Dead Even Page 26

  He opened his eyes. “You dumb son of a bitch! How could you do that to your friend?” he screamed. Then, without thinking, Jared pulled back and thrust his fist into the mirror, shattering the glass into the sink. Blood ran down to his elbow, but he stood motionless. The senseless act of rage didn’t make him feel any better. It didn’t take away his pain, and it didn’t allay his fears, but it did remove the mirror. And for a short but fulfilling moment, Jared Lynch didn’t have to face himself.

  At five o’clock that evening, Jared arrived home from work exhausted and devastated. For the past seven hours, he had been sitting at his desk, accomplishing nothing. So when Kathleen finally told him to go home, for once he didn’t argue. And when she said the word home, Jared knew she didn’t mean Pop’s house. She meant home—his home, Sara’s home, their home—the only place he wanted to be. As he opened the door and stepped inside, he expected to find an empty apartment. Instead, he was surprised to see his wife.

  “Jared, I’m so sorry,” she said, approaching her husband. She opened her arms and took him in.

  As he buried his head against her shoulder, he began to cry.

  “I’m here,” Sara said, softly running her hands across his back.

  The couple stood there, locked together. For a minute, their problems were gone. Then Sara noticed the white gauze bandage on Jared’s hand. “What happened to your hand?” she asked.

  “It’s fine. I’m okay,” he said as he pulled away.

  “But how’d you—”

  Sidestepping his wife, Jared went into the kitchen. “I cut myself with a letter opener. It’s nothing.” He poured himself a glass of red wine, then headed for the bedroom. Sara followed.

  Entering the bedroom, Sara noticed that her briefcase was sitting open on the bed. As casually as possible, she closed the front flap and moved it to the floor.

  “You really don’t trust me, do you?” Jared asked as the tears welled up inside him. “Sara, I’d never do that again. I know there’s no reason to believe that, but I swear to you, it really is the truth. You caught me off guard with the murder charge, so I guess I got desperate.”

  “Jared—”

  “I know you don’t want to go through this right now, but I didn’t know where else to go. I just…I don’t know…I really…I love you, Sara.”

  “I love you, too,” she said. “And I understand.”

  “Then with Lenny…”

  “Really. You don’t have to explain. I know what you’re trying to say.”

  “You do?” he said. “So you don’t mind if I come back to—”

  “Jared, our friend was just killed—I don’t want you to be alone at Pop’s.”

  He reached to embrace her.

  As they hugged, Sara added, “Do you really think I’m so heartless that I wouldn’t let you stay here tonight?”

  Jared pulled away. “What do you mean ‘tonight’?”

  “I don’t know, I just thought that since the trial’s coming up…”

  He was already grinding his teeth. Without saying a word, he stormed out of the bedroom. As he passed the kitchen, he threw his wineglass in the sink. The glass shattered in every direction, and red wine went flying.

  “Damn,” Sara whispered. She just wanted to protect him. Without him there, it’d be one less thing for Sunken Cheeks to harass her about. Chasing after him, she called, “Jared, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said that. If you want to stay, you can.”

  “No way. Not a chance,” he said as he headed for the front door.

  “Please—I really want you to stay.” When he didn’t respond, she added, “Honey, I swear to you, I want you to stay. I mean it.”

  Jared stopped and turned around. “If you wanted me to stay, you never would’ve said that in the first place.”

  “That’s not true. I still—”

  “He’s dead!” Jared shouted. “Lenny’s dead and you’re still worried about your files! Do you understand how twisted that is?”

  “Jared, please…”

  “I don’t want to hear it,” he said. “I’ll be at Pop’s.” He pulled open the door, his back to his wife. “And if you care, Lenny’s sister called. The funeral’s tomorrow, so if you’re not too absorbed in your own damn world, you should be there.”

  “Of course I’ll be there.”

  “Great. I’ll see you then.” Without looking back, Jared walked out, slamming the door behind him.

