Last Call (14 page)
Trina rose, clearly edgy. “I need to walk off some nerves,” she said, then headed aimlessly toward the whiteboard, as if to confirm everything Jack had just learned from the nurse.
Jack stayed with Uncle Cy. “So you see the shooting as random?”
He shook his head. “Did at first. More I think about it, more it seems like somebody from the ’hood. Maybe even an old Grove Lord. Must’ve gotten wind that Isaac turned to Theo for help and Theo went to the cops.This is payback.”
“I could see how you might think that way,” said Jack. He drank from his water bottle.
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“You say that like I’m missin’ somethin’.”
Jack took a seat directly across from Cy, then slid forward to the edge of his chair. He lowered his voice to further convey how serious he was. “I agree that it wasn’t random. But your payback theory doesn’t make any sense.”
“Why not?”
“If someone from the old ’hood was ticked off enough to pun-ish Theo for not helping Isaac and for calling the cops, why didn’t Isaac go to that person for help in the first place?”
Cy nodded, as if he hadn’t thought of that. “So it ain’t payback?”
Jack said,“I think it’s bigger than that. Much bigger.”
A glimmer of life returned to the old man’s eyes.“Talk to me.”
Andie Henning was in Suite 212 at Jackson Memorial Hospital, a private room for Sylvia Peters, the young waitress abducted by Isaac Reems.
Andie had been waiting since Sunday morning to speak with her. Kidnapping was Andie’s primary area of responsibility at the FBI’s Miami field office. Also, it was possible that Reems had told his hostage something about the prison break, so talking to Sylvia was a key part of Andie’s task force review of the escape. Sylvia’s parents, however, had refused all requests for interviews until their daughter regained her strength and spoke to a counselor.With Reems dead and the criminal investigation in a postmortem posture, Andie hadn’t pushed it. But upon hearing that Theo had been shot, Andie renewed her request with urgency. Sylvia agreed to talk.
Andie stood at the bedrail facing Sylvia. IV fluids dripped into the patient’s arm. Sylvia’s parents sat in the chairs by the window, monitoring their daughter’s words as closely as the bedside equipment monitored her heart rate. Andie took notes and listened to Sylvia’s recount of the abduction, asking questions to fill in de-118
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tails.When Sylvia got to the shooting behind the restaurant,Andie slowed the discussion to the interrogator’s equivalent of frame-by-frame analysis.
“I blacked out somewhere during the car ride,” said Sylvia.“It was ungodly hot in that trunk.”
“And you regained consciousness when?”
“I have no idea how much time passed. All I know is that the car wasn’t moving anymore. I remember hearing a loud thud. I think it was the sound of the trunk slamming shut.”
“So he had actually opened the trunk?”
“I think so. I’m guessing that it was the fresh air that revived me.”
“What did you do?”
“Nothing. I was afraid to make a noise. I knew the guy had a gun.”
“So you lay there in the dark?”
“Yeah. I was still sort of out of it. It was hard to breathe in there.
I just tried to listen.”
“Did you hear anything?”
“Not at first.”
“Did you eventually hear something?”
“Well, the gunshot, for sure. It was so loud.”
Andie said,“The car wasn’t far from the scene of the shooting.
And I’m sure the alley amplified the sound.”
“I knew it had to be nearby.That’s when I lost it.This probably wasn’t very smart, but I started screaming and kicking against the quarter panel.”
“Did you hear anything before the gunshot?”
She nodded and drank from her cup of ice water. “I heard a man’s voice.”
“Do you know who it was?”
“It sounded like the man who abducted me.”
“What did he say?”
“It was just one word. He shouted somebody’s name, I think.”
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“A name?” said Andie.
“Not a common name. It was . . .heck, what was it, now? I remember thinking it was like one of the characters on the reruns of that old Bill Cosby show.The son.”
“Theo?” her mother volunteered.
“Yeah,” said Sylvia.“Theo.”
“Are you sure?” said Andie.
“Positive. He yelled out the name Theo. And then I heard the gunshot. Is that helpful?”
Andie closed her notepad. “It could be,” she said. “Definitely could be.”
