Silver Justice

by Russell Blake

  “That’s very generous of you, but be careful what you wish for.” Her eyes flitted to the ceiling for a moment. “Let’s see. I was born in Maine, moved to New York to go to college — Columbia — and got my degree in business. I knew I wanted to be with the FBI since I was about sixteen years old. Don’t ask me why. That’s a whole other story. Anyhow, once I graduated, I applied to the Bureau and was accepted under a language program thirteen years ago…and the rest is history.”

  “What do you speak?”

  “Spanish. My mom was from El Salvador, so I grew up fluent.”

  “Have you always been in Violent Crime?”

  “No, I did my first eight in Organized Crime, then switched. What about you?” Silver was always uncomfortable talking about herself.

  “Graduated Georgetown with a CPA and then a law degree, joined the bureau fourteen years ago, and have been happy ever since. But what about the rest of your story? You know — the non-career stuff? Kennedy? Life?” Richard probed.

  “Kennedy is the best thing that ever happened to me. Her father is probably the worst. We got married twelve years ago after a whirlwind courtship once I finished with training. A classic Cinderella story. He was a New York wheeler-dealer from a privileged family, and I was a girl from the sticks, in the big city with no friends. I was pretty much all about getting straight A’s so I didn’t do the usual college party thing. I met him my last year in school, and he was charming and smooth. One thing led to another, and we were sort of a couple until I went to Quantico. He would come to town every few weeks to visit me, and I thought it was true love. Once I was an agent we moved in together, and I’d commute upstate during the weeks before we got married six months later. Kennedy was a surprise, but the best one I could have ever had.”

  Silver finished her drink and motioned to the waiter that she wanted another. Richard polished his off and held up two fingers.

  “How long have you been separated?” Richard asked.

  “Divorced. About five years.”

  “Do I dare ask why?”

  “I could say irreconcilable differences, but the truth is I discovered he was chronically unfaithful — probably throughout the marriage, including when I was pregnant. I decided I could do better than that, so I folded up my tent and filed for divorce. It was devastating for Kennedy at first, but she’s adjusted now, for the most part.”

  The waiter arrived with their second round of drinks and assured them that their entrees would be out shortly.

  “And now? Boyfriend?” Richard asked.

  “Honestly, that hasn’t been a big priority. Between running task forces and being a single mom, there isn’t a lot of disco time, if you know what I mean,” Silver admitted.

  “Then it sounds like you could use this drink even more than I could.”

  “I’ll drink to that,” Silver said and took a noisy slurp.

  She set her glass down and studied Richard. “Since we’re on the full disclosure path, what about you? What’s your deal?”

  “My deal?”

  “Sure. Ever been married?”

  “Nope. Came close once, but I chickened out at the last minute, which was for the best. I loved her, or thought I did, but she wanted this whole structured life that she’d already planned out, and I got to feeling like I was just another slot to fill — the loving husband slot — in her vision of what a life well lived would entail. Nothing wrong with that, but I sort of felt like if it wasn’t me in the slot she would find someone else pretty quickly. Which is exactly what happened. In hindsight, it was the best thing for both of us. She has an insurance executive husband who does the nine-to-five thing and goes to the kids’ soccer games on weekends, and she’s a stay-at-home mom working on the great American novel. She was a literature major at Georgetown. We hit it off after meeting at a friend’s party.”

  “And since then? Girlfriend?” Silver smiled as she echoed his question.

  “A few, but nothing that stuck. Last relationship lasted almost three years, but I spent the first year falling head over heels, the second asking myself what the hell I was doing, and the final one trying to end it. So no, nothing going on in my love life. Which leaves a lot of time for poring over financial data.”

  The waiter arrived with their dinners, setting them down with a gentle precision before retreating from their table.

  As they chatted, Silver realized that he was calm and humble; two traits she’d always found attractive. Richard seemed like the real thing — a nice guy who was comfortable in his skin, not struggling to impress.

  “What about your analyst — Stacy? She seemed like she’d be receptive.”

