Brooks-Lotello Collection

by Ronald S. Barak

  “So, Detective. What do you suggest?”

  Lotello knew it would come to this. “I’ve accumulated a few favors. One of the lab guys at Metro owes me. I can get him to run the eyeglass stem for prints to see if anything shows up in any of our databases. Prints of Cassie and her family won’t likely pop up and hopefully won’t obscure any other prints that might be there. If I can reach him before he finishes up for the day, we should know one way or the other by early in the morning.”

  “Good,” Brooks said. “And?”

  “I can also go back this evening, knock on every door between the driving range and the school and see what I might find. There aren’t that many homes. I should be able to hit them all before it gets too late.”

  “I like that step,” Brooks responded.

  “I could also process footprint and tire track impressions in the area where I found the eye stem. But without more, someone who saw something, those results would probably be worthless.”

  “Agreed.”

  They drove on in silence for a few more minutes until Lotello pulled into the driveway of Brooks’s Georgetown condominium. Brooks got out, then leaned back into the car.

  “Thanks for the ride. As far as I’m concerned, this is on me, not you. I’ve made the right decision, at least for the present. Taking this to you. The authorities. You’re investigating the matter.

  “Call me on my cell whenever you have anything.”

  * * *

  As he entered the front door, Brooks called out, “Hello, dear!”

  Maccabee sauntered into the entry hall and rubbed against his leg. That was it. No other response. Neither from Eloise nor Ryder. Probably out walking, he thought.

  He exchanged his business suit for his favorite threadbare sweats and drifted into his office. He wanted to think through one or two things before hearing back from Lotello. He opened his computer, not because anything in there would help him, but because looking at the screen and typing out a few thoughts he could stare at usually helped him to think more clearly.

  He and Lotello had discussed three alternatives. He listed them on the new electronic file he opened on the screen.

  It wasn’t until he saw the list written out that it occurred to him there was a fourth option: He could also try calling Hirschfeld. He was pretty sure Hirschfeld’s home telephone number would be in their law school directory. He added the fourth option to his list.

  Contacting Hirschfeld during the course of the proceedings would constitute just as much a violation of the rules of professional conduct as would contacting Trotter. But what would he say to his friend and classmate that he hadn’t already “said” in the Courtroom earlier this afternoon?

  And hadn’t Hirschfeld already responded in kind, telling him to stand down?

  He continued to stare at the four items on the screen for several minutes. Finally, he added still a fifth possibility to the list, named and saved the file, and powered down the machine.

  How long, Cyrus? And why? He waited for an answer. Nothing.

  CHAPTER 29

  Tuesday, May 6, 3:40 pm

  HIRSCHFELD HAD BEEN GLUED to his cell phone from 3:15. Just sitting there staring at the silent apparatus. No texts, no calls, no emails.

  He’d felt pretty good when the kidnappers signaled 3:30 in response to his demand to talk. By ten minutes past when they were supposed to call, he was again frantic. He had so wanted to solve this on his own, to safely extricate Cassie without all of this becoming public—and very likely ending his career.

  He berated himself for focusing on how any of this might impact him personally. Maybe Mark’s right. Maybe I really am in way over my head. Maybe we do need to go straight to the FBI.

  * * *

  Thomas looked at his watch. Let the bastard wait awhile. Good for him to know just who the boss is. After a few minutes, he inserted still another SIM card in one of his phones and dialed Hirschfeld’s number.

  Hirschfeld picked up on the first ring. “It’s me. I’m here.”

  “What do you think you’re doing, asshole? You know you’re playing with the girl’s life, don’t you?”

  “Listen. If—”

  The line went dead.

  “Hello? Hello? Good God, no! Please!”

  Thomas imagined Hirschfeld glaring at the phone as though it might burst into flame. Having to sit there waiting. Waiting some more. Helpless. Not knowing what else to do.

