Hell Gate

FORTY-ONE

The child was sound asleep in a portable carrier that had been brought in from the car. A young policewoman was watching over her in a quiet corner of the detective squad room on the second floor of the Thirty-third Precinct station house on Amsterdam Avenue.

I noticed them before I saw the congressman sitting at a desk in the corner. He looked even more drawn than he had yesterday in the park, now dressed in a black-and-gray argyle sweater. Over his shoulders, he had one of those all-weather jackets with corduroy collars that made him look ready to embark on an early morning hunt from Balmoral Castle.

“This is the last thing I expected to happen during the night, Ethan.”

“Hello, Alex.”

I could barely hear him, even though I was only several feet away.

“This is Mercer Wallace. He’s a detective from the Special Victims Unit.”

Leighton nodded. “Am I being held here in custody?”

“Not as I understand it.”

“Free to leave?”

“We have some questions we’d like to ask you. We’ll wait till Lem gets here.”

“I haven’t called Lem.”

Leighton was staring at the floor. I looked over at Mercer and shook my head. “I’d better do that.”

“You don’t need to.”

“Actually, I do.”

“I fired Lem Howell.”

“You what? You couldn’t have a better lawyer. When did you do that?”

“Late last night. I’ll be representing myself.” Ethan Leighton picked his head up and looked at me. His eyes narrowed to dark slits, hooded by heavy lids. “What do you want to know?”

The cops who brought the congressman into the station house had not charged him with any crime, even before they had identified him. The car was registered to his father, he didn’t appear to be intoxicated, and the screaming woman who had attracted police attention didn’t wait around long enough to make a complaint to them.

Mercer nodded at me to start asking questions. “Why don’t you tell me where Ana has been since the night you were arrested? Who the woman was making a scene up here in the middle of the night?”

Leighton put his jacket on and started walking toward the baby in the carrier.

“Not the baby, sir.”

“What?”

“You can’t take the baby with you.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Mr. Wallace. She’s my child.”

“Right now we don’t know who she is.”

“I’m telling you who she is. She’s my daughter.” Leighton turned to me. “Tell him this is my child, Alex. Doesn’t he read the newspapers?”

“No need to raise your voice, Ethan. You don’t want to talk to me, so just head off into the night and we’ll take good care of Ana, I promise you.”

“Has your daughter ever lived with you?” Mercer asked, even though he knew the answer.

“No. But she’s going to live with us now.”

“In your wallet, sir, do you have any kind of identification for her? Any medical card, for example? A photograph?”

“I don’t have any forms, any cards. I-I’ll have to get those. Her mother’s been killed, Detective. Have a heart.”

There was a slight tremor in Leighton’s hands when he reached for his wallet. “At my office, I’ve got results of a DNA test that established my paternity of Ana. Obviously, I wasn’t married to her mother. You can pick it up from my secretary on Monday.”

Someone had done a banner business in faking paternity tests. Leighton must have caved to Salma’s demands when he saw the report that even an amateur could have forged, with the indecipherable markings of a DNA match.

“Who was the woman in the street, Ethan? The woman who was screaming at you?”

He pretended not to hear me as he stalled for time, for a way to resolve this potentially explosive incident. The tabloid feeding frenzy would crush any hopes he had of disposing of his drunk driving case.

“Who was the woman in the street?”

Leighton glanced at the sleeping baby but didn’t answer. The tic in his eye was getting more pronounced.

Mercer stood up from a nearby desk and took his worn leather badge case out of his pocket. From behind the flap, he removed an old photograph of Logan.

“This is my son, Mr. Leighton. He’s a little older than Ana. He’s home safe in his bed, where he should be at this hour, surrounded by all his favorite things. And I’d be right there with him if you hadn’t interrupted my night.”

Leighton almost whispered. “I’d like to take her home with me.”

“Not a single photograph in your wallet of that beautiful little girl? I can’t imagine it,” Mercer said. He was getting to Leighton in a way that I could not. “You want to tell me how you expect to get legal custody of Ana? What your wife says about all this? Hell, Claire hasn’t even been cleared as a suspect yet.”

Ethan Leighton turned and walked back to his seat.

