by John Douglas
There was nothing on the news about Ted Baker and Janice Callahan being murdered in Alexandria. Anyone who died in the next few weeks would most likely die quietly, without headlines.
I pulled into the long drive that ran through the trees to the Rappahannock. At the end of the drive was the stone house that Toni and I had built near the tail end of our marriage when we thought that building a house together would somehow rebuild our life together. It didn’t work. It was still our dream house, only now we had separate dreams.
I parked beside Toni’s Volvo and got out as Gadget, our Maltese, raced across the yard to greet me, leaping and twisting in a dance of pure canine joy. I put my bag down, patted my chest, and Gadget jumped into my arms.
Eric came out, trying to be cool, but happy to see me. I knew that wouldn’t last more than a few more years, so I enjoyed it while I had it. “Hey, sport.” I put Gadget down so I could hug my son. “You ready for school to start?”
Eric groaned, but picked up my bag. It was something he’d done since he was four and able to hoist the bag with both hands. Now he was big enough to carry it in one hand, casually, no big deal.
“How’s your mom?”
Eric rolled his eyes. “She’s been crazy, Dad. Running around trying to get ready for this conference.”
We talked about things we could do this week such as drive up to Baltimore and take in an Orioles game or drive down to the coast for a day at the beach. “You think your sister would like to come?”
“Ali’s got a new boyfriend. His name’s Raoul.”
“Raoul, huh? You like him?”
Eric shrugged. “He’s okay.” Eric tried to toss off his next question, feigning nonchalance: “Is Katie coming to visit?”
“I don’t think so. She’s working a case in North Carolina.”
“Oh,” he said, disappointed. I knew how he felt.
“Hey, Dad?”
“Yeah?”
“Why’d they pull you off the plane bombing? You know, with the president’s wife and all?”
We went into the kitchen, Gadget prancing on the tile. Eric put the bag down and Gadget sniffed it, taking in all the scents of all the places I’d been without him.
“Not everyone can be working one case, Eric. Somebody has to investigate all the other crimes. The bad guys don’t quit just because somebody tried to kill the First Lady.”
“I know,” he said, but he was looking at his shoes.
“But what?”
“Well, a guy on TV said it was because you were a hot dog.”
“Well, he was right. I am a hot dog. That’s why they put me on a case involving a top secret weapon.”
Eric looked up, his eyes big. “No kidding? Top secret?”
“The toppest.” I opened up the cabinet to get a glass for water and there they were, gleaming, five tumblers in two rows. I opened the dishwasher. The sixth wasn’t there.
“What are you looking for, Dad?”
“A glass. One of these.” I held out one of the tumblers. “You know what happened to it?”
“It wasn’t me.”
I laughed. “I know, sport. I’m just wondering what happened to the sixth one, that’s all. No one is accusing you of anything.”
Eric smiled. “Good, otherwise I’d have to call my lawyer.”
I hugged him again. “Where’s your mother?”
“Upstairs. She’s, like, really nervous about this speech.”
Toni would be gone for a week at a psychiatric convention, and just the thought of a week with shrinks would be enough to make anyone crazy. I found Toni in the bedroom, the bed piled with clothes that were waiting to be either selected or rejected for the suitcase.
“How’s this look?” She held up a red dress.
“Pretty sexy for psychiatrists, don’t you think? Or is this a new therapy, trying to shake them out of their Oedipal fixations?”
“Ha ha. Stick to crime fighting, Jake, and leave comedy to the professionals. How long’s it been? When were we in Toronto last?”
I tried to remember when we’d eaten in one of the bistros on Yonge, or window-shopped in the boutiques along Queen. It was when I was working out of the Detroit field office, early in my career. “It’s got to be twenty-five years, at least.”
“God, am I that old?”
“You don’t look a day over thirty, Toni.”
“Liar.”
“At least on this trip, you’ll have money to spend. Not like the last time we were there. Remember?”
Toni stopped packing. When she spoke, her head tilted a little to the right and her eyes sparkled and I saw a glimpse of the girl I had married a long time ago. “But even broke, we had a really good time, didn’t we, Jake?”
“Yeah, we did.”
She snapped back to the present and turned away, toward the open drawers, as if turning from the memory of our time together, before I brought home the stink of murder that smothered our marriage. Before I spent more time trying to understand killers than I did my own children.
“I appreciate you doing this, Jake.”
“No problem. What time’s your flight?”
She looked at her watch. “In three hours. I’d better get moving. Security must be a nightmare.”
“It is. Leave your gun at home.”
Toni stopped and gave me a long look before saying, “I really do appreciate this, Jake. I know you’re on a case.”
“I’m looking forward to spending time with Ali and Eric. And whatever we need to do for the case, the team will take care of it.”
“How’s it coming, by the way?” One of the things that had kept us together for as long as it did was Toni’s interest in my cases. I told her everything about the North Carolina murder because she often saw things from a different perspective, a psychological insight that could break open a case or give me a new lead to follow.
“It’s confusing,” I said. “Everything about it points to the husband. The gun, well, at least one of the guns, belongs to him.”
“Callahan shot his wife with more than one gun? Why?”
