Among Thieves (44 page)

The FBI agent who had shot him moved forward and nudged him with a toe, just to make sure he was dead. There could be no doubt.

His mission was over.

Finn wasn’t expecting the cold. He jumped before he had time to think, and when he hit the water all the muscles in his body
seemed to contract at once. His head popped out of the water and he took a second to orient himself. He took a deep breath
and pushed himself under, swimming down with all his strength.

His eyes were open underneath the water, but they were useless. He could see nothing. So, instead of using his eyes, he used
every other part of his body, flailing about with his arms and legs, hoping to knock into Devon or Sally. It seemed like a
pointless strategy, but he had nothing else, so he kept it up. After a moment he surfaced again to take another breath, then
went under again.

It didn’t take long for him to lose hope. He felt tiny and impotent in the water, and the odds of his finding either Sally
or Devon seemed astronomical. Still, no matter how long the odds, he owed them every last chance.

As he rose to surface for the second time, his hand grazed something off to his left. He reached out in that direction, but
as he did, he lost his wind, and accidentally sucked in a lungful of water. He swam up, breaking the surface, coughing and
spitting. Somewhere in the distance he heard gunshots. He took another deep breath and dived in the direction of the object
he’d felt.

It took only a few strokes under the water before he felt it again. He reached out and grabbed for it. A shoulder, he thought.
He used both hands to inch along the limb until he could grab on to the arm. He pulled the body over, wrapped an arm around
the neck, and then kicked with all his strength for the surface.

He knew it was Devon before he broke the surface—the body was too big to be Sally’s—and the realization was devastating. It
had been several minutes since Sally had gone into the river. The chances of finding her now were gone. She was lost.

Finn paddled over toward the wall at the edge of the river. He could hear Devon spitting up water. “Koz!”

Kozlowski was nowhere to be seen.

“Koz!” he yelled again. “Where the hell are you?”

Kozlowski’s head appeared over the edge of the wall. “Here!” he yelled.

Finn worked his way over. “Pull him out,” Finn said. “I’m going back for Sally.” Finn grabbed on to the wall and pulled Devon
over. Kozlowski reached over the wall and took hold of his arm. Devon’s eyes were closed, and he was still choking on water.
His face looked ghostly white.

“No,” he spat out. “Sally!”

“I’m going back for her,” Finn said.

“Please!”

“I’ll do everything I can to find her,” Finn said. “I swear.”

Kozlowski started pulling on Devon’s arm, lifting him from the water.

“No!” Devon said one more time. His eyes opened, and he looked at Finn. “Get her out first.”

Finn looked at him, not comprehending. Then his eyes followed the path down Devon’s other arm—the one still dangling in the
water—and saw that his hand was grasping a wrist just under the water. A small hand extended from his grasp, and the arm disappeared
into the black water.

Finn reached out and grabbed hold just below Devon’s hand and pulled. He could feel the body moving fluidly. “Take her!” Finn
shouted to Kozlowski.

Kozlowski let go of Devon and reached over the wall, grabbing hold of Sally’s arm. He hoisted her up as if she were a toy.
Devon slipped under the water briefly when Kozlowski let him go, but Finn grabbed him and held him afloat. A moment later
Kozlowski appeared again and reached down to pull Devon over the wall.

Finn was left alone, and he clung to the stone wall that kept the river in its place. He was breathing hard, shivering against
the cold. After what seemed like an eternity, Kozlowski grabbed hold of his arm, and he felt himself lifted up out of the
water.

Finn was last out of the water, and as he flipped over the river wall he looked frantically for Sally. She was lying a few
feet away on her back, her face bluish-white and bloated. Duct tape still held her mouth shut. She wasn’t breathing.

Devon was lying a few feet away, gasping for breath. “I’m okay,” Devon said. “Help her.”

Kozlowski was already at work, pulling the tape off her mouth and rolling her on her side. As the tape was released, water
spouted from her mouth. Kozlowski put his huge hand on her abdomen and thrust it in and up, releasing another wave.

“Do you know what you’re doing?” Finn asked.

“Sort of.”

He rolled her on her back and put his head to her chest to listen for a heartbeat. “Nothing.” He put his hands together and
started a round of CPR, pressing heavily on her sternum several times, then tipping her head back and breathing into her mouth.

“What’s happening?” Devon asked, his view blocked. “Is she all right?”

“Not yet,” Finn said.

“Oh God, please do something!”

“We’re doing everything we can,” Finn said. “She was in the water for a long time.” He watched as Kozlowski continued the
process for several minutes, working back and forth between pumping her chest and breathing into her mouth. At one point Kozlowski
looked back at him and shook his head. Finn dug into his pocket for his phone, but the water had ruined it. He looked up and
was surprised to see Detectives Sanchez and Stone watching from nearby. Behind them he could see the wreckage of the white
van. Hewitt and Porter were looking it over, trying to get the back doors opened. Finn’s first instinct was to ask them what
had happened—how they got there, and what had happened to Kilbranish—but instead he said simply, “Call an ambulance.”

“They’re on their way,” Sanchez responded. Looking down at Kozlowski she asked, “Will she be all right?”

