The Breakthrough

by Jerry B. Jenkins

  “She’s going to ask me where you are, ma’am.”

  “Just tell her I’m on my way.”

  Boone could hear Jack talking with Nurse Cilano. “Can’t take food down there, and only one visitor at a time anyway. Since you’re not blood, you really shouldn’t be in there at all.”

  Jack must have shown her his badge. “Oh, sorry,” she said. “But you know you won’t be able to talk to her for several days.”

  Boone hurried out, and his aversion to eating vanished when he saw the grease-stained bag and smelled the burgers and fries. “Just what we need after that barbeque, eh?” Boone said.

  “From the same place we used to lunch at when we were on the street,” Jack said.

  The nurse pointed them down the hall to the waiting room. “Anything new?” Jack said, handing Boone a huge grocery bag full of clothes and toiletries.

  “That’s something I’d appreciate if you wouldn’t ask,” he said. “There’s going to be nothing new until she’s out of the coma, and that’s not going to be soon.”

  “Got it,” Jack said as he laid out their food in the empty room. “Now, listen. I’ve already talked to the super. I’m going to keep tabs on Major Case for the time being. Just leave everything to me and don’t even check in. If there’s anything you need to know, I’ll tell you.”

  “But we’ve got two investigations going right now that—”

  Jack held up a hand. “I know, all right? You may think you’re indispensable, but I’m pretty sure . . .”

  “Thanks, Jack.”

  “You’ve got plenty of personal and vacation time, and the big boss says you’ve been through enough to have earned special consideration. So just take care of business.”

  Florence marched up the steps to the foyer of her building and found Willie’s gaze. He looked grave. “Miz Margaret’s up there.”

  “She know something’s wrong?”

  “I don’t think she does. She kept talking about how nice it was that you were out having fun with Max. I just nodded and tried to look busy.”

  “I wish I could disappear, Willie. I feel like I’m goin’ to the gas chamber.”

  “Just worry about finding that boy, Miz Quigley. Nobody gonna blame you.”

  “’Course they are! And they should! It’s my fault.”

  “Pardon me for sayin’, it, ma’am, but time’s a-wastin’. Sooner you get help searching, the sooner you get that boy back where he belongs.”

  Florence went to the elevator and wished that for once it would be as slow as it used to be. She found her apartment door ajar, and when she entered Margaret turned from unpacking a suitcase on the couch. The woman had an expectant look, like she was trying to force herself to be cheerful and not worry Max about his mama yet.

  “Mrs. Quigley!” Margaret said. “Are you all right? You look like you’ve been running a marathon. Where’s Max?”

  “Oh, Miz Margaret, we got trouble—bad trouble!”

  ICU head nurse Chaz Cilano poked her head into the waiting room. “Your phone just buzzed,” she said, handing it to Boone. “Didn’t know if it was important.”

  He thanked her, and as she left, Boone became aware that he had smiled for the first time since Haeley had fallen. “Look at this, Jack. Another verse from Francisco.”

  Jack looked glum. “I got to tell you, Boones, I don’t know how you guys do it. I hear this guy preaching every weekend now when I can get there, and he’s good. I’m learning a lot. But I don’t know how you explain stuff like, you know, this that you’re going through now.”

  Boone shook his head as he looked up the verse. “I quit trying to explain it a long time ago. All the answers sound trite. We live in a fallen world. Know what that means?”

  “Sin, yeah. Got that part. But haven’t you had enough? I mean, seeing how you came out the other side of that from a few years ago impressed me; it really did. But here we are again, same song, second verse. I’m not tellin’ you anything you don’t know. Doesn’t seem fair, and don’t tell me life’s not fair. I know that. So, what’s Francisco say?”

  Boone read it silently, then handed the phone to Jack.

  “‘Not by might nor by power, but by my Spirit,’ says the Lord of hosts.” (Zechariah 4:6)

  Jack handed the phone back. “Nice, but I’m not sure what it means. Some kind of promise or encouragement?”

  “To me it means that when there’s nothing I can do, when I can’t use my strength, God’s Spirit is with me.”

