Saints Of New York

by R.J. Ellory

  'You're not serious.'

  'I am serious, Jimmy, as serious as I've ever been. I can't live with this ... I just cannot live with the idea that this guy is going to get another one when there's something we can do to stop him.'

  'So what? You want to follow him out-of-hours? You want us to tail him, see where he goes, what he does?'

  'No, I want to find out if this girl is still alive, and if she is I want to keep an eye on her.'

  'This mysterious girl that you think might be his next victim?'

  'Yes.'

  'The girl that you just happen to know about? The one that you somehow magically know about but you won't tell me how you know about her? That girl?'

  'I could use a little less sarcasm here, Jimmy.'

  'And you, Frank . . . you could use a little more sense, don't you think? So say this is the next victim. Say that this is the girl he's gonna do next. We intervene. We stop him. Then where is our case, eh? We start to write reports, we start to answer questions, we go to the Grand Jury and they start to look under the lid of this thing, right? What are they going to see, Frank? What are they going to find out about that you haven't told me? We're partners.

  We're supposed to work together, to know everything that the other one is doing. Isn't that the way it's supposed to work?'

  'Jimmy—'

  'No, you hear me out on this one, okay? I'm sat before the Grand Jury. They ask me how come we knew about this girl as a potential victim. How did we know? Where did the intel come from? What am I going to say? "Oh shit, I don't know. I just figured Frank was the boss and he knew what he was doing. I'm just his kid brother. I just did what I was told to do, Your Honor". You think that's going to work out okay for me, Frank?'

  Parrish raised his hand. 'You're right. It's okay. Just drop it.'

  Radick smiled knowingly. 'Oh no, Frank. We're not going that route.'

  'What route? What are you talking about?'

  'You think I don't see right through that tone? That dismissive tone? "It's okay, Jimmy, just drop the thing". You think I'm stupid? I know exactly what that means. That means you're going to do this by yourself. You're going to leave me out in the cold and just go ahead and do whatever the hell it is you want, right?'

  'Jimmy, you really think I'd—'

  'Yes, Frank, I do. Just like you did with your last partner, and look where the fuck that got him—'

  Parrish shot to his feet. His fists were clenched. He looked at Jimmy Radick with an expression of such anger.

  Radick raised his hands. 'I'm sorry. I apologize. I didn't mean to say that. I meant to say—'

  'Whatever the fuck you meant, Jimmy, you don't have one single fucking idea about what happened . . .'

  'I know, and I said I'm sorry, it was out of line. I'm upset, Frank. I'm as pissed about this situation as you are, but I just don't see how you can even consider doing this thing. You can't just decide to follow some girl in the hope that she might turn out to be bait for you. It doesn't work that way, Frank, and you know that better than anyone. You need to tell me where the hell you got this girl's name from, and if it turns out that you did something illegal to get it . . . well, then—'

  'Well what, Jimmy? You going to run tell Valderas? Or maybe Internal Affairs? Is that what you're gonna do?'

  Radick didn't reply. He leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them he asked Frank Parrish to sit down.

  Parrish did so.

  'Look. This isn't complicated. Until we have something substantive, something beyond circumstantial against McKee, we are out on our own. We cannot do a search and seizure, we cannot put surveillance on him, we cannot get a wiretap. We were flying close to the wind taking that stuff out of the ex-wife's house, but she owns the property now, and as far as the law is concerned anything that is a remnant of the relationship that is in that house is legally her property so she was within her rights to turn it over to us. We're covered on that. The hole in the fucking ceiling is circumstantial. The thing back in 2002 is circumstantial and bears no relation to this case. The fact that he works at South Two and used to work at family South is circumstantial. The fact that he has an SUV is . . . well, it's worth nothing at all. This thing you have now, this name - however the hell you came by it - this is something else entirely. As your partner, as a fellow cop, I cannot allow you to do anything that will either jeopardize the case or jeopardize your position in the department. I am here to work with you, Frank, but I'm also here to look out for you, to keep you coloring inside the lines. You know that, right? You understand that I am the last partner you are ever likely to get, because if something goes wrong then it's more than likely going to be your fault and you are going to get canned.'

  'Thanks for the vote of confidence.'

  'You're welcome, Frank.'

  'So tell me, Sherlock, what the fuck do you plan to do?'

  'We have to find the film company. We have to do that. We have to get a handle on who is producing these things, and that might require collaboration with the LAPD. It's their territory. It's California someplace, this East LA connection. That's where ninety-nine percent of this shit comes from. That is the belly of the beast when it comes to the sex industry. We need to speak to them, and we need to get their help in finding whoever it was that made the film with Jennifer in it. Then we might have something. One lead connects to another which connects to another, and we might wind up with McKee himself, or whoever McKee is thefinder for. That gives us a line into his finances, his house, the rest of his life, and if we get that and he is our man, then it'll all end happily ever after.'

  'You've spoken to Valderas about this?'

  Radick shook his head. 'No, but I will.'

  'Okay. Make up a submission report for whoever we send it to, and speak to Valderas.'

  'And if we end up going to LA, we're going together. Okay?'

