“No change. We’re sitting here waiting.”
“Did you need something?”
“Just checking to see if you need me.”
“This is the third time you’ve called. How about if you worry about Frankie, and let me worry about the dead people.”
“You’re right. I’ll call when I get news on Frankie.”
She hung up and stared at Alex, listened to his breathing. He was a damn good kid. Don’t let anything happen to Frankie, God. Alex needs him.
A few minutes later, Alex’s eyes popped open. “You still here, Kate?”
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“Just like checking.”
“I’ll wake you if anything happens. Get some rest.”
“Can’t sleep.”
“It is kind of noisy in here. Let’s see if we can find a quiet place to rest.”
“It’s not that,” Alex said. “I’m worried about FD. It’s been a long time. What if he doesn’t make it?”
Kate pulled a blanket over his shoulders, and tucked it into her lap. “He will,” she whispered. “Close your eyes and try to sleep.”
A few minutes later Alex dozed off. Kate leaned against the back of the chair and closed her eyes, praying she didn’t wake to bad news. After a while she heard a familiar voice.
“Hush, girl. Don’t you wake them.”
Kate lifted her head. Keisha and her mom were standing a few feet away. Linda looked at Keisha as if she were ready to dish out a spanking.
“She didn’t wake me,” Kate said. “I’ve been dozing off and on, but can’t really sleep.”
Alex popped up. “Keisha!”
Keisha hugged him. “Is FD okay?”
“We don’t know yet. He’s doing better, but not much.”
Linda took Kate’s hand. “She drew some pictures for Frankie, and she’s been dying to come down here, but I didn’t think it was right.”
Kate hugged her. “You’re family, Linda. Frankie would love to see her. You know how much he adores your girl. The other day he—” Kate stopped, tears building in her eyes. She grabbed a tissue then broke down crying. “I’m sorry.”
Linda took hold of Kate. “Let’s step outside. Keisha will keep Alex company.” She turned to Keisha. “Ms. Burns and I are going outside. Stay with Alex.”
Halfway down the hall Kate stopped crying. “You know what’s crazy? I do autopsies. I see the worst things in life without ever shedding a tear. But with Frankie…I can’t stop crying. I held up pretty good until now.”
Linda held the door for her as they went outside. “Maybe you needed someone to talk to. It’s gotta be tough when all you got are a bunch of cops.”
Kate squeezed her hand and then took a seat on a bench. “All they want is to get the guy who did it.” The tears threatened to come again. “I don’t give a shit about that. I just want Frankie to get better.”
“I don’t know what that boy is gonna do if something happens to Frankie. My Lord, it’s not right that the good people have things go wrong.”
Kate balled up the tissue and put it in her purse. “He is a good person.”
“Good? That man is a saint. I don’t know many people who would take in a ten-year-old boy, let alone one of a different color.”
“I can’t say this about many people, Linda, but I can honestly say that Frankie doesn’t know color. He jokes and teases people about being different nationalities, but he never judges.” Kate felt as if she was about to cry again. “He is a good man.”
Linda hugged her. “I know. Even better, the kids know it. Kids can always tell.”
The door opened and Alex ran out. He stumbled on a break in the sidewalk, but managed to keep his balance. “Kate, he’s awake. Dad’s awake!”
“What?”
Alex ran to Kate and threw his arms around her waist. “Come on. Hurry up!”
Kate took his hand and rushed into the hospital. “Who told you? What did they say?”
“A nurse came in and said he was awake and asking for us.”
“Thank God,” Kate said.
“I guess God does listen to prayers,” Alex said.
“You’ve been praying?” Kate asked.
“Rat told me to. He said it helps.”
I’ll be damned. Kate turned the corner, stopping at the entrance to the ICU. She pressed the dispenser for the bacterial soap and scrubbed her hands. Alex reached up and did the same. She had to force herself to walk. She felt like running in and telling Frankie how much she loved him. She hadn’t realized how strongly she felt about him until this happened. Now she knew she couldn’t lose him. Not ever.