  After five minutes, Thomas figured he’d sweated Hirschfeld long enough. He called him back. “Shut the fuck up and listen to me, old man. Not a word unless I tell you to speak. You got that?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay. The fuck you think you were you doing in Court today? Playing all those word games. You some kind of a wise guy or something?”

  “No—”

  “Shut the fuck up! Did I tell you to speak?” By now the poor schmuck must be realizing he has no idea what he’s up against. How to deal with me. Perfect.

  “You asked me if I were a wise guy. I was just trying to answer you.”

  “That was a rhetorical question, asshole. I’ll make it clear when I want you to speak. Understood?”

  Thomas was enjoying the moment. Now he has to be wondering if I just asked him another rhetorical question. Love it.

  “Yes,” Hirschfeld answered.

  Thomas could hear the desperation in the old man’s voice. “Okay, Grandpa. Now, tell me, what the fuck were you trying to do in the Courtroom?”

  “Can I answer?”

  “Yes, dumb shit, answer me!”

  “I needed to talk to you. I tried texting. You didn’t answer me. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “You think I’m stupid? Leave you with a number you could give the FBI? Are you a moron? Do you think I am?”

  “No. I don’t think you’re a moron. I don’t know what to think about you. Or whether I can trust you. I just knew I needed to speak with you.”

  “You don’t need to think anything, and you don’t need to speak to me. You just need to do what you’re told when you’re told and everything will be fine. Got that?”

  After several seconds, Hirschfeld said, “No.”

  Now it was Thomas who waited. Finally: “No? The hell you saying? You don’t understand me or you don’t agree?”

  Another pause. “I understood you. But, no, I don’t agree. If you want what you want, then you’re going to have to give me something I want.”

  More silence. Thomas wondered if he were emboldening the old man. Then: “You have thirty seconds. Make it count. Or else.”

  “Right now, there are five or six votes to uphold the 28th Amendment, including mine. The only way you get what you want is if I flip and bring at least one other Justice with me. That’s not going to happen unless I speak to my granddaughter in the next twenty minutes and confirm that she’s okay, that she has enough insulin to manage her diabetes, that she’s going to get through this, come out whole on the other end.”

  “Listen—”

  “No! You listen. I don’t believe you’ve gone through all this just to lose what you’re after—and what I can deliver—just because you’ve got a fat ego. I’m your only ticket here.

  “Anyone smart enough to pull off what you’ve accomplished so far is smart enough to know that. If you’re the out-of-control egomaniac that you pretend to be, then I’ve already lost everything I care about here. And have nothing more to lose. You need to think about that.

  “If you don’t want to lose what you’re after, then you’re going to have to deal with me, and in a rational way. Starting right now, this has to become a partnership that works for both of us. If you can’t demonstrate to me that you can function in a way that will get each of us what we want, then I have to painfully accept that there’s nothing I can do to save my granddaughter. That she’s already dead.

  “If that’s so, the last thing I’m going to do is give you what you want. Do you hear me? I am the only chance you have to get what
you’re after. If you don’t convince me that I can get Cassie safely through this, then we’re done. I lose. But so do you.

  “Got that?”

  Another prolonged silence. “Ten minutes. I’ll call you back in ten minutes. Answer with your FaceTime app.”

  The line went dead.

  Hirschfeld was dying inside, if not outside as well. He had no way of knowing where he stood. He wasn’t nearly as cocky as he had tried to sound, but what he said was basically true. He didn’t believe there was any other way to assure Cassie’s safety.

  Telling me to answer on FaceTime sounded encouraging. Thank God Cassie taught me how to do that.

  Hirschfeld kept looking at his watch. Twelve minutes later, when there was still no call, he started hyperventilating. His back was killing him. His sciatica was burning down into his right foot. He stood, tried to slow his breathing, placed his hands on his desk, stretched out his back.

  And then he waited. Some more.

