by Andrew Gross
Hauck kneeled and pulled up the boy’s jacket collar. “By the end of the day, I’ll have you knocking people into the boards. What do you say we go lace ’em up, bud?”
Jared’s face lit up. “What do you say, Mom?”
Annie’s eyes grew bright. She looked at Hauck. “I say we go lace ’em up.”
Hauck placed his hand on Jared’s shoulder and they headed away from the harbor. Annie looped her arm through Hauck’s. “You know, I probably never told the lieutenant this, but when I was at Michigan I had a boyfriend who played on the hockey team there and he used to take me skating all the time. I bet I skate even better than I cook…”
“Why am I not surprised?” Hauck looked at her with a smile.
CHAPTER NINETY-FOUR
The week before Christmas, Hauck sat in the Explorer and gazed up the old, familiar street.
A million memories rushed back to him.
His first elementary school was still on the corner. Mostly Hispanic these days. On Delevan, shops still looked like they did twenty years ago. Pepe’s Market. Al’s Guitars. Sophia’s Fabric and Trim. Though he hadn’t been up here in years, he would never forget the way.
Ms. Powers had been the last of their neighbors. She had passed away three years back. Hauck had gone to the funeral. He cruised up the short, hilly street until he stopped at the small white clapboard near the end of the block.
Three twenty-two.
It wasn’t quite so small anymore.
To his surprise, it had been completely redone and expanded. Now it had a raised ceiling on the second floor, skylights, a large bay window. Pretty landscaping adorned the patch of lawn in front. Fancy wooden garage doors. A BMW X5 sat in the driveway. He laughed. “Upwardly mobile” had found its way even to Byram.
Hauck climbed out of the Explorer and stared up at the remodeled facade.
Why hadn’t they ever thought to come here? So much of it went all the way back…
Above him, the front door suddenly opened. A woman with a baby stepped out onto the landing. Pretty. Latino. Maybe a little wary. Wondering who the stranger was staring up at their house.
“Can I help you?” she asked.
“I didn’t mean to bother you. I’m Lieutenant Hauck. From Greenwich. I used to live in this house.”
“This house?” the woman exclaimed. With surprise.
Hauck nodded. “Grew up here. Shared the upstairs bedroom on the right with my brother. Course, we only had three of them then. Now it looks like there are more…”
“Oh, we expanded that old room up there,” the woman said. “We’ve changed a lot around. You’re welcome to come in and see if you like.”
“No.” Hauck smiled and shook his head. “Looks nice though. But maybe if you wouldn’t mind, there is something I’d like to check out in back.”
“Be my guest,” the woman said. She jiggled the baby. “Hear that, Carmelo? This nice man grew up here.”
Hauck waved and went up the short, steep driveway along the side of the house. There was a wire gate on top that led to the back. Hauck popped it open. They had a smart-looking in-ground pool. Covered up for the winter. Hauck thought back to when Pop first got theirs. It was tiny and round and aboveground. Still, he and Warren used to have some wars to the death splashing around in there.
He stood and looked back at the elevated redwood deck, remembering the hundreds of times they had all had meals and barbecues out there. He heard the thuds of footsteps bounding up the stairs, glass breaking from an errant pitch that crashed through Mom’s kitchen window. How they used to sneak in on their sister in the shower.
Hauck’s eyes grew moist.
He stepped out to the edge of the property, the line of bushes and pines they shared with the Fraleys, whose yard backed up against theirs. The trees had grown. Hauck could barely even see into their backyard. Or that of whoever lived there now.
Hauck went up to the tall elm in the corner, its branches bare. He kneeled down.
And there it was.
Just above the root base, where he had carved it—Hauck thought back—twenty-five years ago.
To commemorate his greatest high school game.
12/8/83. 241 yds. 3 TDs. State Champions.
Hauck placed his palm against the bark. It all rushed back to him. Like he was touching a part of his past, his family’s past. Feelings that hadn’t been opened in a long while.
Tears began to flow.
He never got to say it.
I did love you, Warren. I know you wanted the best for me. You saved me that time, and I never forgot it. I swear…
Hauck bowed his head, the tears refusing to stop. You stupid sonovabitch, why didn’t you come to me? How could you let yourself get that far?
