The Doll Maker (46 page)

Byrne nodded. ‘Quietly as possible. Our killers are on the move.’

‘You got it.’

As Shepherd relayed the message to the people in the living room, Jessica found Paddy Byrne. ‘Paddy, I need you to take Sophie home with you. I’ll pick her up at your house later.’

‘Sure,’ Paddy said. He knew enough not to ask why. ‘I’ll get the car.’

Jessica threaded her way back through the crowded living room. She found Maria’s niece Jennifer sitting on a folding chair in the dining room.

‘Where’s Sophie?’ Jessica asked.

Jennifer stood, looked around the room. ‘I think she went outside.’

Jessica felt her fear begin to rise. ‘Outside? Why?’

‘ She said she wanted to get something from your car.’

Jessica’s heart fell. She made her way frantically around the room, looked on the porch, up and down the dark street, at her empty car parked at the curb

Sophie was gone.

The Delaware River Port Authority of Pennsylvania and New Jersey was a regional transportation agency that served the people of Southeastern Pennsylvania and Southern New Jersey.

The agency owned and operated the Benjamin Franklin, Walt Whitman, Commodore Barry, and Betsy Ross bridges.

At Pier 82 was the SS
Clermont-Ferrand.
At one time a French luxury passenger liner, the steamship – launched in 1952 to set an Atlantic crossing speed record – was decommissioned in the 1990s, and has since been permanently docked in Philadelphia.

By the time Jessica and Byrne arrived at the pier there were a half-dozen sector cars on scene, lights flashing, blocking off the streets.

As they made the turn onto the pier, they could see an EMT van near the end of the gangway. A paramedic was tending to someone on a gurney. Byrne took it in, and knew what had happened. Their suspects had attacked a night security guard or one of the cleaning crew to gain access to the ship.

When Byrne looked up at the bow, his heart sank. There, silhouetted against the bright moon, were Martin and Cassandra White.

It looked like Sophie Balzano stood between them.

Jessica saw it too.

Before Byrne could bring the vehicle to a halt, Jessica was out of the car and heading for the pier. Byrne was out like a shot after her. He barely caught up with her before she could head down the gangway and onto the ship.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her tight.

‘Let me go!’ she screamed.

‘Jess.’

She began to struggle, to kick her legs. Byrne knew his partner was very fit, that from time to time she still trained as a boxer, that she ran a couple of miles every day. She was one of the most physically able people, man or woman, in the entire department. Add to that the fact that she was a mother whose daughter was in danger, and it took Byrne every bit of his strength to try to contain her.

‘Let me fucking
go
, Kevin. I swear to
Christ
.’

Byrne felt that he was about to lose his grip on her. She was that strong at this moment. He locked his hands together and held on as tightly as he could. All around them police personnel were arriving on scene. Byrne could hear the outboard motors of the boats from the Marine Unit coming up on either side of the SS
Clermont-Ferrand
.

‘Jess, you have to listen to me.’

‘
I don’t want to hear it
,’ she said. ‘Let me. Fucking.
Go!
’

‘I can’t. I can’t let you go. You
know
why.’

Byrne felt Jessica relax just the slightest bit. But he knew her well enough to know that it might be a con. He still held on.

He looked over Jessica’s shoulder and saw the command presence arrive. Dana Westbrook and John Ross. He also saw a four-member SWAT team arrive, full tactical gear.

‘Jess. Listen to me.
Listen
. If I let you go, you’ve got to promise me something.’

Jessica said nothing.

‘The longer we do this, the worse it gets up there.’

Byrne stole a glance at the bow of the great ship. The three figures there had not moved.

‘I’m going to let you go, but I need you to promise me that you’ll listen to me for ten seconds. Just ten seconds. After that, I’m not going to stop you from doing what you need to do. I just need you to listen, and to promise me.’

Jessica remained silent.

‘Promise me.’

Jessica took a few deep breaths. She nodded her head. Still, it took Byrne a few seconds before letting her go.

When he eased his grip Jessica sprang out of his grasp, but she did not run down the gangway. She took a few steps in the other direction, then spun on her heels, all but hyperventilating. She glanced at the bow of the ship, and for a moment Byrne thought she would bowl him over and run toward the entrance. She did not.

