by Chris Mooney
AG Nappa held up her hands in surrender. ‘Clerical errors and mistakes were made,’ she began.
‘No. That shit won’t fly with me – and once Justice sees this, forget it. To call what happened to Ellis a miscarriage of justice – the words haven’t been invented to describe the massive screwing you people gave him, a guy who was innocent.’
‘Amen, brother,’ Shapiro added.
Darby, leaning close to the door, thought she heard the hostage phone ring.
‘And the thing is, what makes me sick to my stomach, is this protective order bullshit,’ Coop said. ‘Ellis sues the city, turns it into a civil case, and while you guys go back and forth with appeals so you don’t have to pay him off, you use the protective order to keep BPD’s dirty laundry from becoming public knowledge. Because if BPD screwed up this badly on Ellis? Then you can bet your ass there’s a trail of others before him.’
Shapiro, her eyes closed, was swaying her arms high above her head like she was attending a gospel church service when the door opened and Grove popped his head in and asked for Howie and Darby.
Donnelly and Nappa got to their feet.
Darby said, ‘Put your asses back in those chairs. We’re not done yet.’
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Darby and Gelfand followed Grove back to his tiny room. Grove didn’t speak until he had shut the door.
‘Big Red has called five times in the past two hours to talk to Dr McCormick,’ Grove said. ‘The first four times I tried to engage in conversation, each time he hung up. The fifth call, he was more open to negotiation.
‘When he calls back – and he will – the agreement is for him to give over the location of the third bomb before I put Darby on the line.’
Gelfand said, ‘What about making him wait until we have verification about the bomb? He might send us to a false location, have us run around in circles.’
‘That’s an excellent point – and I’ve thought about it. He’s going to want to speak to Clara Lacy, obviously, so we’ll consider it after we have confirmed the bomb’s location and after he’s released a hostage. How’s she doing, by the way? Lacy and her family?’
Shit, Darby thought. He doesn’t know.
She told him. Grove’s mouth parted slightly, just for a moment; then he blinked and whatever he was feeling got kicked aside, swept back under his cool and confident mask.
Gelfand said, ‘He won’t find out about Lacy and her family. There’s nothing about it on the news, for one thing, and we’re jamming the satellite signals in that area so if he’s using a sat-phone to keep updated, that’s cut off.’
‘That probably explains his repeated calls to me using the hostage phone. He’s now officially cut off from all outside communication. Are you positive the news about Lacy didn’t play anywhere before you shut down his satellite access?’
‘I checked the internet on my phone,’ Gelfand replied. ‘Still nothing.’
‘Dr McCormick, if the gunman finds out Lacy and her son and daughter-in-law have been murdered, it might push him over the edge. To suicide.’
‘You want me to lie to him,’ Darby said flatly.
‘I want you to dance around the truth as much as you can.’
The phone inside Grove’s unit began to ring.
Grove held up a hand, signalling Darby to wait. He let it ring once, twice, three times before picking up the receiver.
And then Darby heard the gunman’s robotic voice on the speakerphone: ‘Dr McCormick, is she back from Dorchester?’
‘She’s standing right next to me,’ Grove replied. Gelfand had his pad and pen ready. ‘You remember what we spoke about during our last conversation?’
‘Yes.’
‘Okay, Big Red, we’re ready.’
‘Go to Quincy, 239 Bare Hill Road. Big modern Colonial, white. The bomb is inside the garage on the left, underneath a John Deere riding mower.’
‘Who lives there?’
‘A man named Robert Murphy. He’s a detective with the Boston Police.’ Darby and Gelfand glanced at each other as Big Red said, ‘The code to disarm it is the same.’
Darby felt her skin crawl as the gunman rattled off the numbers for her birthday. Gelfand finished writing and darted out of the room, forgetting to shut the door behind him. Darby did it for him.
‘I’ll put Dr McCormick on,’ Grove said, pointing to the second receiver.
