by Eric Bernt
“I can’t take care of myself, either.”
McHenry led them into the kitchen and searched through the cupboards until he found a box of graham crackers. “Bingo.”
“What does bingo mean?”
“It’s something you say when you find what you’re looking for.”
Eddie turned toward Skylar. “Bingo.”
For just a second, he looked her in the eyes. Not because he was instructed to, like he had been in so many practice exercises with so many different doctors over the years. He did it because he wanted to see her reaction. Because it mattered to him. Because he felt connected to someone for the first time in his life.
Skylar caught it. Felt it in her spine. She had been on alert for such a moment ever since their walk to nowhere in particular, but she honestly hadn’t expected it this soon. She had once shared a similar moment with her younger brother, Christopher, but that had taken years. It happened just before she went to college, which was incredibly unfortunate. Skylar had reached him just before she had to leave him, and he never recovered from it. Skylar never forgave herself for his death, which had everything to do with the emptiness she’d felt all these years.
As she returned Eddie’s gaze, she promised herself she would not allow the same thing to happen to him. In fact, she swore on her life. She would rather die than see anything happen to him. Because if she couldn’t save him, she could never save herself. And she’d been living in a cell of her own making for quite long enough.
That, and, given the circumstances, she needed someone to cling to.
Butler handed Eddie the box of graham crackers. “Can we go now?”
“I haven’t eaten my afternoon snack yet.”
“You can eat in the car.”
Eddie stared at him. “Is that a joke, Detective McHenry?”
“Do I look like I’m joking?”
Eddie studied the man’s face closely. “I have difficulty interpreting facial expressions.”
Skylar put her hand on Butler’s shoulder. “Just . . . let him eat here. We’d only have to pull over, anyway. Trust me.”
She asked the detective if there was a glass Eddie could use. He gave her one, and she carefully poured Eddie a six-ounce serving of milk. She then removed two graham-cracker sheets from the box and handed them to him. Eddie broke one of the large rectangular pieces into two squares, then broke each of the squares into two smaller rectangles. He did the same with the second sheet and neatly stacked the eight small rectangles on top of each other. After placing a napkin on his lap, he took a bite of graham cracker and chewed it carefully. “Three. Not fresh.” He took another bite and a sip of milk. “Four. This milk is just the right temperature. Nice and cold.”
Skylar was about to explain, when Butler cut her off. “I don’t even want to know.”
She smiled slightly. “Eddie, I would like to speak to Detective McHenry privately for a few minutes. Would you mind staying here?”
“How many minutes is a few?”
“Not more than fifteen.”
He scanned the kitchen for any visible signs of purple food. There were none he could see. “No, I would not mind.”
They left Eddie alone in the kitchen with the echo box to enjoy his graham crackers and milk while they spoke in the hallway. Skylar glanced at the numerous family photos on the walls. She focused on several of Butler with two small children. “These your kids?”
Butler nodded. “Clayton’s my son. He’s thirteen now. Katherine’s nine.”
“They’re beautiful.”
“They live with their mother in Colorado Springs.” His voice was tense.
“How often do you get to see them?”
“Not as much as I’d like.” It was clear he wanted to change the subject.
She turned to an older picture, which featured Butler when he was about the same age as his son was now. He stood beside a muscled, stern-looking man. “Your father?”
“Stepfather.” His eyes went cold. “How about you start from the beginning so even an idiot like me can understand what the hell is going on.”
CHAPTER 43
Butler McHenry’s Townhome, Queens, New York City, May 27, 2:06 p.m.
Lutz and Hirsch peered inside the windows of Butler’s town house. The lights were off. No car in the driveway. Didn’t look like anyone was home. They walked around back to the kitchen door. Lutz scanned the neighbors’ houses as Hirsch went to work on the lock. They were inside McHenry’s residence in less time than it took most people to find their keys.
With well-rehearsed precision, they fanned out through the house. Butler wasn’t there. Lutz called Barnes. “Nobody’s home.”
“Enough hide-and-seek. Let’s make him come to us.”
“How, sir?”
“I’m reporting to Homeland Security that New York Detective Butler McHenry is harboring fugitives in possession of stolen classified technology. Federal warrants will be issued for all three.”
“Hard core. Love it.” Lutz actually thought it was dumb as hell, but a little ass kissing seemed to be in order.
“It won’t take long for McHenry’s lieutenant to contact him and ask what the hell is going on. The detective will try to explain and get nowhere. He’ll be ordered to report to his precinct, which he’ll agree to because he’ll want to play the box for them.”
“Doesn’t it concern you what they might hear?”
“Anything they hear would be inadmissible. But they’re not going to hear anything, because you’ll intercept them outside the precinct and take them into your custody.”
“On our way.” Hirsch and Lutz exited the way they came, locking the door behind them. McHenry would never know anyone had been there.
CHAPTER 44
McHenry’s Mother’s House, Queens, New York City, May 27, 2:09 p.m.
Skylar had been talking to Butler for just over twelve minutes when she completed her account of recent events. He hadn’t stopped pacing the entire time. The more he heard, the more anxious he became. Detective McHenry was now sure of only one thing. He was in way over his head. “The only shot you have at going after your boss will be to prove this mystery guy acted under his instructions, but that’s never going to happen.”