  “Stacy? Nah. Not my type. I mean, don’t get me wrong. She’s smart and attractive…but after working together for a few years, let’s just say that I know enough to know it wouldn’t work. So why go there?” Richard took a forkful of his fish and tried it. “Mmmm. This is excellent. You have to try some.”

  He cut a piece for her and slid it onto her plate.

  She popped it into her mouth and nodded approval. “You’re right. That’s great. What is it?”

  “Pesto crusted halibut. Baked. Melts in your mouth.”

  “My eggplant is wonderful too. Can I tempt you?”

  “Maybe later…”

  Silver wondered how he intended that, then decided she wasn’t worried about it. She was having a good time with a handsome, nice, eligible man. She could turn her brain off for a while.

  They finished dinner and lingered over a nightcap, chatting easily, any trace of awkwardness in each other’s company now completely gone. She decided that she liked the way Richard looked when he talked — his facial expressions, and the way his eyes fixed her with a palpable intensity.

  When they pulled up to her building, Richard surprised her by leaning over and kissing her; a slow, gentle-yet-passionate kiss that seemed to go on forever. She closed her eyes as their tongues danced, and when he pulled back, she realized she’d been holding her breath.

  “I…that…”

  “I had a wonderful time, Silver.”

  She studied him, taking in his serious demeanor; confident, and yet with a hint of something else. Was he afraid she was going to say something to ruin it? Scold him, or chastise him? That was it. He looked just a little uneasy, as though afraid he’d crossed a line she hadn’t wanted him to cross.

  She leaned over and kissed him on the cheek, savoring his scent and the feel of his face against hers.

  “I did, too. Especially this part.” She held her hand up and stroked his chin, then slid out the door. “Goodnight, Richard. It was a perfect evening.”

  He waited until she unlocked her front door and then waved as he pulled off.

  She ascended the stairs slowly, thoughtfully, her mind a whirl of conflicting impressions. What was she doing? This was so unlike her — the methodical, cautious, orderly Silver she was comfortable with. This had come on like some kind of a force of nature, a storm rolling into previously calm skies. The feel of his lips on hers, the taste of him, lingered as she reached her landing. She paused to take stock of how she felt.

  Giddy, she decided — like she wanted to run back down to the street and chase after the car, grab Richard, and drag him someplace private.

  Whatever this storm may bring, she welcomed it.

  It had been too long.

  She took several deep breaths and patted her hair as she waited for her heart rate to return to normal. Richard had triggered a reaction in her that was completely unexpected, one that she’d long ago decided was part of her past, not her future. She didn’t know how that would develop, but she did know that she wanted to see him again outside of work and damn the consequences. There had been a promise of unfinished business in that kiss, and she wanted to confirm whether her attraction to him, so powerful and immediate, was a product of the night and the booze, or something more.

  There was only one way to find out.

  Chapter 10

 
“We’ve got another one,” Seth said, his voice sounding muted on the cell phone.

  “Damn. Where this time? What are the details?” Silver asked, as she struggled to pour cereal into Kennedy’s bowl while she held the phone to her ear with her shoulder. She moved to the refrigerator and pulled out a milk carton. Kennedy held her hands out to take it from her.

  “Here, in the city. Upper East Side. Head of a mid-sized brokerage firm. Suffocated in his car.”

  “Who found him?” Silver watched Kennedy carefully pour the milk, trying to be neat.

  “A custodian. Car was running, so he checked it, and the victim was sitting behind the wheel with a plastic bag over his head.”

  “Any sign of a struggle?”

  “There was a garrote wire holding his neck against the headrest, and it cut into him pretty good, so we know he thrashed around some in the end. But the ME thinks that could have been death throes. We’re thinking that he was drugged, or stun-gunned, or both. Won’t know until later, but apparent cause of death was suffocation.”

  “I don’t even want to ask about the card.”

  Silver sat down opposite Kennedy and took a sip of her smoothie — a concoction she blended fresh every morning using fresh fruit and yogurt.

