by Robin Cook
“We’ve got some unfinished business,” Franco growled.
Jack was close enough to Franco to almost be bowled over by the smell of garlic on his breath.
“Correction,” Jack said, trying to lean back. Franco was crowding him against the car. “I don’t believe we have ever had business together, so it can’t be unfinished.” Jack noticed that behind Franco and a little to the side was another man who was also involved in the confrontation.
“Wiseass,” Franco muttered. “What’s between us concerns you sucker punching me in the nuts.”
“It’s not a sucker punch when you hit me first.”
“Grab him, Antonio!” Franco ordered while moving back a step.
Jack responded by trying to dart between Franco and the car. With his sneakers on, he thought he could easily outrun the two thugs despite his fatigue from the basketball game. But Franco lunged forward and managed to get a handful of Jack’s shirt with his right hand, pulling Jack up short while at the same time hitting him in the mouth with his left fist. Antonio grabbed one of Jack’s arms and tried to get ahold of the other to pin them behind Jack’s back. Meanwhile, Franco cocked his right hand back for a knockout blow.
But the blow never landed. Instead, a short piece of pipe came down on Franco’s shoulder, causing him to cry out in surprise and pain. His right arm dropped limply to his side while his left hand shot to his injured shoulder, and he hunched over.
The pipe was pointed at Antonio. “Let him go, man!” David said. More than a dozen other basketball players had materialized in a threatening U around Jack, Franco, and Antonio. Several had tire irons; one had a baseball bat.
Antonio let Jack go and glared at the newcomers.
“I don’t believe you guys are from the neighborhood,” David commented, his voice no longer truculent. “Aesop, pat them down!”
Aesop stepped forward and quickly removed Franco’s gun. Franco did not resist. The second thug was not armed.
“Now I recommend you boys remove yourselves from the neighborhood,” David said, taking the gun from Aesop.
“This ain’t over,” Franco muttered to Jack as he and Antonio walked away. The basketball players parted to allow them through.
“Warren warned me about you,” David said to Jack. “He said you were prone to get into trouble and that he’d had to save your ass on more than one occasion. You’re lucky we saw these honkies hanging around while we were playing. What’s the deal?”
“It’s just a misunderstanding,” Jack said evasively. He touched his finger to his lip. There was a spot of blood.
“If you need some help, you let me know. Right now you better get some ice for that fat lip, and why don’t you take this gun? You might need it if that asshole shows up on your doorstep.”
Jack declined the gun and thanked David and the others before climbing into the car. The first thing he did was get the canister of pepper spray out. Next, he looked at himself in the rearview mirror. The right side of his upper lip was swollen, with a bluish cast. A trickle of congealed blood ran down his chin. “Good God,” he murmured. Warren was right, he did have a penchant for getting himself in compromising circumstances. He cleaned off the blood as best he could with the bottom of his T-shirt.
On the way back to the Bowmans’, Jack considered fibbing and saying his injury was from basketball. Bruises were not uncommon with as much as he played and the fact that basketball was a contact sport in his experience. The problem was that Craig and Alexis were going to be downcast after the day’s testimony, and he didn’t want to add to their burden. He was afraid they might feel inappropriately responsible if he told the truth.
Being as quiet as possible, Jack used the key Alexis had given him to come in the front entrance. He was carrying his clothes and shoes in his arms. His goal was to slip downstairs and quickly shower before running into anyone. He was eager to ice his lip, but it had already been long enough since the injury that another fifteen minutes was hardly critical. As he silently closed the front door, he stopped with his hand on the doorknob. His sixth sense was nagging him; the house was too quiet. Every other time he’d entered, there’d been background noise: a radio, a ringing cell phone, children’s chatter, or the TV. Now there was nothing, and the silence was foreboding. From having seen the Lexus in the driveway, he was reasonably sure at least the parents were home. His immediate concern was that something had gone wrong at the trial.
Continuing to clutch his clothes against his chest, Jack moved quickly and silently down the hall to the archway leading into the great room. He leaned through the opening, expecting the room beyond to be deserted. To his surprise, the whole family was there on the couch, with the parents at either end. They appeared as if they were watching television, but the TV was off.
From his vantage point, Jack could not see any faces. For a moment he stood still, watching and listening. No one moved or spoke. Mystified, Jack stepped into the room and approached. When he got about ten feet away, he tentatively called out Alexis’s name. He didn’t want to disturb them if it was some family thing, but he couldn’t seem to walk away, either.
Both Craig’s and Alexis’s heads shot around. Craig glared back at Jack. Alexis got to her feet. Her face was drawn and her eyes were red. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.
15
NEWTON, MASSACHUSETTS
Wednesday, June 7, 2006
7:48 p.m.
So there you have it,” Alexis said. She’d told Jack the story about how she and Craig had come home after the trial had been recessed to find their terrified daughters bound and gagged with duct tape. She’d spoken slowly and deliberately. Craig had spat out a few gory details, like the fact Tracy had been dragged from the shower stark naked and rudely struck.
