The Betrayal (22 page)

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Authors: Jerry B. Jenkins

Tags: #FICTION / Christian / General, #FICTION / Religious

BOOK: The Betrayal
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29

The Lunch

Wednesday, February 10, 12:30 p.m.

“Shall we take my car, buddy?” Pete Wade said, pulling on his long overcoat as he peered into Boone's office.

It was the first time Pete had ever used a familiar moniker for him, but that wasn't all that struck Boone. Pete was normally formal, almost stiff. Unlike most of the personnel in the Organized Crime Division, he generally eschewed suits and ties and wore a uniform at least four days a week, occasionally even his dress blues, as today. What was that about? Maybe he had a meeting with the brass. Boone didn't care to ask. He feared it could mean a meeting with the US Attorney.

Pete rarely offered to drive either, usually using an unmarked squad or allowing a subordinate or at least a newer cop—like Boone—to drive.

Staying in character, Boone remained tight-lipped and merely nodded, reaching for his parka with his good hand. Again wholly out of character, Pete Wade helped him put it on. Boone turned down help from most everyone else, but he didn't want to do anything to interrupt what was going on with Pete. The man was trying to impress him somehow, to endear himself to Boone with a rare air of deference and concern. Maybe Pete was hoping Boone had come to his senses.

As they headed toward the parking garage, Pete actually gently put a hand on Boone's shoulder and guided him out of the elevator. It wasn't that Pete had ever been rude or snooty, but servility had simply never been part of his character.

As they reached the glass door leading to the frigid garage, Pete said, “Why don't you wait here where it's warm, and I'll bring the car around.”

Pete seemed to be trying to emasculate him, and every fiber of Boone's being wanted to brush off the offer and show that he wasn't letting an injury hold him back. But he was desperate to communicate to Pete in word and action that he was shell-shocked—not because of his injury but because of what he had learned about Haeley.

So he just nodded and stood inside the glass door, shoulders hunched against the draft. When Pete pulled up a few minutes later in the very car Boone had followed to the Wades' River North condo, Boone headed out into the frosty garage, only to see Pete hurry from the car to open the passenger door.

“Thanks,” Boone muttered, gingerly sliding in. Before he could reach for the seat belt, awkward with his right hand but manageable, Pete grabbed it and buckled him in. Boone held his breath at the smell of English Leather cologne, an interesting and archaic choice for Pete.

Boone whispered another weary thank-you, rattled by the usually reserved Wade's having invaded anyone else's personal space, let alone his.

“Sure thing, pal,” Pete said. The last time Boone had been spoken to this way was by a salesman. Adjusting the heat while maneuvering out of the garage, Pete said, “So, how's it been going with the shoulder and all?”

Blech.
Boone preferred the standoffish Pete to this version. “Slow but sure,” Boone said. “I'm going to be obsessive after surgery so I can get back on the job.”

“Seriously?” Pete said, waving at the garage attendant as he pulled onto the street. “Impressive. Most guys would jump at the chance for full disability.”

“I don't even know if they're going to let me come back.”


They
? Who's they? It's your call, isn't it, Boone?”

Whose side was Pete on?

“I guess it's my call,” Boone said. “Unless it turns out I'm incapacitated.”

“The injury that bad?”

Boone shrugged. “We'll know more after Monday. But my goal is to come back to full strength.”

“Even if you don't, that doesn't mean you have to retire. It just means you couldn't work the streets.”

“They're making retirement pretty lucrative.”

“How lucrative?”

As if you don't know. You probably designed the plan.
“I'm not at liberty to discuss the details, but like you say, most guys would jump at it. But I don't guess too many people my age have ever been offered full benefits.”

“If you were older it might turn your head, hm?”

Pete drove just over a mile and pulled into the tiny parking lot next to a hole-in-the-wall restaurant called the Barrel. “Was that what you wanted to talk to me about, Boone? Your future?”

Pete unbuckled Boone and jogged around to his side of the car to open the door. Between the car and the restaurant their breath came in thick, white clouds.

“I think you know what I wanted to talk about, Pete.”

“I suppose I do,” he said, holding the door. “Something about eating crow.”

Boone nodded and fell silent as the hostess showed them to a table in the back, dark and secluded.

It wasn't like Pete to seem distracted, but soon he was chomping popcorn and pickles as if he'd skipped breakfast. Boone ignored the preliminaries and ordered a chicken sandwich. Pete opted for the Reuben.

“So, what's on your mind, Boone?”

“Like I said, I think you know.”

“Disappointed? Feel betrayed?”

“Do I ever. How about you, Pete? Have you ever believed in somebody from your heart and then found out they weren't what you thought they were?”

“You kidding? I've
been
that guy. I told you, my wife sees me as her hero, overachiever, decorated cop, civil servant. And like I said, I'm a deacon. I've felt so bad for so long because Thelma still doesn't know what a scoundrel I was.”

“That never came out, all that stuff you told me about?”

“I couldn't have that. It would have killed her. And I have to admit, when I had my chance with, you know, the one who's been deceiving you, well, I almost fell again, man.”

She has a name. Can't you even say it?
Everything in him wanted to pull his Beretta and put one between this liar's eyes. Boone's phone vibrated. Haeley. Perfect. He hit Ignore, then nodded sadly, as if commiserating.

“Hurts, doesn't it?” Pete said.

“It's the worst.”

“I mean, you think you know a person . . .”

Pete had no idea how true his words were.

“Thing is, Pete, where do I go from here? It's not bad enough I lose my family. But time does heal. Not totally, probably not ever completely, but I was making progress.”