Jack, Uncle Cy, and Trina rose as Theo’s surgeon entered the waiting room. For Jack, it was like trying to read the faces of jurors at the end of a trial, until the doctor removed his surgi-cal mask.
“Your nephew is one lucky man,” he said, smiling.
Cy nearly collapsed with relief, and Jack held him up by the arm.“Theo’s going to be okay then?” said Jack.
“Fine,” said the doctor. “Head wounds always bleed like crazy.
Fortunately, the bullet never actually penetrated the skull. Chipped off a small piece of it, but never penetrated.”
“So what’s his prognosis?” asked Jack.
“Excellent. Full recovery.”
“How quickly?” asked Trina.
“We’ll keep him here overnight for observation. He has a con -
cussion and should take it easy for a couple of days. The wound needs to be covered for about a week to prevent infection.”
“That’s it?” said Cy.
“Some scarring. The bullet ripped a two-inch cornrow down his scalp. I used as many subcutaneous stitches as possible to minimize the railroad-track effect, but it won’t be perfect.
For most guys, that wouldn’t be an issue. But your nephew wears his hair very short, so I can refer him to a plastic surgeon to help improve the looks of it.”
“Is he awake?” said Jack.
“Should be coming around any minute.We used a mild anes-thesia.”
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“Can we see him?”
“Sure. Normally it’s one visitor at a time in recovery, but at this hour you’ve practically got the place to yourself. Go for it.”
They thanked him and found Theo behind a beige privacy curtain in the recovery room.The bed was adjusted to put him in a seated position, and Theo was noisily sucking down the last few drops of a juice box. The right side of his head was covered with bandages, but otherwise he looked pretty good.
Trina planted a kiss on his lips before he could say anything.
She checked out the bandage as she pulled away.“Does it hurt?”
“Not as much as a Prince Albert.”
She smiled.“How would
you
know, wimp?”
Cy went around the bed and congratulated him on dodging another bullet—literally. Jack said,“How do you feel, big guy?”
“Like I been drinking cheap tequila all night.”
Jack knew that feeling—thanks to Theo. “Police are downstairs,” said Jack. “I’m sure they’ll want to know if you got a good look at the shooter.”
“Not really. Maybe I’ll remember more when my head stops throbbing.” His gaze shifted to his uncle. “Did you see ’em?”
“Uh-uh,” said Cy.“It’s like I told the cops. Looked like a drive-by shooting to me. Random, you know? But Jack’s got a different take. One that makes pretty good sense to me.”
“You know somethin’ I don’t?” said Theo.
Jack went to the tray table and poured Theo some water. “It’s just a matter of deduction. But you have to accept that Isaac was telling you the truth.”
“About what?”
“That he knew who killed your mother.”
Theo drank his water.“Okay. Let’s assume he had some source in prison and found out who killed her. So what?”
“Then you have to assume that the killer didn’t want Isaac telling anybody who killed her.”
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“Logical,” said Theo.“So whoever killed my mother also killed Isaac.”
“I’m thinking yes.”
“And now he wants to kill me.”
“Right. Because he thinks Isaac told you who killed her.”
“Why would he think that?” said Theo.
“Because he’s the guy who tapped your telephone. He heard Isaac call and tell you that he’d give you that information if you helped him beat the manhunt.”
Theo grimaced, as if the chain of deduction were suddenly broken. “Some loser killed my momma over twenty years ago.
How is that guy suddenly smart enough to tap my telephone right before Isaac calls and tells me he can name the killer?”
Trina groaned, as if perturbed by the microanalysis.“Back up a second.You geniuses are missing the big picture here.”
“What’s that, baby?”
Trina reached inside his gown and plucked several chest hairs, which made Theo yelp.“Stop calling me
baby
,” she said.
“Okay, okay.”
The look of concern returned to Trina’s face. “What I was trying to say is that maybe Jack’s right. This shooting probably wasn’t random, which creates one huge problem. Whoever killed Isaac—and whoever
tried
to kill you—won’t be very happy to hear that all you ended up with is a concussion and a few stitches.”
“You got a point there, ba—”
Her glare killed the pet name.Theo crossed his arms to prevent further chest-hair removal.
Jack said,“Trina’s right. He’ll be back to finish the job.”
Uncle Cy massaged his temples, as if he didn’t like the information his brain was processing.“What do we do about this?”