  “In his jacket pocket. Says: ‘Don’t hold your breath’. Seems like The Regulator has a twisted sense of humor. Go figure.”

  “Is forensics on the way?”

  “Already here. NYPD is cooperating, so all systems go.”

  “Give me the address. I need to get Kennedy dropped off, and then I’ll come straight there. Anything else I need to know?”

  Kennedy made a face. She hated when her mother talked about her like she wasn’t there. Silver stuck her tongue out at her.

  “Not really. The only piece of good news is that we have traffic cams on both ends of the block, so we might get lucky this time. Either our man wasn’t paying attention, or he didn’t care. In either case it’s good for us. I’m going to get the feeds downloaded and over to Sam as soon as we can.” Seth gave her the address.

  “Was there any security at the building?” Silver rose and went to the counter, where she hastily scribbled the street number on a notepad.

  “Yes, a doorman. But the parking area was remote-controlled. Looks like the killer slipped in and got into the car somehow and then waited for the victim. He was headed to Connecticut for an early weekend. Market’s closed today for the bank holiday.”

  “Which implies that the killer knew his habits. It also points to surveillance.”

  “I agree. Does Kennedy have school?”

  “No. Just daycare. So Mom can go make a living catching bad guys.”

  “Well, take your time. This guy’s not going anywhere. Ever.”

  “I’ll see you within the hour.”

  Silver terminated the call and turned her attention to Kennedy. “What’s with the making faces and not eating your breakfast?”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “I’m going to tell Miriam not to give you anything until lunch. You’ll regret your insolence. Resistance is futile,” Silver said in a robotic monotone. This would normally have caused Kennedy to crack up, but not today.

  “What’s wrong, sweetie?”

  “Nothing. I just hate that you have to work on days when I don’t have school. It sucks.”

  “Yes, it does suck. I wish I was hanging out with you all day instead of having to do what I’m going to be doing.”

  “They found another body?”

  Silver didn’t like to talk about the job with Kennedy. She was too young. But she’d also just overheard half the conversation, and she wasn’t stupid.

  “Something like that. I need to get moving or I’ll never make it to work. You going to eat, or is this one of your hunger strikes?”

  “I’m really not hungry, Mom. I’m not trying to make life difficult.” Kennedy let loose a mischievous smirk. “Not today, anyway.”

  “That’s good to know. I appreciate you cutting me some slack.”

  Kennedy pushed her cereal around the bowl with her spoon and took a tentative bite, making a face like she was eating live cockroaches. She dropped the spoon into the dish with a clatter and pushed it away.

  “I can’t do it. I just don’t want any,” she insisted.

  “Suit yourself, princess, but you’re going to be starving all morning, and it’s nobody’s fault but your own.”

  “Can’t we stop at the Juice Hut and get something? That’s way healthier. Carrot, mango…”

  “Nope. We need to get going. Last chance to fill your pie hole. Take it or leave it.”

  Kennedy shook her head.

  “Okay. Put it in the sink, and vamanos.”

  Silver was already mentally going through her checklist. She didn’t have the bandwidth to engage in a food tug of war with her daughter today. She rose and dumped her now-empty glass in the sink, then stood by while Kennedy approached, holding out the cereal bowl shakily. She really was just a little girl — a ten-year-old trying to make sense out of the world.

  Silver didn’t want to ruin it for her and tell her that it wouldn’t get any easier from here. Let her have her illusions.

  “All right. Grab your backpack, and let’s boogie. Time’s a wasting.”

  They gathered their things and made for the door, Kennedy scooping up her backpack and an individual serving box of juice to have with lunch. Silver went through the exercise of locking the two deadbolts before they descended the stairs to the front entrance.

  The short, crew-cut man watched as the woman crossed the street from the subway stop and made her way towards the large building that housed the FBI offices. She was practically running, which would make sneaking up on her without being detected more of a problem.

