Night Sun

by Tom Barber

  ‘He got the address out of her and drove over to the house to see if she was OK. Showed up and couldn’t find the girl, then went looking around the house and found her upstairs, wasted. Some asshole was with her.’

  ‘Taking advantage?’ Marquez asked.

  ‘In a way. He was an older kid from Kat’s high school, home from college at Ohio State. When Nicky found them, the guy was bleeding from scratch-marks on his face and Kat was on the floor. He was crushing her windpipe, looking like he was trying to kill her. Almost succeeded too. She’d already passed out. Nicky and the guy fought but the frat boy had a gun with him. He tried to use it. Nicky outmuscled him and College Boy got shot in the chest in the struggle. Died right there in the room.’

  ‘So Nicky was charged with his murder,’ Archer said.

  ‘In Ohio, burden’s on the defendant to prove that he killed someone in self-defense. Nick was still seventeen so should’ve got 3-8 years as a minor or even nothing at all under the circumstances. But the dead boy’s father had influence and was out for payback. They gave the kid a dime plus two and sent him to one of the toughest federal joints in the country here at Gatlin.’

  ‘Nicky went to prison because Kat got drunk or was too wasted on pills to act with caution?’ Marquez asked.

  ‘She wasn’t using back then. That started after. She was blood tested once detectives shut down the scene and took her to hospital. Had a high dose of Rohypnol in her system and Ohio State had some left in his pocket. Looked like the guy drugged her and was looking to score but she fought back. He got pissed when she scratched him up and started trying to choke her. Nick showing up saved her life.’

  ‘Even with that and testimony from eye-witnesses, Nicky still went down?’ Archer asked.

  ‘Told you, the dead boy’s father had money and power. Nick wasn’t an O’Mara, Kat’s father was already gone so he couldn’t do anything and Blair didn’t want anything to do with the kid once she found out he’d killed someone. Backed off completely. He was on his own.’

  As they sat in the car taking this information in, Archer saw two deputies arrive back at the station in a cruiser. He gave Marquez a one moment gesture and got out as she stayed on the phone with Rainey. ‘You guys on a shift change?’ he asked the two local deputies, approaching them.

  ‘Who’s asking?’

  Archer showed them his NYPD shield. ‘I helped bring in Reyes. We’re still looking for Lupinetti and the Loughlins.’

  ‘Join the club, man. Every badge in five counties wants that collar.’

  ‘Least Reyes is being taken to county jail,’ Archer said. ‘What’s Onondaga like? Heard it’s got a reputation.’

  ‘You mean Oneida,’ one of them said. ‘That’s where he’ll be going.’

  Archer frowned. ‘Oneida, Onondaga; I’m getting them mixed up.’

  ‘Out of towners do. Names come from American-Indian tribes who lived here. But they’re two separate counties. Right now, we’re in Oneida.’

  ‘Then I was right. The Sheriff said you’ve got a full house in the county jail here. Reyes was taken to Onondaga instead.’

  ‘We don’t often get maxed out in County. You sure he said that?’ Archer nodded. ‘Maybe more guys got arrested last night than we know about.’

  As the pair walked off, Archer watched them go for a moment before returning to the car. ‘Rainey hung up,’ Marquez said. ‘Someone coming. What did you want with them?’ she asked, looking at the two local cops walking towards the station.

  ‘An update. They just said the county jail here isn’t usually full.’

  ‘They might not be up to date with the intake.’

  ‘Police have been talking all morning with each other.’

  ‘Not to prisons though,’ she replied, not taking her eyes off him. He had that look on his face that she knew all too well.

  ‘We’re waiting on a lead for Frank. Reyes might have one for us and they still haven’t let us talk to him. Borrow your phone?’ She passed it over, and Archer pulled up the Onondaga County Jail facility on the map before glancing at her. She was already clipping on her seatbelt and he passed her back the cell to provide directions as he keyed the engine and took the Ford out of the PD lot. ‘Let’s check it out. See if we can get to him to have a quick word.’

  ‘Nicky hasn’t communicated with Lupinetti at all that we’re aware of, since he broke out of Gatlin. Rainey never mentioned them talking inside either.’

