Sacrifice Fly (19 page)

“Watch your head, Mr. Donne.”

Okay, I thought. He knew my name, so any discussion about his having mistaken me for
someone else was worthless.

“The Clemente Houses,” he said. “The old precinct. Highland. Field trips are very
educational. I am sure you will find this one very much so.”

I took a breath. I wanted to speak, but my pain and fear were making it hard to form
the right words. I tried anyway. “Why don’t you just—?”

Suit shook his head and again placed his index finger to his lips.

“No more talking,” he said. “When we get to our destination, you will listen. If all
goes well, you will have a nice walk home and enjoy the rest of your Sunday.”

About a minute later—after a few more hard lefts—the van came to a stop. I heard the
driver get out, and then he appeared as the side door slid open. Suit put on a pair
of sunglasses and exited the van. He held out his hand for me to follow. I moved across
the floor on my butt and, ignoring his hand, slid myself out.

Suit grabbed me by the elbow and squeezed. “If you draw any attention, you will go
back inside the van and not get out again for days. Do you understand me?”

I tried to free my elbow, but couldn’t. “Yeah,” I said. “I understand.”

“Good.”

He released my arm and pushed me into the driver, who placed his hand on my shoulder.
This guy was dressed in a sweatsuit the exact color as his partner’s business suit.
He was also about twice my size. His big head and long arms gave him an apelike appearance.

“You recognize this block?” Suit asked.

I looked around, and as my eyes readjusted to the bright sunlight, I felt my stomach
clutch as I realized exactly where we were. Across the street from where the three
of us were standing was the building where I had my accident and a kid had died. Except
for a few overgrown weeds on the front steps and a faded, yellow
NO TRESPASSING
sign on the front door, it looked exactly as it had five years ago. Just like it
looked in my nightmares. I thought the city would have knocked it down by now. Or
at least sold it to some real estate developer. How the hell did these guys—?

“Of course you do, Mr. Donne. Good. Then we do not have to waste a lot of time discussing
what we know about you and your history.”

Anger was mixing with my fear. I got the nerve up to say, “What the fuck do you—?”

Ape squeezed my shoulder, almost bringing me to my knees.

“As you can see,” Suit said, “not much has changed on this block. Even now, a beautiful
Sunday afternoon, it is empty. Nobody on the front steps, no kids riding their bikes
in the street. A shame. With the market the way it is, someone could do quite well
here. But maybe some things are meant to stay unchanged. To remind us of our pasts,
yes? As a teacher, you are familiar with what they say about those who refuse to learn
from history?”

I thought it was a rhetorical question until Ape squeezed my shoulder again. I nodded
and said, “Yeah.”

Suit smiled. “So,” he said. “The lesson here is we need to be very careful what doors
we go through. We never quite know what will be on the other side. And we need to
ask ourselves, ‘Is it worth the risk? This search for knowledge?’” He turned to me
and said, “Would you care to go inside, Mr. Donne? I understand that a part of the
fire escape still clings from the back wall.”

“No,” I said. “You’ve made your point.”

“I do not think we have,” Suit said. “Yet.”

“You want me to stay away from Frankie’s,” I said. “And the police.”

Suit grinned and looked at his partner. Ape did not grin. Suit said, “That is a bit
of a … cliché, isn’t it? No, we are not here to tell you to stay away from anything.
In fact, we wish for you to continue with what you are doing.”

“Excuse me?”

“You are very good at this,” he said. “And you can talk to certain people who would,
for obvious reasons, not wish to talk to us.”

“Like the police?”

“When you talk to these people, we want to know about it. Immediately.”

“And why would I want to do that?” I asked, right before Ape tightened his grip. This
time I did go down. Hard. My fear, nausea, and anger now had pain to keep them company.

“Because if you don’t,” Suit said, looking down at me, “that is when the harm will
come to you.” He leaned over. “Much more harm than this.” He reached into his jacket
pocket, and I was sure I was going to see his knife again. Instead, he pulled out
an envelope and tossed it to the ground in front of me. “Now,” he said, “excuse one
cliché … we will be in touch.”