I shrugged. “Well, first, we don’t know he shot Janice Callahan. Second, who the hell knows why anyone would use two guns? It doesn’t make sense.”
“Unless there are two killers.”
I shook my head. “All the evidence points to one person.”
“You’ll figure it out, Jake. You always do.” Toni held up a pair of red shoes and a pair of black shoes. “Which do you think goes better with my green silk suit?”
“The red.”
Toni considered it, then said, “I’ll take them both,” and put them in her suitcase. “I’ll read the crowd first before I shock them with red shoes.”
“You wouldn’t think psychiatrists would be so easily shocked.”
“Notoriously so.”
I sat down on the bed. I could see Toni’s reflection in the mirror as she sorted through her clothes. “Someone’s playing a game with me, Toni.”
“What do you mean?”
I told her about the print on the motel bed frame. I kept the glass and the dog fur to myself. “Why would someone plant my thumbprint at a crime scene? It’s weird.”
“Speaking of easily shocked, of all the things you’ve seen, I’m surprised you find anything weird. It’s an encouraging sign, actually, that you haven’t let your work warp your basic sense of what’s normal human behavior.”
I laughed. “Yeah, that’s me, the poster boy for mental health.”
“But how could your thumbprint be in a motel room you’ve never seen before?
I told her about Jerry’s theory.
“Really? I had no idea you could do that.”
“It’s fairly easy if you have the fingerprint card.”
“Amazing,” she said. “You know, I rather miss hearing about the ingenuity of criminals and how you track them down. There was a time I thought I’d never want to hear about another crime as long as I lived.”
“I know.
And I’m really sorry.” The truth was, Toni heard only a bit of what I worked on. It’s impossible to come home and talk about a child’s rape and murder over pot roast. And my work separated me from my kids’ problems and made me callous to their own injuries. For instance, when Ali fell off her bike and needed stitches, I was less sympathetic than I should have been because I’d just come off a child dismemberment. It’s understandable, but not to a six-year-old.
So there was much of what I did that I didn’t talk about to anyone but other law enforcement people. After a few years of this, if you’re not careful, you become completely isolated from civilians, including your family, and this isolation, this inability to talk about work at the end of the day, is one reason cops have such a high divorce rate. It’s also why cops have such a low regard for the human race. When all you see are criminals, you begin to think that everyone should be locked up but you and your partner, and sometimes, you’re not too sure about your partner.
“Where’s Ali?”
“Out with a friend. She should be home for dinner.”
“Raoul?”
Toni nodded. “So, you’ve already gathered your intelligence. Have you started a file on him yet?”
I laughed. “Not yet, but when he comes over, I’m going to casually clean my revolver.”
“He seems like a nice boy, Jake. Don’t embarrass Ali, okay?”
“Honey, she’s sixteen and I’m her father. I embarrass her with every breath.”
The phone rang and I heard Eric answer it downstairs. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but I could tell from the nervous laugh and that studied cool that it was Katie.
“Dad?” he hollered up the stairs. “It’s Katie.”
I picked up the phone. “Hi. What’s up?”
“I tried your cell phone, but there was no answer.”
“I left it in the car.”
“It’s all right, my calling your home, isn’t it?”
“Yes, fine. Is something wrong?”
“No, Jake. Everything’s okay. But we’ve found the husband. Or I should say, he’s found us.”
“That’s great.” I waited, knowing there was a catch. There always is. I felt Toni behind me, listening.
“He wants a meeting. Tomorrow night.”
“Terrific.”
“But he’ll only meet with me. Alone.”
“What? No. No way. It’s too dangerous.”
I heard Katie sigh, letting me calm down.
“Okay,” I said, “but I’m on my way.” I heard Toni stop packing and I could feel the heat on my back.
“No,” Katie said. “You’ve got responsibilities there. I’ll be fine.”
I hated this. I hated being away from the team, putting them in danger and in situations I couldn’t control.
“You stay with the kids. They need you more than I do.”
“Okay, but I’m sending Trevor.”
“Jake, there will be snipers from the SWAT team covering me. Weller has assured me that I’ll be safe.”
“I don’t like this.”
“I’ve already agreed, Jake. It’s happening tomorrow night in Beaufort, on the coast.”
I rubbed my face, trying to get hold of my fear. “Katie, I’d feel better with Trevor there. Give me this one.”
“Fine. Send him.”
“Okay. I’ll talk to you again tomorrow.”
Katie hung up and I punched the off button. When I turned, Toni wasn’t looking at me. She was carefully folding a black silk blouse I’d bought for her last Christmas.
“You were just going to leave the children, is that it?”
“No, Toni, I would have asked my mother to watch them. You know I wouldn’t leave them alone. Although Ali’s getting old enough…”
“How would you know?” Toni looked up, her face set, older than before, the lines around her eyes deeper, her mouth tight. “Just how the hell would you know?”
“I’m not going. I’m staying here.”
Toni nodded. “We always come second, don’t we, Jake? Always second.”
I walked from the room. I knew this argument, line by line, by heart. I didn’t need to hear it again.
15
I called Trevor and told him what Katie had told me.
“Beaufort, huh? Where the hell is Beaufort?”
