“No. We’re safe here. We can—”
He released her and went to the window that looked directly down on the front of the house. He opened the blinds and gestured to the media that had been posted outside their window. Vans with antennae, radio broadcast trucks and trailers full of reporters from newspapers and magazines from across the Midwest were gathered outside the house.
“Look at them, Jenny. They’re like a bunch of vultures, just waiting for us to die.”
She crossed her arms and turned her head away from the window. He closed the blinds.
“I have to do this. We have to do this. I don’t want to die in this house, hiding from them.” He pointed toward the window.
“What about the kids?”
“They’ll do fine. Surely you can’t be suggesting that going to school and passing through that crowd out there is any way to live.”
She sat on the bed. He knelt in front of her, putting both hands on hers.
“They’ll have a good time.”
“You won’t be there.”
“I will soon. This won’t last forever. Nothing does.”
“Where am I supposed to go?”
“It doesn’t matter. Just away from here.” He nodded over his shoulder to the window behind him. “They’ll think that I’m still here and you’re coming back. They’re used to seeing you take the kids to sports practice… piano lessons. Except this time, we’ll all be leaving.”
She shook her head. “I don’t like it.”
“I know. You said that already.”
She sighed, lowered her head, pausing to think. He rose to his feet and went downstairs, giving her time and space. It was important that she follow the plan, but it would be far better if she were fully on board.
He was sitting quietly in the living-room, reading the story of David’s flight, when he saw her at the base of the stairs twenty minutes later.
“OK,” she said. “I’ll do it.”
Polanski stood at the upstairs window, watching as the kids arrived home from school, maneuvering their way through the pressing throng of reporters who attempted to badger them into answering questions on topics they knew nothing about. He ran downstairs to be there when they entered the house and watched as Jenny put a finger to her lips and motioned for them to follow her upstairs. They seemed confused at first, but quickly adapted to the game she was playing, a typical Jenny attempt at lessening their burden.
While they were changing clothes and getting their suitcases, which Jenny had already packed, he went to the hallway closet and extracted his personal weapon, a 9mm Beretta, and two fifteen-round magazines that were fully loaded. He also grabbed an extra box of shells and dropped them into the bag he had packed. Prior to the kids arriving home, he had dressed in jeans, a flannel shirt, and sturdy boots. He had already tossed a jacket and gloves into the trunk of the car, along with a flashlight, matches, reading material and a disassembled sniper rifle with scope. He kept the latter in an aluminum suitcase lined with pre-molded padding designed to accommodate the weapon’s various components.
The cabin would be empty of foodstuffs, but these could be purchased as soon as everyone had arrived. He was making a last-minute check when the kids came bouncing down the stairs with Jenny in tow.
“Everyone ready?” he asked.
“All ready, Captain,” Jenny said, playing along despite her misgivings.
“Time’s a-wastin’.”
Jenny and the kids shuttled past him to the garage and he checked that the lights were still on, the blinds were closed, and the TV was blaring. He then followed them to the car, where the kids were buckling up and Jenny was behind the wheel. He leaned in through the open driver’s-side window.
“Don’t use the cell phone unless you absolutely have to,” he said.
“I know.”
“Pick up a pre-paid phone as soon as you can. They’re harder to track.”
“I know,” she said, her anxiety slipping through.
“And stay with your parents until I call.”
“I know, Andy.”
“I love you,” he said, kissing her. “I’ll see you in a few days.”
He waved at the children, buckled in their seats, before climbing into the trunk and pulling the lid closed.
CHAPTER 73
Campello and the women arrived at the cabin in the waning daylight hours. He found the key exactly where Polanski said it would be, and they went in, setting their suitcases on the floor. The place was musty, but clean, and adequately furnished. They were standing in a central room that held a rustic-looking couch and several chairs, a rack of books, a wood-burning stove and a large oval-shaped braided rug. A small kitchen was located in a sequestered portion of the living area and had a stove, a refrigerator, and a few cabinets. Campello strode across the cabin and inspected the two rooms that fed off the living area. They were bedrooms, each with two twin beds. One of them had a bathroom and shower.
“Whose cabin is this?” Juanita asked, holding Clarissa.
“It belongs to Polanski’s in-laws,” Campello said, returning to the living-room.
Gloria opened the refrigerator. “It’s empty.”
“We’ll get some food as soon as he arrives. I don’t want to leave you alone and I sure don’t want to risk exposure by driving into town.” He nodded to the baby’s travel bag. “She should have enough for a few days. We’ll get more when we go into town. You and the baby can have the bigger bedroom with the bath, and Gloria can take the other. Andy and I will sleep out here.”
Gloria picked up her bag. “Sounds like a plan, chief.” She went into the bedroom and dropped her case on the bed. “But I want to freshen up, first.” She went into the bathroom in the larger bedroom.
Campello told the women to get comfortable. He had thought about collecting their cell phones, too, but since service wasn’t available in the area surrounding the cabin, he decided against it.
“I’m going to take a look around. Stay inside, but if you need anything, just open the door and call me. I won’t be far.”
