“There’s no animosity between us, Henry,” she whispered in his ear. “You came all the way out here to save my daughter.”
Henry’s response came out before he had a chance to grab it. “I wish you felt the same way about Jack.”
They separated. “Don’t go there, Henry. Not now.”
They all sat down. Danni ordered a coffee, and they chatted a little before getting down to the hard stuff.
“I almost missed my plane,” Danni said. “I was on my way to the airport, stopped at a stop sign not too far from my home, when I saw this elderly gentleman on the corner struggling to maintain his balance. Suddenly, he went down. I jumped out of the car and ran to help him up. ‘What happened?’ I asked.
“‘I dunno,’ he says in an Italian kind of New York accent. ‘I just kind of lost my balance.’
“‘Where do you live?’ I asked.
“‘I dunno,’ he says. Now I’m thinking he’s either disoriented or he has other problems. I check him over, ask him how he’s feeling. ‘Fine,’ he says but he’s still holding onto me. So I get him in the car. I ask him his name and I try to look up his phone number on my phone. Nothing. I’m not exactly sure what to do—he remembered his name but he had no idea where he lived—so I asked him on a hunch what his telephone number was. He rattled it right off. Amazing.
“Anyway, I called the number and his wife answered. She told me he had Alzheimer’s and the whole family had been looking for him for hours. He lived about two miles away so I drove him home. She was out there waiting for him when I arrived.
“‘That’s my wife, Rosemarie,’ he beamed as we pulled up to the house. ‘She’s my heart. Everybody has to have a heart. Rosie is mine.’
“Rosemarie thanked me profusely and then she gently led him into the house. Why am I telling you this story? Oh yeah, I was telling you why I almost missed the plane.”
“That’s not the reason.” Henry almost whispered the words.
“Maybe not,” Danni said. “Maybe it affected me so much I wanted to share it. I mean, what a tragedy to see the love of your life walking around in a stupor. And yet, how beautiful it is to see two people who love each other so much.”
“There’s beauty in seeing a stranger help another human being too, Mom.”
“There you go,” Henry said. “A person to model yourself after.”
Danni immediately changed the subject.
“So, Henry, you said we needed to make a plan. Do you have any ideas?”
“I do.”
“Do you want to share them with us?”
“I thought maybe I’d listen to your thoughts first,” Henry replied.
“I don’t have any. I mean nothing concrete. So I’d rather hear from you.”
“Okay,” Henry began. He leaned in toward them, his arms resting on the table, his enormous hands surrounding his coffee cup so that it almost disappeared. “Hannah, you’re not going to like this part. I know it’s close to the end of the semester, but I think you’re going to have to leave school. He knows you’re here and there’s too much open space here even if we moved your living quarters and tried to watch you all the time. It’s too dangerous.”
Henry paused to let his words sink in and to wait for a reaction.
“I already figured that,” Hannah said, a slight look of disappointment on her face.
Danni didn’t have a reaction to that part.
“Go on,” she said.
“After that, there’s a lot of options,” Henry continued. “Danni, you could take Hannah to Europe or she could even go herself. The likelihood of Felton getting out of the country at this point in time is pretty low. It’s not impossible but I think Hannah would be safe out of the country.”
Danni wasn’t buying it. Henry was holding back and she had an idea why.
“What would you do if Hannah was your daughter, Henry?”
“She’s not my daughter,” Henry persisted.
“What would you do if I entrusted her to your care?”
Henry didn’t answer right away. He looked at Danni as if trying to read her thoughts. Danni nodded slightly to let him know that this was her wish if he wanted to do it.
“I’d take her to New York,” Henry continued. “I have family there, my aunt in particular who lives in Harlem. It’s a city of over eight million people. We’d drive up so there would be no flight record or anything. She’d be a needle in a haystack, assuming Felton even thought to look there. I can get her a new ID, if necessary, and I have people to watch her at all times when I’m not available, which will be a rare occasion, I assure you.
“It’s a short-term solution. I can’t see keeping it up for more than a month, two at the max, but I think Felton will be caught by that time.”
“I agree with you for the most part,” Danni answered. “He may not be caught, but he’ll be dealt with in that time period.”
Henry stopped at that point. He’d been very reluctant to even offer the plan. Hannah was a twenty-year-old woman who he did not know very well, he was an ex-convict, and Danni was a retired cop. It didn’t seem feasible that she would trust him to walk off with her daughter. But she’d asked. She’d even persisted. And he was convinced that he could protect Hannah.
“Do you really want to do this, Henry?”
“I do, Danni—for me and for Jack.”
“Leave Jack out of this,” she said. Then she looked at Hannah.
“What do you think, honey?”
“I don’t want to leave school,” Hannah said. “But if I have to, this sounds like another type of learning experience. I’ve never been to New York City. And Harlem—wow!”
“You’d be living with real black people, too,” Henry added with a smile.
“That’s the best part, Henry,” she said, smiling. “A new cultural experience.”
“You’re sure?” Danni asked Henry again.
“I’m sure. Are you sure?”
“I can’t explain it, Henry, but I don’t think I’d trust Hannah with anyone else but you. Hannah, are you sure?”