“I don’t know,” Finn replied.

As he spoke, he heard Sally cough, and her body convulsed, rolling to the side, spitting up what seemed like gallons of water.
Kozlowski sat up and looked at her. She went still again, then spasmed once more, retching as her body tried to expel more
of the river. After another moment she took a breath, and the flow of air caused a horrid coughing fit. Finn put his hands
on his knees and nearly collapsed.

“Is she okay?” Devon demanded.

Finn looked at Kozlowski, who nodded. Devon looked relieved, but his face remained ashen. He was leaning over on his side,
supporting himself on one elbow. He looked strangely frail. “Are you okay?” Finn asked.

“I’m fine. Just a little out of breath is all.”

“Me too,” Finn said. Devon looked more than winded, though, and Finn moved over toward him. Devon’s arm was draped across
his chest. As Finn drew near he could see a dark stain spreading over his shirt. “Shit, Devon,” he said. “You’re shot.”

Devon looked down at his shirt; there was no surprise on his face. “I’ll be fine,” he said. “I just need to catch my breath.”
He smiled as he spoke, but his eyelids were fluttering unsteadily.

Finn turned to Stone. “Where the hell is the fucking ambulance!” he shouted.

Hewitt could hear the commotion over by the water. He was tempted to walk over to see what was happening, maybe even offer
to help, but couldn’t; he needed to keep an eye on Porter. He seemed to have lost his grip on reality. He was tugging at the
back doors to the van, yelling, “They’re in here! I know it, they’re in here!” The door wouldn’t open for him, though.

Hewitt put his hand on Porter’s shoulder. “It’s jammed,” he said. “Accident crew’ll be here in a minute; they’ll get it opened.”

Porter spun on him and slapped his hand away. His eyes were wide. “A minute? Don’t you understand? The paintings are here!
We’ve found them. Help me get these goddamned doors opened!”

Hewitt hesitated.

“Come on, goddammit!” Porter shouted at him. “Help me!”

Hewitt stepped forward and gave a pull on the doors. They didn’t open, but they creaked and groaned angrily; he weighed at
least twice as much as Porter. He gave another tug, this time throwing his back into the effort.

The doors swung open, nearly knocking Porter to the ground. He dodged them and scrambled up to look inside, and saw a large
wooden box. “They must be inside,” Porter said. “Help me get this down.”

Hewitt reached forward and the two of them unloaded it. Porter circled the container as if he were trying to seduce it. “We’re
about to make history,” he said. Porter found the brass clasp on the front end of the box and flipped the latch. He paused
for a moment, the door still closed, breathing heavily. Then he threw the door open.

“No,” he said.

Hewitt couldn’t see into the box; Porter was blocking the way. “What?”

“No!” He yelled it this time; screamed it.

“What is it?” Hewitt said.

Porter turned around. Any hint of sanity was gone. He looked desperate and shattered. “It’s empty!” he screamed. “It’s fucking
empty!”

Finn could hear the sirens whining in the distance. They sounded too far away. Sally was still unconscious, but she was breathing
steadily on her own now. Kozlowski had bundled his jacket into a pillow and put it under her head, and he’d pulled a blanket
out of his car and spread it over her.

There seemed to be less they could do for Devon. Finn had started to put pressure on the wound in the chest, but after a moment
he realized that the bullet had gone through the body, and Devon was bleeding out of his back as well. The black-red stain
underneath him grew endlessly, and Finn could see him slipping away. “Hold on,” he said. “You’re gonna be okay.” Finn couldn’t
imagine words less convincing, but he said them anyway.

Devon nodded. “I’ll be okay.” His voice was little more than a whisper. He turned his head so he could see his daughter, lying
a few yards away. “She’s fine,” Finn said. “She’s gonna be fine.”

Devon gave a weak smile. “She’s a piece of fuckin’ business,” he said. “I wish I coulda done better for her.”

“You’re doing fine,” Finn said. “You can do more when this is over.”

“From Walpole, or the fuckin’ grave? I’m goin’ away any way you look at it. We both know it.”

“Shut up,” Finn said. “You hired a miracle worker, remember?”

“I did that,” Devon said. “Thanks. I got one more favor.” He coughed, and a thin sliver of blood ran down his chin from the
corner of his mouth.

“Sure,” Finn said. “Whatever you need.”

“Make sure Sally’s taken care of. Make sure they put her someplace good. Maybe look in on her every once in a while. She gets
the right chances, I swear to fuckin’ God, she could do something with her life. She could be good at something.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Finn said. “I’ll make sure she’s okay.”

“I got your word?”

“You’ve got my word.”

Devon looked back at his daughter. He seemed to relax. “It’s not that bad,” he said. “It doesn’t even hurt.” For just a moment,
he looked at peace. Then the peace was shattered.

“Where are they!”

Finn looked over and he could see Porter running toward them, Hewitt following closely behind. “Where the hell are they!”
Porter yelled again. He seemed dislodged. His eyes were wheeling, darting from Stone and Sanchez to Kozlowski to Finn. Finally
his gaze settled on Devon. “You’re the guy? You’re Malley?”