Blindside Page 21
The flight itself was uneventful. I noticed that Natalie, wedged into the seat next to me, didn’t want to venture too far on any topic. After everything she’d gone through, I could understand her feelings.
She asked me why I really had started looking for her. My natural inclination is to always tell the truth, but this was a family issue, and I wasn’t sure what was best for that family. Finally I explained, “I had a few problems on the job. I was in a shooting. Your dad thought it was best if I stayed off the streets of New York for a little while. He was worried about you, so I started looking. Not much more to tell.”
“What about your shooting? Is it resolved?”
“I don’t know about officially, but there was plenty of video. I’ve been told I’m going to be cleared officially.”
She asked for the details.
I said, “I was up in the Bronx working at the site of the homicide of a nurse and her young daughter. It was horrific. I stepped outside to grab a Gatorade and two men confronted me with a gun. I shot one. The other, a guy called Tight, ran away. After looking at it more, we now think he might have been involved in the homicide of the nurse and her daughter.”
“That sounds traumatic all around. That would keep me up at night the rest of my life.”
“The thing that bothers me most is that Tight is still running free. I’d do anything to lay my hands on that guy.”
Natalie said, “It’s sad to say, but I don’t know much about police work other than what I’ve seen on Law and Order. After watching you firsthand, I can tell you I could never be a cop.”
I laughed and said, “That is the exact opposite of what most people think. The public believes they understand what a cop goes through, and everyone seems to have advice on how to do police work. I appreciate you admitting a blind spot.”
“Trust me, it’s not a blind spot anymore. I’ll never forget what you did for me.” She placed her hand on top of mine. It was one of the most sincere thank-yous I had ever heard.
Chapter 94
I watched the Manhattan skyline as the Lufthansa 747 landed at JFK. It was always good to get home.
Twenty minutes later, Natalie and I hurried down the Jetway to the main terminal. I’m sure she never would’ve admitted it, but I could tell the young computer genius was excited about seeing her parents. I was just as excited to see my family.
I noticed a group of official-looking people not far from the gate. They had a uniformed NYPD officer with them, probably to help them slip through security. Before we had even cleared the gate, an attractive woman in a smart pantsuit rushed forward and embraced Natalie.
I hesitated, not wanting to intrude on the touching reunion. Natalie and her mother started to cry. As I continued to walk, Natalie reached out and grabbed me by the arm.
She broke her embrace with her mother and said, “This is the man who saved me. You have no idea what he risked looking for me in Estonia. We have to tell Dad about it right away.”
The look on her mother’s face told me everything I needed to know about the mayor at that moment. She turned to her daughter and said in a soft voice, “It’ll have to wait. Your dad had an event he couldn’t miss. He also didn’t want to turn this into a media circus. We’re all going to meet for dinner.”
Now I felt like giving Natalie a hug. She looked more like a lost little girl at that moment than at any time during this investigation. Even after all of her talk about not caring what her father thought, she was devastated he hadn’t come to the airport to welcome her home.
She looked at her mother and said, “Dad didn’t want a media circus because he doesn’t want anyone to know about the mayor’s wild daughter.” She started to cry but buried her face in her mother’s shoulder.
Her mother looked at me as she patted her daughter’s head. She said quietly, “I don’t know how we can ever thank you.”
Before I could even acknowledge her words, I heard a shriek and had just enough time to look up and prepare for Chrissy coming at me like a guided missile. As I suspected, she was followed in short order by Shawna, Trent, and Fiona. I was lucky to stay on my feet.
Before I could give these four the hugs they deserved, Mary Catherine appeared out of the crowd. She started to cry as she kissed me on the lips and wrapped her arms around my neck.
I was enveloped by a giant hug from all of them. Shawna started to cry. That was unusual.
I picked her up, which was not as easy as I remembered. I brushed a tear off her beautiful face. “What’s wrong, sweetheart? It’s okay. I’m home now.”
She sniffled. “I’m sorry, Dad. I had dreams, bad dreams, about what you were doing in Estonia. I’m just so glad to see you.” She hugged me around the neck and kissed me on the cheek.
I had to wipe a tear away from my cheek after such a touching admission. All I wanted now was to get home.
Thankfully the NYPD told me I could hold off on a debriefing until I got back in the office. They knew the story. The FBI would’ve already produced a detailed report. No doubt the mayor had told everyone not to bother me too much. I could live with that.
I spent the ride from the airport to our apartment catching up on all the kids’ adventures and achievements while I was gone.
Bridget had started an arts and crafts club at Holy Name. She was very excited that she already had four members besides herself. Five if you counted her twin, Fiona.
Jane had absolutely killed an AP world history exam. There had even been an announcement at the school about how well she’d done.
Juliana had won a lead role in the latest school play. It was a retro musical based on the works of Neil Diamond. They were still working out the copyright issues and realized they might have to change the names of some of the songs. I couldn’t imagine what “Sweet Karen” or “I Am, I Declared” might sound like.
