The Silent Places

by James Patrick Hunt

  Amy sipped at her soda while Hastings alternated between a cup of coffee and ice water. He felt the coffee go straight to his head, though not in an altogether bad way. The food arrived and she worked on it without engaging with him. Hastings ate a couple of bites and left it alone. The morphine had worn off and now he had entirely lost his appetite.

  She kept watching him. But at the same time, she would not make eye contact with him. Like she was fearful he would leave her. The poor child. Hastings told himself to hold on. If he wasn’t careful, he’d start bawling in front of her, and that wouldn’t do either of them any good.

  Hastings said, “Amy, it’s not that bad a thing.”

  She looked up at him and for a moment did not say anything. Then: “But you could have…”

  “I didn’t. It was like an accident.”

  “You were shot accidentally?”

  Hastings smiled, in spite of things. She could be a little smart-ass, like her mother.

  “No, that wasn’t accidental. More police officers die in car wrecks than from anything else. It’s a very, very rare thing to be shot. Or even be shot at.”

  “But you %were. ”

  “Yeah. And now I’m fine.”

  She continued to watch him, as if she feared he would fly away.

  Hastings said, “Amy, look at it this way. The odds of being shot are, like, one in ten thousand. Now it’s happened and I’m fine. I’ve got another ten thousand chances.”

  “I don’t think that’s funny.”

  “Sorry. I’m sorry I frightened you.”

  She looked away from him. “Why don’t you just quit?”

  Hastings hesitated, then said, “I don’t know.”

  “That’s not an answer,” Amy said. “You get mad at me when I say I don’t know.”

  “Do I?”

  “All the time. You say, ‘Don’t say you don’t know when you know.’”

  “Sorry. Look, I can’t explain why I do this. I like doing it, I guess. Maybe I could do something else. Go to law school or”—he almost said Christ—“or sell real estate. But I wouldn’t be very good at it. I don’t think I’d like it.”

  “You like this?”

  “I think so.”

  Amy said, “Jenny Novacek’s dad used to be a policeman. Now he owns a business.”

  Hastings had met Jenny’s dad once while waiting to pick Amy up at school. Novacek had wasted little time telling Hastings that he had been a cop with County PD and left because there was no future for a dude who wanted to make some money. Now he owned a convenience store and gas stop on a well-chosen intersection in Alton and he had a house in Creve Coeur and a summer home on the Lake of the Ozarks. Hastings thought Novacek was a yutz.

  Hastings says, “Well, that’s good for him.”

  “Jenny said they got a bigger house and she’s going to Country Day next year.”

  Hastings smiled. “So you want me to make more money?”

  “I didn’t say that.” She looked at him, a bit ashamed now, but hurt, too. She said, “I didn’t say that, Daddy. That’s not what I meant.”

  “What did you mean?”

  “I just meant it would be nicer. That’s all.”

  “To have nicer things? A better school? I know that.”

  “I’m not talking about nicer things. I’m not complaining. I’m saying it would be nicer not to have to be scared. Not to have you gone at night. You’re not the only one, you know.”

  Her voice broke at the end and then she was crying. Hastings moved around the booth and sat next to her, taking her in his arms. She wept, and he stopped himself from weeping and held her and told her he was sorry.

  After awhile, Amy said, “I’m sorry.”

  “You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” Hastings said. “I was being a jerk.”

  “Kinda.”

  Hastings said, “Maybe it is selfish of me, staying with this. Maybe if I’d known I was going to have a family, I would have chosen something else. But now I’m—now I’m a little too … old … to make changes.”

  “You’re not that old. You just don’t want to.”

  “Maybe that’s true, too,” Hastings said. “But we don’t get to choose who or what we are. Not completely. Your friend’s dad, he was probably a businessman who shouldn’t have been a cop. But I’m not a businessman. I’d die of boredom if I had to run a convenience store.”

  “There are other things.”

  “I know. But this is my thing.”

  She looked at him and he said, “I don’t know if I can explain it to you. Even if you were a grown-up, you probably still wouldn’t understand it.”

  “Does Mom understand it?”

  “She does, actually. She always has.”

  “Mom?”

  Hastings shook his head. He knew Amy often had trouble respecting Eileen. And he knew that he had had a part in creating this. Now he made his voice firm and said, “You understand things she doesn’t. But there are some things she understands that you don’t. Okay?”

  “…Okay.”

  “When you get older, you’ll choose what you want to do. It won’t be my decision or your mother’s. It’ll be yours. And we’ll try to back you as best we can.” Hastings leaned back, his shoulders touching the booth. “Sorry, but that’s the best I can give you.”

  They were silent for a while. Then Amy looked at his plate.

  “You’re not going to eat that?” she said.

  “I’m not very hungry,” Hastings said.

  Amy said, “I’ll ask the waitress for a to-go bag. We shouldn’t waste it.”

  TWENTY-NINE

  The secretary told Hastings to go on in, and he did. He was somewhat surprised to see Captain Anthony in Deputy Chief Murray’s office, too. Captain Anthony stood to greet Hastings, and Fenton Murray was forced to stand also.

  They took seats and Murray asked Hastings what had happened.