  This one wouldn’t be easy. There were pedestrians everywhere, and any public assault would cause instant panic. He eyed her over his newspaper as she moved through the doors, and resigned himself to a dull day hanging around waiting for an opportunity.

  He was just about to go grab breakfast in one of the greasy spoons across the street when she exited again and trotted down the sidewalk towards the garage. He had confirmed that was where the car she used for official business was kept. His senses quickened. This could be it.

  The man folded his paper and walked parallel to her, sixty yards behind and at a slower gait so as not to arouse suspicion. The garage had two exits, and he’d spent time studying the layout, so he knew that he could get in through the smaller walkway or through the main auto gate. Judging by her trajectory she would almost certainly go through the main entry, so he cut down the alley and entered through the pedestrian entrance.

  He was about to make a cool fifty grand.

  Silver hoped the holiday traffic would be light and that it wouldn’t take too long to make it to the crime scene. She’d needed to drop in and collect her field kit and sign a few vouchers before heading out.

  As she strode through the garage entrance, her phone beeped an instant message notification. She waved at the attendant as she read it and noted that half the stalls were empty — that was hopeful. As she rounded a van and texted a reply she caught movement out of the corner of her eye — just an impression, at the far end, fairly close to her car. She relaxed when she saw that it was only Hank, the neighborhood homeless man who cleaned windshields around the block for spare change. He was pushing his cart of precious treasures, one of the wheels clattering as it vibrated erratically, something wrong with the bearing.

  Hank had been eking out his grim existence near the garage for the five years she’d been working out of the building. He stopped his trek when he saw her and straightened his hunched form to attention, doing his best to hold a salute. The filthy clothes and stained, cast-off overcoat did little to augment the gesture, but she waved anyway, as was her custom. He waited until she passed, and then she heard the clamor of his cart lurching back into motion.

  Her mind was churning over the imp
lications of another killing — a little over a week after the last one. The Regulator was accelerating, which didn’t portend good things given that the crime scenes were still devoid of clues. This was the worst kind of killer to pursue — one whose actions would continue until he made a critical mistake or the FBI just got plain old lucky. And that didn’t seem likely any time soon.

  She stiffened as an explosion of feathers burst from between two cars, and a pigeon flapped its way noisily towards the exit. Her nerves were closer to the surface than usual. Probably the anxiety over her ex and the financial pressure, as well as that of batting zero for five now on the killer. She hadn’t been sleeping well, was on edge from a combination of sleep deprivation and caffeine jitters.

  Silver sighed when she saw the familiar outline of her car.

  From behind her, a man’s hoarse voice screamed, “Hey! HEY! LOOK OUT!”

  Silver spun around and registered a man barreling towards her, the unmistakable outline of a pistol pointing at her head. She instinctively hurled her briefcase at her attacker and dropped to the ground. Everything began to happen in slow motion. Hank stood petrified at the far end of the garage after bellowing his warning as she tucked and rolled and simultaneously grappled for her service weapon. The window of the sedan next to her exploded in a shower of glass inches from where her head had been a moment earlier. As she watched the careening briefcase bounce harmlessly off her attacker’s shoulder, her fingers found her Glock’s grip. She pulled the gun loose just as her assailant’s eyes narrowed in preparation for another shot, then rolled through the broken safety glass, raised her pistol in front of her, and squeezed off three rounds.

  An orange bloom of flame erupted from his gun and a burning pain shot across her left buttock, but she continued rapid firing and was rewarded as the shooter’s chest erupted with smoking red wounds. He tried one more shot as he stumbled forward and crumpled, but the slug went wide. A burbled groan sounded from him when he hit the concrete, his gun clattering beside him onto the floor of the garage.

  Silver held her position on the ground, weapon trained on the man’s form, and watched as his body heaved, struggling for breath, and then shuddered and lay still. Her ears were ringing from her Glock’s detonations in the confined space. She shook her head to clear it and wiped sweat from her eyes with the back of her hand. It took a few moments for her to stop shaking from the adrenaline, even as she fought to maintain calm and kept her gun pointed at her would-be killer.