Ape let go of me, and I had to hold out my hands to avoid hitting the ground with
my face. I watched as the two of them got back into the van—a white van, it occurred
to me—and drove off. No back license plate for me to commit to memory. Just like that,
they were gone. I picked up the envelope and got to my feet. I looked around. Suit
was right. The street was empty.

I opened the envelope. Another wave of fear and nausea coursed through my body as
I realized what I was looking at. A photograph of my sister Rachel’s front door.

Chapter 14

YOU DON’T JUST HAIL A CAB
in the middle of Williamsburg, Brooklyn. That’s a Manhattan thing. In Williamsburg,
if you need a car quick, you call a service and hope for the best. I remembered there
was one around the block and got there as fast as I could. I checked my pockets for
cash and only had a twenty, so I hit the ATM a few doors down from the car service
and got another hundred. I got lucky; a driver was just pulling in. I got in his backseat
before he could get out of his car.

“I am off duty, sir,” he said. “Perhaps if you went inside.”

I showed him two twenties. “I need to get to Queens real quick. It’ll take less than
a half hour.” As he pondered the bills in front of his face, I took out another. “Twenty
more if I can use your cell phone.” I had left mine home since I had only planned
to go to the gym.

“Twenty dollars,” he said, “just to make a phone call?”

“Sixty all together. The ride and the call.”

He took the sixty bucks, put the car in gear, and handed me his phone. I dialed Rachel’s
number and got her voice mail.

“Rachel,” I said, trying to mix a little calm in with the sense of urgency, “if you
get this before I get to your place, go upstairs to the…” —what the hell was their—“the
Burkes’s. I know. Just do it. I’ll explain when I get there.” I couldn’t think of
anything else to say, so I closed up the phone and was about to give it back to the
driver. Instead, I dialed nine-one-one and told the operator that I’d heard gunfire.
I gave my sister’s address and hung up before she could ask any questions.

“You said one call,” the driver said.

“Just drive,” I said, handing the phone over the seat.

We flew past what little traffic there was on the BQE and the Long Island Expressway.
There was a bit of a snarl on Queens Boulevard, but the driver took the service road
and cut down a few side streets, getting me in front of my sister’s apartment building—right
behind the patrol car responding to my anonymous nine-one-one call—in just over twenty
minutes. The guy had earned his sixty bucks.

I looked around. No white van. I went straight to the front door as the police officer
was radioing back to his command. They might be able to track the call to the driver,
but I didn’t really care. I buzzed Rachel, and she let me in.

“What the hell was that all about?” she asked as I entered her apartment. I smelled
coffee brewing. Rachel looked me over and considered my appearance.

“Where were you?” I asked.

“Food shopping. I just got in. What the hell—?”

I reached out and hugged her. After a while, she said, “Ray? What is it? Is it Mom?”

“No,” I said, letting her go and taking a step back. “No. Mom’s fine. I guess.”

“Then what is it?”

I looked at my little sister. If something ever happened to her … because of something
I got involved in …

“Can I get a cup of coffee first?”

“Yeah. Sit down. Give me a minute.”

When she went into the kitchen, I stepped over to her window that looked out onto
the street. The patrol car had gone, and there was still no sign of the white van.
Ape and Suit had wanted to scare me with that photo. They had succeeded. Would they
show up? Or was that picture just to let me know that they knew about me? Like the
trip to the scene of my accident. Who were those guys?

“Ray?”

I turned around to see my sister holding a mug of coffee in each hand. I went over
to her and she handed me mine. “Now, talk,” she said.

I took a sip and let it work on me. “Remember Frankie?”

“The missing kid?” she asked.

“Yeah.”

“The one whose father you found murdered?”

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

“What’s going on, Ray?”

I brought her up to date: Frankie’s grandmother’s apartment, the trip up to Highland,
Uncle Ray, and the two guys who’d just taken me for a ride. When I was done, Rachel
waited a full minute before talking.

“You borrowed my car so you could play private eye?” she asked.

“That’s not what I did, Rachel.”

“It’s exactly what you did, Ray. I can’t believe you.” She walked over to the window.
I was about to ask her not to do that, but she turned back. “No, that’s not true.
I do believe it. It’s exactly the kind of thing I’d expect from Dad.”

