Daylight

by David Baldacci

“No.”

  “Was it the same man each time?”

  “No. It was always different guys. But they all looked the same to me. Old white guys. But . . .”

  “And what?”

  “But once I did it with a woman. She was old too, maybe forty.”

  Pine said, “Did you recognize her, or the men?”

  “No.”

  “Did they talk to you?” asked Blum. “Mention a name, anything about themselves?”

  Jewel looked down and shook her head. “I wasn’t there for them to talk to. They just wanted me for one reason.”

  “You’re underage. That’s statutory rape,” said Pine.

  “They might not have known. Look at me, you think I’m fourteen?”

  “Doesn’t matter. That’s why they call it statutory.”

  “You really think they got Jerome to do what he did because of me?”

  “I think it’s a safe bet, yeah,” said Pine.

  “Then I’m the reason he’s dead.”

  “No, you’re not. But you can help us find out who did it.”

  “I’ve told you all I know.”

  “No, you haven’t. When did you stop going to that place?”

  “They called the day before Jerome got killed.”

  “Can I see your phone?”

  “Why?”

  “I want to run the number they called from.”

  “I already checked. It’s blocked. No number comes up.”

  “When they called, what did they say?”

  “That they weren’t going to bring me anymore.”

  “Did they say why?”

  “No.”

  “Can you tell us the address of the place in New York?”

  “I don’t remember.”

  Pine sat forward. “How many times did you go there?”

  Jewel shrugged. “Maybe a dozen, maybe more.”

  “And you don’t remember the address?”

  “I never paid attention. I was usually sleeping in the car.”

  “Can you describe the area of town? What the building looked like? The street it was on?”

  “Like I said, it was real what you call high dollar. I mean, everything about that area was dope.” Jewel thought for a few moments. “But it was a number street.”

  “Like Seventh Avenue?”

  “No, higher than that.”

  “Fifty-Seventh Street?”

  “Yeah, that’s it.”

  “Was it near Central Park?”

  “Yeah, that’s right. I saw it one time when they were driving me back to Trenton.”

  Pine glanced at Blum and then pulled out her phone again. “Would this be the building?”

  Jewel looked at the screen. “Yeah, that’s it. That’s the one.”

  Pine looked at Blum again. “Well, they don’t just use that place for parties, then.” A text came over her phone and she said, “We have to go. But thank you for being so honest with us, Jewel. I know it wasn’t easy for you. But what you told us will help us catch whoever killed your brother.” She gave Jewel a card. “Call me if you think of anything else.”

  As they were leaving, Cee-Cee Blake tried to ask them what was going on. Pine said simply, “Keep an eye on your daughter and have someone come over here to stay with her when you go to work at night.”

  She jogged out to the car and Blum followed as fast as she was able.

  “What’s up?” asked Blum as Pine started the car and drove off fast.

  “Puller’s fully conscious and is out of post-op and they’re getting him a room. By the time we get back there the attending physician will be able to brief us on his status.”

  CHAPTER

  48

  IT WAS LUCKY THAT HE’S YOUNG and in tip-top condition,” said the doctor, a white-haired man with the calm manner of an airline pilot. They were in the visitors room at the hospital. Robert Puller had been the one to alert Pine about his brother.

  “So you said he’s fully awake,” said Robert anxiously. “And doing well?”

  “He’s on a lot of pain meds, so he’s in and out. That bullet went clean through, but it hit some things along the way.”

  “The surgeon mentioned that. Will he suffer any permanent damage?” asked Pine just as anxiously.

  “Well, it’s too early to tell that yet. We’ll need to do follow-up with tests, X-rays, and other imaging. But I can tell you that right now he’s resting comfortably, and his condition is stable.”

  “When can we see him?” asked Robert.

  The doctor studied him. “You’re family, correct?”

  “His brother.”

  The doctor looked at Pine. “And you’re . . . ?”

  “His sister,” said Robert quickly. He turned to Blum. “And this is his aunt Carol.”

  The doctor didn’t appear to believe this, but gave a weak smile and said, “Okay.” He looked at his phone. “They just found him a room. I’ll walk you down, but only for a few minutes.”

  When they got to the room John Puller was lying on a bed with tubes and lines covering him. His eyes were open and he looked over at them and waved with his good hand.

  Pine’s gaze went directly to the monitor recording his vitals. They all looked reasonably okay, particularly for someone who had endured what Puller had.

  “You said the bullet had hit some things?” said Robert in a low voice to the doctor.

  “Well, there’s a lot around that region. Bone, blood vessels, ligaments. It could have been far worse if the bullet had pinged around in there.”

  “But the surgeon fixed it?”

  “Katherine is an excellent surgeon, and she did the best she could. But understand that this may not be the last surgery he has, though. And his rehab will be intense.”

  “I see,” said Robert, glancing nervously at Pine.

  Pine said, “Well, he’s going to come out the other end just fine. Probably better than he is now.”

  “Hey, I can almost hear you,” said John Puller weakly. “So stop talking behind my back.”

  They drew closer and the doctor said, “How are you feeling? How’s the pain level?”

  “When can I get out of here?” Puller said firmly.

