Identity (42 page)

Cristian slammed the back doors shut and pounded twice on the ambulance, which the driver interpreted as a signal to leave.

Fina rested her head against the thin pillow and closed her eyes.

It wasn’t the ideal way to get a catnap, but beggars couldn’t be choosers.

•   •   •

“I didn’t expect to see you,” Fina told Matthew when he strode into her curtained nook in the ER an hour later.

“Dad and Scotty were tied up.” Matthew pulled a chair over to the side of the bed and sat down. “So they got the guy?”

“Milloy got the guy. He was coming back to get his phone, thankfully.”

“You couldn’t have handled him?” Matthew grinned.

“I’m not bionic, Matthew, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Are they going to keep you here?”

“I doubt it. I had a CAT scan and some X-rays. I’m waiting for the results, but you don’t have to wait. I know you’re busy.”

Matthew looked at his watch. “I have an hour before a meeting. I’ll stay until then.”

They killed the next half hour watching
The Price Is Right
, a game at which Matthew proved to be surprisingly adept.

“How do you know the price of a baker’s rack or a ten-person hot tub?” Fina asked him.

He grinned.

Fina tried to concentrate on the show, but her head was throbbing, and in the hallway outside, a phone rang incessantly.

“If someone doesn’t answer that goddamn phone, I’m going to rip it out of the wall,” Fina said, squeezing her fists in frustration.

“Take it easy, killer, and focus on the Showcase Showdown.”

Mary from Tulsa was overbidding on a trip to Japan when the curtain was thrown open and a young man in a white coat walked over to Fina’s bedside.

“Your films all look clear. You can go; just take it easy for a few days. We’ll give you some pain pills, so no alcohol.”

“Have we met?” Fina asked. “That’s a lot of directives from someone I don’t know.”

“Dr. Carlson,” he said.

“Right. Of course.”

“So nothing permanent?” Matthew asked.

“Nope. If she takes care of herself, she’ll be good as new in no time.”

“Clearly, they didn’t take a complete history,” Matthew said under his breath. Fina sat up and nudged him with her foot. “My clothes, please?” She nodded toward a plastic bag hanging on a hook on the wall.

“The discharge nurse will bring in the instructions and your prescription,” Dr. Carlson said before taking his leave.

Matthew waited in the hall while she got dressed, and Fina chased
down a nurse to get her paperwork. She knew her situation was minor compared to her fellow patients, and it was a waste of time and a bed if she had to wait around to be told not to OD and to take it easy.

“So what should I report to Dad?” Matthew asked after ten minutes in the car, sitting in traffic.

Fina knew without asking that Matthew was referring to the case, not her health. “That obviously I’m making progress. Nobody beats you up if you’re on the wrong track.”

Matthew pulled over in front of the Boston PD headquarters. “I’ll pass that on.”

“Thanks for the company at the hospital.” Fina put one foot out of the car and winced when she stood.

“You really should take it easy,” Matthew said, frowning.

“I have a few things to take care of, then I promise I’ll go home and lie down.”

He pulled away, and Fina climbed the building steps. She checked in with the desk sergeant and was fetched a few minutes later by a woman in uniform, who took her upstairs to the Major Crimes squad room.

Pitney beckoned to her, and Fina followed her into a space the size of a walk-in closet with a one-way mirror that looked into a second room. The man from the garage sat handcuffed to the table.

“I thought he’d look worse,” Fina commented. She settled down into a chair and gazed at the man on the other side of the glass.

“You should see his torso. Milloy did a job on him.”

Fina glared at Pitney. “He was just protecting me.”

“I know. Don’t be so defensive.”

“Sorry! I’m feeling a little touchy today,” Fina said sarcastically.

The man squirmed in his seat, searching for comfort that wouldn’t be found in the metal chair he occupied. He looked at the clock on the wall.

“Is this the one you had trouble with before?” Pitney asked. “Cristian said something about the elevator in your building.”

Fina leaned toward the glass and peered at him. His eyes seemed to rest on her for a moment, even though he couldn’t possibly see her through the glass.

“He’s the one. He may be the one from the street also, but I can’t be sure.”

“What are you talking about?”

Fina waved her off with a bandaged hand. “Nothing.”

