—Can you get a message to your sister? One that Bossman won’t know about?
—I can email her.
—That’ll work. She babysitting today? Over at the Rodriguezes’ place?
—Yeah. Why? You know them?
—Yeah, Ike. All Hispanics know each other. She shakes her head. —Get me their address and f ind out if they got a back door, a f ire exit or something. Can you do that?
—I guess so.
—Don’t be guessing, Ike. You in this or not?
—In what?
—In the master plan, buddy. What you think I’m talking about?
—What’s the plan?
—The plan is your sister goes to the Rodriguez house to babysit just like usual, right? If Bossman watching her, he won’t think anything’s different. Just a typical day. But then instead of leaving like usual, she goes out the back door or the f ire escape or whatever and that’s where my cousins Mateo and ChiChi come in.
—Who are they?
—I told you, they’re my cousins. They gonna pick your sister up in their van, take her to my tía’s house. I already talked to my tía. She’s good with it, got an extra bed downstairs, no problem. She’ll keep her safe. Meanwhile, you’re gonna call that ADA, tell her what Bossman been up to so she can arrest that MF then put your sister some place safe.
—You mean like witness protection?
—Yeah, but they got stuff that’s special for kids, like out of state or something. Just show her them photos Bossman sending you so she knows your sister’s in danger.
—Then what?
—I don’t know. Wait for the trial I guess.
—Will my sister be safe?
—Yeah I told you, they got stuff that’s special for kids. A friend of mine knows a guy who did it.
—You really think it’ll work?
—That’s up to you, Ike. My cousins gonna be there if I tell them to be. And my tía’s solid. Your sister’ll be safe with my people. I can promise you that. But you got to deliver on the ADA. She ain’t gonna listen to me.
Across the room, Little Ant is waving at us and giving us the thumbs-up. He loves this plan, thinks it’s ingenious.
I have my doubts. I’m not saying it’s a bad plan. Barbie’s done her homework, worked her connections. She’s a damn queen for doing it too, pulling favors for my sake and Janelle’s. I’ve never had anyone do that kind of thing for me. And her plan is pretty solid. Smart, sneaky. But I’ve made a lot of plans in my life. Doesn’t matter how great they seem at f irst. Shit has a way of going down. It’s the stuff you don’t see coming, the details you never thought of.
“Yo, Deon,” I say. Then I show him the IM with Barbie.
Barbie rolls her eyes, but she’s proud of her work, happy to show it off.
“What do you think?” I ask him.
“You sure you can get that ADA on board?”
Barbie leans across the table and whispers, “Oh come on, Deon. Boy’s got a lead on a homicide. Guy killing his own nephew.”
“Second cousin,” I say. “And keep your voice down.”
“Whatever,” Barbie says. “This shit’s got to get her attention. Especially if you already on her radar, right?”
“Yeah,” Deon says. “But now you going up against someone big, someone connected. This guy seems like bad news.”
“I know,” I whisper. “But I don’t think he’s got the ADA in his pocket.”
“How do you know?” Deon asks.
“She never liked my story, never believed it. She wanted me to turn on Healy. That doesn’t sound like someone in Flannery’s pocket.”
Barbie IMs, —Don’t pussy out on me now, Ike. This plan is tight. We taking Bossman down!
I wish I had Barbie’s conf idence. It’s my sister’s life I’m playing with here. I can’t take chances. I want guarantees. But at the end of the day, what choice do I have? I can’t leave Janelle on her own out there with Flannery and his goons. Besides, now that Little Ant, Barbie, and Deon know what’s going down, I can’t be one hundred percent sure this won’t f ind its way back to Flannery. Things have a way of leaking. Just by inviting these guys into my problems, I may have put Janelle at risk.
So I email Janelle, ask her about the f ire escape situation at the Rodriguez house.
She’s at study hall, so she gets back to me right away and we switch to IM.
—Of course they have a f ire escape, she writes. —Why?
Then I break it all down for her. It comes out in a rush, full of typos; I’m typing the way Barbie does, fast and hard, about how Mr. Flannery’s watching her, and how the only way out is for her to slip out the f ire escape at the Rodriguez house and take a ride with two bangers from Sol Dominicano. When I f inish, there’s a long pause.
—Are you kidding me? She f inally writes back. —If Mrs. Rodriguez f inds out there are gangbangers driving up to her house, she will kill me. For real.
—Then you’ve got to do it real sneaky, Janelle. Just slip out the back when she’s not looking. Trust me, there’s no other way. Flannery’s watching.
—And this guy’s your teacher?
She’s still playing catch-up, still trying to connect those dots. Things were already bad in her life, and I’ve just made them worse. But I don’t have time to spell it all out for her; the bad news is chasing us down at a sprint.
—He’s a killer, Janelle. He killed his own cousin. The kid was eighteen years old. We’ve got to move on this. We’ve got to move now. Today.
The IM goes cold for a minute, then she types:
—Didn’t you always say I should keep my distance from gangbangers? Didn’t you tell me to watch out for Daniela’s brother? Since when are you making friends with Sol D?
—Things move fast, Janelle. You’ve got to trust me on this.