“Yes, Mom. I feel the same way.”
“Then it’s settled. Henry, I’m going to write you a check for a thousand dollars. It should cover the first week or so.”
“No, ma’am.”
“‘No’ what?”
“No, I won’t accept any money. We’ve all got some amends to make here, and I’ve got to do it my way. Besides, I’ve got a lot more money than you do.”
Henry smiled when he said it, causing Danni and Hannah to smile as well.
“When are you planning on leaving?” she asked.
“Right away. We need to get out of here.”
“But I need to pack and, Mom, you just got here,” Hannah said.
“I know, honey, but we’ll have plenty of time when this is over to enjoy each other’s company.”
“Would you take her to the apartment and help her pack?” Henry asked Danni. “If he’s watching the place, I don’t want him to see me. If he doesn’t know that I exist, Hannah is a lot safer.”
“Sure,” Danni replied. “I want him to think she’s coming home with me anyway.”
Hannah walked ahead as they left the coffee shop, giving Henry an opportunity to say a few words to Danni alone.
“I know you’re going after him and that’s why you’re leaving her with me. Don’t make me feel like I made the wrong decision again. Be careful.”
“I will, Henry. I’m going to make that son of a bitch come to me. And when he does, I’m going to be ready for him.”
Chapter Forty-One
Ron had been banging on the condo door for almost five minutes before he decided to use his key and just open it. He’d been calling Jack for hours before that to no avail so he decided to drive over. Jack’s car was outside, but he wouldn’t answer the door. Ron was worried. He’d heard the news about Sam Jeffries’s daughter—it was everywhere now—and he knew that Jack would take it hard.
Once in the apartmen
t he looked around but didn’t see anybody. The place was a little bit of a mess but not too bad. Ron spied two bottles of Jack Daniel’s side by side on the kitchen counter.
“Jack, are you here?”
No answer.
He checked out the two bedrooms and the bathroom. Nobody.
“C’mon Jack, where the hell are you?” Ron yelled, knowing that Jack could have gone out for a run or a bike ride or a plain old walk. It just didn’t seem like he would after getting this news though. And the bottles of Jack Daniel’s were a pretty good indicator that he was temporarily off his training regimen. Then Ron saw the curtain fluttering by the open sliding glass door leading out to the patio. He headed that way. Jack was sitting outside, a cigar in his right hand, an empty shot glass on the table in front of him, and a half-full bottle of Miller Lite in his left hand.
It was a tall table with tall chairs, and Ron’s first thought was that Jack looked so unstable that he might fall off his chair.
“Jack, didn’t you hear me calling you?”
Jack ignored the question. “Sit down, Ronnie.” He slurred the words. “No, better yet, why don’t you walk out to the kitchen and get the full bottle of Jack and a couple of beers from the refrigerator. I’d do it myself but I’m a little under the weather right now.”
Ron figured it wasn’t the right time for a lecture, and if he wanted to get Jack to open up and let the poison out, he was going to have to sit with him for a while and share a drink or two. Jack would eventually tell him, he knew that. He only hoped he had the right answers when the discussion started. His friend needed help but he wasn’t in the right frame of mind to listen. Ron had to get through to him somehow.
In the meantime, he headed for the kitchen to get the beer and the whiskey.
A couple of beers and one shot later, the real discussion began.
“Did you ever make a monumental mistake, Ronnie? One you didn’t think you’d recover from?”
“Tons of ’em.”
“I’m not talking about failed businesses and shit like that. I’m talking about something that goes to your core, that affects who you are.”
“I know what you’re talking about, Jack. I left my first wife and my son. He grew up without me around. That was a fundamental, monumental fuckup that I still regret to this day.”
“How do you deal with it?”
“I can’t change it. I just have to go on and I have to make up for it in some way with the people I meet. I have to give more of myself because I didn’t in the past.”
“That’s it?”
“I tried to make it up to my son but he resented me. We’re a little better now but it’ll never be great. At least I’m still here. At least I can help him if he needs it.”
“I don’t have that option. I caused a woman to lose her life and her father to lose his daughter after already losing his wife. How do you remedy that?”
“You didn’t cause anybody to lose their life, Jack. You represented a man who you believed was innocent. Apache County set him free, for Christ’s sake, not you. They could have prosecuted him for that attempted murder. A judge could have put him away for another twenty-five years but the county chose not to do so.”
“I represented a serial killer, Ronnie.” Jack leaned over the table until his face was almost in Ron’s. He started to fall off his chair. Ron caught him and straightened him back up. He kept talking as if he hadn’t noticed what had happened. “Danni told me not to do it. She told me I was getting into something I knew nothing about. I refused to listen.”
“Think about all the people you’ve helped, Jack, because you didn’t prejudge, you didn’t listen to anybody—you relied only on the facts. You’re not perfect, my friend. You were bound to make a mistake. If there weren’t people like you, Jack, a lot of innocent folks would have been executed.”
“You don’t understand, Ronnie. This was a serial killer.” He leaned in and almost toppled over again. Ron knew it wouldn’t be long before he was sleeping it off.
