The door started opening behind us. I blocked it with my foot.
“Hey, what gives?” Seamus said. “What’s going on in there? And what’s wrong with the door?”
“It’s, eh… the napkins,” I cried as I held the door fast with my foot. “They’re jammed in the hinge. You should call a cop or something.”
“But you are a cop, Daddy,” Chrissy squealed.
“Um… it’s nice to see you, too, Mike,” Mary Catherine said, suddenly pushing me away.
“Sorry about that,” I said. “I guess I’m a little overwhelmed. I truly never thought I’d see you again. It’s just… it’s just really good to see you, Mary Catherine, and… ”
“Just wait, Mike. This is hard, so just let me say it,” Mary Catherine said, staring at me levelly. “It’s not what you think. I’m not back back. I’m just willing to come back to handle all the back-to-school stuff for the kids. Then you have to find a replacement for me.”
I stood there trying to keep my heart from jumping through my chest. As if replacing her were possible, I thought as I stared at her. Why had I destroyed everything? I wondered. A replacement for her? God, that hurt.
“Of course,” I finally said.
But Mary Catherine was already on the move toward the dining room.
Cancel the eighties love ballad, I thought as I watched her walk away.
CHAPTER 106
THAT NIGHT, WE went back to New York in the most brutal end-of-summer traffic imaginable. To add some fun to the mix, Trent, after having probably one too many Cokes, barfed sausage pizza chunks all over the back of the Bennett bus.
Pulling the bus off the West Side Highway, we were greeted with more grief. Cops had West End Avenue completely cordoned off. In the distance, beyond the blue sawhorses, I could see a bunch of blindingly bright portable light carts positioned in front of my building.
Was it a movie? I thought, pulling up to the NYPD blockade.
“Hey, moron. Read my barricade. Move this hunk now,” a tall, helpful, uniformed New York City peace officer screamed at me.
“That’s Detective Moron to you, Sarge,” I said, showing my gold shield as I got out of the bus. “That’s my building there. Didn’t they cancel Law and Order? What’s up?”
“Supposed to keep it under wraps, but looks like the T word, Detective,” the white-haired cop said, nodding. “They found a truck bomb. Can you believe it?”
“What?” I said.
“You heard me. Some mother parked a Penske truck filled with ammonium nitrate and diesel fuel in the middle of the block. Bomb guy just told me it was bigger than the one that took out the Murrah Building in Oklahoma City. They got the detonator or whatever licked, but they still gotta tow it out of here. Watch the potholes, right? If a sharp-eyed doorman hadn’t seen something and said something, the freakin’ West Side would be a crater.”
I stared at him, my mouth open. Then I stared down the block.
Perrine, I thought, shaking my head. Had to be. He wasn’t going to kill just me and my family. No, that would be far too common. In order to get to me, he was actually going to kill everyone on my entire block.
“Hey, Detective? You okay?” the cop said, but I was already on the move, scanning the street in front of me and the street behind as I jogged back to my bus.
“What is it, Mike?” Mary Catherine said.
“Um… gas leak. We can’t get back into the building. We need to hit a hotel tonight,” I said, popping it into gear.
CHAPTER 107
I TURNED AROUND and drove out of the city and checked into a hotel over the New York State line just outside of Danbury, Connecticut. On the way up, I had Mary Catherine confiscate everyone’s cell phones. Remembering what Ginther had said about cell phones being potential microphones, I even had her remove all the batteries.
For the next hour, as the kids watched TV in the other room, I exchanged calls with Tara McLellan and my boss, Miriam. About an hour or so after that, a team of FBI agents and U.S. marshals arrived at the hotel in unmarked cars.
“These gentlemen are from the gas company, I take it?” Mary Catherine said skeptically.
I nodded and left with them for a meeting in the lobby.
An hour later, I came back to the room, my head spinning. What I’d just been told made a lot of sense, but I still had trouble swallowing it. Talk about a shock to the system.
“Mary Catherine,” I said grimly. “I have news. Could you gather everybody together for a family meeting? Actually, have the twins take Trent and Chrissy and Shawna into the other room. I need to talk to all the bigger guys.”
“What is it, Mike?” Mary said.
“I’ll tell you in a second,” I said. “But you really might want to reconsider your position when you find out what it is.”
“What is it, Dad?” Brian said as they squeezed into the room.
I looked at their faces one by one where they sat on the chairs and the desk and the double bed.
“Well, what’s going on is, well… we’re moving,” I said. “We have to move.”
The kids stared at each other, giant-eyed.
“What? Why? Huh? Why?” everyone wanted to know at the same time.
“Quiet down, children,” Seamus cried.
“Our block was cordoned off because a criminal, a drug lord, a man named Manuel Perrine, whom I caught and who then escaped, planted a bomb in front of our building. He wants to kill me and hurt you guys because of how much I love you. That’s why we need to go somewhere where he can’t find us. Now. Someplace safe.”
“But what about school?” Juliana said.
“And Mass?” Seamus said. “Father Charles is out sick. I have to say Mass tomorrow morning.”
“We’re going to have to figure all that out, guys,” I said. “The U.S. marshals are sending over a team right now to take us to our new location.”
“What about our stuff?”
“They’re going to go by the apartment and pack it up for us. We can’t go home. It’s too dangerous.”
“We’re leaving New York?” Seamus said. He seemed flabbergasted.