He left Juanita standing alone, looking confused, while he went outside with his pistol in hand. The area surrounding the cabin was heavily wooded, with a small stream nearby. A dirt path led to a small driveway that was partially covered in gravel and that led to the main road that took them directly into town. Electrical power fed into the cabin from a single line that could be easily cut if their attackers decided to isolate them. There were no crawl spaces, no out-buildings or other places to hide. If their attacker found them, they would be in a world of trouble.
He was finishing his inspection of the cabin’s security, when a car pulled off the main road and onto the driveway, heading for the cabin. He clutched the pistol tightly and squinted into the developing darkness. It was Polanski.
Because Polanski had a high profile, he remained with the group while Campello went into town and purchased the food and supplies they thought they would need to sustain themselves for several days. That evening, Campello prepared dinner, and after eating, they gathered in the living area of the cabin. It was warmed by a glowing fire that Polanski had built in the wood-burning stove.
“The bedroom windows lock,” Polanski said, “but of course, that’s no security in itself.”
“We’ll take shifts,” Campello said, nodding toward his partner. “When this thing is over, Christy will send a friend for us. I gave him the location of the cabin before I left. He is the only one who knows where we’re at, and for the moment, the only one who seems to be above the fray.”
“But you told Christy to tell no one, to trust no one,” Juanita said, fear dripping from her.
“I know. I don’t know her friends or their connections. I don’t know if I can trust all of mine. But I have to trust someone, so I took it out of the department.”
“Does Christy know where we are?” Gloria asked.
Campello shook his head. “The less they know, the better,” Campello said.
<
br /> “So what happens next?” Juanita asked, holding the sleeping baby in her arms.
“We wait. Christy is going to go after Aaron Green. Since his son is gone, he might be willing to roll over on the others. If so, she wants to know. But I suspect the department will begin rounding people up, one way or the other, even though we don’t know who that is, exactly.”
“How are they going to catch everybody?” Gloria asked. “If half of what I’ve heard is true, the best they can hope for is to get the snake’s tail.”
Campello shrugged. “We do the best we can.”
“But what happens if they get us?” Juanita asked, anguish building on her face.
“We’re not going to let that happen.”
“But what if it does?”
“Then they win.”
Clarissa stirred and began to cry, and Juanita left the room to change her diaper and prepare for bed. Campello, thinking about an additional source of support, decided to take a chance. He made the call, talking in hushed tones over the cabin phone. The evening had worn thin on all of them and Polanski glanced at his watch as soon as Campello rejoined the group. It was nearing eleven thirty.
“I’ll take the first watch,” Polanski said, rising from his chair.
“Call me in three hours,” Campello said. “Sooner if there’s trouble.”
Polanski agreed and opened the metal case.
CHAPTER 74
Delgado was finally able to reach Aaron Green. Multiple attempts to find the alderman at his home and various offices had not been successful and he did not respond to the enforcer’s emergency page. Finally, after several phone calls to his home and cell, contact had been made. Aaron agreed to meet with Delgado, but only in a public setting. They met at midnight in the lobby of a hotel. The place was crowded. Patrons were drinking in the adjacent bar, the restaurant was filled to capacity, and people jammed the revolving doors, coming to and from the outside cab stand. Green was tearful, and Delgado tried to assuage the alderman’s grief while keeping an eye on the people in the lobby. This was not the scene he wanted.
“Aaron, I am truly sorry. But you must know we had nothing to do with this.”
“Who else?” Green asked, blubbering. “Who else?”
“Peter was living life his way, Aaron. You know that as well as anyone. You did the best you could. But we cannot control everything. Sometimes not even those who are closest to us.”
“They killed him. You killed him.”
“No,” he said, lowering his voice, a signal for Aaron to do the same. “I had nothing to do with it, nor did any of my crew. This kind of talk is foolishness. This is why I’m reaching out to you, Aaron,” he said, using the man’s name as a means of building a bridge, “and it’s why I’m going to help you find the man who did this.”
“How?”
“I have my men on it now. I didn’t want to tell you this, but I believe that detective Campello was the one who killed Peter. I have made a phone call to the police to report my suspicions. They have been quite receptive. Campello has been harassing Peter, as you know, and so has his partner. The partner has been sequestered and is no longer a threat. But it is critical that you remain calm. We cannot replace Peter, but we can find the individual responsible for this.” He placed a hand on Aaron’s arm, only to have him pull away.
“Aaron, it’s important for you, for me, for Mr. Vincent, and for Peter’s legacy, that our partnership not be affected by this tragedy. I know you’re upset. I would be too. But we will help you find justice on this. Real justice. Not the travesty of the courts.”
“It won’t bring Peter back.” He dabbed at his swollen eyes.
“No, it won’t. But it will give closure.” He reached again for Green’s arm. The man did not shirk him this time. “Aaron, you must trust me. This is the time when friendship means the most. It’s when the rubber meets the road that true friendship stands tall. We won’t let you down.” He looked earnestly into the alderman’s eyes.