  “Enough of this,” Kozlow said as he listened to the end of Jared and Sara’s conversation. “She’s kicking our asses all over the mat. Let’s kill her and be done with it.”

  “Are you that much of a moron?” Rafferty asked, sitting at the desk in his study. “Sara’s the best bargaining chip I have. Without her, I have nothing over Jared.”

  “Who cares about Jared? If he’s not in the house, he’s useless. I say we go back to Victor and tell him to—”

  “Enough with Victor. I told you a dozen times, he won’t touch the case. So I don’t want to hear any more about it.”

  “All I’m saying is Jared hasn’t done anything lately to—”

  “Are you listening?!” Rafferty shouted. “I said I don’t want to hear it!”

  In one quick movement, Kozlow reached across the desk and grabbed Rafferty’s left ear. Pulling him forward, he whispered, “How many times do I have to tell you—don’t yell at me. I don’t like it.”

  “Let go of me,” Rafferty demanded. When Kozlow obliged, he asked, “What the hell is wrong with you?”

  “Nothing,” Kozlow said. “I just don’t like being talked to like that.”

  “You’ve made your point.” Running his hand over his hair, Rafferty slowly regained his composure. When this was done, he’d deal with Kozlow.

  “So you think if we want to win, our best bet is still with Jared?” Kozlow asked.

  “That’s it,” Rafferty said. “Now you know everything.”

  Sitting in her empty apartment, Sara tried to picture his face. She had been friends with Lenny for half a dozen years, but as she knew from personal experience, the simplest things are usually the easiest to forget. In a few weeks’ time, her vivid memories of his physical presence would begin to fade. She’d always remember who he was as a person, and what he was like as a detective, but the artist in Sara wanted something more visual. Sure, she could always look at old photographs, but that wasn’t the same. She wanted to recall how he moved across a room, and how he gestured with his short, fat fingers, and how his shoulders bobbed when he laughed. That was what she needed to remember, and that was what she spent the next two hours trying to do.

  Drained by the effort, Sara reheated some leftover pasta and, standing at the kitchen counter, ate it from the container. Then, hoping to focus on something less stressful, she emptied the hamper into her purple laundry bag and headed for the laundry room in the basement of the building. Dragging her bag down the stairs, she walked out the front entrance of the brownstone, pulled out her keys, and opened the black metal gate that led to the basement door. Closing the gate behind her, she entered the laundry room and slowly separated her clothes into colors and whites.

  The laundry room itself was typical for New York: quiet, musty, and difficult to access. Set off from the room was a small area for residential storage and another area that contained a poorly lit labyrinth of pipes and circuit breakers. Since the day they moved in, Sara had found the room creepy—the concrete walls made it feel like a tomb. When she was finished loading the washers, she took out her key, opened the gate, and returned to her apartment.

  A half hour later, she returned to the basement. Once again, she opened the metal gate to reach the laundry room. Still regretting what she’d said to Jared, she moved her clothes from the washers to the dryers. I should call him, she thought. Tonight’s not a night to be alone. In the midst of the transfer, she heard a clanging noise from the back of the basement. Those loud pipes that keep us up all winter, she thought. But when she heard the noise get close
r, she peered over her shoulder. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move. Startled, she dropped the pile of clothes in her hands. Just a mouse, she realized, watching it scurry behind one of the washers. Although she was somewhat relieved, something still felt wrong. When she was done loading the dryers, she stepped outside to the black gate and realized that she had left her keys in the laundry room. She turned around and headed back. But when she checked the tops of the washers and dryers, the keys weren’t there.

  Sara pulled open the door of one of the dryers and rifled through her wet clothes. Nothing. Leaning into the second dryer, she pulled out one piece at a time, carefully searching for her missing keys. Suddenly, she heard another noise behind her. She turned around expecting to see the mouse. But then, suddenly, the lights went out.