She looked him in the eye.

‘I’m going up there, Kevin.’ She took out her weapon, checked the action. This put everyone nearby on alert. This was a very fluid scene, and no one really knew what was going to happen next.

As a pair of SWAT officers ran past them, and deployed on either side of the entryway, Byrne put one hand on each of his partner’s shoulders.

‘You can’t go up there, Jess. You know you can’t.’

‘They’ve got Sophie, Kevin.’

‘I know,’ he said. ‘And that’s exactly why it has to be me. If one thing goes wrong up there, any little thing, this whole thing could go wrong.’

‘I don’t give a fucking
shit
, Kevin. That’s my little girl.’

‘I know,’ Byrne said. ‘But you could end up in prison, Jess. Then where would you be for your daughter? There isn’t a lawyer, on either side of the aisle, anywhere in Philadelphia County, that wouldn’t ask the question of why you didn’t stand down. We need you down here. Please. Let me do this.’

Jessica took a few steps away, made another glance at the bow of the ship. She holstered her weapon. She walked right up to Byrne’s face.

‘Kill them,’ she said.

‘Jessica, I can’t—’

‘If you don’t, I swear to Christ I will.’

Byrne looked over his partner’s shoulder, saw Josh Bontrager, John Shepherd, and Maria Caruso arrive. He made eye contact with Maria Caruso. She understood. She would take care of Jessica as long as she had to.

Byrne then glanced at Dana Westbrook, who nodded. She was letting him know that he would be on point.

He left Jessica with Maria, took off his suit coat. Josh Bontrager reached into the open trunk of the department sedan, took out a Kevlar vest. He fitted Byrne with it. While they were doing this an officer from the communications unit slipped a two-way radio onto Byrne’s belt, and ran the earpiece up to Byrne’s ear. In his hand they put a printout of the blueprint of the front of the massive steamship.

As Byrne reached the entrance, he turned and found Jessica at the end of the gangplank. No matter how long he lived – and there was a possibility that it was all ending right here and right now – he would never forget the look on his partner’s face.

Kill them.
 

The wind was fierce. The air was cold, but the moon was full and bright. I wished that I had been more dutiful in preparing our outfits. I had not planned on the elements. It was unlike me.

Below us the lights of the city, the lights of all the police cars, made a festive gouache of the view, but there was no joy in my heart.

We stood on either side of the little girl, the daughter of the policewoman. I knew that, if it were not for her, then the men with guns would certainly have taken a shot at us by now.

When I listened to their conversation in the kitchen that day, the day the men with beards painted the house, I knew it would be the sad little girl. She was the last Sauveterre.

I turned, looked into Anabelle’s beautiful eyes. She was softly crying. In her eyes I saw the abandoned little girl sitting in front of the toy store in Richmond Mall. I saw the girl who, for nearly a year, would not speak to anyone but me, the first of nearly three years we spent in that terrible foster home.

In her eyes I saw the girl sitting next to Solitude House.

Anabelle, who has no memory of a time before the wall of dolls, before we met Valerie, and came to live in her doll house.

For my dearest heart, there was no past.

When she saw the huge ship, perhaps she thought it would be the vessel that would take us to France. I did not have the heart to tell her otherwise.

I took out the small silver flask, one that belonged to Valerie’s father, Jean Marie Sauveterre. I uncapped it, handed it to Anabelle.

‘Here,’ I said.

‘What is it?’

‘Tea,’ I said. ‘It will warm you.’

Anabelle looked confused for a moment, then she understood. We were to be our own guests. This was our
thé dansant
. We were as much responsible for Valerie’s fate as anyone.

Indeed, more responsible.

We belonged on the shelf for eternity.

Byrne made his way slowly up the steel spiral stairs, his weapon in hand. As he neared the portal to the deck he heard the sound of the wind growing ever louder.

He keyed the microphone button on his two-way. He got a response from John Shepherd.

‘Everyone in place?’ Byrne whispered.

‘Affirmative,’ Shepherd whispered. ‘SWAT’s deployed to the east and south of the subjects. If you can get Jessica’s daughter to the deck they will engage.’