  'Okay,' Parrish replied. 'Together.'

  SIXTY-FIVE

  Parrish left after one. He told Radick he had a dental appointment, that he wouldn't be too long. 'I keep missing them,' he said. 'Figured I should make the effort at least once a year.'

  Parrish did not go to a dentist appointment. He took the subway out through Bergen, got off at Carroll, walked three blocks down 1st Place and took a right on Henry. He walked right past the Coopers' house. Inconspicuous, ordinary, nothing striking about it, but what had he expected? He slowed down thirty yards away, walked back as if he was trying to find a number, and then he crossed over and stood at the corner of Carroll and Henry. There was a convenience store there, a mailbox and some newspaper vending machines. He went into the store and bought a sandwich and a bottle of Coke. He stood on the corner. He ate his sandwich. He watched the house for more than an hour. He saw no-one leave and no-one arrive. Just before three he was ready to give it up when his attention was caught by two girls coming down from the corner of President. He stepped back, closer to the wall, and he watched. Twenty yards away and he knew the girl on the right was Amanda Leycross. She had not changed from her case file picture. Schoolbags, cell phones, multi-colored laces in her sneakers, a blue streak dyed through her blonde hair. She was a regular kid. Sixteen years old. She was doing most of the talking. The other girl seemed content to listen. They passed right by Parrish and went into the convenience store. They were no more than a couple of minutes, and then they headed across the street to the Cooper's house and Amanda said goodbye to her friend, who carried on up Henry and then took a left.

  Amanda looked like the others. That's what struck Parrish with the greatest force and certainty. She looked like the others, and it was a moment before he put his finger on what it was. They were normal girls. That was all. They weren't outstandingly pretty or tall or short or thin or fat or anything else. They were blonde, and they were normal.

  Parrish could feel his heart racing, his pulse beating in his temples. He dropped the empty Coke bottle in the trashcan outside the store, and he headed back to the subway
station. He knew. If he had ever been uncertain then it was in that moment that his uncertainty dissolved completely. He knew it was McKee, and he knew that Amanda Leycross was next.

  Parrish was back in the office by four. Radick greeted him with, 'Valderas has taken the paperwork to Haversaw. He says we should be able to get the help we need from LA.'

  'But no word about a week or two for us in the sunshine?'

  'Dreaming,' Radick replied.

  'Did you even suggest it?'

  Radick didn't answer the question. He merely rolled his eyes and then asked after Parrish's dental appointment.

  'I don't floss enough,' Parrish said.

  They waited for word back from Valderas but it didn't come before six. Radick said he had a thing going on. Parrish let him go.

  It was in the silence of the office, Radick gone, the other detectives out doing whatever they were doing, that Parrish's thoughts turned back to Caitlin. He would have to rebuild the bridge. She wasn't going to do it. As far as she was concerned time away from her father was time away from questions about where she was going to wind up working. When was he going to accept that she was an adult, she had her own life, that she was going to make her own decisions and there was little he could do about it? Never, that's when. That was the thing with fathers and daughters. That was just the way it was. The brightest of all his days, the darkest of all his nights.

  He lifted the phone to call her, decided against it. Last time he'd seen her was six days prior. That Thursday night, the way he went for Radick, how he proceeded to kick take-out food all down the stairs. He closed his eyes as a sense of quiet shame came over him.

  Parrish lifted the phone again and called a different number This time she picked up.

  'Eve.'

  'Frank. How are you?'

  'I'm okay, Eve, I'm okay. I've called a few times.'

  'I know, Frank, I've seen your number. I've been busy, you know? Real busy. I have a thing tonight, an hour or so and I have to leave.'

  'Could I come over?'

  'You driving yet?'

  'No.'

  'You take the subway, Frank, and by the time you get here It'll be time for you to leave.'

  'I can get a cab.'

  'I have to get ready, Frank. I need to take a shower, dry my hair, get changed.'

  'Tomorrow?'

  'Tomorrow I'm working, Frank, and then Friday I'm going upstate to see my mom for a little while.'

  'You're giving me the brush-off—'

  'It sounds like it, Frank, but I'm not. It'd be good to see you, but things have been a little crazy . . .'

  'For me too, Eve, for me too.'

  'But you're okay? Everything's okay with you?'

  'It's fine.'

  'I know that tone, Frank.'

  'Go to work, Eve. Call me when you get back.'

  'You're not going to give me anything are you?'

  'You don't want my hardships, Eve. Jesus, I don't even understand why you put up with me.'

  'Because I know you. I know what you're trying to do. I saw what happened to you when Mike was killed—'

  'Enough already. We're not having this conversation again.'

  'That's what you always say, Frank, the point being that we never really did have that conversation in the first place.'

  'Go to work, Eve. Have a good time with your mom. Call me when you get home.'

  'Now who's giving who the brush-off?' 'Take care, okay?'

  Parrish leaned forward and hung up the phone. He felt that pain in his lower gut. He knew what would kill that feeling, and he knew exactly where to get it.

  SIXTY-SIX

  THURSDAY, SEPTEMBER 18, 2008

  'How much did you drink?'