Once we were home, I couldn’t believe how relieved I was to embrace my grandfather. He, of course, had talked to Father Marty Zlatic and knew the whole story. He looked me right in the eye and said, “I know I don’t say it often, but you make me very proud every day.”
“Often? You’ve never told me that.”
“In words.”
“In any form of communication, verbal or nonverbal, written or in any other form. How’s that for being specific?”
“It just makes me more proud.”
Damn, I do love that old man.
Chapter 95
Later in the evening, after I tried to spend a little time with each of the kids, we waited for a special phone call from Brian. Everyone circled around the phone and it rang right on time.
Trent snatched it off the cradle and immediately said, “Hey, Brian.” Then he put it on speaker and placed the receiver back in the cradle. It was just his little way of trying to get some personal contact with his brother. I got it.
Brian was upbeat and filled us in on passing more of his certifications to be an air-conditioning repair mechanic. He also had started his first college courses. He said, “In case I want to earn my degree, I thought it was a good idea to get the basics out of the way now. I’m taking English and US history.”
Chrissy said, “I’m great at history. I can help you with anything you don’t understand.”
I liked how everyone in the room over the age of fourteen effectively concealed a smile at the little girl’s offer of help.
Brian asked me about the trip to Estonia, but I didn’t go into any detail. I was often vague about work around my family. Some people said it wasn’t right to keep them sealed off from my professional life, but it was a choice I made to save them the details that no one else had to hear.
We ended the call like we always did, with tears and good-byes. But I felt pretty good about the progress Brian had made. Like I had told Natalie in Estonia, people make mistakes. Brian had made his and was doing his best to overcome them. I was proud of him, and I told him that. Frequently. Sometimes in front of my grandfather, just to make a point.
After the call, I sat down next to Eddie at the computer. He was working on some sort of programming problem they’d given him in the special class at Columbia he and Trent were enrolled in.
He turned to me and said, “I have to say, Dad, that I’ve been looking at a number of the hacker forums I like to read and some of them are talking about you.”
“Me?”
“Not by name. But they make you sound like Bruce Willis. How you stormed into Estonia and took down the biggest, baddest cybercriminal in the world.”
“You mean the biggest, baddest cybercriminal under five feet six inches, named Henry. That’s the best I’ll give that little twerp.”
Eddie laughed out loud.
“Although,” I corrected, “we haven’t quite brought him down yet, just have him on the run.”
“It’s amazing you did everything you did without knowing computers very well. You didn’t have to clone any phones or crack the security on any systems. The things cybercriminals do every day.”
“I just did what I do every day. Simple police work. You know about cloning phones?”
“Only in theory. I’ve never tried it.”
“Relax. This isn’t an interrogation.”
I listened as he explained several complicated high-tech processes. I had to wonder where this kid got his brains.
Finally I said, “Thanks for the insight. It would’ve helped me in Estonia. And I appreciate the compliments, but I did what any good cop would do.”
“Either way, I’ve seen more than one person talk about the American cop who dismantled a major hacker. I guess it was even on the news in Estonia.”
“I don’t think it takes much to get on the local news in Tallinn. It’s just a nice town with nice people. Mostly nice people.”
Eddie turned from the computer and gave me a hug. That was somewhat un-Eddie-like. He was more reserved than most of the kids.
He said, “I’m just glad you’re back. I missed you.”
“I missed you, too.”
“And from what I’ve read, you were lucky. That guy from Estonia, Henry, sounds like a really bad guy.”
“I don’t want to give him that much credit. I’m just glad to be home and with you guys.”
And that was the God’s honest truth.
Chapter 96
The next day I went to my office on the sixth floor of an unmarked building on the Upper West Side. I wasn’t built to sit around my apartment and wait for things to happen. The kids were in school, and Mary Catherine was busy, so I decided to go in and get back to my real life.
I hadn’t gotten official approval to return to my normal job, and I hoped no one would shout at me as I walked through the door. But everyone welcomed me back, even my lieutenant, Harry Grissom. If someone was going to tell me to get lost and take more time off, it was going to be Harry. His first concern was how well the squad operated. I’d trust him with my life, but if he thought I was going to be a detriment in any way, he’d send me home in a heartbeat.
Detective Terri Hernandez was in the building, checking whether any information had developed on the suspect in her homicide, Tight. She surprised me with a hug.
I stepped back and looked at her. “You could pass for a college student.”
“That’s the idea, Slick.”
I laughed and we caught up on what had happened since I left. The long and the short of her investigation was that she had no other leads except for the guy I’d met, Tight. The media had kept up a pretty good pace of coverage for three or four days after the murders. A young nurse and her daughter being killed in their own apartment captured people’s attention for a little longer than most stories. But now interest had ebbed in what was quickly becoming a cold homicide.
