As they reached the glass door leading to the frigid garage, Pete said, “Why don’t you wait here where it’s warm, and I’ll bring the car around.”
Pete seemed to be trying to emasculate him, and every fiber of Boone’s being wanted to brush off the offer and show that he wasn’t letting an injury hold him back. But he was desperate to communicate to Pete in word and action that he was shell-shocked—not because of his injury but because of what he had learned about Haeley.
So he just nodded and stood inside the glass door, shoulders hunched against the draft. When Pete pulled up a few minutes later in the very car Boone had followed to the Wades’ River North condo, Boone headed out into the frosty garage, only to see Pete hurry from the car to open the passenger door.
“Thanks,” Boone muttered, gingerly sliding in. Before he could reach for the seat belt, awkward with his right hand but manageable, Pete grabbed it and buckled him in. Boone held his breath at the smell of English Leather cologne, an interesting and archaic choice for Pete.
Boone whispered another weary thank-you, rattled by the usually reserved Wade’s having invaded anyone else’s personal space, let alone his.
“Sure thing, pal,” Pete said. The last time Boone had been spoken to this way was by a salesman. Adjusting the heat while maneuvering out of the garage, Pete said, “So, how’s it been going with the shoulder and all?”
Blech. Boone preferred the standoffish Pete to this version. “Slow but sure,” Boone said. “I’m going to be obsessive after surgery so I can get back on the job.”
“Seriously?” Pete said, waving at the garage attendant as he pulled onto the street. “Impressive. Most guys would jump at the chance for full disability.”
“I don’t even know if they’re going to let me come back.”
“They? Who’s they? It’s your call, isn’t it, Boone?”
Whose side was Pete on?
“I guess it’s my call,” Boone said. “Unless it turns out I’m incapacitated.”
“The injury that bad?”
Boone shrugged. “We’ll know more after Monday. But my goal is to come back to full strength.”
“Even if you don’t, that doesn’t mean you have to retire. It just means you couldn’t work the streets.”
“They’re making retirement pretty lucrative.”
“How lucrative?”
As if you don’t know. You probably designed the plan. “I’m not at liberty to discuss the details, but like you say, most guys would jump at it. But I don’t guess too many people my age have ever been offered full benefits.”
“If you were older it might turn your head, hm?”
Pete drove just over a mile and pulled into the tiny parking lot next to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant called the Barrel. “Was that what you wanted to talk to me about, Boone? Your future?”
Pete unbuckled Boone and jogged around to his side of the car to open the door. Between the car and the restaurant their breath came in thick, white clouds.
“I think you know what I wanted to talk about, Pete.”
“I suppose I do,” he said, holding the door. “Something about eating crow.”
Boone nodded and fell silent as the hostess showed them to a table in the back, dark and secluded.
It wasn’t like Pete to seem distracted, but soon he was chomping popcorn and pickles as if he’d skipped breakfast. Boone ignored the preliminaries and ordered a chicken sandwich. Pete opted for the Reuben.
“So, what’s on your mind, Boone?”
“Like I said, I think you know.”
“Disappointed? Feel betrayed?”
“Do I ever. How about you, Pete? Have you ever believed in somebody from your heart and then found out they weren’t what you thought they were?”
“You kidding? I’ve been that guy. I told you, my wife sees me as her hero, overachiever, decorated cop, civil servant. And like I said, I’m a deacon. I’ve felt so bad for so long because Thelma still doesn’t know what a scoundrel I was.”
“That never came out, all that stuff you told me about?”
“I couldn’t have that. It would have killed her. And I have to admit, when I had my chance with, you know, the one who’s been deceiving you, well, I almost fell again, man.”
She has a name. Can’t you even say it? Everything in him wanted to pull his Beretta and put one between this liar’s eyes. Boone’s phone vibrated. Haeley. Perfect. He hit Ignore, then nodded sadly, as if commiserating.
“Hurts, doesn’t it?” Pete said.
“It’s the worst.”
“I mean, you think you know a person . . .”
Pete had no idea how true his words were.
“Thing is, Pete, where do I go from here? It’s not bad enough I lose my family. But time does heal. Not totally, probably not ever completely, but I was making progress.”
“I know you were. I saw it. We all did. It’s not like you’re ever going to get over that, but like you say, you were getting back into the swing of things. It was also obvious you were enamored of, uh, Ms. Lamonica, and for that I owe you an apology.”
“You what?”
“I’m telling you, man, I knew from the beginning it was headed for the rocks. People like that, women like her, they don’t change. Anyway, hard as it is, be glad you’re out of it. She and her cohort are going to do a lot of time, you know.”
“Looks that way.”
“That scumbag Zappolo got her out of County, but the US Attorney’s going to put her in MCC today. Fox is out on bond and eager to sing, but unless he gives up something really good—beyond her, because we’ve got all we need on her—he’s back in the can soon too.”
“Doesn’t surprise me. That he was dirty, I mean.”
“Yeah, but you were in love with the girl, eh?”
“Thought we had a future.”
