone rang. He rose and, with the aid of his walking stick, went to the kitchen and answered it. The voice on the other end of the line halted, though it was a familiar one. “Vince, hi. It’s me. Alicia.”
The call didn’t shock him. “Professional” was perhaps the best way to describe his behavior toward his ex- girlfriend during that crisis on the bridge. He felt no animosity toward her, and he had conveyed none. He simply felt better equipped to move forward without Alicia in his life, without a constant reminder of the bright future he’d lost. Vince didn’t want anyone sticking by his side just because she felt sorry for him. No matter what she said, a woman as active, adventurous, and gorgeous as Alicia was bound to leave her blind boyfriend behind eventually. Her dumping him would only make it worse. He had explained all of that to her many times before. Perhaps he should have told her again. “What’s up?” he said.
“Nothing. I just wanted to tell you that I thought you did an amazing job yesterday with that jumper.”
“Thanks. But it really wasn’t anything to be proud of.”
“You’re being too tough on yourself. I think you should consider branching out beyond just teaching at the academy. I really do.”
“It’s nice of you to say that. But honestly, the way things went down on that bridge, we’re lucky no one was hurt.”
“Luck is always part of the job.”
“Sometimes it’s with you, sometimes it’s not.”
“This time it was,” she said.
Last time, it hadn’t been. No one needed to say it.
An awkward silence gripped the phone line, and Vince could sense that she had something more to say. He