  “That make you feel better?”

  “A little, yeah. Nice to be reminded of sometimes.”

  “Well, you can’t ask for more than that, I guess.”

  “What do you mean you don’t know?” Margaret said. “Don’t take this the wrong way, Mrs. Quigley, but this is no neighborhood for a little boy to be alone in!”

  “That’s the problem, ma’am,” Florence said, sobbing now. “Max’s not alone.”

  “Tell me exactly what’s going on, Florence, and don’t leave one thing out.”

  Boone found himself eager to get back to Haeley, though he knew she was unaware of his presence. He missed her, wanted to be with her. She needed him whether she knew it or not. And he needed her.

  As Jack started picking up their trash, he said, “Margaret will tell Max his mom got hurt, but she won’t tell him enough to scare him. She’ll let you know when it would be good for him to hear from you.”

  Dr. Sarangan slipped into the waiting room. “Hope that was a healthy meal.”

  “Well,” Jack said, “we hit a lot of the food groups, if that’s what you’re asking. Listen, gents, I’m going to go. I’ll keep in touch, Boones.”

  Boone was thanking him as Jack’s phone rang. “Oh, it’s Margaret.”

  “Let me know when I can talk to Max,” Boone whispered.

  “Yeah,” Jack said, “he’s right here. You want to—oh!”

  Jack blanched and hurried into the hall.

  “What is it?” Boone said, following him.

  Jack covered the phone. “Ah, just something downtown I’ve got to get to. I’ll call you, Boones.”

  “What did Margaret want with me?”

  “Uh, she was just making sure I could leave you for a while so I can call my people.”

  “I’m fine.”

  But it appeared to Boone that Jack gave Dr. Sarangan a look. And as Boone delivered his own phone back to the nurses’ station, the doctor was following Jack down the hall.

  14

  APB

  By the time Jack Keller slid to a stop in front of the Bethune Arms apartment building, his all-points bulletin had been in effect for more than half an hour. Eight squads, two of them unmarked, were already there. Uniformed officers had fanned out through the neighborhood, and he could see them talking with everyone on the street and entering various establishments.

  Antoine Johnson, a stocky, cocoa-colored member of Boone’s Major Case Squad, awaited Jack at the front door. He looked much different in a natty suit, athletic neck and shoulders squirming under a white shirt and tie, than he had in uniform the last time Jack had seen him.

  Johnson thrust out his hand. “Remember me?”

  “’Course,” Jack said. “We can catch up later. What’ve we got? How long has he been gone?”

  Johnson gushed everything they had learned from Florence Quigley, including the abandoned Buick.

  “Crime scene guys on that?”

  “On their way. You need to talk to this woman, chief. She’s got a heckuva story.”

  Jack and Antoine flashed their badges at Willie as they headed for the elevator, and the old man said, “I’m here till five today if y’all need to talk to me.”

  Jack stopped. “Why would we need to talk with you, sir? You know something we need to know?”

  “I met the young man that’s got the little boy is all. I can only tell you my impressions.”

  “I appreciate that, sir. I’ll want to hear everything you can remember, okay?”
>
  “Yes, sir.”

  On the elevator, Jack said, “Get someone set up at Drake’s home to take ransom calls.”

  “Will do.”

  Jack scribbled on a sheet of paper. “Here’s the combination for the spare key lockbox.”

  “Let me have all the numbers besides the home phone too. Boone’s cell, his wife’s, the sitter’s.”

  Jack found chaos in Florence’s apartment. A man and a woman detective sat on either side of the big woman, who appeared to be hyperventilating. Margaret was massaging Florence’s shoulders from behind the couch.

  The detectives stood as soon as they saw Keller. The woman read from her notepad everything they had extracted from Florence since Antoine had been briefed.

  “Alfonso Lamonica,” Jack said quietly, letting the syllables roll on his tongue. “Her little brother. Maybe I’m gettin’ old, but I don’t remember a brother. Sisters, I think.”

