Boone shrugged. “I never got the feeling Fletch much cared how things looked. But you’re right; he won’t be able to walk away from this until he’s had a hand in cleaning it up.”
24
Into Hiding
Tuesday, February 9, 8:30 p.m.
Boone broke protocol and followed Jack Keller’s lead in ordering dessert, despite that he was stuffed and already feeling logy.
“I’m gonna regret grazing at this feed trough,” he said, though his latest round of meds was kicking in and he felt warm and comfortable in the mostly empty restaurant. “I’ll probably fall asleep on Fletch Galloway’s couch.”
Jack was looking remarkably civilian, attacking a goopy bowl of something covered in whipped cream. “You think things happen for a reason, Boones?”
Boone snorted. “You’re asking me? Things have happened to me I’ll never figure out this side of heaven. . . .”
“Sorry. Didn’t mean to go there.”
“It’s all right. But you know the afterlife fits in with my worldview, so yeah, I believe I’ll understand the whys someday.”
“I’ve just been thinking about what happened here tonight and why we happened to be in the right place at the right time.”
“We didn’t do much, Jack.”
“I didn’t do anything. You did just the right thing. But why? There had to be some cosmic reason. You call it God. So would Margaret. That’s cool. I call it karma maybe; I don’t know.”
Margaret would? That was a revelation to Boone. “Isn’t karma more like payback, for good or bad?”
“I guess. But here we are, Boones, in one of the worst spots either of us has ever been in—on the job, I mean—and we wander into this strange deal and find kids tearing up the place. I could see a rookie cop firing off a round into the ceiling, facing a thing like this.”
“And losing his job.”
“For sure. But what are outnumbered, overmatched cops supposed to do—call for backup, and then what? By the time help gets here, the thing’s way out of hand.”
“Where you going with this, Jack? It made sense to call the coach and I happened to know him.”
“Just happened to?”
Boone shrugged. “Yeah.”
“Guess I read more into it, that’s all.”
“What? We’ve switched roles? You going spiritual on me now, Jack?”
Keller cocked his head. “Maybe. That so bad?”
“You brought it up, so you tell me. What do you make of it?”
“I just think we’re supposed to learn from it.”
“So teach me.”
“You taught me, Boones. That’s the point. You see the parallel between this and our case?”
“Hardly.”
“You’ve been teaching me on that, too. I put a lot of stock in Pete’s reputation, his years of service, his loyalty, his friendship—or what I thought was friendship. Looks like I’ve been wrong for a long time.”
“I hope Fletch sees it the way you do.”
Jack looked away and shook his head.
“What?”
Toying with his spoon, Jack said, “I’d hate to be Fletcher Galloway tonight. I mean, it’s one thing, me being wrong about a colleague. But Fletch made Pete Wade who he is. And he credits Wade with a lot of his own success and reputation.”
“You think he’s going to defend Pete?”
“Fletch is no dummy. He knows evidence when he sees it.”
They sat for an hour, chatting idly. Finally Jack said, “Question is, does Haeley’s lawyer know evidence when he sees it? You want to call him before too long, right? Better do that while I’m checking with Fletch to be sure he’s home.”
Boone got the recorded night message at the lawyer’s office—no surprise. He hesitated to call the man’s cell at that time of night, but if this wasn’t a priority, he didn’t know what was. Friedrich Zappolo answered on the first ring.
“Drake, I’m glad you called,” he said, not even waiting to hear what Boone wanted. “The US Attorney wants Haeley back in custody and is sending—”
“No way! They can’t do that. Listen, I’ve got—”
“You’d better listen to me, Drake. They’re sending officers to her place in the morning to book her at MCC, and I’ve been advised to urge her to make arrangements for her son.”
“I guaranteed her this wouldn’t happen, Fritz. You’ve got to stop this.”
“I’ve exhausted every angle I can think of. Unless you have something compelling, this thing is going down tomorrow.”
