Beyond Recognition (37 page)

H
ALL:
What about if I pull it off in the next few days? (
Pause
) What if I can't get it together in the next few days?

E
MILY:
You can get it together. The stars support success. (
Pause.
) The moon isn't good for some time
.

H
ALL
:
How long?

E
MILY:
How long?

Daphne depressed the talk button. “Make it a long time. Force this on him.”

E
MILY:
The moon won't ascend for another month
.

H
ALL:
What?

E
MILY:
This isn't a good month for you where business is concerned. Love, on the other hand, is on the rise
.

Gaynes said, “This woman is a piece of work!”

E
MILY:
No more complications if you act quickly. This boy, whoever he is, won't bother you again. You frightened him
.

H
ALL:
He's got my money. (
Pause
) Listen … Can you help me find him? (
Pause
) There would be a bonus. (
Pause
) He's kinda disappeared
.

Boldt said excitedly, “We can use this.”

“No!” snapped Daphne.

Boldt held his eyes on her, his determination. “It takes Ben out of the loop and just might give us our probable cause.”

Daphne, eyes still on Boldt said into the walkie-talkie, “If you know where that money is, sweetheart, it's time for a vision. You tell him. We all want Ben out of this.”

Collectively, they held their breath as they awaited Emily's decision.

E
MILY:
I see a brown house. Small
.

Relief flooding him, Boldt said, “There we go!”

H
ALL:
That's the boy's place!

E
MILY:
The money is there. (
Pause
) A second story?

H
ALL:
(
Sounding anxious
) Yes!

E
MILY:
The boy's room. A box. A plastic box
.

Wait a second … (
Pause
) Rectangular
.

H
ALL:
A cigar box
.

E
MILY:
No.

H
ALL:
A toy safe? A lockbox? Something like that?

E
MILY:
A lunch box? (
Pause
) Ah! There it is clearly. It's a video. A box for a video tape
.

H
ALL:
(
Excited; the sound of a chair moving
) How much?

E
MILY:
What?

H
ALL:
How much do I owe you?

Daphne said into the device, “Let him go.”

E
MILY:
Ten for the reading
.

H
ALL:
I'm giving you twenty. (
Pause
) I'll try for sometime in the next three days
.

E
MILY:
Yes. Better than next week
.

H
ALL:
I'll be back to check with you
.

Bobbie Gaynes asked, “Do we follow?”

Boldt answered, “No, we lead. We know exactly where he's going. Sooner or later he's going after that money.”

Daphne said, “That personality? He'll go for the money right away. Bet on it.”

Boldt planned to take Hall into custody at Ben's house.

He confirmed that Hall's residence—identified as a mobile home in Parkland—was already under surveillance. A backup team was put on standby.

Hall left Emily's, the object of a dozen pair of eyes, climbed into his truck, and drove away while Homicide, ERT, and bomb squad officers looked on. Many of these people experienced disappointment, the accumulated adrenaline of the past hour finding no outlet.

The blue-and-white truck drove down 21st and turned left on Yesler.

With Gaynes driving, the brown recreational van negotiated a U-turn and headed north on 21st, right on Spruce, and right again on 23rd. The police radio identified the truck as paused for a light at Yesler and 23rd.

The police van drove through the intersection heading south. Boldt spotted the truck to his right, four cars back, waiting for the light.

“There he is,” Boldt told the others. They drove past. Boldt held him in sight as long as possible. He scrambled for a map.

As expected, a moment later the blue-and-white truck turned south on 23rd.

Boldt cautioned Gaynes, “He could be heading south to Parkland—”

“He's not,” Daphne interrupted.

“We want to continue south until he commits,” Boldt finished, annoyed by Daphne's confidence.

Boldt found himself willing Hall to turn left on Jackson in the direction of the Santori house. His muscles ached from holding himself so tight. He caught himself grinding his teeth.

Dispatch announced, “Suspect vehicle turning east on Jackson Street East.”

“Told ya,” Daphne said proudly.

Gaynes checked the outside mirror. “He's too far back. I've lost him.”

Checking a street sign, Boldt instructed her, “Left on Norman.”

The surveillance car following Hall at a distance reported in. Boldt directed them to remain on 23rd and pass Jackson. “It's too small a street,” he told Daphne and Gaynes. “He might spot them.”

Jackson was a dead end, up a steep hill; the Santori home backed up to Frink Park.

Boldt ordered the surveillance car left on Dearborn, two blocks behind where the van turned. The van and the surveillance car then ran parallel to each other on two adjacent avenues, the van turning right one block south of Jackson and the surveillance car, one block north. A third unmarked vehicle was told to park with a view of the intersection of Jackson and 23rd.

ERT was deployed into Frink Park, in case Hall fled on foot.

Dispatch confirmed that the vehicle came to a stop a half block from the Santori home.

With the suspect effectively boxed in, Boldt checked his weapon and sat forward to leave the van.

“I'm coming with you,” Daphne said, removing her weapon from her purse. Before Boldt could contradict this, she added, “I outrank Bobbie. No offense,” she said to the woman, a veteran homicide detective. “Lou,” she said, in a gentler voice, “I need to be reading this guy from the word go. If I'm there at the bust, it gives us a leg up.”