“Why not?”
“He killed Professor Hendrix in front of eighty-seven people, and no one can describe him any better than ‘He was a homeless guy with a beard.’ Whoever he is, he’s a professional. We’ll be lucky to ever find him, much less arrest him.”
“If you’re trying to scare me, it’s working.”
“I’m not trying to scare you, just trying to help you realize what we might—”
He stopped talking as they heard glass breaking inside the kitchen. Quickly followed by screaming.
Butler responded on instinct, lightning fast. “Stay here.” He had his weapon out and was racing down the hall before Skylar could react.
“Like hell.” Going after him, all she could think of was that if any harm came to Eddie, she would never forgive herself.
She arrived in the kitchen a moment behind Butler to find Eddie sitting calmly by himself at the table. His graham crackers and milk were gone. Eddie became terrified when he saw McHenry pointing his gun around the room. Eddie started screaming, “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” The food in his mouth sprayed everywhere as he slapped himself repeatedly. SLAP! SLAP! SLAP!
The detective was dumbfounded as Skylar rushed to Eddie, wrapping her arms around him as tightly as she could. “Shh.”
Eddie was hysterical. “Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!”
She continued holding him, trying to sound as reassuring as she could. “He wasn’t going to shoot you, Eddie.”
“Don’t shoot! Don’t shoot!” His eyes remained fixated on the gun.
Skylar glared at Butler. “Would you holster your weapon, please?” The way she said “please” made it sound more like you goddamn idiot.
Butler wasn’t ready to put away his weapon just yet. He’d
heard glass breaking. And someone screaming. The voice was not Eddie’s. He was sure of it. Someone else was there.
Butler quickly surveyed the windows around the room to see which ones had been broken. Strangely, all the panes remained intact. The room was just as he had left it. There was no sign of damage anywhere. So what the hell was going on?
Skylar continued holding Eddie until his breathing finally slowed. His arms went limp. Nurse Gloria would have nodded with approval. Skylar released her grip gently and looked directly into his eyes. “We heard screaming. Detective McHenry and I were worried.”
Eddie’s voice was weak. “I’m tired.”
Skylar spoke gently. “Who was screaming, Eddie?”
“I don’t like it here.”
Her voice remained soothing. “I know you don’t. But we need to know who was screaming.”
“I’m—” Eddie cut himself off. He took several long, deep breaths, and gradually regained his composure. He turned to Butler. “Detective, did you recognize the voices?”
“No.”
Eddie looked puzzled. “Are you sure?”
Talking to Eddie required a patience the detective was fresh out of. He responded tersely. “Why, should I have?”
“Yes, you should have.” Eddie waited, still expecting the detective to realize the obvious. “One of the voices was you.”
The detective froze. He slowly turned to Skylar, who was now focused on the laptop, which was connected to the echo box. The eight one-inch satellite microphones slowly stopped moving. Their work was done. The laptop screen showed a three-dimensional rendering of the kitchen. The progress counter read: 100 percent. The timeline went back thirty years.
Through the laptop came HISSING and all kinds of DISTORTION, but a man could be heard YELLING: “Who the . . . think . . . talking to, boy?”
McHenry’s face dropped. Particularly when he heard the next voice.
LITTLE BOY: I swear . . . I’ll kill you . . . hit her again!
MAN: You threatening . . . ?
LITTLE BOY: . . . goddamn right!
The sound of a fist hitting a face was clear. The thud was sickening. So was the sound of a body falling to the floor. A small body.
McHenry stared at the exact spot on the floor where he had collapsed as a young boy. He hadn’t thought about the many times his stepfather had hit him—particularly this incident—in a very long while. Pain flashed across his face. The hurt he’d felt when it happened was all too clear in his mind. Sense memories often are. “Turn it off.” Eddie did.
The detective sat down at the kitchen table, staring at the eight satellite microphones extended from the echo box. Skylar sat down across from him, appreciating how he must be feeling. She thought of the moments from her childhood that would be most painful for her to hear. She studied the detective. “That was you?”
He nodded, speaking slowly. “Bastard used to hit my mom. I couldn’t stop him.” He paused, unconsciously scratching his head where he still bore the scar. “Thirty-seven stitches.”
Skylar saw his pain clearly. He hurt like he did as a boy, not as a man remembering it. “I’m sorry.” Her voice was soothing. Genuine. Affecting.
Butler now understood how she could reach Eddie the way she did. There was just something about her. She made him feel better. At least a little. “He’s why I became a cop. First thing I planned on doing out of the Academy was putting the son of a bitch away, but he died before I got the chance.”
Eddie glanced at the detective. “Are you angry with me, Detective?”
Butler shook his head. “No, Eddie. But I think I get it now.”
“Get what now?”
“The importance of your box.”
“I’m going to hear my mother sing.” Eddie smiled innocently.
“I hope you do.”
“Detective, would you like to hear more?”
He shook his head. “That’s all right. I’m good.”