“Well, he’s really got the hots for you,” Pitney commented. There was a knock on the door, and Cristian came in holding two cups of coffee with a folder tucked under his arm. He handed one to Pitney.

“Do you want a soda?” he asked Fina. “I didn’t realize you were here.”

“Just some water. I have to take some pills.” She reached into her bag and pulled out a bottle, which she shook.

“Great,” Pitney said. “Narcotics.”

“Legally prescribed narcotics.”

Cristian ducked out of the room and spoke to someone. He stepped back in and closed the door behind him.

“So has he given you guys
anything
?” Fina asked.

“Quiet as a church mouse,” Pitney said, then sipped her coffee.

A light tap on the door produced a cup of water, which Fina used to wash down a pill. “What’s his name?” she asked.

Cristian opened the folder. “Denny Calder.” He looked at her expectantly.

Fina shook her head. “Nope. Did you ask him about the pictures of Haley?”

“He lawyered up,” Pitney commented, glancing at her phone.

“He has a lawyer? His own lawyer?” Fina asked.

“No,” Cristian said. “Public defender.”

“I wish I felt more optimistic about this,” Fina said, standing.

“No reason to,” Pitney said. “He’s not going to give us anything.”

“Well, let me know if he does,” Fina said as Cristian opened the door. He followed her into the squad room and toward the stairs.

“What did the doctor say?”

“Surprisingly little. His bedside manner was slim to nonexistent.”

“But you didn’t leave AMA, did you?” Cristian asked.

“Against medical advice? That’s an offense worthy of disinheritance in the Ludlow clan.” Fina took the stairs slowly. “I got a clean bill of health. I feel like shit, and that wouldn’t bother me so much if I knew Haley was safe.”

“I would still keep an eye on her if I were you.”

“I was all set to get her some protection, but I’d rather not if it’s not necessary.”

“That’s your call,” Cristian said. They were standing outside the front door of the station. Cops and other members of the public floated by. An old woman came up the stairs, bumping a metal grocery cart behind her. She was wearing a hat with a plastic daisy stuck in the brim.

“Young man,” she said, gripping Cristian’s arm, “I need to report a crime.”

“They’ll help you inside, ma’am,” Cristian said, offering her a pleasant smile.

“But I like the look of you,” she said to him.

“Everybody likes the look of him,” Fina said. The woman stared at her and curled her lip at Fina’s appearance. She returned her attention to Cristian. “President Kennedy has been stealing my
People
magazines.”

Cristian glanced at Fina, who suppressed a smile. “Inside, ma’am. The desk sergeant would be happy to help.”

The woman snuck another look at Fina and pulled her cart behind her into the station.

“Wow. I’m so sorry I’m not a cop,” Fina said, rolling her eyes.

Cristian grinned. “I’ll let you know if we get anything out of Denny Calder.”

“Thanks.” She started down the stairs. “How’s Cindy?” she called back to him.

Cristian shook his head and went back inside. Fina hailed a cab and headed back to Nanny’s.

•   •   •

Danielle Reardon answered her phone after two rings. “Are you making any progress?” she asked Fina.

Jeez. Fina had many masters on this case.

“Yes, and you could help me make some more.”

“Okay.”

“Do you have surveillance cameras outside your home?”

“Of course.”

“Good. I wonder if I could get the tapes from the night Hank was killed.”

“Why? You think his killer was
here
?”

“I just need to check something, and the tape would be helpful.” Fina didn’t feel like arguing or explaining; she just wanted the damn tapes.

“You’ll have to speak with Mickey Hogan at Universum. He oversees all our security.”

“Okay. I’ll give him a call. Thanks. How are you holding up?”

Danielle sighed on the other end of the line. “I’m okay. One of my sisters is here visiting.”

“How’s Aubrey?”

“She’s good,” Danielle said. There was some hesitancy in her voice. “She’s just doing her baby thing.”

“Well, it must be nice to have your sister around.”

“It is. In fact, we’re on our way out.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you. Thanks, Danielle.”

Fina dropped the phone onto the coffee table and rolled over onto her side. What she wanted to do, more than anything, was pop another pill and curl up under Nanny’s afghan, but that wasn’t how cases got solved. The detecting fairy didn’t flit by, sprinkling fairy dust in your hair while you slumbered.