Daphne had always allowed her ambition to get in the way. She carried a large scar on her neck because of this. Boldt had witnessed that wound as it happened. He couldn't put either of them through that again. She could be something of a loose cannon, in her determination to be the first inside a suspect's psyche. But even so, Boldt did not argue. The more they understood about Hall the better. “We partner on this, Daffy. And I'm the lead.” He said it in a way that humbled her briefly.

“You're the lead,” she agreed.

Boldt nodded. To Gaynes he said, “You're our backup. I'll be on radio.” He indicated for her to pass him a walkie-talkie from the front. She handed him a large flashlight as well, that could double as a near deadly nightstick. He stuck the earpiece in his ear and secured the radio in his coat pocket. The dispatcher's voice announced that ERT was in place and the truck had been spotted and was empty.

Boldt told Gaynes, “We call for help, you send in the cavalry.”

“Understood,” replied the driver, her disappointment apparent.

Daphne was a faster walker. Boldt grabbed her arm and tugged. The two hurried up the hill and cut in behind the house on the far corner of the property. They made for a decrepit gardening shack.

Its doors were held closed by a board that spun on a nail. Boldt got the door open quietly and pulled Daphne inside with him, leaving the door unfastened.

Daphne whispered softly, “Did I mention that I absolutely hate places like this?”

It was dusty and dank, spiderwebs and mildew. There was a '57 Chevy on blocks, too much dust across its skin to discern a color. It was ensconced in a cocoon of sports equipment, storage boxes, and milk crates. There was barely enough room for the two of them to stand. There was a boy's bike to her left, shiny and well-kept.

Daphne threw one arm around him, like a child seeking comfort. Her body was warm and it moved behind her heavy breathing.

With the shed door open an inch, they had a good view of the house. Light from a flashlight flickered in a window, but only briefly. Boldt heard an exchange between ERT and dispatch. His heart raced in anticipation.

“He's in there,” Daphne said, sounding excited.

A shadow moved in the same window.

Nicholas Hall stood less than twenty yards away, his attention fixed on the back yard. Boldt whispered, “He senses us. This guy has good instincts.”

He felt her nod.

Hall's shadow crossed the window. Boldt felt it as a cold breeze.

Daphne remained pressed close. Boldt wanted to push her away, but he didn't. Instead he drank in her warmth, the feel of her breath against his neck, the gentle touch of her fingers on his waist. “Come on out,” she whispered, encouraging the suspect.

Boldt willed the man to find the money, knowing he wouldn't have taken that much time if he had found it right away.

“If he comes out without the money?” Daphne asked quietly.

“We'll have a mess,” Boldt answered. He didn't need to elaborate further.

Daphne whispered, “Five hundred dollars is a fortune to him. He'll find it.”

Boldt elbowed some distance between them. He couldn't take her talking into his ear, even at a whisper. He couldn't take her hands on him. His skin was hot and his pulse racing. She felt the elbow and held him all the harder.

Hall could be heard hurrying down the steps inside the house. Boldt worried that the man had given up. Disappointment surged through the sergeant. To bust him
without
the money on him was a simple B and E. The prosecuting attorney would laugh at Boldt. He had to make the call to arrest or return to surveillance.

The back door cracked open. Hall hesitated, unseen.

Reading Boldt's thoughts as she so often did, Daphne said, “What about the bones? What about a suspicion of murder charge? Wouldn't that hold him?”

Bingo! Boldt thought. “You're worth your weight in gold,” he whispered. He handed her the flashlight and withdrew his handgun. “Ready?” he asked.

The suspect stepped out of the dark house and shut the door behind himself.

“On your count,” Daphne hissed.

Boldt clicked the walkie-talkie button three times.

He spun to face her and their lips brushed. He leaned back and held up his fingers.
One … two … three …

He kicked open the shed door. Daphne snapped on the light.

“Police!” Boldt shouted. “On the ground
now!
”

Hall dove to the earth, hands outstretched. The move surprised them.

“One thing about those military boys,” Daphne quipped. “They know how to follow orders!”

Daphne realized that she loved him but would never have him. Her mind was not on the suspect or the house or the attempted theft but on Boldt, the man, the sergeant, the lover, the friend. The unattainable. Her thoughts had been on the suspect, and they returned quickly to him, but for that brief instant of time between leaning against him and being asked if she was ready, her thoughts had strayed to encompass the idea of a life with him and the realization that any chance for such a thing had passed. It was a thought she had entertained and refuted an equal number of times, as she did once again, though she eased incredibly close to acceptance. Her move to Owen had felt like love but in truth had been little more than a late rebound, an attempt to shed the burden of Lou Boldt. The attempt had failed, something she had acknowledged within herself only over the past few weeks, something Owen had sensed immediately. She faced the reality that her personal life was once again a train wreck. Did she think too much and feel too little, or was it the other way around? If she listened to her friends, she was opinionated and stubborn, inflexible and bossy. These were the same friends who told her how much they loved her. If she listened to Owen, she was beautiful and brainy, ballsy and supportive. If she listened to her own heart, it said that what had once been respect for Lou Boldt had matured into unconditional love. She admired him for his musicianship, his leadership by example, his intelligence, and his humanism. He was flawed: full of self-doubt, misplaced compassion, and a tendency to hide inside his moods. He was an amazing father, a loyal husband, and she wanted him for her own. Liz be damned.