Darby scooped it up from the table. The phone felt damp and greasy against her palm.
‘I’m here,’ she said.
‘Did you speak with Clara Lacy?’
‘I want to speak to Laura. I want to know she’s safe.’
The gunman didn’t answer.
Darby wasn’t about to speak when she heard the woman named Laura’s voice on the other end of the line: ‘I’m fine. Me and the other woman.’
‘What did you say?’
‘The other woman with me,’ Laura said. ‘He didn’t kill her.’
‘She’s alive?’
‘Yes. I’m looking at her right now.’
‘Put her on.’
A brief silence followed.
Then Darby heard a woman say, ‘I’m alive, Dr McCormick.’
Darby felt a sweet relief flooding through her, as bright and as warm as the sun.
‘Clara Lacy,’ Big Red prompted.
Darby mentally checked out, and then she was back inside the dark, cool lobby, the gunshots going off, pow-pow-pow. Saw herself dropping to the floor and clawing her way across the cold marble covered with rock salt and grit and small puddles from the snow that had dropped from her boots and melted – the gunshots were random, no target. Shots made in anger and frustration.
‘Clara Lacy,’ Big Red said again, his voice forcing her attention back inside the room. Darby became aware of the beads of sweat crawling across her scalp and down the small of her back. ‘Did you speak to her?’
‘I tried to,’ Darby replied.
‘What does that mean?’
‘She’s frightened. They all are.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Home.’ Darby closed her eyes for a moment and saw them in the bedroom, all dead. ‘They’re all together inside her home.’
‘I asked you to move them someplace safe.’
‘When I arrived, members of the Boston Police were already there. If I moved Lacy and her family, they might have followed us.’
Big Red said nothing.
Darby spoke into the silence. ‘I had to make a decision, and I had to make it fast, and I decided the best thing was to keep everyone inside the house. The FBI is guarding them.’
‘I want to talk to Clara.’
‘You realize she’s not in the best of health. She’s in no shape to travel.’
‘Then bring her son.’
‘I reviewed the case and evidence material from the Sean Ellis case,’ Darby said. ‘I know what happened.’
‘Not all of it.’
‘So tell me what I’m missing.’
‘That’s why I sent you to Clara. To fill in the missing pieces.’
The spike that travelled through her midsection and impaled her heart felt nearly identical to the moment when she was twelve and feeling certain that her father was going to come out of his coma, only to arrive at the hospital room suddenly and unexpectedly, to see her mother standing next to the bed and weeping, the life support already disconnected and Big Red no longer breathing, his brain slowly dying. There was no turning back. It was over. Done.
The silence on the phone was getting longer. Darby rushed to fill it, not wanting the gunman to hang up, and said only things she believed were true.
‘I know you’re hurting, and I know that no matter what I say I can’t take away your pain or carry it for you. I don’t know who you are or how the former mayor and Hill and Warren and whoever else hurt you. The one thing – the only thing I know for sure right now – is that you and I are both hanging by a thread.’
Darby felt the w
eight of Grove’s attention. She felt the weight of everything.
‘In the next room the Boston police commissioner and the attorney general for the state of Massachusetts are arguing with the FBI for control of this situation. Chances are Boston is going to take over, because what happened to Sean Ellis, how Trey Warren and Hill and God only knows who else framed him and how it affected you – all that stuff is in the past, and it’s taking a backseat to the main priority, which is making sure the remaining hostages are safe and locating and disarming the remaining explosive devices. That’s it. That’s all these people care about. If the city takes over, I get pushed aside. They don’t want me involved in this – they’re going to pull out every stop they can and call in every favour and pull every legal manoeuvre they have to get me as far away from you as possible. But if you let me help you, I will. If you let me speak for you, I will. That’s the only promise I can make. But we’re running out of time.’
Big Red didn’t reply. She wanted to keep speaking but told herself to let the silence hang for a moment, give a chance for her words to cook.
Grove spoke for her – to her.