Then he noticed something, something that turned the tears into a smile. Then the smile into a laugh, seeing the two words carved underneath.
2 Fumbles, his brother had added.
EPILOGUE
Vern?”
Hauck knocked on the door. The chief looked up from his desk, surprised. “Jeez, I didn’t expect to see you in here today, Ty…Thought I told you to get a little Christmas shopping done. Take some time off.” He clasped his hands behind his head. “You just buried your brother, for Christ’s sake. Shame we couldn’t nail that government guy…But we got Raines.
And Vega…”
“Funny, I feel like I’ve taken enough time off, Vern,” Hauck said, looking at him.
The chief rocked back in his chair. “Is there something to how you mean that, Ty…?”
“I’m not sure.” Hauck stepped in, placed his hands on the back of one of the chairs facing Fitzpatrick’s desk. “I guess I’ve been wondering…How’d Sculley and Taylor know I was bringing Raines in, Vern?”
The chief crossed his legs. “I don’t know. They had their own investigation going. Maybe Raines called them. Told them you were coming up. What are you asking there, Ty?”
“They knew I went to see Vega. In prison. From the very beginning you’ve been pushing me to back off. When the guy in the Dominican Republic was killed. When Vega was freed. When we were able to trace things to the casino. How did you phrase it, Vern? ‘You better know what you’re getting into, Ty…That casino has its paws on every politician in the state.’ Was that out of concern for me?”
The humor drained from the chief’s expression. “Just what are you saying, Lieutenant?”
“I’m saying that this thing didn’t end with Wachman, Vern. Or even with Scayne. It was set up. By Casey. Through Warren. Through the casino. For people higher up. I guess what I’m asking, Vern, is—did you get a call too?”
Fitzpatrick’s gaze narrowed. “A call?”
“Cut it, Vern, you know exactly what I mean. Did they get to you too? The FBI. The Pequot Woods. Casey. All those new bleachers and highway bills, a hundred and twenty people on the force…”
“Get to me…?” The chief clenched his teeth and grew red in the face. But he didn’t answer.
“Jesus…” Hauck felt like a weight toppled off a cliff inside him. He shook his head. “We lost Freddy, Vern.”
“You listen to me…” Fitzpatrick stood up. He looked at Hauck, a stonelike fixedness in his gaze. “You’ve got it mapped out for you here, Ty, if you want it. Everybody respects you. You’re a goddamn hero, for Christ’s sakes. You can have a nice life here. You just have to know not to push where it don’t need pushing, Ty. You understand? That’s a hard lesson for you, Lieutenant. Sometimes there’s forces that you just don’t buck. Whether it’s your own state government, Ty, or the goddamn FBI. Sometimes you just have to know how it’s done.”
“You’re right,” Hauck said, nodding. “It is a tough lesson for me.” He backed away from the chair and let out a long breath, then smiled. “But I’m learning…I’m slowly learning, Vern, just how it’s done.”
Outside, Hauck stepped onto Greenwich Avenue. The streets were busy, shoppers crowding the stores. Christmas decorations shone brightl
y.
At the corner, he waved to a patrolman he recognized on traffic detail. The officer stopped the flow a moment and motioned Hauck across the street with a good-natured flourish. “The street is yours, Lieutenant…”
Hauck jogged across and waved back.
He went onto the small green at the top of the hill where Arch Street intersected, up from the fancy boutiques: Polo. Saks. Ferragamo. In that moment, Hauck saw what he loved about it here. The town had rescued him when he had been lost. Brought him back to life.
He also saw what he was prepared to walk away from too.
You’ve got it mapped out for you here, Ty…
He leaned against the ledge of the stone wall and took out his phone.
The number was still there on his call log. He had looked at it from time to time. Part of him urged him to call and another part warned him, You could be making the biggest mistake of your life…
He’d been a policeman for eighteen years.
He punched in the number and drew his arms together against the wintry chill. The call connected after two rings.
“Tom Foley here.”
“Mr. Foley…” Hauck drew in a breath. “It’s Ty Hauck.”
“Ty!” The Talon partner seemed startled to hear his voice. “I heard about your brother…I’m very sorry.”