Jack said,“That’s something Theo and I need to discuss in private, attorney to client.”
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Trina looked miffed, but Jack knew that Uncle Cy was the one Theo would really want kept in the loop.
“Why can’t they be part of this?” said Theo.
“Lots of reasons,” said Jack.
“Give me one,” said Trina.
“All right. Because the answer, I think, involves FBI Agent Andie Henning.”
Theo looked at his uncle, then at Trina, as if to assure them that Jack knew whereof he spoke.“That’s a pretty good reason.”
“None better,” said Jack.
Jack met Andie in the hospital’s coffee shop. He’d dialed her cell expecting to leave a voice mail message. To his surprise, she answered.To his even greater surprise, she was already in the Jackson Memorial complex.
The coffee shop was nearly empty. Most of the chairs were turned up on tables as the janitor mopped the floor.The only other occupied table was across the room, where a sleepy intern was eating either dinner or breakfast, depending on what time of day she was trying to convince her body it was.
“How’s Theo?” Andie asked, stirring a pink pack of sweetener into her decaffeinated coffee.
Jack told her the good news.“How’s the young woman Reems abducted?”
“Fine.”
Jack waited for her to elaborate, but one-word answers from Andie usually stood by their lonesome or, at best, were followed by the official “I’m not at liberty to discuss” mumbo jumbo. It was one of the things about Andie that really drove him crazy.
That, and . . .
Stop. Focus, Swyteck.
Andie stopped stirring and, for a moment, put the business expression on hold.“How are
you
doing?”
Jack hadn’t given that much thought, and the question forced him to stop and consider it. “It’s been crazy, but Theo and I have survived worse.”
“You’ve always been there for him.”
“And him for me.”
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“Old friends are the best friends.You’re lucky to have that.”
Jack didn’t know how to respond—one more pro-Theo plug from Andie, yet another refutation of the basis for his decision to stop dating her.
“What is it you wanted to talk about?” she said.
“I want to deal with you.”
“Me?”
“Well, the FBI, actually. And you, specifically, because you’re heading a task force that is supposed to find out how Isaac Reems escaped from prison.”
Her business face was now firmly back in place.“Are you saying that Theo has information about that?”
“No. He told the police everything he knew the first time, after Isaac came to see him at Sparky’s.What I’m offering up now is something we figured out afterward.”
“Do you know who helped Reems plan his escape?”
“We think it’s the same person who killed Theo’s mother in 1986.”
“And who is that?”
“Don’t know.The crime was never solved.”
“Why do you think there’s a connection?”
“Not so fast. I said I came here to deal, not to do my singing-canary impersonation.”
“Shouldn’t you be talking to a prosecutor about that?”
“Prosecutor? For what? Is Theo being targeted for something?”
She paused. Then it came, one of those all-too-familiar sighs.
“I’m not at liberty to discuss—”
“Yeah, yeah, blah, blah, blah. Come on. Theo was about an inch away from going facedown on the sidewalk with a bullet in his brain.”
“All I can tell you is that the waitress who was abducted by Reems told me something tonight that isn’t especially helpful to Theo.”
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“What does that mean?”
“It means that I’m not at liberty—”
“Will you cut that out already?”
Andie swallowed more coffee. “Take my advice. Talk to the prosecutor.”
Jack locked eyes with her, gazing over the rim of his own cup.
“A prosecutor won’t give Theo the protection he needs,” he said.
“Protection from what?”
“The person who killed Isaac.”
She blinked. It was hardly noticeable, but Jack seemed to be developing a sixth sense when it came to reading Andie’s body language—another one of those strange connections he felt toward this woman. Even more unsettling, Jack’s read was that Theo was a likely suspect in Isaac’s slaying.
Jack added, “He’s the same guy who tried to kill Theo tonight.”
She lowered her cup, seeming to collect her thoughts. “I’m open to that possibility.”
“You should be. By the way, did your fingerprint analysis turn up anything on the listening device we found on Theo’s phone line?”
“Nothing.”
“I’m not surprised. In fact, an installer smart enough not to leave prints fits perfectly with my theory. Reems finds out who killed Theo’s mother. He extorts the killer into helping him escape.