  ‘That we’re aware of. Could be our only opportunity to find out if he knows anything,’ Archer replied, taking them back onto the road.

  Now that he’d heard what Reyes had done to get sent down for twelve years, he found Marquez’s intrigue with the man’s case was catching. And Archer also wanted to get a closer look at this jail in Onondaga County that the arrested fugitive had been taken to. The two local deputies’ surprise about him being taken there had made him curious.

  It was common knowledge that some facilities were more dangerous than others.

  FORTY NINE

  The O’Maras had moved to a different area of the city after Thomas had died, Blair wanting a new start, but as Richie and Glick had discovered, the family of the young man killed by Nicky Reyes twelve years ago had remained in the same home in the Westlake suburb. The rain from earlier had stopped, the air now thick and humid as the two detectives climbed out of their car. Mr McCoy answered Richie’s knock, his wife joining him a few moments later as introductions were made.

  ‘Robbery Homicide,’ Brian McCoy repeated. ‘Suppose that means you’ve been hunting for Nick Reyes?’

  ‘Small part of the effort,’ Richie answered. ‘Guess you’ve seen the news?’

  He nodded. ‘Come on in.’ They wiped their shoes on the mat before entering the pristine home. Richie didn’t take much interest in Cleveland’s politics, but knew from the file he’d read at their police squad’s headquarters that Brian McCoy was a successful businessman, now retired, who was on the city council. There were degrees of wealth in every city, and this family looked to be in the top 5%.

  As the two cops followed McCoy, they saw the house was expensively furnished, thick rugs covering polished wooden floors, a large living room to the left that looked as if it had come straight out of a glossy magazine. ‘The last few days have been a nightmare,’ Shanna McCoy said, as her husband went into a dining room and took three crystal glasses off a shelf before picking up a bottle of scotch. ‘With him free out there.’

  ‘None for us, please, sir,’ Richie said as Brian opened the whisky.

  ‘The sun’s past the dial. We need to celebrate. You got the guy.’

  ‘Another time, we’re on duty. But we’ll take coffee if you have it.’

  ‘Of course,’ his wife said, turning and going through into the kitchen as her husband continued to pour himself a glass of scotch.

  ‘Who got him?’ Brian asked.

  ‘Police in upstate New York. Marshals are taking over custody.’

  ‘So you’re sure he can’t escape?’

  ‘He caught everyone by surprise once. That’s not gonna happen again.’

  ‘I’ve been counting down the days that son of a bitch was serving. Shanna and I were dreading the day he was being released. I knew it was coming up on Wednesday.’ McCoy swallowed a mouthful of the whisky. ‘He won’t be getting out after this, I assume.’

  ‘Not a chance,’ Richie said, and the man nodded.

  ‘That’s great. Come take a seat,’ he said, leading Richie into the living room to continue the conversation. Glick wandered off to his right, intending to follow Shanna to the kitchen, but slowed when he reached the stairs.

  There were family photos running all the way up the wall to the next floor. Curious, Glick walked up a few steps to get a closer look and saw the McCoys had originally been a family of five. He could tell by who was missing in the latter photos that it was the eldest child who’d been killed by Reyes. The guy was muscular, even as a late teenager, with light hair and
a square jaw. Glick could see from other photos that he’d played football and in a couple of studio photos where the family were all dressed up and smiling together, he looked uncomfortable. Definitely more of an athlete than a politician like his father.

  Glick reached the last photo at the top of the stairs as he heard Richie small-talking with Brian in the living room, Shanna still preparing coffee. He glanced to his right and saw a bedroom door open, but there was a stillness about the room that told him it hadn’t been occupied for a long time. He walked to the doorway and saw photos on the wall of the dead boy.

  This had been Luke’s room. He understood why parents of a child would keep a bedroom as it was before their kid died, even after all this time. The room was probably a lot tidier than the young man would have kept it when he was alive but Glick could picture the guy hanging out in here. Games consoles in the corner, posters on the wall of several famous sports stars long since retired. Medals were pinned to the edge of several shelves, with a few framed photos of Luke at wrestling meets or playing football. He’d been a strong, athletic young man, killed in his first year at university at Ohio State.