‘He’s gone,’ he said.
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‘He hung up,’ Grove said. ‘Right after you said, “That’s all these people care about.” ’
‘I didn’t hear him hang up,’ Darby said.
‘You wouldn’t, not on your line.’
Darby replaced the receiver back on the table and then rubbed her damp palms on her jeans.
‘That was a good shot, that speech at the end,’ Grove said. ‘Don’t go anywhere. He’ll call back.’
‘You sound pretty confident.’
‘Well, I have had a tad bit of experience in these situations.’ Grove grinned wryly as he took a seat.
‘How’d they go, your past experiences?’
‘Like every situation in life, some better than others.’
‘How incredibly Zen of you.’
Grove chuckled. Smiled. He had tiny baby teeth. ‘How are you holding up?’
‘Tired. Pissed off. Mainly tired.’
Darby started to pace. There wasn’t a lot of room, and she suddenly felt claustrophobic. Boxed in. Grove clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back in his chair, turning his attention to the wall-mounted TV, which was tuned to Channel 5 and soundlessly playing news coverage of the hostage crisis. The air inside here felt as hot as an oven, yet Grove’s forehead was dry, the underarms of his shirt free of perspiration stains. She envied the man’s enormous calm, wished she could bottle it. Use it. Like now.
‘How do you do it?’
‘Do what?’
‘Not care,’ Darby said. Then she stopped pacing. ‘That came out wrong. I meant –’
‘I know what you meant. And to answer your question, yes, I do care about what’s happening – care deeply, as a matter of fact. But the depth of my caring, the intensity of it, has absolutely no impact on the outcome. What’s happening is largely beyond my control – our control. The other part – and I don’t mean to sound callous – but what’s happening right now? This is my job. No matter what happens, good or bad, I go back to my life, which I keep completely separate from all of … this.’
Darby nodded, kept nodding, as she paced.
‘If you don’t mind me saying,’ Grove began.
‘That’s what someone always says before they insult you.’
‘Or share an observation, which is that you invest yourself too emotionally. That’s your biggest mistake. It also happens to be your biggest asset. I don’t have that, Doctor. Why? Because I don’t care about people the same way you do. I love my wife and my two grown children and my new grandson who, God willing, I’ll see long enough to grow up into a fine young man.’
‘You talk like a character from Downton Abbey. Anyone ever tell you that?’
‘What I’m saying is, at the end of the day, you need someone to care about and someone who cares about you.’
‘You’re the second person today who has said that to me.’
‘Maybe God, the universe, whatever your personal belief system, is trying to tell you something. Do your job, but don’t sacrifice yourself for these people. They’re not worth it.’
Darby didn’t know if he meant people like the gunman or the people who worked for the BPD and FBI.
Then she saw Grove lean forward in his chair, his gaze fixed on the TV. She turned around and saw the ‘BREAKING NEWS’ banner on the bottom of the screen, along with live video showing one of the hostages, the woman with the curly white hair, running away from the police station, nearby SWAT agents swarming around her.
The door was thrown open. Gelfand came in, his face flushed. ‘He released a hostage,’ he said.
‘We’re watching it now,’ Darby said. ‘Any news on Murphy?’
‘In the wind at the moment, but not for long. He’s on duty, using his unmarked car. It’s got a GPS.’
All the city, state and federal vehicles did, the GPS pinging its location every five or so minutes to a central system that could be accessed by any law enforcement agency. The federal-sponsored system was implemented a few years ago to keep track of where everyone travelled and locate an officer in trouble. Mainly, though, Darby thought it was yet another micromanagement offer from Big Brother, kept cops and agents in a perpetual surveillance state while they were on the job.
‘Where is he now?’
‘Travelling south on ninety-five. Looks like he’s heading towards Quincy. I’ve got people on the way. Speaking of which, Briggs made it out in time. He should be in Boston within the hour.’
The hostage phone rang.
Rang again before Grove could answer it.