‘Copy,’ Byrne said.

He took a deep breath, holstered his weapon behind his back, turned the volume in his earpiece even lower, and stepped onto the deck of the
Clermont-Ferrand

The two groups stood on the bow, thirty feet apart. Sophie looked so small between the two of them. The gusts whipped the flags overhead.

‘Detective,’ Marseille said.

Byrne just nodded. He made eye contact with Sophie. She was shivering, but she nodded back.

‘How did you find us?’ Marseille asked.

Byrne tried to consider his answer, but there was not time. ‘It came down to two possibilities. There’s the line about Garbo, and we considered the collection of letters from Greta Garbo at the Rosenbach Museum on Delancey Place.’

‘Why didn’t you go there?’

Byrne shrugged, took a half step forward. It did not go unnoticed.

‘I don’t know. Then I considered the other line – “The wail of steamers” – and flipped a coin. They were the only other lyrics left.’

Marseille nodded, perhaps in admiration.

‘I expected you, detective. Just not quite this soon.’

Byrne heard soft footsteps behind and below him. It would be the two other SWAT officers. Out of the corner of his eye he saw them on the iron staircase, just below deck.

Byrne looked back toward the bow, took a few tentative steps. Marseille had his free hand in his pocket. Byrne had no idea if he was armed. He took one more step. The man did not tell him to stop.

‘This can end here and now,’ Byrne said. ‘There’s no need to harm the girl.’

Marseille held Sophie’s hand a little tighter.

‘If it weren’t for her we would not even be having this conversation,
n’est-ce pas
?’

Marseille had, of course, seen the SWAT officers deployed on the pier.

‘Tell me what you want and I’ll get it for you,’ Byrne said.

‘Can you rewind the world?’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Can you take us back ten years, to the day when Anabelle and I visited Solitude House at the Philadelphia Zoo?’

‘Believe me, if I—’

‘Because that is where our lives began. Before then, there was no Anabelle, no Mr Marseille.’

Byrne waited for the man to continue. He did not. ‘I wish I could do that. I wish it for everybody involved. I wish it for Thomas Rule, too.’

The man looked out at the city for a moment, back. ‘Thomas,’ he said.

Byrne took a few more steps closer. ‘You don’t have to hurt this girl. I was there the night Valerie was arrested. I arrested her.’

‘I know.’

‘So take me instead. If you blamed David Solomon and Judge Gillen and Marvin Skolnik for what happened to Valerie, fine. But I’m more responsible than any of them.’

‘You don’t understand.’

‘You’re right,’ Byrne said. ‘I
don’t
understand.
Help
me to understand. Take me instead.’

Byrne slowly reached behind, slipped his service weapon out of its holster, put it on the deck of the ship. He then turned slowly, 360 degrees, showing the man he was unarmed.

‘If I wanted to mend you I could have done so at the house,’ Marseille said. ‘You are broken. We watched you many a night.’

Byrne did not want to think about what they might’ve seen and heard from their secret room.

‘Yes, you could have. But you didn’t. That means something.’

Byrne glanced at the girl, at Anabelle. There was little doubt in his mind that she had taken the mushroom. Her eyes were glassy and distant.

Before Byrne could say another word he saw all three of them take a step backward. They were right up against the rail now.

He was losing them.

For Detective Jessica Balzano, the concept of time no longer existed. When she saw her daughter on the bow of the ship, time stopped.

As she paced on the pier, as the machinery of a hostage situation deployment unfolded around her, as the flashing of lights and the crackle of two-way radios and the sound of an ambulance siren approaching assaulted her senses, time had no meaning.

She had never felt more helpless in her life. No woman ever had. Her daughter was just a few hundred feet away, and she couldn’t reach her, couldn’t protect her. The sacred oath she had taken the day Sophie Balzano was born was now broken.

Right now her daughter was a tiny silhouette on the bow of a massive steamship, surrounded by a pair of monstrous people, and there was nothing she could do.

She wanted to be able to pray, but right now she didn’t believe. Where was God at this moment? Where was St. Michael?

She put her hand on the grip of her weapon. Right now, this was her God, her saint, her archangel.