“At least for now,” I said.
“But all our friends. Our lives,” Brian said. “How can this be happening?”
My sentiments exactly, I thought as I let out a breath. This sucked, and it was about to get worse. I didn’t even tell them we might have to change our names.
CHAPTER 108
THE WITNESS PROTECTION team arrived at four in the morning. Four more FBI agents and about a dozen U.S. marshals in cars and vans. Though they tried to keep their weapons under their Windbreakers, out of the kids’ sight, I spotted more than one submachine gun.
This was no joke. They wouldn’t have gone to all this trouble if we weren’t serious targets. This was about as serious and scary as it got.
“Okay, Mary Catherine,” I said to her in the lobby as the agents were walking the kids out into the waiting vans. “I guess this is good-bye for now.”
One of the female FBI agents who was coordinating our transport turned around from the front sliding door as she overheard us.
“Excuse me,” she said. “Good-bye? What are you guys talking about?”
“It’s okay,” I said. “This is Mary Catherine, my nanny. She’s not coming with us.”
The brown-eyed, red-haired agent thumbed her smartphone.
“Mary Catherine Flynn?” the agent asked.
“That’s right,” Mary Catherine said.
“Yes, well, Ms. Mary Catherine Flynn, you can’t go anywhere. Not if you value your life. You need to come with us right now.”
“What do you mean?” I said.
“We traced the rental truck used for the bomb in front of your building. It came back to a Dominican drug gang affiliated with Perrine. We raided them last night. They had photos of all of you. Folders with information about where you guys work, where the kids go to school, the works. Mary Catherine here was with all the rest of you. Perrine is pa
ying top dollar to take every one of you out. She’s a target as much as you are. She can’t be left behind.”
“But-” I said.
“It’s okay, Mike,” Mary Catherine said. “I’ll go along for now. You’re going to need my help anyway with the children. They’re all so upset. We’ll figure it out.”
How? I thought as I stood there helplessly watching my world, my family’s world, and now Mary Catherine’s world turn upside down and inside out.
How would we be able to figure any of this out?
CHAPTER 109
THEY DIVIDED US between two vans. Mary Catherine and me with the girls. Seamus in the other vehicle with the boys.
We drove west, back into New York State, and straight on through into Pennsylvania. Neither of the jarheaded U.S. marshals sitting in the front seat told me where we were headed, and I didn’t ask.
I didn’t even want to know, I was still so depressed. As we drove along, I asked myself if I regretted pissing off the drug lord so much on the phone, and quickly decided that I didn’t. To hell with his evil ass if he can’t take a joke. Besides, he’d have come after me anyway.
If I had any regrets, it was that Mary Catherine had been roped into it. Especially with the mess I had made of things. Not only had I driven her off, now I’d put her life in danger. I didn’t know how to begin to apologize to her.
I fell asleep as the sun was coming up and when I woke, it was noon. We were somewhere flat. Ohio. Indiana, maybe. I stared out at the side of the highway into empty farm fields, wondering if I was dreaming. Despite everything, it felt good to be in the middle of nowhere and moving. There was something instinctual about it, that feeling of safety in motion.
I heard a strange sound and realized it was the new phone the marshals had given me in exchange for my old one. I looked at the 212 number as I clumsily thumbed it on. Tara, I thought.
But it wasn’t.
“Mike? Hi. It’s Bill Bedford.”
He was slurring a little, I noticed. In fact, he sounded drunk.
“Hey, Bill,” I said. “I take it you heard about what happened at my building?”
“I did, Mike, but that’s not why I called,” Bill said. “I don’t know how to tell you this. I just got off the phone with NYPD Homicide. Tara’s dead. They just found her.”
I sat up.
“No, no, no,” I said.
“They must have gotten her on the street on her way to work, Mike,” Bill said, sniffling. “She was taken to a motel in the Bronx, and God, Mike, they tore her apart. They found her head floating in the bathtub.”
I closed my eyes and let out a breath.
“Perrine did it himself, too,” Bedford said. “They have him on the motel’s security video waltzing through the door with a big grin on his face. He’s not human. That fucker isn’t human.”
“No, he isn’t,” I agreed as my mind spun.
“I’m so sorry, Mike,” Bill said.
He sounded completely wrecked. I thought about Tara at the St. Regis, how she’d said I’d saved her.
“Me too, Bill,” I said after a bit. “Thanks for calling. It couldn’t have been easy.”
Mary Catherine stirred beside me.
“What is it, Mike? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing,” I said, looking back at my kids, then out at the fields, up at the sky.
“It’s okay,” I lied as I fought panic and tears. “Go back to sleep, Mary Catherine. Everything is going to be fine.”
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About the Author
James Patterson is one of the best-known and biggest-selling writers of all time. He is the author of some of the most popular series of the past decade – the Alex Cross, Women’s Murder Club and Detective Michael Bennett novels – and he has written many other number one bestsellers including romance novels and stand-alone thrillers. He lives in Florida with his wife and son.
James is passionate about encouraging children to read. Inspired by his own son who was a reluctant reader, he also writes a range of books specifically for young readers. James has formed a partnership with the National Literacy Trust, an independent, UK-based charity that changes lives through literacy. In 2010, he was voted Author of the Year at the Children’s Choice Book Awards in New York.
Find out more at www.jamespatterson.co.uk
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