Barbie, reading over my shoulder, takes over my laptop.
—Hi Janelle. My name’s Barbie Santiago and you don’t know me but I’m the one setting this thing up. Your brother, Ike, all he wants to do is protect you. But he can’t do that from inside, so that’s where I come in. Sisters gotta look out for each other, right? So don’t be worrying about Mateo and Chichi. They tight. I ask them for something, they on it. They the good kind of gangbanger, responsible and shit. They’ll get you to my tía’s safe and sound. You got my word on that.
—Isaac? Janelle writes.
—I’m here Janelle. Barbie’s right. New game, new rules. We’ve got a plan here. All you have to do is go to the Rodriguez house after school, just like normal.
—And that guy’ll be watching me?
—He’s not going to hurt you. It wouldn’t make sense now. He’s only doing this to threaten me. Just head to the Rodriguez house like it’s a normal day. You can do this, Janelle. I know you can.
—I’m scared.
—I know. But this is how we f ix things. This is us getting out. Just like we always planned. I’ve got leverage now. I know things about Flannery that I can use and I’m gonna use them. I’m gonna get us out from under all of this. Will you trust me, Janelle?
Again, she doesn’t answer right away, but this time it’s all the answer I need. Why should Janelle trust me? All I’ve ever done is let her down, put her in harm’s way. If I were Janelle, I wouldn’t trust me either. Trust is a loser’s game. But what choice does she have?
Chapter 46
Right after computer class I get in line for the pay phone. It’s almost 5 p.m. and there are nine guys in front of me and six guys behind. One of the guys behind me is Cecil Boone. He’s leaning against the wall, staring straight ahead. At nothing. Nobody looks at him. Nobody’s that stupid. When he sees me walking up to him, he gets his game face on.
“I loved your poem,” I tell him.
It takes him a second, but I think he recognizes me. “Yeah?” he sa
ys real low.
“Best one I read. It’ll be in the next issue of The Free. You’ve got real talent.”
Lie, lie, and lie. I couldn’t even understand Boone’s poem. It’s about someone who walked out on him. Her name’s Charlene, but you can’t tell if she’s his girlfriend or his mother. There were much better poems, but now I’ll have to print it.
Boone falls for it though. He nods his big fat head like I’m just telling him something he already knows.
“So I was wondering,” I say. “I hate to do this, but I need a favor.”
“Kind of favor?”
“It’s just that I’m in a wicked big rush here. I’ve got to get this lady on the phone before she leaves the off ice and it’s almost f ive already.”
Boone looks down the line of guys in front of us. “The hell they taking so long for?”
“I know, right? It’s just . . . It’s my sister. She’s in trouble. I don’t mean trouble with the law. She’s not like that. She’s a good kid. An A-student. But somebody’s after her and—”
“Somebody’s after your sister?”
“Yeah. To get to me. She’s only thirteen. And if I don’t make this call in time . . .”
Boone looks down the line of guys again, then steps out and waves for me to follow him. “Save my place,” he tells the kid right behind him.
The kid’s on it, doesn’t even need to be asked. The kid will f ight off a tiger to save Boone’s place.
Boone strolls up to the front of the line with me at his side. All the guys look annoyed at f irst, ready to say something, then wise up. The guy on the phone is speaking Spanish quietly but real intense. Boone reaches his giant hand (the thing is the size of a foot) straight across the guy’s face and pushes down the receiver.
“Time’s up,” he says.
The guy looks pissed, but he f igures out the situation quickly and hands the phone to Boone.
“All yours,” Boone says, handing it straight over to me.
“I owe you.”
“Nah, we’re good.” He walks back to his place in line.
Chapter 47
In person, Jill Levy is not what I expect. She’s blond, gorgeous, in her thirties. When I spoke to her on the phone, I got the distinct impression she didn’t believe what I was telling her. After all, she explained, Patrick Healy was found dead of an overdose, with a needle sticking out of his arm, a stone’s throw from a well-known shooting gallery. She had to agree with the cops: That didn’t look like murder. But when I asked her if there were any other track marks on Healy’s body, she got real quiet.
In the end, I think it made about as much sense to her as it did to me that a kid who never used heroin before would decide to shoot himself up alone, in an alley, in the freezing cold. Kids are stupid. But they’re not that stupid.
She pressed me for more details over the phone, but I held back. It was going to be a tit-for-tat situation between us. She didn’t like that idea so much, but she agreed to show. And now here she is, in a conference room at Haverland, the same one where I lied to those cops about Healy’s mug shot being on that laptop.
“Okay, Isaac,” she says. She opens her briefcase and takes out a big yellow notebook and an expensive-looking black pen. “I’m listening.”
“Patrick Healy was afraid of dying,” I tell her. “Specif ically, he was afraid of dying in prison. That’s why I took the rap for him on the Sal Christaldi thing.”
She nods, jotting down notes. “Okay. Before we get to Salvatore Christaldi, let’s just focus on Patrick Healy for a minute. You’re in here and Healy’s out there, but somehow you know he was murdered?”
“Yes.”
“And the name of his murderer?”