  Hastings gave his side of it and said he had not talked with the guys on his team since he left the hospital, so he couldn’t speak for them. He told the story slowly and deliberately, as if he were typing out a report or his words were being recorded.

  He finished and Murray said, “Did you get a good look at the man?”

  Hastings said, “I can’t say that I did. I didn’t see him on the stairwell, just heard him. I saw the back of him in the alley, about forty to fifty yards from me. But if I were asked if I believed it was Reese, I would say that I do.”

  Murray said, “Why?”

  “I don’t know, exactly. The weapon he used. The way he ran. The position he took in the apartment building.”

  Murray let silence fill the room. Then he said, “That’s it?”

  “Well,” Hastings said, “no, that’s not all of it. It was also the way he spoke to me.”

  “Spoke to you?” Murray said. “I thought you said you didn’t see him?”

  “That is what I said. We didn’t have a conversation, no. But I heard him. He called out to me.”

  “What did he say?”

  “He said, ‘You shouldn’t have come after me.’”

  “‘You shouldn’t have come after me.’”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “He said this when?”

  “After he shot me.”

  “Anything else? I mean, did he say anything else?”

  “No.”

  “And these words, they make you think the shooter was John Reese?”

  “Yes.”

  Murray displayed another skeptical frown and said, “The senator thinks you overreacted.”

  There was silence for a moment, Hastings waiting for some sort of elaboration. He didn’t get one.

  Hastings said, “Overreacted to what? Getting shot?”

  Murray said, “He’s not saying you didn’t get shot. He’s saying it wasn’t Reese who shot you. Or shot at you.”

  “He wasn’t there.”

  “Reese?”

  “No, the senator. He wasn’t in the park. I was.”
>
  Captain Anthony spoke, trying to pacify him, saying, “George—”

  Hastings said to Murray, “Who does the senator think it was?”

  Murray shrugged. “A junkie. Or a burglar trying to rob the apartment.”

  Hastings said, “I got shot with a high-powered rifle. At night, from about two hundred yards. Not a Saturday-night special. That was the work of a professional. Not a fu—not a junkie.”

  “Then how come you’re alive?” Murray said.

  Hastings could still feel the pain in his shoulder. The physician had told him it would hurt for a few days, the way any severe bruise would. Like getting pounded with a sledgehammer.

  In a controlled voice, Hastings said, “I don’t know why I’m alive. Maybe I got lucky. Maybe he got distracted. Maybe he was showing mercy.”

  Murray said, “Mercy? That wouldn’t exactly be in character for our suspect, would it?”

  “I wouldn’t know.”

  “You seem to know it was him you were chasing.”

  “I said I believe it was him. I don’t know it was.” Hastings looked at Anthony, as if to make an appeal to reason. He said, “Look, Preston wasn’t there. I was. Why are you giving more weight to what he says?”

  Murray raised his hands in some sort of gesture, suggesting Hastings was being overly sensitive. “I just want to get it straight, that’s all.”

  “Are you sure?” Hastings said.

  Sensing insolence, Murray leaned forward and said, “What do you mean by that?”

  “Nothing,” Hastings said. “I guess I’d just like to get it straight, too.”

  Murray said, “You think Senator Preston has some personal thing with you? A city police officer?” Murray giving him a patronizing smile now.

  “I don’t think it has anything to do with me,” Hastings said. “But, yes, I think he seems to want to discourage people from thinking it was John Reese I pursued.”

  “And why would he want to do that?”

  “I don’t know,” Hastings said. “For some reason, he doesn’t want federal protection. But he wants some sort of protection, and he’s been getting it from the local police. In my opinion, he wants to have the protection without seeming to want it. Or have people think he wants it.”

  Murray said, “Well, that wouldn’t say much for him, would it?”

  “No, it wouldn’t.”

  This wasn’t quite the response Murray had been expecting. He said, “Maybe you’re the one who’s feeling something personal here.”

  “Well, I got shot. Wouldn’t you take it personally?” Hastings looked at Captain Anthony and then back at the deputy chief. “It could have been my life out there. Or the life of one of my men. No one’s asking for a thank-you, but it would be nice not be second-guessed. Or accused of lying.”

  Murray said, “Preston hasn’t called you a liar. He’s simply said he thinks you’re mistaken. He’s entitled to that opinion.”

  Hastings shook his head. “Not really.”

  “I see,” Murray said. “Maybe it would be better if we removed you from this assignment.”

  “I’d rather you didn’t.”

  “Excuse me?”

  “I said I’d rather you didn’t.”

  Murray said, “Now I’m confused. From what I understand, Lieutenant, you didn’t want this assignment in the first place.”

  “That was before.”

  Murray said, “And now you do want it?”

  “I’d prefer to stay on, yes.”

  Now Captain Anthony spoke. “George,” he said. “I don’t think you understand. The senator has requested that you be taken off the detail.”

  Hastings looked at both of the other men in turn. He said, “May I ask why?”

  Anthony said, “He told us he doesn’t think you’re qualified.” Anthony raised a hand. “No one here is saying he’s right. In fact, I think he’s wrong. I think you did well. You, Murph, Rhodes—all of you. But it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what he wants. And what he wants, the chief is going to want. Sorry, George, but that’s how it is.”