  On a shelf by the wall, a yearbook caught Glick’s eye, in particular the name on the spine. Cleveland Catholic High. It was the same school that Kat O’Mara had attended, he recalled. Glick entered the room, picked up the yearbook and started flicking through the pages. The year’s date told him Luke had been a grade ahead of her, so there was no entry for the girl.

  Glick was about to close the yearbook when he saw the edge of a photo, tucked between the back pages.

  He pulled it free and turned the image over to look at it.

  ‘Detective?’ a voice suddenly asked, and he turned to see Luke’s mother in the doorway, looking at him standing in her dead son’s room. ‘Coffee’s ready.’

  ‘I’ll be right down,’ he said. ‘Sorry for coming up here uninvited. Cop curiosity.’

  She looked at him for a moment, then nodded, but didn’t join him in the room; Glick sensed she probably didn’t venture in there often. She turned, not waiting to see if he followed, and walked downstairs to join Richie and her husband. Glick stared at the photo in his hand and considered pocketing it, but then took out his smartphone and snapped several photos of the image. When he was done, he put it back in place, returned the yearbook and headed downstairs, his cell still in his hand.

  ‘LT, we gotta go,’ he told Richie, who was sitting with the couple as Shanna was pouring Glick his coffee.

  ‘A call?’ Richie asked, immediately catching on that it was time to leave.

  ‘New lead on the remaining fugitives,’ Glick replied. ‘Marshals want to meet with us.’

  Richie placed his cup down and rose. ‘Sorry to show up then have to leave so soon. We just wanted to tell you in person that Nicky Reyes is back behind bars. Felt you were owed that.’

  ‘Thank you, Detectives, we appreciate it,’ Brian McCoy said. ‘You two come back when you’re off duty sometime and we’ll have that scotch. I’ll keep a bottle ready.’

  ‘We will.’ The detectives left and walked to their car. ‘What’s going on?’ Richie asked, once they were inside. Instead of responding, Glick took out his phone, went to the photo he’d taken of the image he’d found tucked in the yearbook and passed the cell to his lieutenant.

  Richie looked at it, then zoomed in.

  ‘What?’ he whispered quietly.

  ‘Bet your ass we got a new lead, LT,’ Glick said, starting the engine as Richie studied the photo.

  The US Marshal in the interview room at the Oneida Sheriff’s Office had promised Nicky he could get a shower and something to eat if he told them where he’d hidden the contents of the empty holdall found beside Kat’s body, but Nicky was still refusing to speak. Just as the Sheriff had suggested, he’d been taken to the neighboring Onondaga County Jail to be held awaiting further questioning, moved without the media outside the Oneida Department’s base catching on.

  Nicky was uncuffed and then ordered to strip, just like the day he’d arrived at Gatlin all those years ago. He did so slowly, feeling numb and completely drained. Barry Marsh’s clothes were collected up and bagged, and Nicky was then led naked to the showers, relieved to find them empty; he didn’t have the energy to deal with other inmates right now. He was so tired, he felt as if he was walking using someone else’s legs.

  ‘Get to it or you can share the space with some of the other boys,’ the CO with him said, throwing a bar of soap onto the tiled floor by Nicky’s feet.

  Outside, the front gate to the jail buzzed open and the NYPD Ford rolled in, Archer having driven there quickly following Marquez’s directions. Transferring Reyes to this jail without any of the press picking up on it meant there were no cameras or reporters hanging around outside the gates of this facility; not yet anyway. They probably assumed he was still at the Sheriff’s Office or heading to Oneida’s lockup instead. For that reason alone, sending him to another county’s jail was a good choice.

  Marquez checked behind them as Archer slid the car into an empty space, and then realized not everyone had been fooled. As they arrived, they saw a familiar Ford 150 truck parked on the far side of the lot on the other side of the fence; Archer instantly recognized the two locals in hunting garb who’d been in the parking lot at the PD station, both currently sitting in the front seats.