‘I released a hostage, as a show of good faith,’ Big Red said, his robotic voice echoing over the speakerphone. ‘I would like something in exchange.’
Of course you do, Darby thought, and braced herself for what she knew he was going to ask, to talk to Clara Lacy or her son.
‘It’s a simple request,’ Big Red said.
‘I’m listening,’ Grove said.
‘I want to speak with Rosemary Shapiro.’
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‘I know she’s there, somewhere on your compound,’ Big Red said.
‘What makes you think that?’ Grove asked.
‘Please don’t lie. We’re way past lying. I just …’ The gunman didn’t finish his thought.
‘You just what?’ Grove prompted.
‘Put Dr McCormick on.’
Grove handed the phone to her.
‘I’m here,’ Darby said.
‘I’m tired. I want this to be over,’ Big Red said. ‘Let me talk to Ms Shapiro.’
Gelfand, Darby knew, had no intention of putting Shapiro on the phone; Gelfand wouldn’t be able to control her in any way, and that could prove to be dangerous.
‘If you want a lawyer, I can provide you with one,’ Darby said.
‘I want to speak to Rosemary.’
Rosemary, Darby thought. Did he know her? Was he a client?
‘Why Ms Shapiro?’ Darby asked.
‘Put her on the line and you’ll find out.’
‘If I do that, we need to trade.’
‘We’ve already traded, and I released a hostage.’
‘Former mayor Briggs is on a helicopter to Boston. He’ll be here within an hour. If you want to speak to him, he’ll need assurances of his safety.’
‘I’m not the danger.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘Put Rosemary on the line.’
Gelfand was shaking his head.
‘Ms Shapiro isn’t with us at the moment,’ Darby said. ‘I can promise you I’ll get in contact with her, but I can’t guarantee that she’ll want to talk with you.’
‘She will.’
‘What message should I give her?’
‘My first name is Karl. That’s Karl spelled with a “K”. I’ll tell the rest to Rosem
ary.’
Big Red hung up. As Darby returned the receiver to its cradle, Gelfand said, ‘This is still a federal investigation, and as long as it remains as such I can’t allow a lawyer – a criminal lawyer with a history of suing the city, no less – to get on the phone with the gunman, for a whole host of legal reasons I’m too tired to explain.’
‘I understand,’ Darby said.
‘And, frankly, I’ve had about enough of this guy jerking my crank.’
Grove said, ‘I couldn’t agree more. It’s possible his need to speak to Shapiro may have something to do with his need to surrender.’
‘You think he actually might do it?’ Gelfand asked.
‘I think he’s considering the possibility – and it’s one we should explore.’
‘Using Shapiro.’
‘Yes. What would you like to do?’
Grove was very good, Darby thought. Grove was being outwardly manipulative, trying to get Gelfand over to his way of thinking – much like a patient father dealing with a particularly stubborn child: I agree with everything you’ve said, but the question is, what do you want to do about it?
‘Tell her to get her fat ass in here,’ Gelfand said reluctantly.
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Coop brought her; Shapiro smiling like someone who had just discovered a winning lottery ticket. Her perfume quickly overpowered the room, like an insecticide.
‘Little cramped in here – and hot,’ Shapiro said. ‘Why is it so hot?’
‘Temperature gague is broken,’ Gelfand replied, scratching an eyebrow with his thumb.
‘That’s what I love about the federal government. You guys buy nothing but the best.’
‘Rosemary –’
‘Ooh, it’s Rosemary now. This sounds serious.’
‘It is serious. The gunman has asked to speak with you.’
‘He wants me to represent him?’
‘I don’t know. He says his name is Karl with a “K”. You have a client by that name?’
‘Howie, you know I can’t break attorney–client privilege. That’s legal one-o-one. ’Course, I might be willing to drop my ethics if Cooper here agrees to strip down to his skivvies. Or are you one of those boring middle-age boxer guys now, Coop?’