“It’s on the coast. Pretty nice town, actually. Can you leave tonight?”
“Yeah, although right now I’m getting the fish eye from my wife. I spend much more time away from home and she’s going to forget what I look like.”
“Trevor, if this lawsuit with Mrs. De Vries isn’t settled, we’ll all be spending more time at home.”
I heard Trevor cup the receiver in his hand. “Maybe we should go to Nigeria or wherever the hell this Fletcher De Vries is hiding and, you know, permanently adjudicate the proceedings.”
“Uganda,” I said. Ali walked into the kitchen followed by a tall boy in baggy jeans. He had a bolt through his eyebrow and a blond streak in his hair. He looked scared, and I like that look on boys dating my daughter. I waved. Ali waved back and waited, leaning her hips against the counter.
“Trevor,” I said, “if I thought you could get the man in your crosshairs, I’d happily give you the green light. Oh, speaking of that, pick up your black bag before heading to Beaufort. I want you covering Katie at all times, you got that?”
“Yeah, Jake.”
“If you even catch the scent of gun oil on the air, you take him out.”
The boy’s eyes went wide and his mouth hung open.
Trevor laughed. “Oh, yeah, so you can come visit me in the local slam. I may be paranoid, Jake, but I’m not crazy.”
“No kidding, Trevor, I want to be in contact at all times, you got that?”
“Will do. I’ll call as soon as we’re in position.”
We hung up and I extended my hand to the boy, who took it. His grasp was adequate, but his palm was wet.
“You must be Raoul.”
“Mr. Donovan, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He looked like an anarchist, but he talked like a Republican.
Ali was sixteen, and like all sixteen-year-old girls, her shirt was too small and her shorts hung too low, exposing her navel to the whole world, including sixteen-year-old boys who had a hard enough time controlling their hormones.
“Daddy, Raoul’s invited me to a party tonight. Is it all right if I go?”
“What kind of party?”
“You know, just hanging out, with music and stuff.”
“Where?”
“At Jacob’s.”
“Do I know Jacob?”
“No. I don’t think so.”
“Will his parents be there?”
“I don’t know, Dad.” Ali pushed away from the counter and put her hands on her hips. “You know, you can’t just walk in here and start questioning me like I’m some kind of serial killer.”
I laughed. “Oh, can’t I?”
“Fine, I won’t go. We’ll stay in my room.” Ali took Raoul’s hand and started pulling him away.
I stopped her. “Whoa, hold it a minute. First, I didn’t say you couldn’t go.”
“I don’t want to go anyway.”
“And second, there will be nowe in your room while I’m on watch. Got that?”
“Now you don’t trust me.” Ali crossed her arms and Raoul shuffled his sneakers back and forth. Gadget barked at him, and that made me not like the boy.
“I trust you outside, on the deck.”
“It’s too hot.”
“Then watch TV.”
“I don’t want to watch TV.”
I turned to Raoul. “Would you like something to eat while we’re working this out?”
Raoul was definitely interested. I haven’t known a teenage boy yet who wasn’t perpetually horny and hungry, and I hoped to distract him from the former with the latter. I opened the fridge and nosed around the leftovers. “There’s some Cajun meat loaf in here, and”—I opened a pla
stic container—“looks like linguine with some of Toni’s mean marinara.”
Raoul looked from the food to Ali and back to the food again. “I guess I could eat something, if you don’t mind.”
“Are you staying for dinner?” I popped the linguine in the microwave.
Raoul sat at the counter. “Sure. I guess.”
“If you two fly, I’ll buy. You up for Chinese?”
Raoul nodded.
Ali, knowing she’d been outflanked, sat next to Raoul. “So, can we go to the party?”
“What time will you be home?”
“One.”
“How about twelve?”
“Mom lets me stay out until one.”
“Mom’s not here, is she?”
Ali sulked while Raoul ate the linguine and the meat loaf. Then he was ready for the main course.
“Can we take your car?” Ali asked.
Raoul’s eyes widened. “The Aston Martin? That’s like the coolest car I’ve ever seen, Mr. Donovan.”
I fished the keys out of my pocket and held them out to Ali. “You promise not to give me a hard time the rest of the week?”
“I promise.”
I dropped the keys into her palm. A minute later, she was back inside. “The car won’t start.”
“It does that.” I went out to the driveway where Raoul was standing in front of the open hood. “You see anything interesting, Raoul?”
Raoul blinked, his hands in the back pockets of his jeans where they might do him some good if his ass was about to fall off.
“Ali,” I said, “there’s a nightstick behind the seat. Get that.”
She handed it to me as if it were a snake. The stick in hand, I reached inside and tapped the starter. “There, it should work now.”
Ali twisted the key and the engine caught.
“Did you see what I did? In case this happens in town?”
Raoul nodded. “Uh-huh.”
Ali hollered, “Come on, Raoul, get in the car.”
Raoul shuffled a bit more. “I guess I better go.”
“Yeah,” I said, “I guess you better.”
Raoul sank into the passenger seat until all I could see were his eyes, his knees, and the blond streak in his hair. Ali pushed the car into gear and with a wave of her hand they were off, raising dust into the summer trees.
