Wilderness

CHAPTER 2.

It's like the Army, Newman thought. You go in one end of the process and it starts taking you along and you get numb and after a while you come out the other end. Honorable discharge. Or whatever. He sat at a gray metal table in the homicide squad room at state police headquarters on Commonwealth Avenue and looked at the pictures of criminals in large albums. He was still in warm-up pants and a white T-shirt that said Adidas across the front. He wore yellow Nike training shoes with a blue swoosh. The sweat that had been so lubricant two hours earlier had stiffened and chilled. He was hungry.

At 8:47 in the evening he saw the man. Profile and full face, staring at him. Hair slicked back, deep eye sockets. Adolph Karl, male, Caucasian, dob 7/15/30, aka Addie Kaye.

"This is him," Newman said.

A state police detective named Bobby Croft swung his feet down off the top of his desk and walked over. He looked at Karl's picture.

"Him?" Croft said. "Adolph Karl? Son of a bitch. You sure?"

Newman said, "Yes. That's him. I'm sure."

Croft walked to the end of the squad room opened the frosted glass half-door that said Lieutenant Vincent on it, and poked his head inside.

"Hey, Murray," he said. "Come have a look."

Lieutenant Vincent came out, round-faced and graceful, with a bald head and blue-rimmed glasses. He walked down to the table where Newman sat and looked over Newman's shoulder at the mug book.

"Show him," Croft said.

Newman pointed to the picture of Adolph Karl. "Him," he said.

Vincent raised his eyebrows and looked at Croft. He said to Newman, "You're sure?" "I'm sure," Newman said.

Vincent smiled. "Why don't you have Adolph brought in, Bobby. We can put him in a show-up and just double check. We wouldn't want Adolph's civil rights compromised."

Croft nodded and went out of the squad room Newman said, "You know this Karl, Lieutenant?" Vincent said, "Yes. He's bad man. Prostitution, narcotics, loan sharking, extortion. He's important enough to have most of his assaults done for him now. I'm a little surprised. Must have been personal. Anybody with him in the car?"

"There must have been," Newman said. "He got in the passenger's side when the car drove off."

"And he did it himself." Vincent sucked on his bottom lip. "You want some coffee?"

Newman nodded.

Vincent said to a uniformed trooper, "Charlie, get us a cup of coffee will you? Cream and sugar?" Newman said, "Black."

Vincent went back to his office.

The trooper brought the coffee. "You want more," he said, "out that door and turn right." Newman said, "Thanks."

He drank the coffee and three more cups. He read the morning paper. He looked at the policemen coming and going. He stared at the fluorescent lights. At a quarter to twelve Croft came into the squad room "Let's take a look, Mr. Newman."

The show-up room was dark. Three men stood on a small lighted stage.

One of them was Adolph Karl. He was wearing a dark blue polyester leisure suit with light blue piping, and a light blue polyester shirt with dark blue trim. His hair was black and combed tightly against his skull. It looked wet. His eyes were deep in the eye sockets. His ears stuck out. He swallowed once and his big Adam's apple moved.

Newman knew that Karl couldn't see him in the dark, but he felt scared.

Six hours earlier Newman had seen Karl shoot the back of a woman's head off.

"Recognize the murderer among those men?" Croft said.

"On the end in the blue leisure suit. That's him."

Croft said, "You're sure?"

Newman nodded, then realized Croft couldn't see him in the dark. "Yes," he said. "I'm sure."

"No doubts? You could swear to it in court?"

"Yes."

"All right," Croft said. He stressed the second word.

They went out of the show-up room and back to Croft's desk. Lieutenant Vincent came out of his office. Croft nodded at him. Three times.

Vincent smiled. "Very good," he said. "His lawyer with him?"

Croft said, "Yeah, but we got the son of a bitch, Murray. Lawyer or no lawyer." Vincent said, "If he sticks." He nodded at Newman.

Newman said, "I'll stick, I'm sure it's him. I saw him." Vincent smiled. "Sure. I know you will. And it's a damned good thing to bag Karl. We've all wanted him for a long time."

"What happens now?" Newman said.

"We'll process Karl. There will be a preliminary hearing. We'll let you know. Eventually we'll go to court and you'll testify."

"Can I leave now?"

"Yeah, but first a man from the Essex County DA's office wants a statement."

"They bring you in in the cruiser?"

"Yes."

"Bobby," Vincent said. "When he's through, whyn't you run Mr. Newman up to wherever it is." "Smithfield," Newman said.

"Yeah, Smithfield. Whyn't you run Newman up to Smithfield. When you come back, come in and we'll chat."

Croft nodded.

It was nearly 2 A.M. when they went north up Route 93. Newman said to Croft, "What did the lieutenant mean, "If he sticks'?"

The police radio was a soft murmur in the background, so low Newman wondered how Croft could hear it.

Croft shrugged in the dark. "People change their minds sometimes.

Decide they made a mistake. An eyewitness is good at the beginning but a lot better at the end." "I didn't make a mistake," Newman said.

Croft was silent. The radio murmured. The dispatcher's voice rhythmic and without affect. The messages indistinguishable to Newman.

Croft glanced over at Newman, then looked back at the road.

Newman was exhausted. He'd been up since six-thirty. The coffee he'd drunk made him jumpy but no less tired. It felt corrosive in his stomach. He leaned his head back against the headrest and took a deep breath. Forty-six, he thought. I'm forty-six years old.

Croft turned off at Route 128. "Mr. Newman," he said, "I'm going to say something that Lieutenant Vincent would cut off my balls for saying."

Newman opened his eyes and rolled his head over and looked at Croft.

"The reason we're wondering if you'll stick is because we're wondering if someone might squeeze you. You got a right to know what you're getting into, and Adolph Karl is a fucking psychopath."

A thrill of fright flickered in Newman's stomach.

"You mean he might try to stop me from testifying."

"Yeah."

"Would he kill me?"

"I think he'd threaten you first. We can give you protection. It ain't all that bad. But it may be awkward for a while."

"How long would I have to have protection?"

"Hard to say," Croft answered. "We don't have to worry about it now.

Nobody knows who you are."

"But at the hearing?"

"Then they'll know. Then we'll cover you. It'll be all right, but I figure you got the right to know how it'll work. And the sooner you know, the longer you'll have to get used to it."

The car pulled off 128 at the Main St.-Smithfield exit. It was twenty minutes of three and the streets were empty.

"Where to from here?" Croft said.

"Keep going straight. I'll tell you." The thrill of fright vibrated steadily now in Newman's stomach. He could feel the electric buzz of it in his fingertips and along the insides of his arms.