Jack was speechless. He was sitting on the coffee table, facing his sister and her family. As the story unfolded, his eyes jumped from Alexis, who was anxious, fearful, and concerned, to Craig, who was beside himself with outrage, to three children who were shocked and clearly traumatized. All three children were sitting silent and immobile. Tracy had her legs tucked under herself and her arms folded across her chest. She was dressed in oversized sweat clothes. Her hair was frizzed. There was no bare midriff. Christina and Meghan both had their arms clutched around their legs with their knees jutting up into the air. All three had raw, red bands across their lower faces from the duct tape. Tracy had a split lip.
“Are you guys all right?” Jack asked the children. It appeared to him that only Tracy had been physically abused, and thankfully, it looked minor.
“They are as well as can be expected,” Alexis said.
“How did the intruders get in?”
“They forced the back door,” Craig snapped. “They were obviously professionals.”
“Has anything been stolen?” Jack asked. His eyes rapidly scanned the room for any damage, but everything seemed to be in order.
“Not that we can determine,” Alexis said.
“What did they want then?” Jack asked.
“It was to convey a message,” Alexis said. “They gave Tracy a verbal message to give to us.”
“What?” Jack asked impatiently when Alexis didn’t elaborate.
“No autopsy,” Craig snapped. “The message was no autopsy or they’d be back to hurt the kids.”
Jack’s eyes rocketed back and forth between Craig and Alexis. He could not believe his offer to help could have caused such a situation. “This is crazy,” he blurted. “This can’t be happening.”
“Tell that to the kids!” Craig challenged.
“I’m sorry,” Jack said. He looked away from the Bowmans’ faces. He was crushed he’d been the cause of such a disaster. He shook his head and looked back, particularly at Craig and Alexis. “Well, fine then, no autopsy!”
“We’re not sure we’re ready to give in to this kind of extortion,” Alexis said. “Despite what’s happened, we’re not ruling an autopsy out. It seems to us that if someone is
willing to go to the extent of threatening children to block the autopsy, that’s all the more reason to do it.”
Jack nodded. The thought had occurred to him as well, but it wasn’t for him to put Tracy, Meghan, and Christina any more at risk. Besides, the only culprit that came to his mind was Tony Fasano, and his motivation could only involve fear of losing his contingency fee. Jack looked at Craig, whose anger had seemingly lessened a degree as the conversation progressed.
“If there’s any risk at all, I’m not for it,” Craig said. “But we’re thinking we can eliminate the risk.”
“Have you called the police?” Jack asked.
“No, we haven’t,” Alexis said. “That was the second part of the message: no autopsy, no police.”
“You have to call the police,” Jack said, but his words rang hollow since he’d not reported either his confrontation with Fasano et al. the previous day or his confrontation with Franco a half hour earlier.
“We’re considering our options,” Craig explained. “We’ve been talking it over with the girls. They are going to stay with their grandparents for a few days, until this trial is over. My mom and dad live up in Lawrence, Massachusetts, and they are on their way down here to pick them up.”
“I’ll probably be going along with them,” Alexis said.
“You don’t have to, Mom,” Tracy said, speaking for the first time. “We’ll be fine with Gramps and Grandma.”
“No one knows where the girls will be,” Craig explained. “They’ll stay out of school at least for the rest of this week and maybe for the year since there’s only a few days left. They’ve promised not to use their cell phones or tell anyone where they are.”
Jack nodded, but he didn’t know what he was agreeing to. It seemed to him he was getting mixed messages. There was no way the risk for the children could be completely eliminated. He was concerned that Alexis and Craig might not be thinking clearly under the stress of the trial. The only thing Jack was certain of was that the police had to be notified.
“Listen,” Jack said. “The only person that comes to mind who might be behind this outrage is Tony Fasano and his cronies.”
“We thought the same,” Craig said. “But it seems almost too venal, so we’re trying to keep an open mind. The one thing that has particularly surprised me during my trial is the animosity colleagues feel about my concierge practice. It gives some credence to the rhetorical questions you posed last night about a conspiracy.”
Jack allotted the idea a quick thought, but other than being grist for an avowed conspiracy-theory aficionado, he gave the chances of such a scenario an extremely low probability, even though he’d suggested it the previous evening. Tony Fasano and his tag team were a much more likely possibility, especially since Tony had already threatened him. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed my fat lip,” he said, gingerly touching the swelling.
“It would be hard to miss,” Alexis said. “Was it from basketball?”
“I was going to pass it off as such,” Jack admitted. “But it was from another run-in with Tony Fasano’s Franco. It’s becoming a regrettable, daily ritual.”
“Those bastards,” Craig snarled.
“Are you okay?” Alexis questioned with concern.
“I’m better than I would have been had my newly made Boston basketball buddies not intervened on my behalf in the nick of time. Franco had an accomplice.”
“Oh my God,” Alexis said. “We’re sorry to involve you in this.”
“I take full responsibility,” Jack said. “And I’m not looking for sympathy. What I’m trying to suggest is that Fasano et al. were probably behind what happened here as well. The point is: The police have to be notified on both accounts.”