“I’m sure I don’t understand, Jack. It was an awesome responsibility. But it’s over. You need to find a purpose again. Maybe you won’t be able to do this death row stuff for a while, but you can do something for the greater good. Something worthwhile. That’s who you are. Wasn’t it you who told me you have to give back to the universe to even things out?”
“Don’t hit me with that garbage now. And you’re still not getting it. I’m not talking about responsibility, I’m talking about arrogance. Why did I think I was smarter than the people who put this guy away?”
“I’m sure you had your reasons, and they were good reasons. I’ve met a lot of arrogant bastards in my time and you’re not one of them. You’re the opposite of that.”
Just then the front doorbell rang. The doorbell, Ron thought to himself. Why didn’t I think of that? He knew the answer. He’d knocked on doors his whole life. There weren’t any tenement apartments in New York with doorbells.
“I’ll get it,” Ron said.
“No, no, I’ll get it,” Jack said as he once again almost fell off the chair.
“Then I’ll go with you,” Ron said as he caught Jack on his right side and steadied him. Together they went to the front door. Ron opened it to find two Oakville police officers standing there.
“Officers, can I help you?” Jack said.
“Are you Jack Tobin?”
“In the flesh.”
It was apparent to the two cops that Jack was drunk since he was swaying back and forth, and Ron was still holding his right arm.
“We have been asked to give you a message by Assistant Chief Martin. He says to tell you that you might want to go back home,” one of the officers said.
“What did he mean by that statement?” Ron asked.
“I don’t know,” the same cop answered.
The other cop spoke for the first time. “A lot of people in this town are angry about what happened and they blame him,” he said, pointing at Jack.
That explanation didn’t make a lot of sense to Ron. Cops coming to give a message to somebody to get out of town because the town folk were angry. It sounded like a scene from an old Western.
“Where’s Sam Jeffries? Why didn’t he tell you to deliver the message?” Ron asked.
“Nobody’s seen him since he got the news. I was the one who told him. He didn’t take it well,” the officer who had spoken first told Ron.
“What do you mean nobody’s seen him? Is he home?”
“No sir,” the first cop continued. “His son is looking for him, too. Assistant Chief Martin is very concerned.”
“Maybe he’s in Miami making funeral arrangements.”
“No, sir. The son took care of that. They’re shipping the body here for the funeral and the burial.”
So that was it. They weren’t worried about Jack. They were worried that Sam Jeffries might kill Jack. At least that made sense.
“Would you give Chief Jeffries my apologies?” Jack muttered. “Tell him I’m going to kill that son-of-a-bitch client of mine myself.”
“I wouldn’t be making statements like that if I were you, Mr. Tobin,” the second cop said.
To Ron’s relief, Jack didn’t answer. Jack didn’t need to be making any more statements to the police in his current condition. Ron needed to end this conversation.
“Thank you, officers,” he said. “And thank Assistant Chief Martin for his concern. I can assure you Jack will be relocating based on his advice.”
Ron politely but firmly closed the door.
“What was that about? I’m not relocating,” Jack said.
“I think you should. That was about Assistant Chief Martin telling you in a very subtle way that Sam Jeffries is temporarily out of his mind and that he may come looking for you.”
“He should.”
“Come on, Jack, stop that nonsense. Look, I’ve got another condo about two miles from here on the east side of town. It’s fully furnished. You just need to take your c
lothes. Why don’t we do that right now.”
“Okay,” Jack said to Ron’s complete surprise. He’d expected an argument. “I need a change of scenery anyway,” Jack continued, still slurring his words.
“I’ll drive you over,” Ron said. “And I’ll pick you up in the morning and drive you to get your car.”
It was an excuse to check on him the next morning.
Chapter Forty-Two
Two days after she returned from Boulder and a day before the funeral of Kathleen Jeffries, Danni received a surprise guest at her home. She opened the door and there stood Sam Jeffries, rumpled and disheveled with at least a three days’ growth on his face, maybe more.
“Sam, come on in.” She gave him a long hug after he entered the house. “I’m so sorry for your troubles, Sam.”
“Thanks, Danni. You know the funeral is tomorrow.”
“Yeah, they called me from the station and told me. That’s pretty quick.”
“I want it over with. I’ve got things to do.”
“Why don’t you come in and sit down, Sam. I’ll get you some coffee.”
“Thanks.”
Danni had an intimate little table for two in her kitchen. They sat there to drink their coffee.
“How are you doing?” she asked, knowing at least part of the answer. Sam’s hands were shaking, which told her he’d been doing what cops did in times of trouble—drowning his sorrows in alcohol.
“Well, you don’t need to take my guns if that’s what you’re asking. I’ve had my moments but now I’m focused.”
Danni was pretty sure she knew what he was focused on, but she felt obligated to ask the question.
“On what?”
“On finding Tom Felton and killing him. I’d like to cut his fuckin’ balls off and stick them in his mouth and while he was choking slowly slit his throat, but I want to keep my job, so I’ll have to settle for a bullet to the head or the heart, whichever is most convenient.”
“Sounds good.”
“I’d like to do the same for your boy Tobin.”
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