As they got close to his room, Alex busted into a run. She thought he might jump on the bed, he was so excited.
“Dad!”
Frankie smiled and his eyes lit up. “Dad? You never call me that.”
“Now I do,” Alex said, and hugged him.
“Careful, Ace. I’m hurting.”
Frankie looked up at Kate. He blew her a kiss. “Hey, beautiful. Taking the day off?”
Kate cried. She leaned in and hugged him. “I love you, Frankie.”
“All I had to do was get stabbed for you to say it.”
Frankie squeezed Alex’s hand. “You been hangin’ out here?”
“All day.”
He looked up. “How long…”
“Two days,” Kate said. “We thought we lost you.”
“You can’t kill a Mick that easy.” Frankie smiled and rubbed Alex’s head. “Isn’t that right, Irish?”
“Damn straight,” Alex said. “Us Irish go down hard.”
Kate laughed for the first time since the stabbing. “Irish, are you?”
“Black Irish,” Alex said, then he laughed too.
The nurse came in. “We’re going to have to limit his visiting time for now. He’s still very weak.”
Kate got serious. “Of course.” She leaned in, kissed Frankie again. “We’ve got to go, but I’ll be right outside in the waiting room.”
“Thanks, Kate.”
“Alex, you can stay with Frankie for a few minutes. I’m going to call Lou.”
Alex waited for Kate to leave, and then he got close to Frankie and whispered, “Rat is here.”
Frankie lost his smile. “Rat? Here, in Brooklyn?”
Alex nodded. “He came up the first night.”
“How did he—”
“I called him.”
Frankie looked at him, brow wrinkled. “You called him? How did—”
“You got his number on your phone, FD. What the hell? Some detective you are.”
Frankie started to laugh, which turned into a cough. He reached to hold his side. “Goddamn, that hurt.” The cough continued, Frankie’s face twisting in pain.
Alex looked over. Blood soaked through the bandages. “Nurse, he’s bleeding!”
She moved quickly to the bed. “His stitches burst. Okay, you’ve got to get out, young man.” She pushed a button, an alarm went off, then people raced through the door.
God, don’t let anything happen to FD. Please?
CHAPTER 51
Get Rid of the Evidence
I found a place to eat breakfast, and prayed the coffee was good. The run made me hungry, but I needed coffee to combat the lack of sleep. Besides, I figured I needed to stay away for at least an hour. Stewart might be watching, and though it was unlikely he’d recognize me with the hoodie, I didn’t like taking chances.
After I got back to his neighborhood, I parked a block and a half in the opposite direction of where I was this morning, close to where the rental agency guy parked my car. I slipped out of the rental and slid behind the steering wheel of my SUV. If Stewart spotted me sitting in it, he wouldn’t be suspicious when I tailed him with the rental. I didn’t like being so far from the house, but it was safer, and I could use the binoculars if I had to.
I didn’t like just sitting here and waiting, but belief in Sister Thomas’ rules kept me going.
> A little patience solves most problems. Undying patience solves them all.
I lay my head back and decided to test the theory. About half an hour later, a call came in on my burner. “Hello.”
“Fusco?”
I recognized Mazzetti’s voice. “It’s me. Anything wrong?”
“No, nothing new. But listen, I have a…favor to ask.”
“That must have been difficult, Detective.”
“Tougher than you know.”
“What is it?”
“You still on Stewart?”
“If you want to call it that, yes.”
“He’s not the guy,” Lou said. “We just finished checking his alibi and he has half of Brooklyn swearing he was with them the night of the first murders.”
“He’s the guy.”
“It’s Benning,” Mazzetti said. “I’m telling you. If you want to tail somebody, make it Benning.”
I didn’t want to piss him off, but I had to make him understand. “Mazzetti, I understand what you think, but maybe you should know that I found Bugs’ gun.”
“What? Where?”
“I was tailing Stewart and he dumped it in a trashcan.”
“You got it, didn’t you?”
