Breakout (22 page)

Parker, in a chair near the hall, got to his feet. Henry, on the sofa, looked from one to the other, watchful, apprehensive.
Looking past Mackey, Parker saw the white sedan just stopping at the curb out front, red block letters RPD on its door. “Rosetown
Police Department,” he said, and two uniforms came out of the front seat, one on either side.

So Darlene was going through with it. As Mackey had said, she was telling the story, and as they had both known, that meant
the law would check her house, just to be sure everything was on the up and up.

As the cops started toward the front porch, Parker said, “Up, Henry.”

Rising, Henry said, “Where are we going?”

“Bathroom,” Parker told him, as Mackey passed them and went down the hall. “Just till they leave.”

Parker shooed him, and Henry followed Mackey, Parker coming third. They went into the bedroom and Mackey said, “Go on in,
Henry, we’ll be along.”

Henry was no trouble. He was like a horse who’s learned that obedience is followed by sugar lumps; he went on into the bathroom
while Parker and Mackey dragged the dresser away from the window, back to its original position. Then they followed Henry
into the bathroom, leaving the door open.

This was the one room in the house that couldn’t be looked into from outside. The only window was high and small, its lower
half of frosted glass. It was a fairly small room, and they had to stand close to one another, as though in an elevator. Henry
stood with his arms folded across his chest. He looked at the wall, and took short audible breaths through his nose.

After a minute, Mackey said, “Henry, take some deep breaths. You’re gonna make yourself pass out, you breathe like that.”

“Sorry,” Henry said. He swallowed and said, “Could I get myself a glass of water?”

“After they leave,” Parker said, and from the front of the house came the two-tone call of the doorbell.

They became very silent, even Henry, and after a minute the bell rang again. Another silence, and the rattle of the doorknob,
testing the lock.

Quietly, Mackey said, “Now they split, one down either side of the house, look in the windows. Meet at the back, try the door.
Go back to the car, call in: Nobody home, no sign of a problem.”

The wait seemed long, but probably wasn’t, and then they heard another doorknob being tested, at the rear of the house. They’d
be looking into the kitchen now, which had been made neat, no evidence left of even one breakfast, let alone four.

Whispering, Henry said, “Do you think they’re gone?”

“Let’s give them another minute,” Mackey said.

They waited another minute, and then Mackey stepped slowly through the doorway, looking to his right, where the bedroom window
was. “Looks good,” he said, and went on across the bedroom to the hall.

“You can have your water now,” Parker said, and Henry drank a glass of water, spilling a little. Then Parker followed him
out the door.

No one was looking into the window. They walked down the hall and when they got to the living room and looked out, being careful
to stay deep in the room, not too close to the glass, the white RFD car was still there, both cops now inside it. The one
in the passenger seat was on the radio.

Henry said, “What are they doing?”

Mackey told him, “The case is in the city. These guys report to their station, their station passes the word to the DA’s office
in the city, these guys wait here until the word comes back, okay, you’re done. Another minute or two. We’ll all sit down,
and the next time we stand up, they’ll be gone.”

They were.

A
t twenty-five minutes after eleven, the phone rang. Parker said, “Henry, bedroom. Door closed.”

“Go with him,” Mackey said, and the phone rang again. “We moved the dresser.”

Which meant Henry might be able to get out the window. “Right,” Parker said, and followed Henry down the hall. In the bedroom,
he said, “Sit around on the other side of the bed,” farther away from the doorway. Then he left the door partway open and
leaned against the jamb, so he could look at the window and still hear the living room.

If this was Brenda, then they were probably in endgame. If it was some friend of Darlene’s, or anybody else, Mackey would
say, “Wrong number,” hang up, and not answer when they called back. Darlene’s answering machine could handle it.

Parker could hear Mackey’s voice, but not make out the words. It didn’t seem to him that Mackey was talking to Brenda, it
didn’t have that style to it, but he was having a conversation, not cutting it short, so what was this?

Li. It had to be. Another delay? Another kind of trouble?

Mackey appeared at the end of the hall. “Okay,” he said, and walked back into the living room.

“Come on, Henry.”

They went back to the living room and Mackey said, “They’re stonewalling.”

“That was who you talked to before.”

