By Any Means (31 page)

“Get out of my yard.”

Havelock turned and left. Ash listened until he heard a car start up before going to his cruiser to get the prepaid cell phone he had used earlier to talk to Bukoholov. He dialed the same number Bukoholov had called him from earlier and waited for the old man to pick up.

“Special Agent Kevin Havelock just told me what you did in Chicago.”

Bukoholov inhaled deeply. “The view from the Skydeck on the Willis Tower is breathtaking.”

“Yeah, I'm sure it is,” said Ash. “He told me about Fleischer. Eighteen shots, huh? That's overkill, don't you think?”

Bukoholov coughed. “I heard about his death on the news. I feel for his family. They said it was a mugging that went wrong.”

“Muggers don't reload when they finish a magazine. Eighteen shots is a message. Who'd you leave it for?”

“I think you're mistaken about my trip. My daughter and her husband passed away, and I needed a break. I took my brother-in-law and my nephews to Chicago for a Cubs game. We saw the sights, toured the city, ate deep-dish pizza. In fact, we were at the game when the news said Fleischer was shot.”

“Who'd the Cubs play?”

“The Cardinals. I kept the ticket stubs because they had a coupon for a free sandwich on the back.” Bukoholov paused. “Have you checked your mail today? I sent you something.”

“No, I haven't checked it,” said Ash, standing and walking toward his gate. “I received your last package, though. I think you might have saved some lives. I didn't know you had that in you.”

“I'm a humanitarian.”

“Sure,” said Ash. He walked out of his yard and to the mailbox at the front of his house. “I'm getting my mail now.” He grabbed that morning's mail and flipped through catalogs and bills until he came to a stark-white envelope without a return address. He flipped it over and tore it open, exposing a photocopy of a lined piece of paper. Someone had written names, addresses, and phone numbers on it as well as shorthand notes that Ash couldn't decipher. Most of the names were unfamiliar, but one stood out. Leonard Wilson, the only man currently in the race for Marion County prosecutor. “What is this?”

“I've heard it's a page from the black book of the young woman who ran the Dandelion Inn.”

“What happened to that young woman? As far as I know, we haven't found her.”

“Women like that know how to make themselves unavailable quickly,” said Bukoholov.

“What do you expect me to do with this?” asked Ash.

“I don't expect you to do anything. I simply thought you might like to see it.”

Ash looked at the page again. “What does ‘YTB' and ‘CGR' mean? It's in the notes section beside Leonard Wilson's name.”

Bukoholov paused. “I'm not an expert, mind you, but I believe that means ‘younger the better' and ‘can get rough.'”

Ash swore under his breath. “And after the election this fall, this guy's going to be the top law enforcement official in the county. That's wonderful. You should be proud.”

“You forget your own part. Without you and your unorthodox investigation into Thomas Rahal, this election would have turned out very differently. He couldn't have beaten Susan Mercer.”

“I didn't intend for her to drop out of the race.”

“I'm sure you didn't,” said Bukoholov. “But knowing what you do, would you have acted differently?”

“And allow Thomas Rahal be sent to death row for a crime he didn't do?”

“Yes.”

Ash took a breath. “That's beside the point.”

“No, my friend, that is the point. I set you down a path you would have taken anyway. Leonard Wilson's future position is as much your responsibility as it is mine. You can whine like a petulant child about him, or you can do something. He offered you a position in his administration. I can think of no better way of keeping him in check than to watch him.”

“I can think of at least one better way. Give me the black book you took from the Dandelion Inn, and I'll send him to jail.”

Bukoholov clicked his tongue. “I'm afraid that's not possible. I merely have a photocopy of a single page. Someone sent it to me anonymously. You should keep it, though. When you take the job, you can show it to him. It will make him amenable to your needs.”

“I'm not going to become you. I'll tell you what, though. I bet I can find a judge willing to sign a search warrant for your house based on what you sent me.”