  “It’s all my fault!” Florence wailed. “I know better! I always been careful with Maxie!”

  “Give me a minute with her,” Jack said, and the detectives moved into the kitchen with Margaret. Antoine stayed by the door, speaking urgently into his phone.

  Keller knelt in front of Florence and waited until she wiped her eyes and face. She whimpered, “Anything happens to that boy . . .” Jack reached for her hands, and she reluctantly took his. “You’re Margaret’s boyfriend,” she said, “and you work with Mr. Drake?”

  “Yes, ma’am. Now hear me. I can only imagine how you feel.”

  “No, you can’t! You never lost no one’s child!”

  “Listen, every second counts, and we don’t have time for you to lose focus. I know you feel bad. We all do. And yes, I won’t sugarcoat it: you screwed up.”

  “I wish you’d just shoot me dead!”

  Jack dropped her hands and cradled her sweaty, tearstained face in his palms. “Mrs. Quigley, listen to me. Do you want to sit here feeling guilty and—”

  “I am guilty!”

  “—and feeling sorry for yourself, or do you want to do whatever it takes to get Max back?”

  “I’ll do anything. Anything.”

  “You are the single best chance we’ve got. You’ve got to focus and remember. Now, I’m going to make a quick phone call, and then I’m going to need every detail you can give me about this man. Start from the beginning, and tell me absolutely everything you can remember.”

  “I been through all that.”

  “I need to hear it straight from you. I can’t even initiate an AMBER Alert until we know for sure this is an abduction, a kidnapping. And we have to know whether someone is going to demand a ransom or if they have something else in mind.”

  “What’s an AMBER Alert anyway?”

  “It stands for America’s Missing: Broadcast Emergency Response. It’s a very powerful tool, and we want to be able to use it. It’ll inform law enforcement agencies all over the country and get Max’s picture to them. Everybody will be on the lookout for him.”

  “Well, do it!”

  “Ma’am, hear me; we don’t even know if this is a kidnapping yet.”

  “Well, ’course it is!”

  “I agree it probably is, but to put all the information into the National Crime Information Center system, we have to rule out that this was just a misunderstanding or that this guy really is Haeley’s brother.”

  Florence’s eyes widened. “I got a picture of him. He sent it to me on my phone.”

  She dug into her pocket, hands shaking as she poked at the screen, bringing up her texts. “There’s his name! With a picture!”

  “May I?” Jack said, taking the phone. He clicked on a message to Florence from “Lamonica, Alfonso” with the subject line “a picture for you.”

  “This will be too good to be true,” Jack muttered. “If he’s a kidnapper, he’s not too bright.”

  The photo showed Florence on a park bench with Max in her lap, smiling contentedly as he leaned back on her.

  “You say there’s one with this Alfonso in it too?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I don’t see it. There’s just the one, and this is it.” He showed her.

  Seeing Max made Florence break down again. “I took the picture myself with his phone! It was of him and Max. He said he was sending it.”

  “Maybe he’s not as stupid as I thought,” Jack said. “Ma’am, we’re going to have to take your phone for a while.”

  “You are?”

  “We might be able to glean something from what he sent you.”

  “Sure, if it’ll help.”

  Jack turned and beckoned Antoine with a nod. He scribbled on a notepad and ripped the page off. “This is the home number of the director of the crime lab. You know him?”

  “Just of him. Everybody calls him Dr. Scandinavian.”

  “Tell him it’s an emergency and that I need him as soon as he can get here.” Jack turned back to Florence. “Now let me make a quick call, and then we’re going to go through it all again, okay?”

  “Anything, Mr. Keller.”

  Jack dialed Boone’s phone, but after three rings it went to voice mail. “Call me right away,” he said. But when Boone had not called back after a few minutes, he remembered that Boone’s phone was at the nurses’ station. If they told him it rang and he saw it was Jack who had called, he’d call right back. But if the nurses were busy or didn’t hear it . . .

  Jack waited another minute, during which Antoine told him, “Dr. Waldemarr is on his way but none too happy. Says you owe him one.”