“Sure. Darlene’s in with this ADA, it’s going on and on, and nothing’s happening. It should be
over
by now.”

“They’re trying to break her down,” Parker said. “Get her to switch the story back again.”

“She won’t,” Henry said. “If they put pressure on Darlene, I
know
her, she’ll just get more and more determined.”

“That’s good to hear,” Mackey said. To Parker he said, “The thing is, before, I only told him there should be news, I didn’t
say what the news was, and now everything’s on hold, so he wants to know what’s happening. She’s in there, and her lawyer
is in there with her, and he needs information.” He frowned at Henry and said, “Speaking of which, how much of this is Henry
supposed to hear?”

Henry said, “Oh, come on. I’m not stupid. I’m afraid of you two, but that doesn’t mean I’m stupid. Who could you be talking
to, this time or last time, except your friend’s lawyer? Can I
prove
that? No. Do I hope nobody ever has any reason to ask me what I was doing today? Yes.”

“Well, what the hell,” Mackey said. “Sit down, Henry, we got a little longer to wait.”

Henry sat on the sofa, and Mackey said to Parker, “So he needed to know what was happening, because nothing’s coming out of
the ADA’s office, and I told him, the story is, she flipped, won’t sign a complaint, won’t identify Brenda. So he’s mad, he
says once she’s flipped it over, they gotta let Darlene go, they gotta let Brenda go, they gotta take a time-out break with
coffee and danish. So what he’s going to do, he’s going to the judge, talk to the judge in chambers, say what’s with the delay
with this witness, I need to know what’s going on here. He’ll try to get the judge to raise the question to find out what’s
going on with the alleged witness, and of course once he does find out the cat’s out of the bag and Brenda’s out of the Fifth
Street station. The judge is not gonna let them browbeat Darlene forever just because she flipped.” Mackey shrugged. “Anyway,
that’s the theory,” he said. “I mean, some time today they’re gonna have to give up, we know that. It’s just we’d rather it
was sooner.”

“Poor Darlene,” Henry said.

Mackey looked at him. “Brenda isn’t having that good a day, either, pal,” he said.

T
his was a variant on the Stockholm Syndrome. They hadn’t planned to hold Henry captive, hadn’t planned an encounter with Henry
at all. But here he was, and once he was here he couldn’t be permitted to just wander off. And his presence would put extra
pressure on Darlene to do things right, and not have some sort of mess break out at home.

So they had to spend time together, some hours together, not knowing when or how it would end. Parker kept aloof, but didn’t
do anything to increase Henry’s nervousness; he was tame, let him alone. Mackey was aggressively chummy with him, because
that was Mackey’s style, to be a pal with a hint of threat inside there. And Henry played his Stockholm part, too, which was
to befriend his captors as much as possible, keep them feeling relaxed about him, prove himself useful when and where he could.

Like lunch. At twelve-thirty, still no phone call from Brenda, no follow-up from Li, Henry broke a long silence to say, “I
know this house, I could—If you want, I could make sandwiches. Darlene usually has cold cuts, cheese, things like that.”

“That’s a very good suggestion, Henry,” Mackey said. “We all want to keep our strength up, and you want to keep yourself occupied.”

So all three transferred to the kitchen, where Parker and Mackey sat at the table while Henry made sandwiches and a pot of
coffee. Henry hesitated for a second before sitting with them, then went ahead, pretending he felt natural about it, and Mackey
grinned at him, saying, “You make a good sandwich, Henry.”

“Thank you.”

“I’m not so sure about this coffee, though.”

Apologetic, Henry said, "Darlene and I like it strong. It’s espresso mix."

“Huh. I thought I liked it strong, too.” He sipped, thought about it, said, “Okay, maybe.” Turning to Parker, he said, “What
do you think of it? “

“It’s good coffee,” Parker said.

“Okay, then.” Mackey grinned some more at Henry. “It’s good coffee,” he told him, and they finished their lunch in silence.

It was while Henry was doing the cleanup that the phone rang again. Parker said, “Henry, turn off the water,” as Mackey moved
to the kitchen wall-phone. Henry turned off the water and faced the room, back against the sink, hands folded at his crotch.