“Of course I did, but it’s not going to help you make a case. I’m telling you so you can spend some of the city’s money on catching the real killer.”
“All right, I’ll figure something out. In the meantime—”
“Yeah, I know. I’m staying on Stewart.”
I hung up and crouched low in the seat. It wasn’t long before Stewart returned. He jogged around the block twice, checking the area. I sank lower in the seat, but I was far enough away that he wouldn’t take note. At least I hoped he wouldn’t. After his second pass he went into the house. I hoped he was in for the long haul. I needed sleep.
A tapping on the passenger window woke me from one of many short naps. Startled, I reached for my gun, but then saw the guy looked harmless. His face wore a mean look, but his eyes were weak. Couldn’t kill a bug. I rolled the window down.
“Yeah?”
“What the fuck you doin’ sittin’ here?”
“I’m on a stakeout.”
“Stakeout? You a cop? Let me see a badge.”
“I’m undercover, asshole.”
“Undercover my ass. Show me a badge or get the fuck off my block.”
“Check with Detective Lou Mazzetti in homicide. He’ll vouch for me.”
The guy didn’t listen. Started running his mouth again. I didn’t want to, but I got out of the car. “If you fuck up my cover, I’ll bust your ass for interfering with a police investigation. If you want to check me out, call Mazzetti. Now get the fuck out of here.”
He puffed himself up real big, tried to make himself look mean, clenched his fists, but in the end he turned and walked back into his house. He’d bitch to his wife, brag to his kids and neighbors, but he wouldn’t call Mazzetti. That would take all the fun out of it.
I looked to make sure Stewart wasn’t out, then got back in the car and slouched in the seat. This was going to be a very long day.
***
Fabrizio parked three blocks from the hotel, got out of his car and walked north. He made sure to keep with the crowd of people. A lone man sticks out more. Signor Mangini warned him about this one, but there had been no need. From the moment he met Fusco, Fabrizio knew he was dangerous. It would be Fabrizio’s first real test for Signor Mangini, and he couldn’t afford to let him down.
By the time Fabrizio reached the hotel, only one person remained from the crowd. He split from the other man and entered the hotel, making sure to keep his head low and his cap pulled down to cover his eyes. Cameras were everywhere nowadays but there were ways to beat them if you were alert. He passed the lobby, found a house phone in a secluded spot and called the front desk.
“Nicky Fusco, please.”
“Just one moment,” the clerk said. A phone rang. After seven rings he came back on. “I’m sorry, sir, Mr. Fusco is not in. Would you care to leave a message?”
“No, thank you. I’ll call later.”
If he hasn’t checked out, he is still here. Fabrizio hoped Nicky would leave, as Dominic asked, but Fabrizio knew he wouldn’t go until he found the man who attacked his friend. It is the same thing Fabrizio would do. He stopped outside the hotel, and looked up and down the street.
Where would he go? If I were tracking Detective Donovan’s attacker, where would I go? Fabrizio called one of Dominic’s contacts at the paper. Fifteen minutes later he had the name of a suspect in the case, a man named Bruce Stewart. He lived in Red Hook, not far.
***
Stewart finished his second pass around the block, checking every car and looking for anything suspicious. No one seemed to be following him, though he took nothing for granted. He thought that one jogger, the one who had kept close behind him, might have been a plant, but then he disappeared back on Seventh Avenue, and Bruce hadn’t seen him since. Perhaps he worried too much. The cops weren’t that smart. Not as smart as he was. He was home free now. No way could they pin anything on him. All he had to do was get rid of the other gun. He hated to do that—it had been such a good gun—but sacrifices had to be made.
He opened the front door, checking to make sure all was as he left it. He turned the dials on the shower to the spots he’d marked, set the timer for three minutes, then lay on the bed and stretched. He wondered how much time he’d saved over the years by doing a few simple tests fifteen or twenty years ago. Find the perfect temperature of the water, measure how long it takes to get there, and mark the dials.
I wonder—why doesn’t everyone do that?