  Hastings asked, “Who’s going to take it over?”

  Anthony said, “Me, I suppose. If anyone.”

  Hastings looked at him for a moment. Then he said, “‘If anyone’? I don’t understand.”

  Anthony said, “Senator Preston’s not sure he wants police protection anymore.”

  THIRTY

  The hotel waiter pushed the serving cart into the hotel suite and started to set the table. He held a short glass of an orange-colored liquid and asked, “Carrot juice?”

  Clu Rogers said, “That’s mine.” The waiter set it on the table and Clu added, “It’s good for the eyes.”

  Dexter Troy took a glass of ice water with his lunch. Kyle Anders had a tall glass of milk. The waiter left them and they began their meal.

  They were in a suite on the eighteenth floor of a high-class hotel in Clayton. Their balcony overlooked Forest Park.

  A few minutes passed and then there was a knock on the door. Clu answered it. Standing there was Senator Alan Preston.

  “Alan,” Anders said, getting to his feet. He wiped his mouth with a cotton napkin and went over to greet him.

  Preston frowned at Anders and said, “I presumed we would be meeting alone.”

  “Where are my manners? This is Dexter Troy, and that’s Clu Rogers. Two of our best employees.”

  Preston observed and dismissed each man in turn. Anders said, “Can I order you something?”

  “No. I’m not hungry. May we speak alone?”

  “Of course.”

  They moved out to the balcony, sliding the glass door behind them. Looking through the glass, Preston could see Clu dipping bread into an egg yolk. Eating breakfast for lunch.

  Anders made a gesture to the vast park beneath them. He said, “That’s a real jewel you got there. Forest Park. It’s not as big as Central Park, but it’s bigger than most.”

  “We like it,” Preston said, waiting for Anders to stop playing with him.

  Anders said, “You think he’s still in there?”

  Alan Preston smiled. “Who?”

  Anders said, “You know,” reproof in his tone.

  “Like I told the police,” Preston said. “It could have been anyone. A junkie. A burglar.”

  “Does a junkie know how to use a high-powered rifle? How to hide at night? How to stake out a defense position and shoot a police officer from a couple hundred yards?” Anders smiled. “If he did, maybe I’d recruit him.”

  “No one saw him. No one got a good look.”

  “Maybe not,” Anders said. “But we know, don’t we?” Anders looked back out to the park. He said, “He’s here in the city. We know it and the policeman knows it. What’s his name, again?”

  “Hastings.”

  “The one I met, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “What do you think of him?”

  “Not much. I asked the chief of police to have him taken off the detail.”

  Anders said, “Why?”

  “Because he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

  “Are you sure it isn’t the other way around?”

  The senator turned to look at him.

  Anders said, “Maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing and that’s why you wanted him taken off.”

  “He’s not a concern. Not anymore.”

  “Why did he come up to us when we were talking? What was that about?”

  “I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”

  “Calm down, Alan. I’m on your side. Besides, we both know why you want the police out of it.”

  “Suppose you tell me what we both know.”

  “You want the police out of the way so we can eliminate Reese. Now that you’ve got confirmation that he’s here.”

  “I never said I wanted that. In fact, I never told you to go after him in North Dakota. I had no part in that. That was your decision.”

  “Was it?” Anders said, a
nd looked hard at the senator.

  Preston made his voice firm. “Yes,” he said.

  “As I remember it,” Anders said, “I asked you if there were any impediments to your being elected president. And you told me about John Reese. I don’t think you told me everything, but you told me enough to let me know you were worried.”

  “I never said you should kill him.”

  “No. You didn’t use those words. Men like you never do.”

  “And what about you, Kyle? A man of honor? The untarnished soldier?”

  “I believe in my country. And doing what’s necessary to defend it.”

  “A patriot.”

  “Excuse me?” Anders said, his face registering anger and offense.

  “Forget it,” Preston said.

  Anders said, “You’re worried that you framed a man. Perhaps you think you framed a guilty man. If so, you should know that I think he was guilty, too.”

  “You don’t know what you’re talking about. It was years ago.”

  “Alan, do you think I’d invest all this time and money in you without having your background checked?”

  Preston turned to him, taken aback.

  “Yes,” Anders said, “I’ve known about it for a long time. Before you told me.”

  Preston said, “We should have just left him in prison.”

  “No. Things like that have a way of getting out. Particularly when a man runs for the highest office in the land. The problem needed to be addressed.”

  “I don’t like this. I don’t like any of it.”

  “Alan, the man’s a traitor. You did what you thought you needed to do. And the proper sentence for treason is death, not prison. That’s what the judge should have done in the first place. Don’t you agree?”

  Preston wasn’t sure. He had put it behind him. Now, though, he wondered if Kyle Anders was quite sane.

  “…I don’t know,” Preston said.

  “You know he’s guilty. You told me yourself he was.”

  “He is. But…”

  “If he’s guilty of treason, he deserves to die.” Anders’s gaze at Preston was steady and assured. “He’s here now, here in this city, coming after you. You believe it, don’t you?”

  “I don’t know.”