  “Well, that won’t be for a while,” said the doctor, eyeing Pine with widened eyes.

  “I’m feeling okay,” said Puller. “I should be able to leave. I have work to do.”

  Robert said, “John, you just underwent major surgery. You need to give yourself time.”

  “I don’t have a lot of time to waste, Bobby.”

  Pine touched his uninjured shoulder. “John, we’ll carry the ball while you’re laid up here. All you need to focus on is getting better. Even Superman took days off.”

  While Pine was speaking, the doctor had manipulated the flow of meds going into his system by punching in a new dosage on the controller next to the IV stand.

  The doctor then glanced at Puller, whose eyes fluttered and then closed. “I upped his pain meds to get him back to sleep. The last thing we need is for him to get agitated and pull at his lines or reopen the sutures. I think it’s best we leave him to rest. You will be updated on his condition. And feel free to call in to the nurse’s station during the interim.” He gripped Robert’s arm. “Don’t worry, he’s in good hands.”

  “Yes, I know. Thanks for everything.”

  As they were leaving the hospital Pine said, “His vitals were good. And the fact that he wants to get back to work is an excellent sign.”

  Robert nodded. “Yeah, he’s going to make it. The only question is, in what condition.”

  “You mean, as a CID agent?”

  “I mean, as a member of the United States Army. It’s his whole life. If he can’t cut it physically anymore?”

  “Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” said Pine.

  “I saw your look back there. You were thinking the very same thing.”

  Pine changed the subject because he was exactly right. “Where are you staying?”

&n
bsp; “Near the hospital.”

  “How long are you going to be in New York?”

  “As long as it takes.”

  Later, Pine and Blum drove back to the condo, had a very late dinner, and went to their beds, exhausted.

  After breakfast the following morning, Pine went back down to the street level and started to walk, her hands shoved deeply in her pockets and her heels striking the pavement with force.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  She knew that Puller had signed on for the risk when he joined CID. She knew that. She had done that when she suited up for the FBI. But, still, she felt deep guilt for what had happened. Could she have eyeballed that alley more intently? If she had focused more, could she have seen the shooter or maybe sensed his presence? Puller had relied on her to clear the alley, and she had failed him.

  I failed John Puller. And now, maybe he won’t be the same John Puller.

  Utterly demoralized, she stopped and slumped down on a bench. Slapping her thigh, she sat up straighter, rubbed her face, and thought, Okay, this sorry-for-me shit is not going to cut it. Start dissecting this case. What are the holes and how do you plug them?

  Well, the holes were many. She was no closer to finding Tony Vincenzo and thus just as far away from any information about his grandfather, Ito. Teddy was dead. Evie could be of no help. She had no leads on finding the man who had murdered Jerome, although now she did know about Jewel’s involvement, and the uses to which that luxury apartment was being put; only she didn’t yet understand the motives behind it. And she doubted that Jewel was the only underage girl who had been recruited for whatever was going on there. And, last but not least, the vile Lindsey Axilrod was out there somewhere. She was up to her slender neck in this, including the murder of Sheila Weathers.

  But what was the connection to Fort Dix? Tony Vincenzo and Axilrod both worked there. As did Weathers. If Weathers was involved only because Vincenzo had invited her to the penthouse, then that left Vincenzo and Axilrod. But what was so special about Fort Dix?

  The penthouse on Fifty-Seventh Street was definitely a clue, but she just wasn’t sure how she could follow it up. She didn’t have enough for a search warrant.

  But what about Jeff Sands?

  She pulled out her phone and scanned the news sites. There was nothing. The grandson of the Senate majority leader was violently gunned down in New York City more than a day before, and not one news outlet had reported it? How could that possibly be?

  Unless the NYPD was sitting on his ID for some reason. She figured if the Trenton cops could be co-opted, why not New York’s finest? Or at least some of them.

  She punched in a number and a few seconds later was transferred to the person she wanted at the Bureau.

  “Sandy, it’s Atlee Pine. I know, it’s been a long time, right. Look, could you do me a favor? There was a shooting victim the other night outside a diner in Brooklyn. The vic’s name was Jeff Sands. He’s the grandson of Peter Driscoll. Right, that Peter Driscoll. I haven’t heard a thing about it in the press and I was just wondering what the hell was going on. Okay, yeah, whatever you can find out. Thanks.”

  She clicked off. Sandy Wyatt was an agent in the New York Field Office. She and Pine had gone to Quantico together. They had been close and had kept in touch over the years, even though Pine had headed west while Wyatt had stayed on the east coast. They were both members of WIFLE, which was an acronym for Women in Federal Law Enforcement. To her credit Wyatt had not asked about Pine’s interest in the case. She would have afforded Wyatt the same courtesy if their positions had been reversed.

  Pine got up and started walking again. Her path carried her to the building on Fifty-Seventh Street. Billionaires’ Row. Billionaires’ Heavenly Perch, more like it. They lived far above the rest of us, thought Pine. Behind doormen and concierges and trust funds and shell companies and the rules they created that gave them every possible advantage over everyone else.

  Getting on your soapbox is not going to help, Atlee.