“You still thought so the other day, Boone, when I tried to tell you. I could see you weren’t ready to hear it, but you’re enough of a cop that you couldn’t run from the evidence.”
Boone nodded. “Painful.”
“I’m sure it was. It was painful for me too.”
“You?”
“Of course. Can you imagine? Having to bring charges against a coworker and knowing how that was going to affect a friend like you? One of the hardest things I’ve ever had to do.”
When their meals arrived, Boone had lost his appetite. He needed nourishment, so he took a couple of bites and chewed them till they were mush.
Pete continued, “She wasn’t exactly a cop, but we consider even support staff like Haeley brothers and sisters under the blue. I didn’t want to have to rat out Fox; he was once one of us too. But the evidence pointed to him, and knowing his history, it wasn’t so hard. He was no longer a cop, and we’d all been through so much bull with him.”
“But Haeley . . .”
“That was a tough one. But because of our previous encounters, you know, I knew she wasn’t what she appeared. And I need you to forgive me for not giving you a heads-up before you got too involved. I’m not saying I knew she would violate the public trust, but I for sure knew you were just going to be one in a long line of men. . . .”
Boone fought with everything in him to keep from hyperventilating. How he was going to enjoy taking down this scoundrel.
“So can you?” Wade said.
“Sorry?”
“Can you forgive me? As a friend and, I hope, a mentor, I owed it to you to warn you. But I took the easy way out, hoped you’d use your investigative powers, find out on your own, and leave me in the clear. I wasn’t a good friend.”
Boone’s phone vibrated again. Haeley. Of course he couldn’t take it.
“That wasn’t your responsibility.” Anyway, when were we ever friends, Pete? I always felt like I was supposed to kiss your boots.
“Yeah,” Pete said, “but I should have known that emotions can get in the way of judgment. The keen eye you bring to the street—you wouldn’t think you have to bring that
to a relationship.”
“I forgive you,” Boone said, cold inside from the depth of the lie. “Let’s put it behind us. I’m suffering right now, but I’ll get through it. I just want my head clear for Monday.”
“Got a good surgeon?”
“So they tell me. But after the operation, I have no idea what I’m going to do.”
Pete wiped his mouth, slid his plate forward, and sat back, his leather squeaking. “Boone, if it was me, I’d take the deal from the department. But it’s not me we’re talking about.”
It will be soon enough.
“But why not, Boone? You’ve got your whole life ahead of you. You could do just about anything else you wanted. It’s none of a new employer’s business that you’re on full disability. You’d be great teaching at the academy, but you can’t double-dip on the city. You want two incomes, don’t you? Who wouldn’t? You’ve got yourself a dream situation. And you deserve it.”
How quickly Pete had forgotten Boone’s pain over Haeley. It was all about setting oneself up for the future.
“I’ll think about it,” Boone said.
“And you know I’ll support you whatever you do, give you stellar references, whatever you need.”
“You’d do that for me?”
“Absolutely.”
“I’m going to have to think hard for a way to thank you for all this, Pete.” I can hardly wait.
Wade waved him off. “What are friends for? You can tell me something, though. What made you finally come around and see it?”
“The truth about Haeley?”
Pete nodded.
“Oh, I don’t know, maybe finally realizing that I was getting inside information from only the best investigator the Chicago PD has ever had.”
Pete dipped his head and seemed to fight a smile. “Oh, I don’t know about that.”
“I do. That’s all I’ve ever heard. And seen close-up. Frankly, I wish you’d been wrong this time, Pete.”
Pete pressed his lips together and looked sad. He peered deep into Boone’s eyes. “So do I, friend. So do I.”
Back at the office, Pete repeated rushing about to open doors for Boone and pledging his continued support.
On the elevator he said, “And let me just restate. This offer you’re talking about? That’s a gold mine, the lottery, your ship coming in. I know you still want to be a cop, and take it from one who knows, believe me: you’ll always be a good one, one hundred percent physically or not. But take the gift, man. Live the rest of your life on two incomes. What’s the downside?”
Boone shook his head. “Hard to see one, Pete; I give you that.”
As soon as Boone got to his office he called Haeley.
“I was at lunch with you-know-who,” he said. “Talking to you would have completely botched the—”
“I understand, but I can’t get hold of Zappolo either, and—”
“You know Fritz is in court. He’ll call you as soon as he’s free.”
“I’ve had enough of this. I want to see Max.”
“Call my parents and talk to him.”
“Not good enough. I’m going down there.”
“Give it another day, Hael.”
“But what if someone already got to Zappolo and they’re forcing him to tell them where I’m staying? I could be at Metropolitan before you even know it.”
“Zappolo is a pro. He’s been down this road before. He’ll—”
“He’s never harbored a fugitive before.”
“You’re not a fugitive. There’s no such thing as harboring an innocent victim.”
“Well, I just wanted to let you know that I’m getting out of here now.”
“What?”
“You heard me. I’m renting a car.”
“You can’t do that without a credit card, which means they could trace you in ten minutes. And how long do you think it would take them to figure out where you might be going? You can’t exactly take back roads. Just stay put or you’re going to make things worse, not to mention make yourself look guilty. Now hang tight, hear?”