“You don’t look good, Detective. I can tell because you are not smiling.”
“I’m okay. But you know what?”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re not as bad at reading people’s expressions as you think.” Butler turned to Skylar. He paused to make sure the weight of what he was about to say was clear. He motioned to the echo box. “This thing is going to change the world. You get that, right?”
She looked him squarely in the eyes. “Yes, I get that.”
“I mean like the car. The phone. The plane. It’s going to change everything.” The possibilities were blowing his mind.
She nodded with understanding. “Kind of overwhelming, isn’t it?”
He nodded slowly. But she was relieved that the man she had turned to for help now genuinely appreciated the importance of Eddie and his echo box.
Skylar had an ally, and that was a start.
CHAPTER 45
Williamsburg Bridge, New York City, May 27, 2:47 p.m.
Butler’s cell phone rang as he drove across the bridge toward Manhattan. It was his boss, Lieutenant Victoria Daniels. “What the hell is going on?” She sounded more tense than usual. Butler would soon learn that it was because the highest-ranking officer of the Sixth Precinct, Deputy Inspector Anthony Nataro, was beside her.
“Good afternoon to you, too, Detective Lieutenant.” He glanced over to Skylar, sitting next to him. She was keeping an eye on Eddie in the rearview mirror. He had tissue paper sticking out of his ears, but otherwise seemed to be doing okay. He clutched the echo box, which was now contained in a weathered old backpack Skylar correctly guessed was Butler’s from his school days. Eddie held the backpack tightly, like a security blanket, as he looked out the windows. He slowly rotated his head back and forth, trying to make himself feel comfortable.
Daniels wasn’t amused. “You’re on speakerphone with Deputy Inspector Nataro. We would both like to know why a federal warrant has been issued for your arrest.”
Butler realized he should have anticipated this. “I can explain.”
“I’m listening.”
“I have the first solid lead on the subway gas attack, with evidence to back it up.”
“How did you come by this evidence?” The detective lieutenant sounded surprised. Clearly, this was the last thing she expected to hear.
“It walked in the door of my favorite sports bar.”
Nataro and Daniels could be heard whispering. “You’re telling me it just walked in the door?”
“Yes, that is exactly what I’m telling you. I have a dozen witnesses who will confirm it.”
Anthony Nataro chimed in. “Detective, this is Deputy Inspector Nataro. What kind of evidence?”
Butler was glad he asked. “It’s something I’d like you both to hear.”
“A recording?”
“Something like that.”
“Bring it to the station.”
“I’m on my way to you now. I’m crossing the Williamsburg as we speak.”
Again, Nataro and Daniels whispered to each other before he asked, “Are Skylar Drummond and Edward Parks with you?”
“They are. Would you like to speak with them?”
Eddie shook his head as he continued looking out the windows. “She is a stranger. I don’t talk to strangers.”
The lieutenant could hear him. “Was that Edward Parks?”
“He prefers to be called Eddie.”
“Were you aware he and Dr. Drummond are in possession of stolen classified technology?”
“I was not aware that it was considered stolen.”
Eddie made his BUZZER sound. The statement wasn’t true.
Lieutenant Daniels was not amused. “What the hell was that?”
“That was Eddie, who can shut up now.”
“Detective, why are you helping these people?”
“It’s not like that. I’m working the subway attack.”
“I’m not following.”
“You will when you hear what I have to play for you.”
Butler stared through the windshield, thinking. “They’re waiting for us, aren’t they?”
The deputy inspector didn’t hesitate. “With the promise of a whole lot more of them if we don’t provide full cooperation.”
Butler spoke clearly and concisely, so there was no chance of misunderstanding. “Sir, the subway gas attack was not random, and it wasn’t some nutjob. It was a hit on the professor, designed to look like a terrorist incident.”
There was a long moment of silence. Butler knew it sounded far-fetched. Far-fetched as hell. Which was why he continued. “The people waiting to arrest me are either involved or covering up for those who were, but I cannot prove it unless I’m allowed to play the evidence for you.”
Through the phone, Butler could hear Nataro tell Daniels, “It’s your call.”
She addressed Butler. “Park away from the station. Enter through the west emergency stairwell.”
“What about the alarm?” Butler asked.
“I’ll make sure it’s disconnected. Go to Interrogation Five. Call me when you’re there.”
She hung up the phone and turned to her boss. “Before we give them up, I’d like to hear whatever it is McHenry has to play for us.”
“You and me both.” Nataro removed something from his pocket and slid a device across the lieutenant’s desk. It was a handheld recorder. “Just be careful.”
CHAPTER 46
American Heritage Foundation, Alexandria, Virginia, May 27, 2:59 p.m.
Bob Stenson looked up from his desk inside the American Heritage Foundation as he heard three sets of footsteps approaching rapidly from down the hallway. They weren’t exactly running, but they weren’t exactly walking, either. “Easy there, people.”
Daryl Trotter, Jason Greers, and Caitlin McCloskey slowed their gaits as they reached their superior’s door. Trotter spoke first. “A federal warrant’s been issued for Skylar Drummond and Edward Parks for the theft of classified materials.”