“Believe me, I have more than enough evidence for you.”
Fritz hesitated, which encouraged Boone. “It has to be a lot, and it has to be solid, and I don’t want any of it by phone.”
“Then where? When? I’m telling you, she’s completely in the clear, and there’s no way she can survive another night in jail.”
“MCC is not County, you know.”
“You wouldn’t be able to persuade her there’s a difference.”
Zappolo sighed heavily. “I really don’t want to be up late tonight, Drake. But we need to do something about that kid if we can’t get in the way of this before tomorrow.”
“How much does Haeley know?” Boone said.
“I was about to call her, but I assume she’s putting the boy down and will soon be turning in herself.”
“And then there’ll be no way she can sleep with this staring her in the face. Listen, Fritz, do me a favor. Can you hide her for tonight?”
“You want me disbarred?”
“Just put her up somewhere. I’ll pay for it. Trust me, as soon as we get together, you’ll have everything you need to keep her out of jail. But for now, we need to get her out of her apartment.”
“I’m not harboring her mother and the kid too.”
Boone realized Zappolo was considering getting Haeley out of sight so she wouldn’t be accessible in the morning. “Okay, tell her I’ll call her later but right now she needs to send her mother and Max to my parents’ in downstate Illinois. And Mrs. Lamonica should use my car, not her own.” Boone gave him the address and directions. “So you’ll do this, Fritz? I know it’s a lot to ask.”
“You have no idea. You’re asking an officer of the court to hide an arrestee from federal authorities. When this comes home to roost, and you know it will, I’m going to have to prove overwhelming extenuating circumstances. Otherwise I’m disbarred at best, jailed at worst.”
“Should I send Haeley to my parents’ place too?”
“No! That’s pushing things. They can force me to produce her, you know, and if she’s downstate it only makes things worse.”
“Got it. I can’t tell you how much I appreciate—”
“I don’t care about that, Boone. I need to be able to defend my actions as soon as this is traced to me. I can’t put it off until she turns up missing tomorrow morning. You think they’re not going to come straight to me first, and then to you?”
Jack had paid the bill over the manager’s objections and was now signaling Boone it was time to go.
“Here’s the best I can do tonight, Fritz. I have to cover all my bases within the CPD; then I can meet you anywhere, anytime, but it’ll be late. Sorry. I know you have to be as exhausted as I am.”
“I’m due in court in the morning, Boone. I’m going to have to deal with Haeley tonight and see if I can sneak in a catnap before you and I get together.”
“Can’t you get a continuance or something?”
“You watch too much TV. And there’s an advantage to being in court tomorrow—I’ll be harder for the feds to reach. Get back to me as soon as you can.”
“Calling won’t wake your wife or anyone, will it?”
Zappolo laughed. “This job has already cost me two wives and two girlfriends. If I even talk about getting married again, sue me, will you, Boone?”
10:00 p.m.
In the car, Boone said, “So Fletch is ready for us?”
“Sort of.�
��
“What’s that mean?”
“Just that I assumed he’d wait till Dorothy went to bed.”
“You’re not saying . . . ?”
“She wants to see us.”
“Thinks it’s a social call?”
“That’s what I asked him,” Jack said. “He said he told her we were coming to say hi, and she didn’t buy it. Wife of a cop, ya know.”
“But she can’t be in on the conversation.”
Jack sniffed. “We’ll just have to put her mind at ease.”
“Easier said than done.”
“You know her, Boones?”
“Enough to know she doesn’t play the role of the little woman.”
Twenty minutes later, Boone’s phone chirped. “This is Haeley.”
“Keep it short,” Jack said. “We’re close.”
“Hey, Hael.”
“Just tell me why I had to hear this from Mr. Zappolo.”
“Listen, we’re going to have all kinds of time to chat this whole thing through, but right now—”
“Boone,” she said, “Mom and Max are gone, and I’m hiding so I don’t go to jail. This so goes against my grain. I’d rather defend myself right now.”