Mackey got to the phone as it started its second ring: “Yeah?” A big smile creased his face, this one without the usual hint
of menace. “So
there
you are! Where are you? He got nice offices? Yeah, I thought he would. You’re not calling from his phone, are you? Across
the street, outdoors, that’s even better. So you’re loose now?” Mackey was looking at the clock on the wall, which read almost
one-thirty. He said, “So what I think you oughta do, you oughta go back to the hotel and check out, maybe check out at two-thirty,
and take a cab to the airport. Okay? Check out at two-thirty, and take a cab to the airport. See you soon, baby.” He hung
up, and said to Parker, “Li finally levered her out of there.”

“They’ll tail her,” Parker said.

“Oh, sure,” Mackey agreed. He didn’t seem troubled. Turning to Henry, he said, “Henry, would Darlene have a local map here?”

“I’m not sure,” Henry said, with an uncertain look at the kitchen. “I’m not usually here, we have another—”

“Oh, the place at the dance studio!” Mackey said. “Very nice apartment, we saw that.”

Henry surprised everybody, including himself, by blushing. As he touched shaky fingertips to his cheek, he said, “I’ll see
if she has maps here.” And did a lot of bustling through kitchen drawers until he got over his embarrassment.

And he did finally come up with a city map, that included downtown, where Brenda was, and Rosetown, the suburb where they
were right now, and the airport, west of the city, not far from Stoneveldt. Parker and Mackey sat at the table to study the
map while Henry finished at the sink. They didn’t speak, but pointed out to each other Brenda’s route and their own. As they
were folding the map again, the phone rang. Looking at it, on the wall, Mackey said, “No. We don’t expect any more calls.
Henry, where’s the answering machine?”

“In the bedroom.”

Parker stood, saying, “Come along.”

Henry obediently followed, and the three moved into the bedroom, as the phone continued to ring. They stood in the bedroom,
looking at the answering machine on the bedside table, and it clicked, and they moved closer during Darlene’s outgoing message.
It ended, there was another click, and they listened to Darlene again; much more frantic than on the recording: “Is anybody
there? Oh, God, somebody be there!”

Parker reached for him, but before he could grab him Henry had picked up the phone: “Hi, Darlene.”

“Henry!” They all heard her because, since Henry hadn’t pressed the stop button, the machine was still recording the conversation.
“Are you all right?”

“Yes, sure, everything’s fine. Are you coming home now?”

“
Have they gone
?”

“Shit,” Mackey said.

Parker said, fast, into Henry’s ear, “I’m alone, come home.”

“I’m all alone here, Darlene,” Henry said. “Everything’s fine. Why don’t you come home? We don’t want to discuss this on the
phone.”

“Just so they’re gone, that’s all I ask.”

It was hopeless. Parker said, “End it, Henry.”

“I have to hang up now,” Henry said. “Hurry home, Darlene.” And he hung up. Turning away from the phone, he said, “I did my
best.”

“We know,” Parker said.

M
ackey said, “Henry, wherever she made that call from, somebody was listening.”

Henry shook his head. He was ready to apologize for her: “She’s not used to this—”

“No time, Henry,” Mackey told him. “Cops are on their way
now
. We don’t want to talk to them, and neither do you. Go out that front door, walk do not run to the nearest store, call a
cab, go home. Goodbye, Henry.”

Henry blinked at them both. Parker said, “Now, Henry.”

They followed him through the house to the front door. Henry opened it, paused, and Mackey said, “No goodbyes.
Go
”

Henry left. They watched through the front window as he strode briskly to the sidewalk and turned left. Their problem was,
they couldn’t leave until he was away from here because they didn’t want him to know what they were driving. In case he didn’t
evade the law himself, he shouldn’t know that.

Watching Henry’s arms swing as he marched away, Mackey said, “The simplest thing, of course, is a bullet in the head. But
you know, it’s hard to go with the bullet in the head once a guy’s made you lunch.”

“We can go,” Parker said.

They left the house, pulling the breached door shut behind them, and crossed the porch, headed for the garage. “They become
real,” Mackey explained.

Williams had turned the Saab around before he put it away, backing it into the garage, so they could leave fast if they needed
to. They needed to. As Mackey slid behind the wheel, Parker got into the small backseat and curled down sideways to be out
of sight, so nobody would have two males in a car with out-of-state plates to think about.