Beyond Recognition

69

When Boldt crept up on Daphne, he scared her half to death. She lifted off the ground from a squatting position ten yards away from the southeast corner of the storage lot where she hid behind a beat-up U-Haul trailer with two flat tires.

It took her a full fifteen seconds to recover. She hissed at him angrily, “I might have shot you.”

Boldt disregarded the comment, his attention fixed on the facility. “I didn’t use the radio,” he said, “so you didn’t pick it up there.”

“It was Ben,” she explained, solving the puzzle for him. She told him about the call from Emergency Services.

“He’s in there?” Boldt asked incredulously. The kid seemed to have a knack for trouble, especially where Jonny Garman was concerned.

She pointed off into the darkness. It took Boldt a moment to spot the bicycle on its side, tucked under another decrepit trailer. He had seen that same bicycle in the shed behind Santori’s. “The metal on the wheels is still warm,” she said, reminding him that she had a lot of cop in her to go along with the psychologist. “He claimed in his message that he had followed Garman here,” she whispered angrily. She seemed ready to cry. Boldt knew that feeling.

“In there?”

“Nine-one-one ID’d the call location as a pay phone at this address.” After a long silence, she said, “Tell me he didn’t do this, Lou. Why would he do this?”

Boldt, staying focused, tried to follow the logic. “If he had come back out, he’d have taken his bike, which means he’s in there somewhere. And if Garman is in there too, who knows what we’ve got going?”

“I’m going in.”

“Ridiculous,” Boldt snapped. The look she gave him could have stopped traffic. “Come on! This is textbook. We don’t make the pick on his turf. We wait him out, put up a net, take him on neutral ground.”

“Who cares about him?” Daphne asked. “I’m talking about Ben. Are we going to wait for Ben too? Is that in the textbook? He’s in there-either playing hero or afraid to come back out. Either way, for his safety, we have to get him out of there. And right now! Anything less than that and we invite a hostage situation. Anything less than that and Phil Shoswitz will never glue this back together.”

“This isn’t about Shoswitz.”

“With the mind-set of a Jonny Garman, we do not want a hostage situation, believe me.” She added spitefully, “And I will not have Ben at the mercy of an ERT rescue attempt.”

The battle lines had long since been drawn between the department’s psychologist, who believed in talking through an incident, and ERT, which believed in quick, efficient strikes. There were marks on both sides of the scoreboard; each solution had its place. But Daphne Matthews was outspoken and one-sided on the issue. Boldt was not about to debate it with her.

She worked his paternal emotions, like a potter with clay. “If that were Miles in there, what would you do?”

“I’ve called for backup,” he informed her, dodging the question.

“How many?” she asked, panic seizing her.

Boldt told her. “Two pair. Unmarked. No ERT.”

That seemed to both relieve her and disgust her at the same time. He saw her in a different light. Was she too far invested in Ben to remain even partially objective? He feared she was, which left him alone in his decision making. As if to confirm this, she admitted, “I don’t know that I can make it over that fence.” She paused, studying it. “But I’m going to try.”

He grabbed her by the arm; she looked down at his handhold with disdain. “If it were Miles, I’d go in,” he answered honestly. “I wouldn’t let ERT within a mile of the place.”

A faint smile found her eyes.

“But I’d do it smart,” he continued. “And I’d have as much information available as possible.”

“Yes, you would,” she agreed, knowing him well.

“We don’t know for a fact that the boy is in there. We certainly cannot confirm that Garman is. What Ben reported seeing and what actually is the case are two different animals. He doesn’t know Garman.”

“He saw him at the airport,” Daphne corrected. “He does know him. Of all of us, he’s the only one who does.”

Boldt felt the wind knocked out of him. He had forgotten that connection, and the reminder of it blanked his mind momentarily. He tried to regain his thoughts. Either you stayed ahead of Daphne Matthews, or you played catch-up from then on.

“If you’re suggesting reconnaissance,” she encouraged, “I’m in.”

“He’s under the name Babcock at a rooming house over on Washington,” he informed her, stunning her with the news. “If he used the same name here, it would be in the files in the office. We’d know which unit is his.”

“Forget him,” she repeated. “We get Ben out, then we worry about him.”

“No way,” he said.

“You know I’m sorry to do this,” she said, turning her head slowly to face him. Their eyes met. And then, all at once, she shoved him-struck him with open palms, sending him off-balance from where he crouched and skidding back through the loose stone and gravel.

She took several long strides with that athletic body of hers and leapt up onto the chain link like a cat, vaulting it as if it were a regular exercise. Both legs cleared the top and she was on the other side and down with a minimum of effort. She did not look back, did not give him a chance to wield power over her.

She stole into the dark and was gone.