“I promised I’d get to the bottom of this, and I did.”
“You also promised this wouldn’t happen, Boone, and here I am cooling my heels when I’m ready to tear somebody’s head off.”
“Your job is to lie low until I get everything I’ve found to Fritz. He’s taking a huge risk—”
“He’s made that quite clear.”
“You need to trust me.”
“And you need to get Mr. Zappolo what he needs as fast as you can.”
“I’ll see him yet tonight.”
“Good. Remind him what I said. I want Max back, and I’m not going to jail.”
Boone fell silent, fatigue washing over him. “You do know,” he said at last, “that everything I’m doing is for you.”
“I do. But give me the tools and the freedom and, and—”
“A weapon?”
“Yes! And then watch me.”
“You’ll have lots of time to be anything but a victim if Jack and I do our jobs. Right now you can’t do anything without looking worse.”
“I hate it.”
“I know. Now I’d better call my parents.”
Jack pulled to the curb a block from Fletcher Galloway’s house in a modest neighborhood. “Get your call made, Boones. Let’s not keep the man waiting.”
Boone was glad his dad answered the phone. “Sorry if I woke you.”
“Just heading to bed. Everything all right? Your mom’s picking up the extension.”
“No, Dad—”
“Hello?”
“Oh, hi, Mom. Can I talk just to Dad for a second, then to you?”
“What’s wrong?”
“I’ll tell you everything in a second, Mom. Now can I just—?”
“We have no secrets, and if I’m going to hear everything anyway, let’s cut out the middleman. What’s the trouble?”
Boone didn’t have time to fight with her. “I need to call on your gift of hospitality for a day or two—I hope not longer.”
“You’ve lost your place?”
“No. Now, Mom, listen. I can’t go into details, but I need you to put up Haeley’s mother and Max for a couple of days.”
“Why? Where’s Haeley?”
“I’ll be able to tell you when it’s all over, Mom. I don’t even know where Haeley is right now.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing suspicious. It’s just the way it has to be, and that’s all I’m going to say. Mrs. Lamonica is going to show up late tonight, well after midnight, in my car. They just need a place to stay, and no one else can know they’re there.”
“I don’t like this, Boone.”
“I know it’s not fair to keep you in the dark. I wouldn’t if I had a choice. But I also know you and Dad to be the most hospitable people I’ve ever known. So can you do this for me?”
His mother was quiet. She whispered, “It’s true we consider our home the home of anyone who needs it. Missionaries, the homeless—”
“I know. You’re the best. So . . . ?”
“Of course we’ll do our part. But as soon as you’re able, I want the whole story.”
Boone followed Jack up the driveway to the back door of Fletcher Galloway’s bungalow, mindful of how unassuming the place appeared compared to what he knew of Pete Wade’s two homes. But Fletch had long been known as fiscally conservative. A tightwad, actually. Put a bunch of kids through college and drove modest cars.
“They’re both in the kitchen,” Jack said.
“Great.”
25
Dorothy’s Warning
Tuesday, February 9, 10:35 p.m.
Boone had trouble keeping a straight face. Naturally, he had never seen Fletcher Galloway dressed for bed, and he certainly had never seen Dorothy that way either. It seemed strange to see this handsome, late-sixties black woman in a long robe over pajamas, wearing fuzzy slippers, yet still with her hair just so and her makeup in place after the evening out with her husband.
Fletcher himself was dressed the same way, striped pajama pants showing at the bottom of his robe. He greeted the cops warmly, beginning a fancy handclasp with Jack, then seeming to resign himself to a conventional shake. “Forgot,” he said. “White boys got no style.”
“Guilty,” Jack said, winking at Boone while reaching to shake Dorothy’s hand. “An unexpected pleasure to get to see you too, ma’am.”
“Mm-hm,” she said, seeming to reluctantly extend her hand.