“Is the same individual who ordered Healy and me to steal Sal Christaldi’s Escalade.”
“Ordered it?”
“Yeah. It was a steal-to-order job. The buyer specif ically wanted an Escalade, specif ically of that year. Healy and I cased it for three weeks. I don’t know all the details, but I’m pretty sure it went straight onto a container ship the night we boosted it. I can tell you where we dropped it off. But I don’t know any of their names.”
“Yeah, you’re not so great at remembering names, are you?”
“Look, I’m trying to help you now. I know I should have come forward sooner, but—”
She waves her hand to shut me up. “I don’t suppose you have proof for any of this?” She’s doubtful, but I have come prepared. I slide her a printout of that email from [email protected], the one with Janelle’s picture on it.
“That’s my sister,” I explain. “They emailed me that so I’d know they’re watching her. They showed me a whole bunch of other pictures before that too. Janelle at school, Janelle at her friend’s house, babysitting. They’ve got her covered. If I say anything, they’ll kill her. If they know I’m talking to you, they’ll kill her.”
“They being?”
“This particular individual and his associates.”
“And the individual’s name?”
“Yeah, I’ll tell you his name. I’ll tell you everything I can. But f irst I need some protection.”
She looks up from her pad. “We can keep you safe in here,” she says.
I laugh. “Yeah right. Anyway, I’m not talking about my own protection. I’m talking about my sister. Once I tell you his name, it’s gonna take some time to play out, right? You’ll arrest him. There’ll be a trial. I need her somewhere safe while all of that happens. I cannot have her out in the open for even one second.”
“Okay, so you want police protection—”
“No! Not the police. The police are in on it.”
She stares at me, hard.
“At least I think they are,” I say.
“You think?”
“Look, no one in here believed that story about how I stole that Escalade all by myself, then pushed it into a pond. So the way I see it, either the cops are dumber than a bunch of juvenile delinquents, or they’re in on it. And how about how I punched Sal Christaldi and he landed on that rock? They laughed at me in here. They had all kinds of questions. The cops never asked me nothing.”
“Mm-hmmm.”
“You never believed that story either, right?”
She doesn’t answer.
“Look,” I tell her. “All I’m saying is, I don’t want the police protecting Janelle.”
“Isaac, can I ask you a question?”
“What?”
“Why isn’t your lawyer here?”
“I didn’t call him.”
“Why not?”
“What do I need him for?”
“It’s just that normally when someone’s attempting to strike a deal with the DA’s off ice, they bring their lawyer along,” she says.
“Maybe I don’t like my lawyer so much.”
“Is he in on it too? Ian Slater. Is he part of this scam?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you think that, right? The cops, your own lawyer? They’re all part of this?”
“You think I’m paranoid.”
“I’m just trying to get all the facts, Isaac.”
“I’m giving you the facts.”
“You’re giving me a pretty sizable conspiracy theory, Isaac, and, look, I’ll be honest with you. I have never liked this case. You’re right about that. I never believed your story. The whole thing stank from day one, as far as I’m concerned. But I’m not seeing anything here that rises to the level of evidence.” She looks down at the photograph of Janelle.
“Fine. Forget about the cops and my stupid lawyer. I’m not here to give you them anyway. I’m here to give you the guy in charge. Maybe he’ll give you the cops and my lawyer. All I’m saying is the cops can’t be the ones protecting Janelle. You have to do better than that.”
>
Ms. Levy sighs. “What are you saying? You want her in witness protection?”
“Yeah, something like that. But where she can go to school. Someplace far away. Like out of state. My friend says you have something like that. Maybe Canada or California?”
“Canada’s not a state, Isaac. It’s a foreign country.”
“Fine. Just someplace away from here.”
She sizes me up.
“When I tell you who this guy is, Ms. Levy, you’ll see. He’s not just anybody. He’s an upstanding member of the community. At least people think he is. When word of this gets out, it’s gonna be big.”
She chews on her pen for a while. “There’s this farm in Vermont,” she says. “We stowed someone there last year. They take in troubled kids.”
“Janelle’s not troubled. I don’t want her in some halfway house.”
“I meant kids in trouble. Usually from their parents. Last year we sent a kid there for about a month while his mother testif ied against his father. He liked it so much, he didn’t want to leave. After his father went to prison, his mother moved up there to work on the farm. I think they’re still there.”
“A farm? So what, she’ll be milking cows and stuff?”
She cracks a brief smile. “It’s an experimental school. And, yes, it’s also a working farm. It’s a pretty special place actually. And it’s free, run by a couple of retired professors. Old money. Eccentrics. They only take kids in trouble. That’s their mission.” She pulls out her phone, taps a few buttons, shows me a photograph of some white kid with his face pressed up against a cow’s butt. Another picture shows an old white couple and a group of kids posing in front of a red barn. One of the girls—around sixteen, dark skin, big teeth—looks a little bit like Janelle.
I feel something like hope stirring inside of me, which makes me scared. “And you could get her there now? Like tonight?”
“I could get her there by tomorrow. Maybe the next day. I’d need to make some calls.”
The Free Page 18