  She stood across the street from the building when her attention was suddenly riveted. She quickly moved behind a parked truck and then peered around it to keep watching.

  The man who had shot Jerome Blake was coming out of the building. He was wearing a suit and tie, and no cop’s hat, but it was definitely him. He looked right and left, then headed down the street.

  Pine followed.

  CHAPTER

  49

  CHEER UP, I’M NOT DEAD YET, BOBBY.”

  Robert Puller sat bolt upright in his chair, where he’d been dozing.

  His brother was now staring at him from under the layer of tubes and lines.

  “You’re supposed to be heavily sedated,” said Robert, drawing his chair nearer the bed. “Yesterday, the doctor said he upped your meds.”

  “I have a higher tolerance than most.”

  “Are you in pain?”

  “Again, higher tolerance.”

  “Do you know what happened to you?”

  “Just a guess, but I think I got shot.”

  Robert smiled. “Okay, jokes are good. That means you’re functioning at a high level.”

  “And Jeff Sands?”

  “He didn’t make it. The shot that hit you killed him.” Robert leaned forward. “It was close, John. Another inch here or there.”

  “Don’t you have an important job to do really far away from here, or is that just a rumor?”

  “Excuse me for caring.”

  Puller shifted a little bit in his bed. He stared at all the tubes and lines holding him down. “Why do I feel like Gulliver after he got jumped by the Lilliputians?”

  “Do you remember anything about what happened?”

  “We stepped out into the rear of the diner. Pine was in the lead. I had hold of Sands. I think I heard a pop. And that’s pretty much it.”

  “They were obviously targeting him.”

  “They must have followed us from the nightclub where we picked Sands up.” Puller looked confused for a moment. “But the guys outside the club were a couple of thugs. I don’t think they’re involved in what happened to Sands.”

  “And who exactly do you think is involved?”

  Puller looked at his brother. “Well, since it looks like I’m going to be laid up here for a bit, you want to pitch in?”

  “Pitch in? As you said, I do have another job.”

  “Well, so long as you’re here to hold my hand it might take your mind off other things.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “You got me to Gloria Miles and she led us to Jeff Sands pretty fast. Miles mentioned you found her through an algorithm?”

  Robert went over the algorithm he’d used, as he had already explained to Pine.

  Puller nodded thoughtfully. “I’ll have to keep you in mind in future investigations.”

  “I have access to technology, databases, and computer networks that the average person doesn’t. But I can’t do that all the time, not even for you, Junior.”

  “But you had to feed the algorithm to get anywhere.”

  “I just explained to you the factors I loaded in. I pinpointed certain political leadership, and then degrees of separation vis-à-vis family members to see what would pop. Jeff Sands came up and then it was pretty easy to trace the connection to Driscoll.”

  “Sands popped up because of his criminal background?”

  “As I’m sure you know, he’s never been convicted. But he has been brought in and questioned a number of times. And he has certain business associates who do have criminal records, or at least questionable pasts. My data load factors covered those possibilities.”

  “But then his grandfather got the best lawyers involved, and nothing came of it?”

  “Apparently so.”

  “He told us he didn’t know Tony Vincenzo. Did that name ever pop up in your digging?”

  “No. But I stopped pretty much after I got to Peter Driscoll. Then I looked for a connection to the military, and that’s how
I got to Gloria Miles.”

  “Do you think Driscoll knows his grandson is dead?” asked Puller.

  “The Senate majority leader is not without his resources. And at the very least efforts would have been made by NYPD to notify the next of kin. It would take them all of ten seconds. Hell, his father lives right here in New York.”

  “Financial guy with lots of bucks.”

  “And a new wife and a brand-new family. Not sure how much he’ll mourn his eldest child.”

  The brothers gazed at each other, silently communicating something important to both.

  Puller said, “Yeah, if I had died, Dad wouldn’t have even been able to process it. He doesn’t know he has two sons.”

  “That’s okay, Junior, we do.”

  “How soon can I get out of here? The doc didn’t really answer me when I asked last time.”

  Robert didn’t look surprised, but he said, “Not anytime soon. You are out of the game, John. Pine is carrying the torch now, just like she told you earlier.”

  “She can’t do this by herself. And this wasn’t even her case. She’s working on something personal. She’s only involved because she offered, and I accepted.”

  “Don’t know what to tell you. From what I could see the lady is firmly committed to this. And also from what I’ve seen about the lady, I would not try to stop her.”

  “She’s going to keep working this thing with no backup at all. That is not good, Bobby.”

  “John, I can hang around for a bit, but I’m in uniform. I don’t get to call my own shots.”

  “I thought computer geeks could work remotely.”

  “This computer geek needs a super-secret SCIF to do his nerding,” replied Robert, referring to a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility. “So I can’t just hop on my Mac and get to it.”

  “Am I really stuck in this bed? They had me patched up and back in the fight in Afghanistan in no time. And those wounds were worse.”

  “In case you weren’t aware, you actually have blood in those veins and you lost a lot of it. Plus the surgeon and the doctor said the round did some internal damage. They’ve got you so patched up you can’t even move your left arm. You’re immobile and for a good reason. You’re looking at a long rehab.”