Nothing about Gallagher, or anyone else for that matter, frightened me physically. I think I was born without the “personal danger” gene; I just never get fearful about my own physical safety. It’s not necessarily a good quality for a cop.
Physical fear is as important as physical pain. People who can’t feel pain aren’t able to be protective; for instance, their skin could be being burned and they might not know it. In a similar fashion, fear acts to help one avoid dangerous situations, and my lack of fear is a negative for that reason. I don’t instinctively avoid danger; instead I must force my mind to be logical about it.
But I can feel fear for others, and I was feeling it big-time for Bryan. He always had the fear gene; we were very different in that way. He once confessed to me that it was a major reason why he didn’t follow me and my father into police work. And at the moment he had to be really, really scared of what was going to happen, so I was scared on his behalf.
One of the most disappointing things about the information Julie had given me on Gallagher was his lack of connections to anyone but his brother. I had hoped for friends, or other relatives, who he might be in contact with. They might have led me to Bryan; they might even have been helping to keep him captive. But at least for the moment, that avenue was closed.
I decided to focus on something more upbeat, though pretty much anything would have qualified. I again dove into the Appeals Court cases, since I needed to pick one to focus on. I wasn’t necessarily looking for the one most likely to tie in to the Brennan murder, but rather the one I could make Gallagher believe. They might have been one and the same, but maybe not.
I narrowed it down to two possibilities, and then chose the one that made the most sense. It was a case in which the town of Brayton was suing to prevent a company from doing something called fracking on land adjacent to the town. Fracking, which was the extrication of natural gas from shale, was claimed by the town to be environmentally devastating.
I chose the case for four reasons. One, it was relatively nearby. Two, there was close to four hundred million dollars at stake, just representing the purchase price of the land, and maybe billons more once the drilling took place. Three, the case was nearing a completion and Brennan’s addition to the court could have upset the applecart. And four, emotions in the town were running very high; there had even been violence that was being attributed to the situation. The guesthouse of the man who owned the land had been blown up.
All of this seemed to add up to a believable set of circumstances to lead to a murder.
Bryan, I will get you out … you have my word. Knowing about the NY stations is helpful; think hard about anything else you can tell me. Maybe something you saw or heard on the way there. No matter how insignificant it might seem, it can help.
Also look for serial numbers on any of the appliances.
That wasn’t me doing the interviews … it was a fat actor they hired to play me. Someday I’ll work myself into shape, like you investment bankers.
You’ll see grass again soon, but it will be in Yankee Stadium. Only the best for my brother.
“I am with you one hundred percent,” Edward Holland shouted.
He had just said pretty much the same thing, albeit more softly, at the council meeting inside the Brayton Town Hall. There he had been talking to the elected town officials, as well as the small number of citizens who could fit inside the cramped quarters.
But this was a much bigger gathering, and in many ways a more significant one. It numbered more than fifteen hundred people, holding signs and chanting their determination to protect their families and their lifestyle. For Brayton, it qualified as something akin to a Million Man March.
They were also voters, and they had put Holland in office. They had supported him throughout the fight against Richard Carlton and his company, trying to prevent the fracking that they all believed, that Holland had in fact told them, could threaten their health and well-being.
But they had to be handled, and Holland was the guy to do it. He was their hero, fighting valiantly against the corporate villains. It was an image that he had carefully cultivated throughout the battle, so much so that his “soldiers” were apparently getting carried away.
“I know how you feel, and I share your passion and your anger,” Holland said. “And I know you agree with me that violence is not the answer. It is not what we are about; it is not what Brayton is about.”
There had been no arrests made for the destruction of Richard Carlton’s guesthouse, but it was commonly believed that the perpetrators did what they did in retaliation for Carlton’s attempt to sell the land for fracking.
Holland’s call against violence was greeted by a mixture of cheers and angry yells; it was clear that not everyone in the audience was inclined to take the high road.
“The moneyed interests and many in the media are trying to paint you as vigilantes, as outlaws who are dangerous and disrespectful of the process. We cannot let them do that.”
This seemed to get a more enthusiastic response, so Holland continued. “We don’t need bombs, or guns, or violence of any kind. We have a greater power on our side; we have the truth.”
This was greeted with a roar of approval; Holland now had them under control. He turned to look at Alex Hutchinson, who had emerged in recent weeks as an unelected leader of the townspeople. Alex was nodding approval.
“We are law-abiding citizens,” Holland continued. “All we are seeking is justice and the ability to protect our children and our families. We will get that justice; I will accept nothing less.
“So have faith in the process. Have faith in the American system. Have faith in God. Your faith, our faith, will carry us through to victory.”
By then the crowd was completely with Edward Holland; they hung on his every word. They trusted him; if he said they would win in the courts, then they would win in the courts.
The only thing he failed to mention was what he knew to be the truth.
They were going to lose.