Hauck said, “I hadn’t realized that the two of you knew each other when we met.”
“We didn’t, actually. We only met once or twice. Somehow he must’ve heard we were looking for someone up here and he called to give me your name. I guess I always thought it better you never knew our interest came from him.”
“So it’s legit…?” Hauck asked. “The offer you made to me?”
“Completely legit, I assure you.” Foley seemed surprised.
“Then I was wondering,” Hauck moistened his lips, “with everything that’s happened, if it still stood?”
The Talon partner remained silent for a long while. Hauck steadied himself for the worst.
“Yes, Lieutenant, it very much still stands. In fact, I was just waiting for the proper time to give you a call…”
Hauck gazed down the bustling street. The Christmas music coming out of Saks. Kids tugging at their parents. His mind drifted to Freddy. Gone. Then to Vern—the life that could still be his here. All he might be throwing away.
He thought of Warren and a smile crept onto his face. You deserve this, Ty…
“Then I accept,” Hauck said.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My whole life, I dreamed of writing one novel. Don’t Look Twice is now my tenth! (That includes a handful with James Patterson and one still in the back of the drawer.)
The more I do, yes, the easier it becomes. But the more it also becomes clear what a collaborative process it all truly is.
It starts with the people and resources that help you convince readers you actually know something about what you’re writing on. In this case, that’s my friend Vito Collucci, of Collucci Investigations, who has worked a whole lot of high-profile cases and whose face can be seen on news channels a lot more than my own. Then there’s Stephen Karoul, of Euro-Asian Casino Consulting, who led me through the murky world of casino gambling scams. And not to forget Dr. Greg Zorman, my brother-in-law and longtime medical authority, whose place in this book is due to a sudden expertise on flying. I still won’t go up with you, but I will call you every time!
I also want to credit an important book for me, The Shock Doctrine, by Naomi Klein, whose research and vision on politics and economics became part of the plot.
Then there’s my team at William Morrow and HarperCollins, and that runs all the way to the top. Not only my editor, David Highfill, for his acumen and guidance, but Pam Jaffee, Lynn Grady, Michael Barrs, Juliette Shapland, Gabe Robinson, Buzzy Porter, and Julia Wisdom and Amanda Ridout in the UK, for putting up with my prickly disposition and stubborn ways. Also, my thanks to Lisa Gallagher, Michael Morrison, Jane Friedman, and Brian Murray for their deep belief in me and strongly felt commitment. I always wondered at what stage I’d be able to look in the mirror and not imagine a famous, top-selling author behind me and say, “You can actually do this thing.”
I guess that’s now.
Thanks as well to Simon Lipskar of Writers House for his counsel, and to Josh Getzler as well. Also to Roy Grossman, Liz Scoponich, and Brooke Martinez, early readers of the draft, who helped shape this book into the best it could be. And David Mickleson at Greenwich Research, who didn’t have a hand in this book, but whom I forgot to mention last time.
And as always, to the team at home—my narrowing team, with two kids moving away. This is the first book my wife, Lynn, didn’t read as I wrote it. Hopefully there won’t be a hue and cry to get her back on the job!
About the Author
ANDREW GROSS is the author of the New York Times and international bestsellers The Blue Zone and The Dark Tide, and coauthor of five number one bestselling novels with James Patterson, including Judge & Jury, Lifeguard, and The Jester. Gross lives in Westchester County, New York, with his wife, Lynn. They have three children. To learn more about him, visit www.andrewgrossbooks.com or www.myspace.com/andrewgrossbooks.
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ANDREW GROSS
The Dark Tide
The Blue Zone
NOVELS BY ANDREW GROSS AND JAMES PATTERSON
Judge & Jury
Lifeguard
3rd Degree
The Jester
2nd Chance
Credits
Jacket photographs: dashboard by Eddie Hironaka/Getty; car headlights by Jupiter
Jacket design by T. H. Nicholas
Copyright
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the author’s imagination and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
DON’T LOOK TWICE. Copyright © 2009 by Andrew Gross. All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins e-books.
EPub © Edition SEPTEMBER 2009 ISBN: 9780061972782
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