12th of Never

Chapter 114

IT WAS SUNDAY evening and I was alone in the bathtub with my thoughts.

I had just come back from a meeting with attorney George Fenn and his superstar client, the former football hero Jeff Kennedy.

Neither of them looked as self-assured in our little interview room as they had at Fenn & Tarbox’s extraordinary conference room only a few weeks ago.

Today, Fenn blustered.

Kennedy denied shooting anyone, claimed that the man in the gas station video wasn’t him, and that he was going to sue the city for defamation of character.

It was a nice try, but no sale. We had Kennedy with the gas container, the Escalade, and we had a solid witness who wanted to keep himself off death row—Cal Sandler, Jeff Kennedy’s best friend and accomplice.

It was a bad day for pro football.

But it was a good day to be a cop.

I was running more hot water into the tub when Joe brought Julie and Martha into the bathroom. It was a tight fit. Joe sat on the lid of the toilet seat and bounced our little girl on his knee. He asked me if I wanted reheated lasagna or if I wanted to go out to eat.

“Easy one,” I said. “Please nuke the pasta.”

Martha lowered her snout into the tub and lapped at the bathwater until, laughing, Joe pulled her away.

I wanted to savor these last few hours of the weekend, just soak them up. When the phone rang, I didn’t answer it.

Whoever was calling could darn well wait until morning. But Joe looked at the caller ID, picked up, and said, “Hey, Richie.”

I said, “Tell him I’ll call him back.”

“He said he’ll wait,” Joe told me.

I stepped out of my luxurious bath, threw on a robe, and took the phone from Joe.

“I’m off duty, Richie.”

“You want to hear this.”

There was something in his voice that told me not to blow him off. He sounded bone-tired, or in shock, or simply at the end of his rope. Whatever the reason for his call, it was damned important to my partner.

“Then you’d better tell me,” I said.

He said, “It’s … it’s …”

His voice cracked, as though he were going to cry.

“Rich. What’s wrong?”

“It’s Morales,” he said. “She got herself out of the hospital. She escaped.”