The drive to Brayton took an hour and ten minutes.
It would ordinarily have taken me an hour and a half, and with it raining like it was, maybe even longer than that. Which was why I brought Emmit along, and let him drive.
Emmit drives like an absolute maniac, and he rode the siren most of the way. He did this even though we had no jurisdiction in New York, figuring we could handle any local cops who had a problem. None did.
My first stop was going to be at the town hall to see the Mayor, Edward Holland. We had a brief conversation over the phone, but if I was going to pin Judge Brennan’s murder on the situation in Brayton, I needed as much firsthand exposure to it as possible. I was hoping Holland could draw me a road map.
Holland originally thought I was investigating the explosion at the house of Richard Carlton, his adversary in the legal proceedings concerning the proposed fracking. He quickly realized that it made no sense for the New Jersey State Police to have an interest in a New York crime, and asked why I wanted to meet.
“We believe that a case we are working on here may intersect with the controversy you’re involved in.”
“Can you be more specific?” he asked.
“I can, and I will when we meet.”
He made it clear to me how busy he was, as a way of telling me that the meeting would not be a long one, but he ultimately agreed. I made a similar call to Richard Carlton, who it turned out was in Manhattan for business meetings. I arranged to see him there the next day.
I liked Brayton a lot. It was a sort of sleepy place, with a town center consisting of basically three streets of shops. It was the kind of place where the superstores have not made their appearance, probably because the economics don’t warrant it.
All in all, a nice place to grow up, provided the water was safe to drink and the air breathable. I could see why people would be upset that big industry might damage the cocoon they had constructed around their families. It wasn’t Mayberry; it was cons
iderably more sophisticated than that. But it felt right.
Emmit dropped me off at the town hall, while he went on ahead to the Brayton Police Station to get as much background as he could on the violence. Edward Holland had left instructions for me to be ushered into his office immediately upon my arrival, and that’s what happened.
“Is this about the Brennan murder?” he asked right away, surprising me.
I nodded. “Yes, but very loosely at this point. We’re covering our bases, and as part of that we’re looking into the cases he would have been involved in on the Court of Appeals.”
“That could take a while. He would have had a full caseload,” Holland said.
I nodded. “And we’re checking as many as manpower allows. The fact that there has already been some violence in connection with your case puts it near the top of the list.”
“Somebody blew up Richard Carlton’s guesthouse in frustration and anger. It is extraordinarily unlikely that whoever did it had the sophistication to try and control which judges would rule on the Court of Appeals.”
“I’m sure you’re right,” I said, and in fact I was sure he was right. But that didn’t mean I wasn’t going to implicate the “Brayton bomber” in the court run by Chris Gallagher. “But I’ve still got to ask the questions.”
He shrugged. “Ask away.”
“Do you have any idea who set the explosion?”
“Not the slightest. You’d be better off asking the police.”
I nodded. “My partner is doing that right now. I’m asking if you have any instincts about it.”
He shook his head. “I don’t; this has been a peaceful community for as long as I remember. But people are very, very upset, and rightfully so. Having said that, there is no one I know in this town that I would consider capable of such an act.”
“Are you going to win your case?”
“I have every confidence,” he said, without much conviction.
“Is that your official position?”
He smiled. “It is.”
“What impact would Brennan replacing Judge Dembeck have had on the case?”
He shrugged. “Hard to say, which is one of the reasons you’re wasting your time.”
“So you as the lead lawyer, and Mayor, had no preference for either Judge Dembeck or Judge Brennan?”
He thought for a moment, as if deciding how honest to be. “I doubt that Judge Dembeck is favorable to our position, based on her previous rulings, and her questions during oral arguments. Brennan would have been a wild card, hard to categorize.”
“Why?”
“A couple of reasons,” he said. “First, it was in his nature to be unpredictable; I think he relished it. Second, I’m not aware of any similar cases he had ever heard, and he had never written on the matter.”
“So you researched it?”
“Of course. Not to do so would have been unprofessional and borderline negligent.”
“So net-net, Brennan would have been better for your side than Dembeck? That’s your view?”
“Probably, but it’s all very, very speculative. Other lawyers might feel completely differently about it. Anticipating judicial decisions is no way to make a living.”
I was pretty much running out of questions, mostly because of his answers so far. If he was right that Brennan’s joining the court would be a possible problem for Carlton’s side, then they would have been the ones most inclined to prevent him from doing so. Which made them my most likely suspects.
I thanked him and walked over to the police station, which was in the same complex. Emmit was just coming out, having spoken to the lead detective assigned to the bombing of the Carlton guesthouse.
“They’ve got zip; the perp left nothing behind at the scene,” he said. “Which surprises them. They think it’s an amateur who behaved like a pro.”
“Why are they thinking amateur?”
“Because everybody in the town is pissed at Carlton and they aren’t the types to go out and hire professional muscle. So somebody got frustrated and angry, and did the job. They were just lucky.”