Green sighed heavily and nodded.
Delgado smiled and patted the man’s arm. He was about to speak when his cell phone rang. “Excuse me.” He flipped open the cell and stood, walking a few feet away.
“We’ve got a handle on them,” the voice on the other end of the line said. “They’ve taken the girl to a cabin. Our guys are on it now. And get this. Polanski is with them. You want us to finish this?”
Delgado glanced at the despairing Green. “No. We will need this buffoon a little longer. Have the others handle this. It’s too hot and I don’t want any more of our guys involved.”
“I’ll make the call.”
CHAPTER 75
Campello slept fitfully and woke with a start at the crunching sound of gravel. He glanced at his watch. It was 3 a.m. Polanski was to have woken him at 2:30. He cursed and rose to his feet, running a hand over his face. Through eyes that were bleary with sleep, he peered through the living-room window by standing to one side and gently pulling the window-shade aside. In the moonlight he could see a sedan creeping up the driveway, but he couldn’t tell who the occupants were.
He pulled the pistol from its holster and immediately went to the bedrooms.
Gently pulling the door of the first bedroom partially open, he was able to see that Juanita and her baby were sound asleep. In the second bedroom, Gloria was an immovable mound under a stack of blankets. The windows in both bedrooms were closed and secured and the shades were pulled down.
Campello went back to the living-room window and pulled the closed shade aside. Three occupants climbed out of the car. The vehicle’s dome light did not illuminate the interior of the car when the door was open – a clear sign that its occupants were professionals and did not want to be identified.
He bolted to Gloria’s bedroom and opened the door, being careful to close it behind him. He left the lights off, but gently shook her awake.
“Get up and get down on the floor. Stay under the bed. We’ve got trouble.”
He left the room and went into Juanita’s. He told her the same thing and she immediately climbed out of bed and gently carried Clarissa with her as she slid onto the floor and under the bed.
Campello closed the door behind him, and glanced through the living-area window again. He could see only one occupant now. The other two were likely moving to the back of the cabin.
He picked up the cabin phone and called Silk ’n Boots. The phone answered on the first ring. “We have trouble. Call—”
The line went dead.
CHAPTER 76
The crashing sound of broken glass came from the rear of the cabin. He turned and immediately saw Jerry Hughbanks poised at the window. For a second, their eyes locked. Then Hughbanks raised a pistol.
Campello fired, striking the window-frame and forcing Hughbanks to duck for cover. Juanita screamed and Clarissa began crying.
Campello moved for cover behind one of the chairs that stood in the living-room, off to the side of the direct line that was formed by the front and back doors. No sooner had he taken cover than a shot came through the window from which he had been looking earlier, perforating the window-shade and striking the wall next to Juanita’s bedroom door. She screamed again and he repositioned himself farther along the wall and into a corner of the living-room where he would be out of the line of fire that was likely to come through one of the windows.
From outside the cabin, he heard Polanski’s voice.
“Drop it.”
A second shot was fired, but from the sound, it was not directed at the cabin. A third shot echoed in the night, but this time it came from a high-powered rifle.
Campello crawled to a position near the bedrooms. If the cabin was rushed, he wanted to be near the women. He gently pushed open both bedroom doors. Clarissa was crying, but Gloria and Juanita were under the beds as instructed and there was no evidence that the windows in their rooms had been breached.
“Stay down,” he said, trying to sound as calm as possible.
“Frank,” it was Polanski’s voice. “There are three of them. Two are down. The other one is around back.”
Campello rose to his feet and inched along the wall to the rear door. Shards of glass crunched under him as he moved with the pistol held in both hands. His heart was pounding and his palms were sweaty.
When he reached the door, he knelt and gently turned the knob, opening it to the outside.
“Give it up!” he called out to Hughbanks. “You’ve got nowhere to go.”
He was answered by a gunshot that struck the wall overhead, raining debris on him. The muzzle blast had come from the woods beyond the cabin. Hughbanks was less than ten yards away and to the left.
Campello dove through the open doorway and rolled on the ground, through the wet grass, to a position that was to his right and behind the bushes he had scouted earlier in the day. Hughbanks fired again, but this time the shot went wild. Campello was aware of rushing footsteps from the front of the cabin and drew a bead on the approaching figure.
“Whoa, whoa! It’s me,” Polanski said, holding a .30-06 Springfield rifle with a night-vision scope. He crouched with Campello behind the foliage. “It’s Hughbanks, Tertwiller, and Chin.”
“Where are they?”
Polanski looked at him. “Tertwiller and Chin are dead.”
“Jerry!” Campello yelled. “Tertwiller and Chin are dead. Give it up.”
Another shot hit the wall of the cabin directly overhead.
“I’ve got him,” Polanski said, drawing a bead with the rife. He fired and the shot echoed, before the night grew suddenly quiet.
CHAPTER 77
Christy arrived with Jimmy Small. Campello had hoped that his phone call to the bouncer would prompt him to go to her, even though the signal had been disrupted when the line was cut.
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