“If you do, can you wait a few days? I'm out of town, and I'd like to be there for the search. I'm very particular about how my possessions are handled.”

“Where are you?” asked Ash.

“Moscow. An old friend of mine left Indianapolis without saying good-bye. I tracked him down so I could wish him well.”

“Is your old friend Alistair Hines?”

“As much as I enjoy talking to you, I really must go,” said Bukoholov. “Consider Leonard Wilson's job offer. He needs someone to keep his moral compass straight.”

Bukoholov hung up the phone. Ash stared at the swing set he had built for Megan a couple of years ago. As a police officer, he couldn't condone Alistair Hines's murder, but as a father, he'd sleep just a little better at night knowing he was dead. Whether that made him a bad person, Ash didn't know, but if that was the price to keep the people he cared about safe, he'd gladly pay it.

The rest of the day went smoothly and quickly. In between reading stories, playing on the swing set with his kids, and napping, at least one reporter from every major television station and newspaper in town called. Ash spoke to a few of them off the record, but hung up on Kristen Tanaka as soon as he saw her name on the caller ID. At about four, the phone rang once more. Not wanting to wake his kids, he took his cell phone through the house, meeting his wife in the kitchen on the way.

“You're quite popular today,” she said.

“I'm popular every day,” said Ash. “I try to leave my fans at work, though. I don't want to get a big head.”

“Right,” said Hannah, putting her hand flat on his chest. “Answer the phone.”

Ash did as she suggested and answered right before the phone would have gone to voice mail. He recognized Mike Bowers's voice almost immediately.

“Hey, how you feeling?” asked Ash.

“Better now that I've slept overnight,” said Bowers quickly. “We should talk. Can you meet me somewhere?”

“I don't know if I can drive with my shoulder. Can we just talk on the phone?”

Bowers hesitated and took a deep breath. “Sure. I just spoke to Dan Reddington. He said Agent Havelock filed a formal complaint against you this afternoon.”

Ash scoffed. “He filed a complaint because he doesn't have enough to file charges.”

Bowers paused. “That's an awfully cavalier attitude.”

Ash looked at Hannah and mouthed that he'd be a minute before slipping through the back door to the yard. “It's the truth. Havelock came by my place this morning and tried to get me involved in a conspiracy to murder Alistair Hines. Is he telling you that I agreed to it?”

“No,” said Bowers. “He said you gave Frank Hayes drugs so he'd talk to you.”

Ash startled and then closed his eyes. “Well, that's just complete bull.”

“Frank Hayes mostly backs up the story.”

“He's lying,” said Ash.

Bowers sighed. “Give it a rest, okay? Hospital surveillance video shows you going into Hayes's room, so we know you were there. What's more, there's now an open IA investigation into your affiliation with a drug dealer operating out of a mailing center in Carmel. If you didn't give Hayes drugs, how'd you get him to talk?”

“The complaint with IA, that was filed by Tim Smith, right?”

“I didn't ask.”

“It's retaliation for turning Eddie Alvarez in.”

“Whatever, Ash. How'd you get Hayes to talk?”

“I didn't hurt him. I didn't threaten him. I didn't give him drugs. I didn't do anything wrong.”

“At least we've got agreement about the drugs. Hayes says you took them away before he could use them. You know what he did show me, though? The spoon and syringe you left in the room.”

Ash winced. “I can explain that.”

“I don't want an explanation. I vouched for you on this case. I put my ass on the line for you when Chief Reddington wanted to pull you off.”

Ash's legs felt weak, forcing him to sit down. “I showed Hayes dark brown sugar and told him it was heroin. I never gave him drugs.”

“Is that supposed to make me feel better?” asked Bowers. “Jesus, Ash. I don't even know what to tell you.”

“I got Hayes to talk. What's more important? Following proper procedures or saving someone's life?”

Bowers swore under his breath. “Do you have any idea what happens if this story gets out? Every convict you've put in jail suddenly has grounds to appeal his sentence.”