  “I owe him more than one,” Jack said. He called Information and asked for a direct number to the neuro-ICU nurses’ station at Mount Sinai, and he was put through.

  “ICU, Cilano.”

  “Hey, Chaz, Jack Keller here. I need to speak with Boone right away.”

  “I’ll have him call you, sir. I don’t want to tie up this phone.”

  “Understood. Thanks.”

  Florence sat up. “You’re not gonna make me talk to him, are you?”

  “No, ma’am. I’m not even going to tell him what’s going on yet. He’s got enough on his plate.”

  When his phone chirped a few minutes later, Jack rose and moved to the corner of the room.

  “Jack, what’s up?” Boone said. “Can I talk to Max?”

  “Not yet. I just thought of something. Do you need me to call Haeley’s siblings, her brother, anyone in her family?”

  “No, I’ve talked to everybody, told ’em what happened, that she couldn’t have visitors, and that I was staying here. So for now, they just want to be kept informed.”

  “Good, okay. Her brother and sister up to date?”

  “That’s the second time you’ve mentioned a brother, Jack. You met her only two siblings at the wedding: twin sisters about eight years older than her.”

  “Oh, that’s right. There’s no brother.”

  “No, that’s me. I’ve got the two.”

  “Yeah, that must have been what mixed me up.”

  “Let me know when I can talk to Max. Has Margaret told him anything yet?”

  “Waiting for the right time. I’ll let you know.”

  “And your emergency, Jack? How’d that turn out.”

  “Ah, nothing to speak of. People get excited when the chief’s away, you know.”

  As Jack put his phone away, he hoped Boone was preoccupied enough with Haeley to have missed his gaffe. Pretending to have mixed Boone’s brothers with Haeley’s sisters simply wouldn’t fly, especially with Boone. Jack was legendary for getting details right, and while it might have made sense for him to not remember that Haeley had no brother, there was no way he would bollix up the whole family tree like that.

  Half an hour later Jack had wrung everything out of Florence he could think to ask. “If it makes you feel any better, ma’am, this guy sounds like a pro. Not too many people would have been able to see through him.”

  “He’s not Haeley’s brother, is he?”
/>   “No, ma’am.”

  “Then where’d he get that picture of him and Haeley?”

  “People can do anything with computers these days.”

  “Trick photography?” she said.

  “Trick something,” Jack said.

  “You gonna talk to Willie now?”

  “Willie?”

  “The man downstairs.”

  “Yes, we are.”

  On the way down, Jack briefed Antoine on the AMBER Alert. “I’ve never initiated a modified one,” he said, “but this has to be for law enforcement agencies only. No media yet.”

  “But isn’t that the most important, Chief? You want to get the boy’s picture on the news, get the public involved.”

  “Not until Boone knows. I can’t have him seeing it on TV or on his phone.”

  “He’s got to know, Chief.”

  “And I’ve got to be the one to tell him.”

  Jack’s mind and notebook were full of details telling him that whoever pulled this off had done a ton of research and planning. Nuances. They’re what set apart good con artists from amateurs. The story of why he was keeping his presence a secret from his “sister.” The account of coming home through Georgia and then South Carolina for his car, the out-of-state tags, the supposed picture of him with Max’s mother. All the Ranger stuff. But where had he gotten all the details? And why the grand production? Why not just nab the kid? This guy had gone to a lot of trouble to charm Max away from his sitter.

  As Jack and Antoine reached the lobby, Willie was gathering his stuff, and a young woman was waiting to take his place at the desk.

  “Have a few more minutes, sir?” Jack said.

  “All the time you need, Detective. Let’s go over here, and you ask me anything you want.”

  They sat on a padded bench by a window with Antoine standing behind Jack. Keller sped through his notes, seeing how much of Florence’s account Willie could corroborate. “That’s pretty much the way I remember it.”

  “Take me back to when this Alfonso first arrived. Did he say how he knew where to come?”

  “Yes, sir. He said he’d gone to Haeley’s house first and then to her church.”

  “North Beach Fellowship.”