Calling Mickey Hogan was an option, but she’d learned that in certain circumstances, a battered appearance could work to her
advantage. Contusions and lacerations indicated a level of seriousness that mere words couldn’t begin to convey.

Fina changed into jeans that weren’t torn and bloodstained and a lightweight V-neck sweater. The bruises on her neck were faint shadows compared to the discolorations blooming around her eye and temple. She pulled her gun out of her bag and tossed a light jacket over her hand. If someone else was waiting for her downstairs, he was in for it.

At Universum, the young receptionist, Tony, drew back at her appearance. She asked for Mickey Hogan and was ushered to the seating area to wait.

“Can I get you anything?” Tony asked her in a hushed tone.

Fina couldn’t imagine what might be on offer. “I’m good, thanks.”

Tony returned to his desk and launched into an animated conversation with his desk mate. His frequent glances in Fina’s direction made her wonder if she was the topic of conversation.

Ten minutes later, a beefy man in a dark suit led her back to Mickey Hogan’s office. Mickey was sitting behind his desk, flipping through a stack of papers.

“Thanks for seeing me on short notice,” Fina said, taking a seat across the desk.

“Christ.” He studied her face. “That looks painful.”

“It was. Is.”

“What happened?” Mickey turned the papers over and gave her his full attention.

“I was jumped by some guy who’s been trying to warn me off.”

“The investigation into Hank’s death?”

“I think. He’s never that specific in his threats, just wants me to leave town for a bit.”

“Did he take off?”

“No. Luckily a friend of mine happened upon us and clobbered the guy. He’s at Boston PD right now. Denny Calder. You ever heard of him?”

Mickey thought for a moment and then shook his head. He tapped a few keys on his computer.

“Nope. We don’t have anything on him.”

“They’re going to interview him, but so far, he’s not saying much.”

“So what can I do for you?” Mickey leaned back in his chair.

“I just spoke with Danielle about video footage from the house on Commonwealth.”

Mickey nodded, but didn’t say anything.

“She said you would have it for the night of Hank’s murder and I could take a look.”

“Okay. Give me a minute.” Mickey picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Mickey Hogan calling for Mrs. Reardon.” He looked at Fina and shrugged. “Trust, but verify.”

“Of course.” Fina rested her chin on her fist. The pain from her injuries was muted, but she felt just a tiny bit dopey from the pills. It was tough to find the sweet spot between being pain-free and completely loopy.

Mickey had a conversation with Danielle that involved mostly nods and a few “Yes, ma’ams.” He hung up and tapped on his keyboard.

“Did you ever determine if there were any unaccounted-for cars in the garage before or after Hank’s death?”

“There weren’t any. We were able to match each car to its owner, and all visitors and guests were accounted for. Here it is,” he said, turning the monitor toward Fina. Video of the Reardon front door started running in a new window. “Do you have a time frame?”

“Let’s try eleven
P.M.
onward.”

Mickey clicked the mouse. “What are you looking for?”

“I assume the police asked you for this footage?” Fina countered.

“Yup. What are you looking for?” he repeated, not willing to leave his question unanswered.

“A couple of kids who claim they were camped out on the doorstep for about twenty minutes that night. Not doing anything, but hanging around when they should have been tucked up in bed.”

Mickey maneuvered the mouse and jumped the video forward an hour. He set it to advance at eight times the usual speed, and they watched the frame stay virtually the same for a few minutes.

“Wait. Stop,” Fina said.

Mickey backed up the recording and started playback on normal speed. After ten seconds, Tyler came into the frame. He was followed by Rosie a moment later. The two of them sat down on the front steps and began talking.

“Who are they?” Mickey asked.

“Those are two knuckleheads who were fathered by Hank Reardon. Mum’s the word, by the way.”

“Cryokids?”

“Yup. They were recorded on a surveillance video driving around town, and when I confronted the girl, she admitted that they’d gone to Hank’s to hang out.”

“Do you believe them?”

Fina shrugged. “That’s all they seem to be doing.”

“Do you think that was their intent?”

“I don’t know, Detective Hogan.” Fina grinned. “But what else would it be? There’s not much they could get away with, given your security measures.”