  * * *

  The horn blasted Cassie out of her malaise. When Thomas had installed it, he made sure it couldn’t be heard beyond the remote location of the cabin. Looking through his surveillance monitor, he smiled as she held her ears and grimaced. The noise stopped.

  “Listen up, brat,” he said into the microphone. “There’s someone who wants to see you. To verify you’re okay. Just sit up and behave yourself until you hear another blast of the horn.”He positioned the two cell phones so they faced each other, the first also pointed at the video monitor to display the girl and the second one, the one he would use to FaceTime with Hirschfeld, facing the image on the first phone. Won’t win any cinematography awards, but it’ll get the job done.

  Unsure of what was going on, Cassie did as she was told. She sat up on the edge of the bed and remained still. She was squeezing her hands so hard they started to hurt. Shaking them out, she started to stand, but then remembered he’d said to just sit there. She didn’t want to cooperate, but it seemed best to do what he said. At least right now. She sat back down and stared at the wall opposite her. As if there were something there to see.

  * * *

  Fifteen minutes. Either he’d blown it or this head case was still trying to play games with him. He closed his eyes and willed himself to calm down.

  Finally, the phone rang.

  Using his FaceTime, he answered again on the first ring.

  Oh my God. Oh my God.

  It was Cassie, sitting on the edge of a bed. She looked okay. In a trance? Drugged?

  “Cassie, Cassie. It’s Poppy. Can you hear me?”

  She just sat there, ignoring his entreaties.

  “What have you done to her? Why isn’t she answering me?”

  “Cool it, Gramps. She can’t hear or see you. This is only one way. You got what you wanted. You saw she’s fine. So far. Behave yourself.”

  The line went dead.

  “No! We have more to discuss. We have to talk about the endgame exchange and Cassie’s insulin requirements.”

  But the man was gone.

  Two times, without notice, the man had hung up on him before he could engage him on these points. When would he have another chance?

  * * *

  Ten minutes later the horn sounded again. What’s he doing?

  “Hello? Are you there? Why are you doing this to me?”

  No answer. She started to tremble, but then gathered herself. No! No more. Gotta stop this. Not giving in.

  CHAPTER 30

  Tuesday, May 6, 4:50 pm

  HIRSCHFELD RUSHED HOME FOLLOWING his telephone experience with Cassie and her captors. He called Mark, briefed him on what had transpired with the kidnappers, and told him when he thought he would safely reach the house. Commuter traffic was awful, as usual. He called Mark back, told him he’d call when he was close to home so they could arrive fifteen minutes after he did. He needed the fifteen minutes to explain things to his wife. To prepare her.

  Once he arrived home that was exactly what he did. Sitting Linda down in their living room, he ran through everything that had happened since the first text he received in Court that morning.

  She listened with an expression of barely contained panic, then rose from her chair, crossed the room, stared out the curtained window into their yard. When he spoke her name she shot out a hand, as though to say: Let me think.

  Finally, she returned to her seat and said quietly, “When will Jill and Mark get here?”

  He felt an oddly painful sense of relief, like something sharp and jagged had been pulled from his chest. She was always the tougher and calmer of the two of them.

  * * *

  Lotello dropped the eyeglass stem off with his lab pal, explaining only that it was urgent he get the results right away. When the man stared back at him with an expression of irritated disbelief, Lotello simply said, “You owe me, Lester.”

  His friend looked at the stem from several angles. “Honestly? I don’t hold out much hope. But since you’re such a swell guy, I’ll run the tests myself and call you straight away if I get any hits. Probably won’t be before tomorrow, but if I get lucky, who knows? Could be tonight.”

  “Great. Thanks. Call me on my cell. Not sure where I’ll be. I don’t want to wake up Leah or the kids.”

  Back in his car, Lotello phoned home. He’d promised to take the family out for dinner, but he begged off, saying he couldn’t make it, something had popped up at work that couldn’t wait. “That’s okay,” Leah said. “I wrapped up my part of the argument today; Brooks has to carry it from here. I’m pretty much just a spectator at this point. I can handle dinner solo.”