“Weighed against the lives of twelve young women, I'd say we still came out on top.”

“How about weighed against your job?”

“I did what was necessary to save people's lives. If that means losing my job, maybe it's not a job worth having.”

Bowers didn't say anything for a long couple of seconds. “I want your letter of resignation.”

Ash closed his eyes and held them shut, sure that he had misheard. “Say that again.”

“I want a letter of resignation on my desk by tomorrow morning.”

“I was speaking rhetorically. My job is worth having.”

“You've got two very serious complaints against you, and both of them look like they have merit. You're a liability our department can't afford. If you don't give me a letter of resignation, Chief Reddington will seek to have you fired. Can I count on you to come through with that?”

“No, this is ridiculous. If you think it's justified, demote me or suspend me. I won't fight that. But you can't fire me, not over this.”

“We
can
fire you. Allowing you to quit is a gift. Take it.”

Ash started to sputter something, but then caught himself. “Neither of those charges have any merit whatsoever.”

“When can I expect your letter of resignation?”

Ash had never thought his life would turn out as it did. As a child, his mother had drilled into his head the importance of education, that he should become a doctor or a professor, a member of the learned, professional class. In the end, he did, becoming an attorney. Before that, though, he took an oath of office and became a police officer. At the time, he saw it simply as a steady job with decent pay and benefits. As the years passed, it became more than that, though; it became who he was. He put the world right, or at least tried his best to do so. As far as Ash was concerned, it was the highest calling a man could have; he refused to turn his back on that.

“You won't be receiving it.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. I'm not going to resign.”

“Before you make this decision, think about your family. You're a lawyer with extensive law enforcement experience. If you quit now, this will go away quietly and every criminal defense firm in town will pound on your door. When we fire you, your reputation will take a hit you can't afford. I'm trying to look out for you.”

“I appreciate that, but I didn't do anything wrong. I'm not going to quit and say I did.”

Bowers didn't respond for a five count. “And you've made up your mind?”

“I think so.”

Bowers sighed. “Then effective immediately, I'm putting you on suspension pending formal internal and criminal investigations into your conduct. I'll get the paperwork in the mail within twenty-four hours.”

“Is that it?”

Bowers paused. “You're a decent, moral man. Get a lawyer.”

“I will. Thank you.”

Ash hung up the phone and ran his fingers through his hair. He didn't go inside immediately. Instead, he stayed on the porch. Hannah must have seen him put down the phone because she came out a few minutes later.

“Everything okay? You look pale.”

Ash looked at his wife and then at the table before drawing a breath. “I've got to go into work.”

“I didn't think you'd have to go back to work for a while.”

“There's just something I have to do. I'll be back in a little while.”

Hannah put a hand on his chest, stopping him from walking away. “Don't shut me out. What's wrong?”

Ash had so many answers to that question he didn't know where to begin.

“I'm in trouble.”

“What kind of trouble?”

“I didn't know there were multiple kinds.”

Hannah blinked. “Don't start with that. What happened?”

Ash broke eye contact with her. “I did my job to the best of my abilities.”

“Are they going to fire you?”

“They're going to try.”

Hannah nodded as if she had expected that. “My nursing license expired a couple of months ago, but I can renew it. I might be able to get my old job back. We'll survive.”

“Yeah, we'll be okay. I need to go in and fill out some paperwork.”

“Okay,” said Hannah. “But come home as soon as you can. We need to talk. We'll figure this out together as a family.”

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

Ash kissed her before leaving the house. Instead of taking his cruiser, he drove his wife's aging Volkswagen downtown. He didn't go to his usual place—it'd be too full of cops, people he knew—and instead went to a sports bar a couple of blocks from his station. The chattering of the after-work crowd and the smoke from their cigarettes enveloped him, welcoming him like a long-lost friend. He pulled a stool from the bar and sat before motioning to the bartender.

“Shot of bourbon and a beer. Whatever you have on draft is fine.”