  Sara was enveloped by darkness. Her first thought was that someone else was in the room. Don’t move, she told herself. That’s how he’ll find you. Holding her breath, she listened carefully. But all she heard was the monotonous churning of the spinning dryer. Over and over, the sound filled the air—it was maddening. Maybe it’s just a blown fuse, she thought. There’s no reason to panic. Then she felt a hand cover her mouth. Someone was behind her. He gripped her jaw tightly. “Hiya, Sara,” he whispered in her ear. She knew that voice anywhere. It was Sunken Cheeks.

  She thrust her elbow into his stomach. It was just enough to make him let go. Sara darted in the direction of the door. Elliott was right behind her. She still couldn’t see, but running her hands along the cold wall she found the door and tore it open. When she reached the black metal gate, she grabbed the bars and screamed, “Police! Hel—!”

  Before she could even finish the word, she again felt his hand over her mouth. Elliott punched her fingers until she let go of the gate and dragged her back into the laundry room. The door closed and darkness returned. She thrashed in every direction, trying to pull herself free. Holding both of Sara’s wrists in one hand, he threw her up against the wall. She was still struggling against his grip. Elliott backhanded her across the face. She stopped fighting. He leaned in and clutched her throat. She could smell the stale remnants of alcohol on his breath. “Keep him out of this house. Do you understand me? I don’t want him fishing through your stuff.”

  Sara nodded vigorously.

  Still holding her by the wrists, he threw her to the ground. In the pitch dark, she had no idea where he was—behind her, in front of her—he could have been anywhere. She lay completely still on the floor. Again, she listened carefully. And again, all she heard was the churning of the spinning dryer. Stay still, she told herself. He’s at just as much of a disadvantage. Then, above the sound of the dryer, Elliott’s deep voice cut through the room.

  “Nothing’s sacred,” he warned. “Not even you.”

  Before Sara could react, she caught a crack of light by the door. Then she heard the black metal gate swing open and slam shut. He was outside. She ran out the laundry room door and saw Elliott on the other side of the gate.

  “Police! Someone! Help!” she screamed.

  “Not in this city,” Elliott said. He took Sara’s keys and put them on the farthest step from the basement. “Someone’ll be along soon.” As he walked up the block, he added, “See you in court.”

  Monday morning, Sara arrived at work hoping for a relaxing day. The combination of Lenny’s funeral and seeing Jared there had left her completely exhausted. So as she headed up the hallway, the last thing she expected to see was two workmen packing up boxes in her office. “What do you guys think you’re doing?” she asked.

  “Moving files,” one of the workers said.

  “I can see that. Who gave you permission to come in here?”

  “Conrad Moore. He said we had to get all the Kozlow files, since they were removing the ADA.”

  As Sara’s mouth dropped open, Guff entered the room. “What’s going on?”

  “I’m fired,” Sara said, rushing out the door.

  “Excuse me?” Guff asked. Chasing after Sara, he followed her to Conrad’s office.

  “Why the hell didn’t you tell me?” Sara asked as she barged inside.

  “Calm down a second,” Conrad said. “I can explain.”

  “How can you possibly explain? You found out I got fired and you didn’t even have the decency to tell me!”

  “What’re you talking about? You’re not fired.”

  “I’m not?” Sara asked.

  “No,” Conrad said. “You’re just off the case.”

  “What?”

  “That’s what Monaghan told me. He says he can’t have a novice handling a first-class homicide. It’s too complex and there’s too much on the line. You’re supposed to turn over all your files to me.”

  As Conrad’s words slowly registered, Sara turned to Guff.

  “It’ll be okay,” Guff said. “We’ll figure out a way to—”

  “No,” Sara blurted. “I have to stay on this case. This is my case.”

  “I’m sorry,” Conrad said. “I know you’re upset, but I have to do what he says.”

  “This has nothing to do with me being upset,” Sara said, her voice deadly serious. “I have to stay on this case.”

  Conrad glanced over at Guff, then looked back at Sara. “What aren’t you two telling me? There’s obviously something important you’re leaving out.”