“You’re going to make a great husband.”
He laughed. “Aren’t we getting a bit ahead of ourselves?”
“You love me, Boone. You can’t help yourself.”
“You got that right.” He told her of his phone call from his mother and what she had said about Max and Haeley.
“Max was all it took?” she said. “I could tell she was not thrilled with me. . . .”
“No more. She wants to be Max’s other grandma.”
“She didn’t say that.”
“She did.”
“You’re in trouble, buddy. Both your mom and I want her to be Max’s other grandma. Maybe it ought to be you trying to escape.”
“Escape from you. That’ll be the day.”
Wednesday, February 10, 2:00 p.m.
Boone met Jack at a corner three blocks from headquarters and slid into his car, shivering.
“You up on your meds?” Jack said.
“Just took ’em. Ought to be high momentarily.”
“Stay with me, Boones. You’ve got to hear this. Am I brilliant or what? Don’t answer yet. I gotta show you something.” Jack pulled onto the expressway.
“Where we going?” Boone said.
“Indiana.”
“I’ll bite.”
“I couldn’t have this done in Illinois, could I? We don’t know who’s watching. Now tell me how things went with Wade and I’ll tell you about my great idea.”
Boone did not get the response from Jack he had hoped for when he rehearsed the whole lunchtime conversation with Pete.
“I don’t know,” Jack said. “It almost sounds too easy. It’s like he knows what you’re doing and is trying to convince you it worked. Maybe he’s still playing you.”
“Don’t you think I would have been able to read that?”
“You were pretty nervous.”
“True.”
“So don’t trust your own judgment. Here’s the thing: If you did convince him, he might think he’s got a lot more time to do whatever he wants to do with Pascual. If he’s onto you, the clock is ticking.”
“We’re not moving slow regardless, right?”
“No. But add into the mix that Pete isn’t as convinced as you think he is.”
“And you think we’ve got time for a drive into Indiana?”
“We won’t be long. I want you to meet a guy. He’s the only friend I got who has two first names, except maybe you. This guy’s name is Carl Earl. Worked with me in the 18th in a previous life, took early retirement, and got a job handling security for an RV manufacturer in Elkhart, Indiana. He’s doing okay for a lot of years. I see him now and then; he seems happy. Then the whole RV thing goes belly-up with the economy. Only a couple of those firms survived, not including his. So they dive into another business altogether, and surprisingly, a lot of their equipment and technology—with a few modifications—fits the new industry.”
“Which is?”
“Tricking out trucks for municipalities. They make garbage trucks, sanitation trucks, snowplows—”
“What’s the difference between a garbage truck and a sanitation truck?”
“The kind of sanitation truck I’m talking about are those ones that suck the gunk from septic tanks. So I call Carl Earl and I ask him what kind of truck do they make that has room in it for people. He suggests a garbage truck, only the only way people can get into the back of that is through the scooper—you know, that hydraulic thing that grabs the cans and bags and mashes ’em in there.”
“No way for people to get into the back of a truck.”
“Right. So he suggests a sanitation truck. Says there’s a hole in the top that’s like the door of a submarine and allows one person at a time to get down in there. And there’s room for plenty.”
“Why would anybody ever want to do that?”
“I don’t know. In case there’s a clog, some problem, something that has to be clea
ned out.”
“Somehow I love my job even more now.”
“I hear you, Boones. Now listen. They’re making a half dozen of these trucks right now. Most of ’em are done and ready for painting, putting the city name on the outside, all that. Here’s my idea. We have ’em paint ‘Addison Streets and San’ on the side of one of these new trucks, put some temporary foam padding inside the tank, along with some sturdy handles; then we drive that sucker through some slush and mud so it looks old. Maybe we even spray some stinky stuff on it from another truck.”
“And the padding and handles are for . . . ?”
“Pascual and his mom and his kid to have something to hang on to, in case the ride is rough.”
“Jack, you’re not saying . . .”
“Am I brilliant, or what?”
“How do you come up with this stuff?”
Keller shrugged, looking pleased with himself. “We’ve got to get them out of there, and every other way I could think of would make it obvious to Pete and whoever’s working with him what’s happening. We get in there, we clog the toilets. I tell everybody I’ve called the city to come and check the septic; when that truck shows up, nobody’s going to want to get close enough to check it. I’ll get Carl to drive it. He’ll pull it into the back at just the right place where we can get the family out and into the tank before anybody’s the wiser.”
“Then where do we take them?”
“I haven’t got that far yet. I just want them out of the safe house, which ain’t so safe anymore.”
“I’ve got it. Come up with a story about how there’s something wrong with the truck and it has to be taken back to the outfitter in Elkhart to check it out. That way, if it gets stopped on the highway because it looks suspicious to a state trooper for an Illinois septic truck to be heading into Indiana, Carl has a story. He can even have paperwork.”
“Great, Boones! And no statey is going to want to peek into the back of a septic truck.”
“We’re some team, Jack. I can’t wait to see this truck.”
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The Betrayal Page 22