I wasn’t ready for this enormous curve ball that had been thrown at me in the middle of the night. I was shocked to think that Leighton had known about Ana’s whereabouts all week, puzzled that he’d had the bad sense to toss Lem off his case, no less walk into this bizarre situation on the street. I was unprepared to be the one to tell him-in the dingy confines of the squad room-that he was not in fact the biological father of this little girl.

“Suppose I leave here without taking Ana?”

“You can do that.”

“What happens to her now? I mean, where does she go?”

The ugly truth was that Ana was likely to be placed in the care of the city’s children’s services agency until her identity could be sorted out.

“I wasn’t expecting any of this, Ethan. It won’t be my decision.”

“The woman who’s been caring for her is a good person. If you’d assure me that Ana can stay with her, I’m willing to step back until things are settled.”

“Then you’ve got to tell me who she is. Nobody’s going to let this child go off in the night with a stranger on your say-so. Give us a chance to fight for the baby.”

“Drag her into a police station? You’re punishing me, not the child. I don’t think I can do that.”

“What’s her name?” Mercer asked again.

Ethan Leighton got to his feet and began pacing across the room.

“She’s called Anita. Salma named the baby for her, in her honor.”

“That’s a good start,” I said. I was thinking that the baby was most likely Anita’s child, given the name for that reason. “Her last name?”

“Let me think about whether I want to do this.”

“Maybe I can move you along,” Mercer said. “Salma must have been very close to Anita, right? Trusted her a great deal?”

Leighton was still reluctant to talk. He took his time answering. “Yes, she did.”

“Is Anita also Mexican?”

He nodded.

“Did she come here illegally? I can help her with that if you’ll let me. We’re not going to do anything to hurt her.”

“They were very dear friends, Detective. Anita took care of the baby when Salma needed help. They’ve been through a lot of things together. Things you couldn’t begin to understand.”

Try me, I wanted to say. “How much time have you spent with your baby?”

“Very little, Alex. I told you that. It’s been a very complicated relationship. I-I wasn’t even sure the child was mine until recently. I’ve been trying to do the right thing by both of them, okay? I’m financially capable of giving the child a good life. Claire-my wife-is an incredibly strong woman. She’s willing to take this on with me.”

“There are many more issues to be considered than just your wishes. I don’t think anyone’s going to leave that decision up to you and Claire.”

“What the hell is this? A social work office or a police station? Somebody pass a law I don’t know about that I can’t raise my own kid?” Leighton was suddenly raging like a gored bull.

“Calm yourself, down, sir. Alex is right. The family court will have a look at the paternity tests. They’ll establish the maternal link, too, what with Ms. Zunega dead and unable to be party to this.”

Leighton swiveled around and swept a few volumes of a detective’s penal law books off the top of the old wooden desk. “They’ll take my word for it, goddamn it. I’m a congressman, for Chrissakes.”

I didn’t want to get any more specific with him, give him any more bad news, until I checked with Lem Howell to see if his representation had really been withdrawn and we were all in a more private place.

“It’s five o’clock on a Sunday morning, Ethan. You know nothing is going to be settled today. If you want Ana to be well cared for, tell me how to find Anita.”

“And you’ll give her the baby?”

“I’ll recommend that she be vetted to take custody in the short term. You know there’s been a manhunt for this child, all over the country, for days now.”

Leighton dropped his head again and nodded. “The baby’s been perfectly safe. They’ve hardly left their apartment for a minute since the news about the murder. Anita’s only fear is that Salma’s baby will be taken from her, in the event that I’m not granted custody.”

“You mind telling me why your friend Anita was standing on a street corner at three o’clock in the morning, causing such a commotion? Running off without this child she loves so much?” Mercer asked.

Leighton shuffled uncomfortably. He wasn’t making eye contact with any of us. “Anita’s been difficult since last week, when she heard the news about how sick Ana was, and then about my accident.”

“What was she screaming for? Doesn’t she want to help you?”

“She doesn’t want anything from me. She’s hysterical right now,” Ethan Leighton said, mopping the sweat on his temple and smoothing back his hair. “Anita’s full of crazy ideas. She thinks I’m the one who killed Salma.”