  “There’s nothing,” Sara insisted. “I just need to be on the case.”

  When Conrad stared at Guff, Guff said, “Stop looking at me—I didn’t do anything.”

  “Sara, something is obviously going on.”

  Her glance dropped to the floor, but she didn’t say a word.

  “If you tell me, I can help you with it. Otherwise, you’re on your own and off the case.”

  Still, Sara was silent.

  “Fine, have it your way,” Conrad said, walking to the door. “I can get the rest of the files myself.”

  As Conrad was about to leave, Sara looked over at Guff, who nodded back at her. Sara spoke up. “If I tell you, you have to give me your word that you’ll do things my way.”

  Conrad closed the door and turned around. “Go on.”

  “First, give me your word. Promise me that you’ll do things my way.”

  “I’m not promising anything. Now tell me what the hell is going on.”

  “Forget it,” Sara said.

  Shaking his head, Conrad said, “Give me one good reason why I should take orders from you.”

  “Because if you don’t, you’ll be putting my life and my family’s life in jeopardy.”

  Sara let her statement sink in. Eventually, Conrad said, “I promise you, I’ll never do anything that will put you or your family in danger.”

  “And I have your word on that?”

  “You have my word.”

  Taking a deep breath, Sara explained how she had been approached by Sunken Cheeks, and how he told her she had to win the case. From the threat he made about Jared to what he did to Pop, she told Conrad everything. Conrad didn’t interrupt once. Then, the moment Sara was finished, he said, “Are you telling me an outside party threatened you and you never reported it to anyone? What did I tell you about that? The system is set up to protect you when—”

  “Conrad, no offense, but I don’t want to hear your lectures on the system right now. The system didn’t protect Pop, and it certainly can’t protect my husband. This psycho, whoever he is, has the fingerprints of a dead man, knows everything about me, approached me on a subway without me even knowing, and somehow got into my basement without a key. The truth is, he scares the hell out of me. Every time I walk into my house, I check the closets to see if he’s there. In the bedroom, I look behind the door to see if he’s waiting for me. He’s not your basic criminal, and until we know who he is, I see no reason to piss him off. He’s just asking me to do my job.”

  “He’s not asking you to do your job. He’s threatening Jared’s life.”

  “He wants me to win,” Sara shot back.
“That’s all he wants. And you and I both know that I can give it to him. You may be a better prosecutor, but no one knows my husband better than I do. I know how he thinks, and how he fights, and who he talks to.”

  “Like Lenny Barrow,” Conrad interjected.

  “Exactly. Like Lenny Barrow,” Sara said. “Believe me, I don’t plan on letting this guy off the hook, but I can’t let you shut me out of this. It’s my family, my problem, and my case.”

  “I don’t know…”

  “Conrad, since the day we first met, I’ve followed your rules. If you said it, I did it. And I’ll always be grateful for that. Just this once, though, I’m asking you to see things my way. Help me stay on this case. That’s all I’m asking.”

  For the next minute, no one said a word. “Let me think about it,” Conrad finally said. “We’ll talk again first thing tomorrow.”

  “As long as you think carefully,” Sara said, heading for the door. “That’s all I ask.”

  The following morning, Sara and Guff sat in Sara’s office, waiting impatiently for Conrad to arrive. “Do you think he’s going to go for it?” Guff asked.

  “I have no idea,” Sara said. “Sometimes he seems so predictable, other times I can’t figure him out.”

  “Predictable? Conrad’s never predictable. He may love to follow the rules and preach morality, but the moment he thinks it’s necessary, he’s prepared to drop that shtick and do what’s right. Don’t forget, he’s both a New York resident and a government employee. By definition, that makes him a realist.”

  “I pray you’re right,” Sara said.

  Ten minutes later, Conrad walked into Sara’s office. He shut the door and stood directly in front of her desk. “Here’s my offer,” he said. “First, I’m not dropping this case.”