“I can’t believe she’d rather go with that weasel-faced nerd than you,” Zak had commiserated.
“Unbelievable,” Giancarlo agreed.
When he heard that Ned’s future in-laws were coming for the holidays, the president of the Taos Chamber of Commerce, who was also the owner of the luxurious Kit Carson Taos Inn, arranged for the Karp family to stay in the presidential suite. The boys were looking forward to learning to snowboard at the Taos Ski Resort. But Karp planned to avoid the slopes, sit by the fire, read a good book, and maybe chase Marlene around a bit in the privacy of their suite. He and Marlene were also looking forward to long conversations and celebrating Christmas and Chanukah as a family, with the added pleasure of Vladimir and Ivgeny Karchovski for company.
As Karp walked away from the grave, his cell phone rang. He happened to look up as he pulled it out of his pocket and saw Alejandro and Carmina watching him from across the snow-covered ground. He’d been surprised to see them at the funeral. “I just felt a closeness to him and wanted to pay my respects,” she’d said. Now she buried her head in Alejandro’s chest as Karp answered his phone.
“Yeah, Kenny, what’s up?”
F. Lloyd Maplethorpe was just another number in the New York penal system as he shuffled along in a line with other prisoners making their way across the Bridge of Sighs, a raised walkway that connected the Tombs to the Criminal Courts Building. The bridge had been nicknamed for the millions of prisoners who had passed over and sighed at what was often their last glimpse for a while at the world beyond their cells.
Maplethorpe’s line came to a stop to allow prisoners coming the other way to file out onto the bridge. Like maggots, dark thoughts crawled around in his brain as his cuffed hands jerked against the belly chain to which they were attached. The memory of alcoholic parents who’d fought constantly, and of when his mother left one cold winter night, how she’d pushed him away.
“Look, Mommy, I’m a cowboy.”
“Get away from me, you little freak.”
And a more recent memory, one with the face of Gail Perez pleading for her life.
“Stop it, what are you doing? I want to leave.”
“No one leaves me, whore!”
“Put that gun away. Please don’t!”
“Suck on this, bitch!”
Maplethorpe giggled as the two lines of men began to pass each other. Suddenly, a man from the opposite line attacked a prisoner six men back from Maplethorpe. As detention officers jumped in to break them up, other prisoners crowded around to watch.
Wanting to get as far as he could from the fray, Maplethorpe turned and tried to walk but found his way blocked by a large Hispanic man. The man looked down at him and said, “I have a message for you from the Inca Boyz.”
Maplethorpe felt three hard blows to the right side of his belly. He looked down and saw a growing dark patch in his gray jump-suit; something warm and wet was flowing down his leg. When he looked back up, the man was gone and a space had opened up around him.
He fell to the hard floor and lay there as men shouted. A pair of shiny black shoes and the pant leg of a guard’s uniform entered his field of vision, which began to dim. They’re all leaving me, he thought. Nobody leaves me. And then he was gone.
At the cemetery, Karp flipped his cell phone closed. He hesitated to look up. He didn’t want to see Alejandro’s eyes and reveal the truth about what Katz had just told him.
Still, he had to look. But Alejandro and Carmina were walking away as snow continued to fall.
Capture (Butch Karp Thrillers) Page 47