The Galloways sat next to each other on a couch near the fireplace in a small TV room next to the kitchen at the back of the house. It struck Boone as dated but cozy. Dorothy looked locked and loaded; Fletcher, nervous and wary.
“Sorry,” Jack said, settling into one of the matching lounge chairs next to Boone, “but we don’t have time for small talk.”
“You don’t say,” Dorothy said. “Normally you would at this time of night?”
“No. Doesn’t surprise me you’re as good an investigator as your husband—”
“Okay, listen, Jack Keller. Don’t patronize me. I see what’s happening here, so let me say my piece and I’ll leave you gentlemen to whatever it is you think is important enough to drive all the way—”
Jack began to speak, but she stopped him by raising a hand.
“Something’s up,” she said, “and I don’t need to know what. This one here, he won’t tell me because he knows better. He’s never brought his work home, and I didn’t expect him to. I’m glad he didn’t.
“But let me tell you this. Whatever you think is important enough to bring you here had better be worth the trouble. Fletcher has been retired only a couple of days, and I’m not about to lose him back to the job. If it’s advice you’re after, he’ll give it to you. But if you’re here because you think you just can’t get along without him, well, too bad. He always said his greatest satisfaction came from seeing his people succeed. Hanging on to the old boss is not succeeding.
“Now, he gave himself to the CPD for a lot of years. It’s taken its toll, and I prayed he would get a chance to enjoy life before the years got away from us. Since the end of the party, when we walked out of that office for the last time, I’ve seen a new man. It’s like the weight of the world rolled off his shoulders. Know what I mean?”
Boone nodded and saw Jack do the same. Again Jack appeared to want to say something, but Dorothy cut him off, inhaling loudly and shaking her head.
“Hear me out. This man here is sleeping. He’s smiling. He’s even walkin’ with me every morning, and we’re enjoying life like we haven’t since before we had kids. You do one thing to jeopardize that, you’re gonna answer to me. You got it?”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“He’s already distracted himself wondering what it’s all about. I don’t want that. Ca
ll me selfish, but I want him all to myself now.”
“I understand,” Jack said.
“You may think you do, but you don’t. What Fletcher’s told me about you over the years? You’re just like he was. What’s the highest compliment you guys give each other?”
Boone said, “He’s all cop.”
“That’s it,” she said. “And when I heard people say that about my husband, I knew what it meant, and I was proud. I’m still proud. But I also know what it cost. Because it cost me, too. Well, no more. Don’t be trying to take him back.”
Jack cleared his throat. “One thing about your husband, Mrs. Galloway: we always knew where he stood. He didn’t talk in riddles. I see it runs in the family. Boones and me, we got the message.”
“Well, all right, then,” she said, standing. This brought all three men to their feet. “I’ll say good night. And I’ll also say don’t make this a habit. Next time you come here it better be because your cholesterol is a quart low. We can talk kids and grandkids and sports and church and anything you want except . . . well, you know.”
“Like I say, ma’am, rest assured that Boones and I heard you.”
“Then come’re and give me a hug, both of you. I’m about to put up my hair and wash my face, so you won’t be seeing any more of me tonight.”
Dorothy pecked her husband on the cheek and said, “I know where your gun’s at, Fletcher.”
Fletch widened his eyes in feigned terror and they all laughed. Dorothy wagged a finger at Jack and Boone. “It’s got more’n one bullet.”
When she was gone, the three men sat quietly staring at the floor.
“Wow, you’re a lucky man, Chief,” Boone said.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
“Just saying, I’d give anything to have a wife who’d say something like that at the end of my career.”
Galloway nodded. “The end isn’t easy. But it’s easier when you’re happy with your partner. She worried about me, prayed for me, every minute I was on duty. Even the last twenty years when I was behind the desk and not likely to see action.”
“Because she knew,” Jack said. “I remember at least three times when you went right to the scene, while the action was still going down. No one expected you to. No one would have even questioned your waiting for a briefing. But your men were out there, so—”
The Betrayal Page 19