  Lotello could hear the disappointment in her voice. “I’ll make it up to you.”

  “You bet you will.” She clicked off.

  Given all the back-and-forth between him and Brooks, he wondered if she sensed that something was up. If so, it was just like her to say nothing about it.

  Lotello returned to the street between the driving range and the school. He approached the first house within proximity of where he thought Cassie had been abducted and rang the bell.

  CHAPTER 31

  Tuesday, May 6, 5:50 pm

  THOMAS WAS DISTURBED by the old man’s remark that the girl is diabetic. He didn’t care one whit about her, but it really pissed him off that he’d missed this in all of his careful planning over the past several months. He didn’t like surprises. And he didn’t like mistakes. Especially his own. He’d have to think about this. Not only about the significance of her diabetes and how that might impact his control over the old man, but also about his own sloppiness.

  The grandfather was also proving more obstinate than he had expected. This meant Thomas was going to have to kowtow to the girl more than he planned in case he had to parade her in front of the old man again. He would have to keep her in better condition than he originally planned, physically and emotionally. It also meant he would have to wear a mask when he was with her. If he didn’t conceal his identity she would know she had no future, and Gramps might pick up on that.

  He unlocked the front entrance to the house, carrying a large takeout pizza with everything on it. Exactly how he liked it. If the girl didn’t, too bad for her. There was only so far he was going to go to try to keep her feeling optimistic.

  He stopped to turn on his surveillance camera in the room. It could come in handy to show the old man he was treating her okay. Sharing the pizza with her.

  He also put on the Halloween mask. The convenience store had a limited selection. Bambi and Frankenstein. He preferred just wearing a stocking over his head, but it made him sweat and it didn’t really hide his facial characteristics very well. It was also harder to get on and off, not as practical as they looked on bad guys in the movies.

  He descended the stairs, released the bolt on the basement door, turned the handle.

  * * *

  They sat down to eat. Brooks was distant, lost in thought.

  Eloise looked at his plate. “How’s your dinner?
”

  “Excellent.”

  “And you know that, how?”

  He glanced up quizzically. “What do you mean?”

  “You haven’t taken a bite of anything.”

  “Your cooking is always excellent.”

  They returned to their shared silence.

  “So, when were you planning on telling me?” He knew she wasn’t talking about the food.

  * * *

  Cassie heard noise on the other side of the door. She watched the knob slowly turn, jumped to her feet, and backed away from the door.

  She watched as the door slowly swung open.

  A man entered, wearing a mask, and carrying what looked like a large box of pizza. He set the box down on the only table in the room.

  “I come bearing gifts. Pizza. Help yourself.”

  She stood silently across the room.

  “Don’t you want any pizza?

  She remained silent.

  “Fine. More for me.”

  He pulled up and sat in one of the adjacent chairs, and opened the lid. “Perfect. Not a drop of cheese on the inside cover. Don’t you just hate it when that happens?” He pulled away a slice and took a huge bite. “Really good. Sure you don’t want any?”

  Finishing off the first slice, he stood and removed his jacket. Turning and looking around the room for a moment, he neatly set the jacket down on the edge of the bed.

  Cassie took a deep breath. “Now!” she said to herself.

  * * *

  Brooks tried to call her bluff. “Planning on telling you what?” Nothing to tell. Really. Just mulling over some details of the case.”

  He felt her gaze. No use. She’d get it out of him sooner or later. She always did.

  He told her what he and Lotello had discussed. Everything he knew. Everything he didn’t. But feared.

  She listened quietly. He knew he wasn’t going to get off easy. He seldom did. But it often helped.

  * * *

  Thomas never saw the swing coming. It was one helluva wallop. Caught him square in his chest. When he later examined the videotape, he was amazed. Even catching him off guard as she had, the blow shouldn’t have done so much damage. Not with his size advantage over her. But he failed to account for two details.