Holland had described the perpetrator in similar terms; no doubt he was in touch with his officers. “Is there a leader in the town on this issue, other than Holland?”
Emmit nodded. “According to the detective, the unofficial leader is Alex Hutchinson.”
I thought about it for a few moments, then shook my head. “Doesn’t work for us.”
“What do you mean?”
“According to Holland, the town’s side would have had reason to be in favor of Brennan joining the court. They might have bombed Carlton’s guesthouse, but killing Brennan is a tough sell. It would run counter to their interests. If there’s a killer we can point to, he’s on the other side.”
Emmit nodded his understanding. “Makes sense.”
“So let’s go talk to Alex Hutchinson.”
“You just said that doesn’t work for us.”
“We’re here anyway; maybe Hutchinson will say something to change my mind. Can’t hurt to talk to him; where is he?”
“She’s at the diner,” Emmit said.
“What?”
“Alex Hutchinson is a woman.”
Lucas … something happened this morning. I was watching television at about ten forty-five, and the satellite went out for about five minutes. Then, maybe twenty minutes later, it went out for three minutes. Could it be the weather? Would that have happened everywhere, or just certain areas?
Sorry to say serial numbers have been scraped off. He’s smart. Please be smarter (just this once).
Let me hear from you.
“What was the weather like there this morning?”
“The weather?” Julie asked, obviously puzzled as to why I had called to ask that question.
“Yes. Bryan’s satellite television went out for a few minutes twice this morning. It was out for five minutes at ten forty-five, then for three minutes at eleven ten.”
“I don’t know … I was in my office. I know it was raining; Danielle went out for coffee and took my umbrella.”
“OK, we—”
Julie interrupted me, knowing exactly where I was heading. “I’ll get a subpoena and get the satellite companies to give me any information on disruptions this morning. Maybe it’s isolated to a specific area.”
“That’s why Bryan told me about it.”
“I’ll get right on it,” she said. “It will give me something to do.”
I could hear the stress in her voice, and I felt for her. I also felt for me. But I especially felt for Bryan. “Julie, you OK?” I asked.
“Yes, other than the fact that my head feels like it’s going to explode.”
“I know the feeling. Did you get a chance to look through those Appeals Court cases?”
I could hear the sudden anger in her voice. I had always been struck by her ability to change moods on a dime; some people found it intimidating, but I was not one of them. “Did I get a chance?” she asked. “No, I went miniature golfing instead. Of course I got a chance.”
“Sorry. Unless you have a better idea, I’m focusing in on Carlton versus the town of Brayton, NY. Emmit and I are there now.”
“The fracking case. That’s the one I would go with as well.”
“Good. I need to know what impact Brennan not joining the court would have been expected to have on that case.”
“You think that could have something to do with Brennan’s murder?”
“In real life? No. But it could serve our purpose.”
She promised to dig more into the case immediately, and then asked, “How’s Bryan holding up?”
“Seems OK,” I said. “He’s tougher than I would have thought.”
“Doesn’t surprise me at all,” she said.
We got to Alex’s Country Diner at around one thirty, at what should have been near the end of the lunch hour rush. There were three cars in the parking lot; my guess was that Alex’s Country Diner hadn’t seen
an actual rush in a very long time.
There were only ten tables in the place, and two were occupied, plus another three people were eating at the counter. In terms of employees, there was a woman behind the counter, and another at the cash register. Each was in her thirties; they could have been sisters.
It turned out that Alex Hutchinson was the cashier, and when we identified ourselves she nodded as if she was expecting us. She called out to her colleague to cover the register, and we went to a booth near the back.
“I’ve got nothing to tell you now that I didn’t tell you last time,” she said.
“This is the first time we’ve spoken to you,” I said.
“Don’t you guys talk to each other? Two other officers questioned me the other day.”
“They were local; we’re New Jersey State,” Emmit said.
She laughed a very likable laugh, one that said she couldn’t have been less intimidated by us. “New Jersey? What is it you think I did in New Jersey?”
“Actually, this works better if we ask the questions, so let’s start over,” I said. “Did you supply the other officers with your whereabouts when the explosion took place?”
“I told them I was at home, reading a story to my kids. The kids that Carlton is trying to poison.”
“You seem angry at him.”
“Duhhhh,” was her way of telling me I made a stupid statement. I almost laughed myself, because she was right, and called me on it.
“But not angry enough to blow up his guesthouse?” I asked.
“If I thought blowing up his guesthouse would protect my family, I’d blow up his guesthouse. But it won’t, so I didn’t.”
“Maybe you thought it would scare him into keeping the land pure.”
She laughed, quickly and derisively. “The only thing that scares the Richard Carltons of the world is not having a lot of money. What scares me is not being able to keep my family healthy.”
“Just so I understand, you’re not opposed to violence, as long as the cause is just?”
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