Terri looked down. She was one of the most dedicated detectives I’d ever met. She checked in on a victim’s family for months after a homicide, filling them in on progress. She looked at every murder as a personal quest to be solved, and she excelled in public service because she really cared.
I said, “We’ll catch a break. This one won’t haunt you.”
“They all haunt me. Even the ones we’ve solved. They’re murders. I think God wants them to haunt us.”
“That’s a good point. And you’re right. We shouldn’t get callous toward homicides. It’s too easy to start taking shortcuts if we do.”
I checked in with Harry and spent most of the day at my desk. In the midafternoon, my phone buzzed, telling me I had a text. I looked down and saw it was from the mayor’s mobile phone. It said, I’m sending a car. Meet it at Riverside and 132nd Street, just a few blocks from your office. Don’t say anything to anyone. The little fat prick.
I had to smile at his sense of humor.
I started to make my way out and nodded at Harry Grissom as I walked past his office.
I took a leisurely stroll, actually looking in storefronts for a change. I saw a rented Lincoln stretch limo right where the text said it would be. It was a little gaudy and obnoxious, but I didn’t get to ride in the back of a limo very often.
The driver didn’t get out to meet me, so I leaned down and waved to him. He gave me a thumbs-up, and I crawled into the back.
I was not the only passenger.
Chapter 97
I eased into the seat and made a quick assessment of the giant passenger compartment of the limo. There was even a wet bar. Too bad I was on duty.
The driver lowered the glass partition, turned his head, and said, “Hello, Detective. It was lucky you two were in the same area. As soon as Natalie said she was nearby, the mayor said I could get you both at the same time.”
The young woman’s Yankees baseball cap and big sunglasses made her look like a celebrity trying to keep a low profile. A little of her hair had popped out from under the ball cap. She looked relaxed but didn’t say anything.
I said, “Hey, Natalie. You doing okay?”
She nodded and said quietly, “Not thrilled about seeing my dad.”
I noticed the driver was eavesdropping. “I’m sure it’ll be fine. You just have to give him a chance.”
“Like the chance to greet me at the airport?”
“That was disappointing.”
She grunted but kept quiet after that.
The driver was still listening, I knew.
I asked him, “Do you work in the mayor’s office?”
The tubby man with slicked-back, light-brown hair had a slight accent. He said, “No, sir, I help the mayor in his unofficial life. In other words, he contracted me. I guess Hizzoner wants this meeting to be low profile.”
“It seems like he feels that way about most meetings.”
I sat back and enjoyed the ride. At this time of the day, with traffic, it was going to take a while to get to City Hall. Then the driver cut east through Manhattan. It’s not the way I would’ve gone, but he was a professional and no one had asked my opinion.
Ten minutes later, the driver made another turn and I realized he was headed for the Queensboro Bridge.
I leaned up and said, “Where are we going?”
The driver focused on traffic in front of us for a moment, beeping at a tourist from Delaware who was clearly unsure where he wanted to go. Then the driver called over his shoulder, “The mayor told me to bring you to an address in Queens. I didn’t ask any questions. Let me call and see if I can get any answers you might need.”
He pulled out his cell phone and started to speak. His conversation lasted until we were over the bridge.
We were on the upper level when the driver turned off to loop around back under the bridge onto Vernon Boulevard. We passed Queensbridge Park on our left. He was pulling past the sprawling Ravenswood power plant when he called over his shoulder, “I guess the mayor drove over here as well. He’s anxious to see his daughter. He says we can meet him by Rainey Park just up here.”
I looked across the seat and said, “You doing okay?”
She nodded, the ball cap pulled low over her face.
As we came to a stop, the driver looked in the rearview mirror and said, “Please, sir, no calls.”
“What? I’m sorry, I need to check in with my office.”
“I don’t think so.”
When I looked up from my phone to see what would make the driver say something so crazy, I froze. He had turned around and held a small semiautomatic pistol in his left hand, pointed at my head.
Without the man saying a word, I knew to hand over my own pistol. I reached to my right hip and slowly unholstered my Glock. I handed it over the seat to the driver.
The driver said, “Phone, too.”
I sighed as I tossed my phone over the seat as well.
The driver added, “And Natalie’s purse.”
She handed the purse to the driver.
I felt like I was back in Estonia, staring at the barrel of another gun. When was this shit gonna end?
Chapter 98
As I continued to sit in the rear seat of the limo, staring at the gun, I took a moment to look at the driver more closely. He was about forty with the smooth face of someone who hasn’t worked outdoors much their whole life. He had an accent, but I couldn’t tell where he was from. In New York, you just rolled with any sort of accent. As long as you could make out the general meaning of what someone was trying to say, everyone was happy.
This guy worked for Henry. He hadn’t said so in words, but someone holding a gun conveys a lot with just a look. I was in deep shit.