“I know you were. I saw it. We all did. It's not like you're ever going to get over that, but like you say, you were getting back into the swing of things. It was also obvious you were enamored of, uh, Ms. Lamonica, and for that I owe you an apology.”

“You what?”

“I'm telling you, man, I knew from the beginning it was headed for the rocks. People like that, women like her, they don't change. Anyway, hard as it is, be glad you're out of it. She and her cohort are going to do a lot of time, you know.”

“Looks that way.”

“That scumbag Zappolo got her out of County, but the US Attorney's going to put her in MCC today. Fox is out on bond and eager to sing, but unless he gives up something really good—beyond her, because we've got all we need on her—he's back in the can soon too.”

“Doesn't surprise me. That he was dirty, I mean.”

“Yeah, but you were in love with the girl, eh?”

“Thought we had a future.”

“You still thought so the other day, Boone, when I tried to tell you. I could see you weren't ready to hear it, but you're enough of a cop that you couldn't run from the evidence.”

Boone nodded. “Painful.”

“I'm sure it was. It was painful for me too.”

“You?”

“Of course. Can you imagine? Having to bring charges against a coworker and knowing how that was going to affect a friend like you? One of the hardest things I've ever had to do.”

When their meals arrived, Boone had lost his appetite. He needed nourishment, so he took a couple of bites and chewed them till they were mush.

Pete continued, “She wasn't exactly a cop, but we consider even support staff like Haeley brothers and sisters under the blue. I didn't want to have to rat out Fox; he was once one of us too. But the evidence pointed to him, and knowing his history, it wasn't so hard. He was no longer a cop, and we'd all been through so much bull with him.”

“But Haeley . . .”

“That was a tough one. But because of our previous encounters, you know, I knew she wasn't what she appeared. And I need you to forgive me for not giving you a heads-up before you got too involved. I'm not saying I knew she would violate the public trust, but I for sure knew you were just going to be one in a long line of men. . . .”

Boone fought with everything in him to keep from hyperventilating. How he was going to enjoy taking down this scoundrel.

“So can you?” Wade said.

“Sorry?”

“Can you forgive me? As a friend and, I hope, a mentor, I owed it to you to warn you. But I took the easy way out, hoped you'd use your investigative powers, find out on your own, and leave me in the clear. I wasn't a good friend.”

Boone's phone vibrated again. Haeley. Of course he couldn't take it.

“That wasn't your responsibility.”
Anyway, when were we ever friends, Pete? I always felt like I was supposed to kiss your boots.

“Yeah,” Pete said, “but I should have known that emotions can get in the way of judgment. The keen eye you bring to the street—you wouldn't think you have to bring that to a relationship.”

“I forgive you,” Boone said, cold inside from the depth of the lie. “Let's put it behind us. I'm suffering right now, but I'll get through it. I just want my head clear for Monday.”

“Got a good surgeon?”

“So they tell me. But after the operation, I have no idea what I'm going to do.”

Pete wiped his mouth, slid his plate forward, and sat back, his leather squeaking. “Boone, if it was me, I'd take the deal from the department. But it's not me we're talking about.”

It will be soon enough.

“But why not, Boone? You've got your whole life ahead of you. You could do just about anything else you wanted. It's none of a new employer's business that you're on full disability. You'd be great teaching at the academy, but you can't double-dip on the city. You want two incomes, don't you? Who wouldn't? You've got yourself a dream situation. And you deserve it.”

How quickly Pete had forgotten Boone's pain over Haeley. It was all about setting oneself up for the future.

“I'll think about it,” Boone said.

“And you know I'll support you whatever you do, give you stellar references, whatever you need.”

“You'd do that for me?”

“Absolutely.”

“I'm going to have to think hard for a way to thank you for all this, Pete.”
I can hardly wait.

Wade waved him off. “What are friends for? You can tell me something, though. What made you finally come around and see it?”

“The truth about Haeley?”

Pete nodded.

“Oh, I don't know, maybe finally realizing that I was getting inside information from only the best investigator the Chicago PD has ever had.”

Pete dipped his head and seemed to fight a smile. “Oh, I don't know about that.”

“I do. That's all I've ever heard. And seen close-up. Frankly, I wish you'd been wrong this time, Pete.”

Pete pressed his lips together and looked sad. He peered deep into Boone's eyes. “So do I, friend. So do I.”

Back at the office, Pete repeated rushing about to open doors for Boone and pledging his continued support.

On the elevator he said, “And let me just restate. This offer you're talking about? That's a gold mine, the lottery, your ship coming in. I know you still want to be a cop, and take it from one who knows, believe me: you'll always be a good one, one hundred percent physically or not. But take the gift, man. Live the rest of your life on two incomes. What's the downside?”

Boone shook his head. “Hard to see one, Pete; I give you that.”

As soon as Boone got to his office he called Haeley.

“I was at lunch with you-know-who,” he said. “Talking to you would have completely botched the—”

“I understand, but I can't get hold of Zappolo either, and—”

“You know Fritz is in court. He'll call you as soon as he's free.”

“I've had enough of this. I want to see Max.”

“Call my parents and talk to him.”

“Not good enough. I'm going down there.”

“Give it another day, Hael.”

“But what if someone already got to Zappolo and they're forcing him to tell them where I'm staying? I could be at Metropolitan before you even know it.”

“Zappolo is a pro. He's been down this road before. He'll—”

“He's never harbored a fugitive before.”

“You're not a fugitive. There's no such thing as harboring an innocent victim.”

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