“What the hell does that mean?” I asked.

“Did you even think about the repercussions? How playing Sam Spade might come back
and bite you in the ass? Or worse?”

“Rachel,” I said, “if I had any idea that something like this could have happened,
I’d never have gotten involved.”

“That’s just it, Ray. You didn’t think past what you wanted to do. How getting your
cop rocks off might affect others.”

“Come on, Rache.”

“No,” she said. “This is the kinda shit Mom says Dad used to pull, only with him it
was the long hours, the road trips, no sleep. Why do you think he had the heart attack?”

Shit. “This is nothing like Dad,” I said. “I was trying to help a kid. You told me
the other night how great it was I was reaching out to someone.”

“Reaching out, yes. Not sticking your nose into official police business.”

“Now
you
sound like Uncle Ray,” I said.

“Better than sounding like Dad.”

“I do not sound like Dad, Rachel.”

“Yeah, well … here we are, Ray.” Her eyes filled up. “Here we fucking are.”

I took a step toward her. She held out her hand. “Don’t.”

“I need to make sure you’re safe, Rachel.”

“I’m a big girl, Ray. I can protect myself.”

“Not from these guys,” I said. “Trust me.”

I could tell she wanted to argue the point, but the look on my face must have stopped
her. In a low voice, she asked, “So what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to take that trip to L.A. your boss wanted you on.”

“Just like that?”

“Call him,” I said. “He’d be thrilled, right?”

“Probably,” she said as she thought it over. I’ve never known Rachel to respond well
to having decisions made for her, and she was not one to scare easily. I was prepared
to give her as much time as she needed. Up to a point. “I’ll make you a deal,” she
said.

“What kind of deal?”

“I’ll call Les. Tell him I changed my mind about going. He’s gonna give me shit about
the ticket price, but too bad. I’ll go to L.A. You call Uncle Ray.”

“I don’t think that’s a good—”

“You said these guys scared you, Ray. I can see that. That’s the only reason I’m willing
to go on this trip. You have to protect yourself now, too.” She walked across the
room and came back with her phone. “Call Uncle Ray. Now. You can both take me to the
airport.”

I took the phone and said, “You’re a lot tougher than you used to be.”

“Which is why my boss wants me on this trip. I’ll be packed in fifteen minutes.”

Rachel left the room, and I called Uncle Ray’s house. I got Reeny again, and she gave
me my uncle’s cell phone. He was between holes when he picked up.

“This better be good,” he said.

“It’s me.”

“Nephew! Twice in one week. This must be my—”

“I’m in some trouble, Uncle Ray,” I said, and then told him why.

“I’m on my way,” he said. “Less than half an hour. Stay away from the windows, and
don’t answer the door. You see anything makes you think twice, call nine-one-one.”

“Thanks, Uncle Ray.”

“Thank me when I get there,” he said, and hung up.

I went into the kitchen and helped myself to another cup of coffee. I looked out the
window that faced the courtyard. The trees were all green now and stroller marks crisscrossed
the grass. Each corner of the lawn had a picnic table with benches. Rachel and I would
have dinner down there once in a while. Sandwiches and a beer from the gourmet deli
up the block. The six-story buildings did a good job keeping the sounds of Kew Gardens
from getting in. We always seemed to wind up on the grass, telling stories about growing
up and how weird it was that we both ended up in the boroughs our parents couldn’t
wait to move out of. We had outgrown the tree-lined streets and manicured lawns of
Long Island and wanted more. Things only the city could offer. To not be like our
parents. To make different choices. Different mistakes.

“How’d your date go the other night?” Rachel yelled from her bedroom.

“Not so great,” I yelled back. “Kinda got into a fight.”

“With your date?”

“No,” I said. “With a guy I used to—never mind. I screwed up is what happened.”

“You call her and apologize?”

“Not yet.”

“Do it, Ray,” Rachel said. “Soon. Before you look like an asshole.”

Might be too late for that. The cordless rang. I forgot it was still in my hand.

“Hello,” I said.

“I’m five seconds from the front door.” Uncle Ray. “Buzz me up.”