When the timer went off he took his shower and wiped the tiles dry when he finished. He hated the little streaks the water left when it dried. They reminded him of the spots the dishwasher left on glasses.
Used to leave. He no longer used the dishwasher. Sometimes he stored dishes in there until he was ready to wash them, but they were washed by hand, scrubbed and dried to perfection.
He placed towels on the bed then lay on top of them, letting the fan blow across the beads of water, allowing his body to dry naturally. He remembered the time Susan saw him drying like this, naked on the bed. She took advantage of the situation that day and he hasn’t looked back since. A smile spread across his face.
Susan. Sweet, sweet Susan.
It took a while to dry, but he had time. When he could no longer feel the fan’s cold touch against damp skin, he got off the bed and dressed in black jeans and a gray shirt with a pocket. It was almost time to go. Before leaving he got a knife from his drawer, a standard kitchen knife much like the one that stabbed Detective Donovan. He didn’t like being without a weapon, and since he was going to get rid of his last gun…
Bruce peeked through the blinds, waited, then looked again. If anyone was out there watching him, they were doing a damn good job. He put the knife in a small bag along with a bottled water, and walked to his car.
***
Luckily I wasn’t napping when Stewart came out. He tried looking casual, nonchalant, but he was alert, and watching everything. I waited until he started the car and pulled out. Then I slouched in the seat, leaned my head against the door and closed my eyes. I’d give him fifteen seconds. If he didn’t pass me by then, it meant he turned left at the corner.
I heard the car pass by without slowing down. I hoped that meant he ignored me. I knew he saw me. I checked the rearview mirror. He was looking back. I had a dilemma now. Hurry up and follow him—and risk being made if he doubled back—or wait and risk losing him. Stewart was the careful type, so I decided to stay put. A few minutes later he pulled around the corner, checking the street again. I quickly closed my eyes until he passed.
The son of a bitch was checking on me.
As soon as he turned, I got out of my car, ran to the rental, got in and fell in behind him, keeping a good distance. I also removed the hoodie so he couldn’t r
ecognize me from that. Most people were easy to tail, even cops, but this guy was suspicious. To me, that alone proved he was guilty as hell. Innocent people didn’t check for tails. A shiver of fear ran through me. I had focused so much on Stewart that I forgot about my time running out. I looked at my watch. Two hours left. I adjusted the side mirrors to give me a better view of possible tails, glanced in the rearview, and looked around at the cars waiting to turn my way. It wasn’t time yet, but Fabrizio was surely out there somewhere.
I know he is. It’s what I would do.
CHAPTER 52
Another House
Fabrizio assumed that the man named Stewart only had a few ways to go when he left the house; odds were good that he would pass in the vicinity of Columbus or Ninth Streets. He had never seen Stewart, and had no reason to follow him other than to find Niccolo Fusco and he was certain that Fusco would be tailing Stewart. He was not the kind of man to let the cops carry out his justice.
He was in no hurry. The time was not up yet, but it was nearing and he wanted to be in position. A half an hour passed before Fusco went by. Fabrizio almost missed him. He was driving a different car. Fabrizio smiled.
The hunt begins.
***
I followed Stewart from Red Hook into Brooklyn Heights. When he stopped at a café, I circled around and parked a block ahead of him. I could watch from there without being noticed. Stewart walked from his car to the café looking as if he had nothing to worry about. I wondered if this was a show or if he really thought he was home free. I checked behind me, then looked all around. On the way from Red Hook I thought I spotted a tail, but when I checked, he was gone. Maybe I was getting paranoid.
Stewart drank a couple of coffees, or lattes, or something, and pretended to read the paper, holding it up as a shield while he looked to each side. Then he went to the restroom. When he returned, he shifted his chair so he could look in other directions without being noticed. He was an amateur, but he wasn’t bad. About forty minutes after going in, he cleaned his table and left. I was getting ready to follow when he walked past his car.
Where the hell is he going?
Halfway down the next block he walked up a few steps to a nice old house, pulled out a key and let himself in.
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