  ‘Dammit, how’d they know?’ Marquez asked, as Archer pulled the keys from the ignition, studying the pair.

  ‘Maybe they’ve got a contact inside the Sheriff’s Department.’ Archer paused. ‘Or they want to make sure they get credit for their involvement after the reward the Marshals put out for Reyes’ and O’Mara’s capture.’

  ‘They don’t need to sit outside the jail for that. So what are they doing here?’

  The two NYPD detectives could see both locals were staring in their direction. The driver had his window down and spat some chewing tobacco to the concrete, not taking his eyes off the two cops.

  Archer and Marquez got out and walked to the entrance; she pushed a buzzer and after a couple of seconds, the door was opened for them. Behind her, Archer glanced back over his shoulder again before they walked in and saw the two men had now got out of their Ford, both still staring at him and Marquez.

  Like Brooks and Billy on the bridge the other night, they moved pretty fast for men their size.

  The shower inside the county jail pummeled Nicky’s exhausted body, the captured fugitive ignoring the CO standing there watching him, no stranger to a lack of privacy after twelve years of incarceration. The water swirling down the drain at his feet was a light shade of brown from all the dirt and silt he’d picked up since jumping into the river. Only a few hours ago, but now what seemed like a lifetime away.

  The scraped injury across his back from the speedbump outside Gatlin on Friday stung from the water and a stream of red beaded down his chest, the pressure from the shower causing some bleeding from the wound on his neck under the two band aids. The water slowed to a trickle then stopped, and Nicky turned just in time to catch an old scratchy towel, another guard bringing in a set of jail jumps, canvas shoes and handcuffs.

  ‘We’ve been involved in the manhunt for the fugitives from Virginia from the start,’ Archer told a guard working desk duty inside the county jail. ‘We were told Nicky Reyes was being brought here.’

  ‘You were told wrong,’ the CO replied quickly.

  ‘We were at the Sheriff’s Office in Oneida County half an hour ago when it was decided to bring him here,’ Marquez added. ‘We know he’s here, man. Why deny it? We’re not media.’

  The CO’s eyes narrowed. He took their badges, looking at each in turn slowly and deliberately, before handing them back. ‘So what do you want?’

  ‘To ask Reyes a few questions before more investigators arrive. Three of the Gatlin Four are still out there. One of them’s a person of interest to us. We need to get him back alive.’

  ‘Can’t let you see Reyes. This
is a federal case, not NYPD. Don’t concern you.’

  ‘Speaking of that; where are the Marshals who brought him?’ Archer asked.

  ‘Strong lead on the Loughlin brothers came in over in Wayne County. Tip said they’re hiding out in a house over there. Marshals left to check it out but they’ll be back pronto. Reyes is locked in nice and tight.’ He gave a smile that was more of a sneer, seeming to be enjoying the authority he had over the two NYPD detectives. ‘Like you said, load more investigators are gonna be here within the hour. You two aren’t even close to the front of the queue.’

  ‘We’ve earned the right for a five minute conversation with the guy,’ Marquez persisted. ‘The man we’re after killed one of our colleagues. And my friend here put down Craig Loughlin. Did all of you a big favor there.’

  There was an adjustment in the CO’s attitude. ‘That was you?’ he asked Archer. He nodded and the correctional officer leaned back in his chair, taking a better look at them both. ‘What happened to your head?’ he then asked Marquez, looking at her bandage hairband.

  ‘I fell out of a window. Enough questions, man. You letting us in or not?’

  ‘If I do, you’re not going in with those guns.’

  ‘We’re law-enforceme-’

  ‘Save your breath, lady. In here, you follow our rules. Cops from other counties don’t come in here with weapons. I buzz you in with them, I get fired, and what’s to say you won’t just plug Reyes in the head if we let you see him? Your man here’s already bagged one fugitive in the last few days, right?’

  The two detectives glanced at each other. ‘OK. We need to fill out any forms?’ Archer asked.

  ‘Yeah.’ The desk guard dug out a couple of sheets and passed them over, waiting while the two detectives wrote down their details. Then they pulled their holsters and placed them in two plastic trays the man brought out. ‘Cell phones too.’