That released some chuckles from the table. Given the mounting tension, had Vaughn told a moron joke he would have gotten laughs.
“What bothers me,” Steve said, “is that he might still be hunting.”
71
July 1.
The desk calendar hung right next to the photo of Dana.
Twelve years ago today they walked down the aisle at the Unitarian church in Arlington center followed by a reception at Habitat on Belmont Hill. It was a glorious day and a glorious wedding, and they danced their first dance as Mr. and Mrs. Stephen Markarian to “As Time Goes By.”
Well, time went by, more than a decade, and according to national statistics they were supposed to be living in their happy suburban Carleton home with two point something kids and entering middle age with grace and contentment. Instead, Dana lived by herself in their happy suburban home with her new face and new prospects while Steve bumped around a monastic four-room flat with zero point zero kids and not much else.
The good news—and the only good news—was that nearly three weeks had passed since he had last consumed alcohol. It was the one thing that kept him going because he tied that to the belief that if he conquered this demon, he might win back Dana.
“Hey.”
Steve turned and his heart gave a kick. Neil was standing behind him.
“I’m on my way out, but I want to let you know I got your messages.”
His face was an implacable pink blank. The slender end of a toothpick stuck out of the corner of his mouth. It had been a week since the break-in, and Neil seemed more drawn and his eyes slightly muddy, as if he had not gotten much sleep.
Steve stood up. “What can I say? I’m sorry.” Steve held out his hand, uncertain if Neil would take it or spit at it. And for a moment that seemed to last a week, his hand posed in the air while Neil moved his eyes from Steve’s to his hand. Then he took it.
“You did what you had to do.”
“It was nice of you not to blow my head off.”
Neil nodded. “Until Dacey showed, I was convinced you were there to make a plant.”
“We’re even.”
Neil had not filed a complaint for their unwarranted creeping, and Steve did not file a report that Neil pulled his weapon on a superior officer. Neither would have accomplished anything but a lot of administrative wrangling and lost time on their cases.
“How’s the Farina thing going?”
“It’s going.”
Even though Neil had been cleared, Steve did not want to compromise the integrity of the investigation even within the department. Also, over the last several days, Steve had, in total confidentiality, contacted Neil’s superior at the Gloucester P.D. to determine if Neil had an alibi for the other cases. Luckily, as it turned out, during the estimated time window of Corrine Novak’s murder, he was on duty with other police officers investigating the vandalizing of a local high school by some townie kids. And on the evening when Marla Murphy was killed in Wellfleet, Neil was at a conference in St. Louis. His whereabouts on the other two cases could not be pinpointed, but Steve was satisfied that Neil had nothing to do with the murders.
“I guess it’s not official, but I hear it’s gone serial.”
So much for tight lips. Admitting what they both knew might convince Neil that Steve’s suspicion was dead. It would also serve as a gesture to make up. “Yeah. Got four so far.”
“Any suspects?”
Steve shook his head.
“Establish a motive?”
“Nothing yet.”
Neil shook his head. “So, what have you been doing?”
“Diddling with the files and hoping we get him before he gets the next one.”
“It’s that bad?”
“Yeah.”
Neil made a move to leave. “How are things with Dana?”
“The same. How about Lily?”
“She’s making progress.”
“Good to hear that.”
Neil put out his hand and Steve took it. “l wish I could make it up to you.”
“You can,” Neil said. “You get the son of a bitch, let me have five minutes with him.”
“You’re on.”
72
It was a beautiful July Fourth day—clear, dry, and mild: perfect weather to celebrate Independence Day and to watch the fireworks later that evening.
Dana was ready and waiting at four. But instead of the black BMW pulling up her driveway, a shiny limousine appeared with a uniformed driver and nobody else. He introduced himself as Max and said that Dr. Monks apologized for not coming by in person, but that he would drive her to their rendezvous. He walked her to the limo, where he retrieved a cell phone and handed it to her.
“Dana, it’s Aaron. I apologize, but I got held up in town. Max will bring you here.”
“Okay. And where exactly is
“You’ll see, and bring an appetite.”
She handed Max the cell phone. “He wouldn’t say where we’re going.”
Max smiled. “I think you’ll be pleased.” And he let her in the car.
The interior had a plastic partition dividing the front and rear seats to ensure privacy. As they pulled away, the driver clicked on some classical music and Dana settled back, thinking how her life had suddenly taken on some adventure.
They headed onto the Mystic Valley Parkway, which took them to 93 South toward Boston. Because the air was dry, the city skyline stood out in stereoscopic clarity. Her guess was they were meeting at one of the trendy new places in the South End. But instead of taking the Storrow Drive exit, the driver went straight over the Zakim Bridge and into the tunnel and then took one of the exits that brought them onto Atlantic Avenue.
After a few minutes, they turned into Waterboat Marina near the New England Aquarium. In the distance she spotted Anthony’s Pier 4, where she and Steve had gone in the early years of their marriage and where they always got a window seat because Steve was a cop.
Max drove until he could go no farther. At the gate was Aaron Monks, dressed in a navy double-breasted sport coat with a white shirt and light gray pants. He smiled broadly as he watched Dana get out. Max flashed her a two-fingered salute and drove away.
“You look gorgeous,” he said. Then he snapped on his reading glasses and put his fingers to her chin, turning her face to study it in the sunlight. “Perfect,” and he gave her a kiss on each cheek.
“Thank you,” she said.
His eyes lit up as he regarded her. “And you’re pleased with the results?”