“You can call the police about your problem,” Craig said. “But I don’t want to gamble on my children’s safety. I don’t think there’s a damn thing the police can do. These people that came here were professionals with ski masks, nondescript worker’s uniforms, and gloves. And the Newton police force is not accustomed to this kind of thing. It’s just a suburban town.”
“I disagree,” Jack said. “I bet your local police have seen a lot more than you imagine, and forensics is a powerful tool. You have no idea what they could find. They could associate this event with others. They can surely increase surveillance. One of the problems if you don’t report it is that you are playing into the hands of whoever did this. You are allowing yourselves to be extorted.”
“Of course we’re being extorted,” Craig yelled, loud enough for the kids to jump. “Good God, man. You think we’re stupid?”
“Easy, Craig!” Alexis advised. She put her arms around Tracy, who was sitting next to her.
“I have a suggestion,” Jack said. “I have a very good friend in New York who is a senior detective with the New York City Police Department. I can call him and just get the benefit of his expertise and experience. We can ask him what you should do.”
“I don’t want to be coerced,” Craig said.
“No one is going to coerce you,” Jack said. “I guarantee it.”
“I think Jack should call his friend,” Alexis said. “We hadn’t decided for sure about the police.”
“Fine!” Craig said, throwing up his hands. “What do I know?”
Jack went through the pockets of his jacket and located his phone. He flipped it open and speed-dialed Lou Soldano at home. It was a little after eight p.m., which was probably the best time to catch the detective, but he wasn’t home. Jack left a message on his voicemail. Next he tried Lou’s cell phone and got the detective in his car on his way out to a homicide in Queens.
While the Bowmans listened, Jack gave Lou a thumbnail sketch of what he’d been doing and what had happened in Boston. He concluded by saying he was sitting with his sister, her husband, and the children at that very minute and the question was: Should they notify the police or not?
“There’s no question,” Lou said without hesitating. “They have to notify the police.”
“They are concerned the Newton police might not be experienced enough to justify the risk.”
“You say they are right there with you?”
“Yes. Right across from me.”
“Put me on speakerphone!”
Jack did as Lou requested and held the phone out in front of himself. Lou formally introduced himself, expressed his sympathies for their ordeal, and then said, “I have a very, very good friend who is my counterpart with the Boston Police Department. We were in the service together aeons ago. He is very experienced in every kind of crime, including what you people are victims of. I’ll be happy to call him and ask him to personally become involved. He lives either in your town or West Newton. It’s Newton something. I’m sure he knows the guys on the Newton force. It’s up to you. I can call him right away. His name is Liam Flanagan. He’s a terrific guy. And let me tell you something. Your kids are at more risk if you don’t report the incident than if you do. I know that for a fact.”
Alexis looked at Craig. “I think we should take him up on his offer.”
“All right,” Craig said with some reluctance.
“Did you hear that?” Jack asked.
“I did,” Lou said. “I’ll get right on it.”
“Hang on, Lou,” Jack said. He took him off speakerphone, excused himself from the Bowmans, and walked into the hall, out of earshot. “Lou, when you talk to Flanagan, see if he could get me a gun.”
“A gun?” Lou questioned. “That’s a tall order.”
“See if it’s possible. I’m feeling more vulnerable than usual.”
“Is your permit current?”
“Yes, for New York. I went through the formal training and everything. You’re the one who pushed me to do it. I just never got the gun.”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
As Jack flipped his phone closed, the front doorbell chimed. Alexis came hurrying past. “It must be Grandma and Gramps,” she said. But she was wrong. It was Randolph Bingham,
dressed casually but as elegantly as usual.
“Is Craig ready for his rehearsal?” Randolph inquired, noticing Alexis’s surprise. “He’s expecting me.”
Alexis acted confused for a beat after having been so certain it was Craig’s parents at the door. “Rehearsal?” she questioned.
“Yes. Craig will be testifying in the morning, and we agreed some rehearsal was in order.”
“Come in,” Alexis said, embarrassed at her hesitation.
Randolph took note of Jack’s shorts and soiled, bloodstained T-shirt but said nothing as Alexis led him down the hall and into the family room. Randolph was next to be apprised of what had happened that afternoon at the Bowman home. As the story unfolded, his expression changed from his normal, mildly condescending aloofness to one of concern.
“Have the girls been seen by a doctor?” he asked.
“Not other than Craig,” Alexis responded. “We didn’t call their pediatrician.”
Randolph looked at Craig. “I could make a motion for a continuance of your case if you’d like.”
“What are the chances of the judge granting it?” Craig asked.
“There’s no way to know. It would be entirely at Judge Davidson’s discretion.”
“To be honest with you, I think I’d rather get this nightmare trial over with,” Craig said. “And it’s probably the safest for the kids.”
“As you wish,” Randolph said. “I assume you have contacted the police?”
Alexis and Craig exchanged a glance. Then Alexis looked over at Jack, who’d come back into the room.
“That’s in the process,” Jack said. He then quickly outlined the plan. When he finished, he went on to explain their belief that Tony Fasano had something to do with the episode, using Tony’s very specific threat to Jack that he would be “history” if Jack carried out the autopsy.