  'Who says I drank anything?'

  'I'm not a fool, Frank. Look at you. It's easy to see when you've had a bad night.'

  'Half a bottle maybe.'

  'And what started you off? You were doing better with that.'

  'I thought about calling Caitlin and I couldn't. I then called a friend who I was hoping I could see and they had plans already.'

  'Loneliness?'

  'God knows. Something. I got to thinking about my father. I got to thinking about how many wrongs make a right. I got to wondering whether this case would ever break.'

  'Where are you at now?'

  'No further forward really. We need to get inside his house, his bank account. We need to get a helluva lot closer than we already have, that's for sure.'

  'And you have no leverage to do that?'

  'No, not yet.'

  'Did you do something you shouldn't have?'

  'Like what?'

  'Did you cross a line, Frank? Did you talk to someone you shouldn't have? Did you get some information from someplace—'

  'Everything we talk about here is confidential, right?'

  'Of course it is. You know that.'

  'Even though you are a department counsellor?'

  'Yes, even though I'm a department counsellor.'

  'I have your word on that?' 'You don't need my word, Frank, it's the law.'

  'I still want your word.'

  'Then you have it.'

  'Then the answer to your question is yes, I got some information.'

  'From someplace you shouldn't have been?'

  'Yes.'

  'You shouldn't be doing that.'

  'I don't need to be reminded of that.'

  'Your father—'

  'My father and I are nothing alike, Marie. Let's get things into perspective here.'

  'You don't think he started down that route by doing something he shouldn't have? Planting evidence. Shoot an unarmed guy and then stick a knife in his hand. You don't think they all began that way.'

  'You think my father did something like that and then it got worse and worse?'

  'That's the way it starts, Frank.'

  'Not with my father. Like I told you, he was the worst you could imagine right from the get-go.'

  'Okay, we're not talking about your father anymore—'

  'He and I are different, okay?'

  'There's no need for you to be defensive.'

  'Say it.'

  'Say what?'

  'Say that me and my father are different.'

  'Of course you're different. No two people—'

  'You know what I mean, Marie. Say it.'

  'Okay, Frank, okay. You and your father are different.'

  'Good. Okay. So what was your next question?'

  'This information you got - irrespective of where you got it from - did it make anything clearer?'

  'Yes.'

  'It confirms your suspicions about this - what was his name?'

  'McKee. Richard McKee. And no, it doesn't confirm anything, it just gives me another lead to follow.'

  'But you still have nothing probative, nothing that tells you he is definitely your guy?' 'No, I don't.'

  'So how does that feel?'

  'Feels like bullshit. That's what it feels like. Feels like so many other situations I've been in. You know something but you can't do anything about it.'

  'Like your father.'

  'Yes, like my father.'

  'And if you were your father, what would you do?'

  if I was my father . . . Jesus, I don't know, maybe go over there, beat the crap out of the guy, tell him the game was up and extort as much money out of him as I possibly could. Either that, or kill him.'

  'You think that's what he'd do?'

  'Yes, more than likely.'

  'But you're not him.'

  'No.'

  'So what are you going to do?'

  'I'm going to follow the rules and color inside the lines and say "Please" and "Thank you" to everyone I meet—'

  'Really, Frank. What are you going to do.'

  'I'm going to get him in again and ask him some more questions. I'm going to put some more pressure on him and see if we can't make some cracks show. That's what I'm going to do.'

  'Today?'

&nbs
p; 'Yes, today.'

  'What makes you think he'll co-operate?'

  'The simple fact that perps like to be as close to the police as they can be. Either they're scared and they want to see what we've got, or they're arrogant and they want to see how they can continue to outwit us.'

  'And which category does your guy fall into?'

  'Both. I think he's a good bit scared and he's arrogant as well. I think he's done this before, many times, and he's got away with it, and now he's wondering whether his lucky streak has come to an end, or if we're just chasing everything we can in the hope that we get something.'

  'You think he'll crack?'

  in here? No, I don't think so. But you put enough pressure on these guys and they start to fuck up. They get over-cautious and that's when things go wrong.'

  'But how will you know what he's doing if you're not following him? I presume you have nothing that warrants surveillance.'

  'That's right.'

  'So—'

  'If I happen to be over that side of the city, and I just happen to see him—'

  'That's illegal, Frank.'

  'So is abducting girls and strangling them on video.'

  'I don't know what to say.'

  'You don't have to say anything, and if you are good to your word then you won't say anything.'

  'I'm good for my word, Frank. That's not the problem here. The problem here is whether you are.'

  'My oath as a police officer?'

  'Exactly.'

  'Let me worry about that, Marie. Right now it seems to me that the end will justify the means.'

  'I could apply that to the situation I have with you.'

  'Sure you could, but if you go blab your mouth off then I'll get suspended again, and then McKee will do whatever the fuck he likes because no-one is really interested in the guy but me.'

  'Maybe there's a reason for that.'

  'He's the guy, believe me. He is the guy.'

  'I hope you're right, Frank, I really do. But what I hope even more is that you get him legally and legitimately, and you don't go dig an even deeper hole for yourself than you already have.'