The Silent Places (18 page)

Hastings said, “Overreacted to what? Getting shot?”

Murray said, “He’s not saying you didn’t get shot. He’s saying it wasn’t Reese who shot you. Or shot at you.”

“He wasn’t there.”

“Reese?”

“No, the senator. He wasn’t in the park. I was.”

Captain Anthony spoke, trying to pacify him, saying, “George—”

Hastings said to Murray, “Who does the senator think it was?”

Murray shrugged. “A junkie. Or a burglar trying to rob the apartment.”

Hastings said, “I got shot with a high-powered rifle. At night, from about two hundred yards. Not a Saturday-night special. That was the work of a professional. Not a fu—not a junkie.”

“Then how come you’re alive?” Murray said.

Hastings could still feel the pain in his shoulder. The physician had told him it would hurt for a few days, the way any severe bruise would. Like getting pounded with a sledgehammer.

In a controlled voice, Hastings said, “I don’t know why I’m alive. Maybe I got lucky. Maybe he got distracted. Maybe he was showing mercy.”

Murray said, “Mercy? That wouldn’t exactly be in character for our suspect, would it?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“You seem to know it was him you were chasing.”

“I said I believe it was him. I don’t know it was.” Hastings looked at Anthony, as if to make an appeal to reason. He said, “Look, Preston wasn’t there. I was. Why are you giving more weight to what he says?”

Murray raised his hands in some sort of gesture, suggesting Hastings was being overly sensitive. “I just want to get it straight, that’s all.”

“Are you sure?” Hastings said.

Sensing insolence, Murray leaned forward and said, “What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing,” Hastings said. “I guess I’d just like to get it straight, too.”

Murray said, “You think Senator Preston has some personal thing with you? A city police officer?” Murray giving him a patronizing smile now.

“I don’t think it has anything to do with me,” Hastings said. “But, yes, I think he seems to want to discourage people from thinking it was John Reese I pursued.”

“And why would he want to do that?”

“I don’t know,” Hastings said. “For some reason, he doesn’t want federal protection. But he wants some sort of protection, and he’s been getting it from the local police. In my opinion, he wants to have the protection without seeming to want it. Or have people think he wants it.”

Murray said, “Well, that wouldn’t say much for him, would it?”

“No, it wouldn’t.”

This wasn’t quite the response Murray had been expecting. He said, “Maybe you’re the one who’s feeling something personal here.”

“Well, I got shot. Wouldn’t you take it personally?” Hastings looked at Captain Anthony and then back at the deputy chief. “It could have been my life out there. Or the life of one of my men. No one’s asking for a thank-you, but it would be nice not be second-guessed. Or accused of lying.”

Murray said, “Preston hasn’t called you a liar. He’s simply said he thinks you’re mistaken. He’s entitled to that opinion.”

Hastings shook his head. “Not really.”

“I see,” Murray said. “Maybe it would be better if we removed you from this assignment.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.”

“Excuse me?”

“I said I’d rather you didn’t.”

Murray said, “Now
I’m
confused. From what I understand, Lieutenant, you didn’t want this assignment in the first place.”

“That was before.”

Murray said, “And now you do want it?”

“I’d prefer to stay on, yes.”

Now Captain Anthony spoke. “George,” he said. “I don’t think you understand. The senator has requested that you be taken off the detail.”

Hastings looked at both of the other men in turn. He said, “May I ask why?”

Anthony said, “He told us he doesn’t think you’re qualified.” Anthony raised a hand. “No one here is saying he’s right. In fact, I think he’s wrong. I think you did well. You, Murph, Rhodes—all of you. But it doesn’t matter what I think. It’s what he wants. And what he wants, the chief is going to want. Sorry, George, but that’s how it is.”

Hastings asked, “Who’s going to take it over?”

Anthony said, “Me, I suppose. If anyone.”

Hastings looked at him for a moment. Then he said, “‘If anyone’? I don’t understand.”

Anthony said, “Senator Preston’s not sure he wants police protection anymore.”

The hotel waiter pushed the serving cart into the hotel suite and started to set the table. He held a short glass of an orange-colored liquid and asked, “Carrot juice?”

Clu Rogers said, “That’s mine.” The waiter set it on the table and Clu added, “It’s good for the eyes.”

Dexter Troy took a glass of ice water with his lunch. Kyle Anders had a tall glass of milk. The waiter left them and they began their meal.

They were in a suite on the eighteenth floor of a high-class hotel in Clayton. Their balcony overlooked Forest Park.

A few minutes passed and then there was a knock on the door. Clu answered it. Standing there was Senator Alan Preston.

“Alan,” Anders said, getting to his feet. He wiped his mouth with a cotton napkin and went over to greet him.

Preston frowned at Anders and said, “I presumed we would be meeting alone.”

“Where are my manners? This is Dexter Troy, and that’s Clu Rogers. Two of our best employees.”

Preston observed and dismissed each man in turn. Anders said, “Can I order you something?”

“No. I’m not hungry. May we speak alone?”

“Of course.”

They moved out to the balcony, sliding the glass door behind them. Looking through the glass, Preston could see Clu dipping bread into an egg yolk. Eating breakfast for lunch.

Anders made a gesture to the vast park beneath them. He said, “That’s a real jewel you got there. Forest Park. It’s not as big as Central Park, but it’s bigger than most.”

“We like it,” Preston said, waiting for Anders to stop playing with him.

Anders said, “You think he’s still in there?”

Alan Preston smiled. “Who?”

Anders said, “You know,” reproof in his tone.

“Like I told the police,” Preston said. “It could have been anyone. A junkie. A burglar.”

“Does a junkie know how to use a high-powered rifle? How to hide at night? How to stake out a defense position and shoot a police officer from a couple hundred yards?” Anders smiled. “If he did, maybe I’d recruit him.”

“No one saw him. No one got a good look.”

“Maybe not,” Anders said. “But
we
know, don’t we?” Anders looked back out to the park. He said, “He’s here in the city. We know it and the policeman knows it. What’s his name, again?”

“Hastings.”

“The one I met, right?”

“Yeah.”

“What do you think of him?”

“Not much. I asked the chief of police to have him taken off the detail.”

Anders said, “Why?”

“Because he doesn’t know what he’s doing.”

“Are you sure it isn’t the other way around?”

The senator turned to look at him.

Anders said, “Maybe he knows exactly what he’s doing and that’s why you wanted him taken off.”

“He’s not a concern. Not anymore.”

“Why did he come up to us when we were talking? What was that about?”

“I don’t know. Why don’t you ask him?”

“Calm down, Alan. I’m on your side. Besides, we both know why you want the police out of it.”

“Suppose you tell me what we both know.”

“You want the police out of the way so we can eliminate Reese. Now that you’ve got confirmation that he’s here.”

“I never said I wanted that. In fact, I never told you to go after him in North Dakota. I had no part in that. That was your decision.”

“Was it?” Anders said, and looked hard at the senator.

Preston made his voice firm. “Yes,” he said.

“As I remember it,” Anders said, “I asked you if there were any impediments to your being elected president. And you told me about John Reese. I don’t think you told me everything, but you told me enough to let me know you were worried.”

“I never said you should kill him.”

“No. You didn’t use those words. Men like you never do.”

“And what about you, Kyle? A man of honor? The untarnished soldier?”

“I believe in my country. And doing what’s necessary to defend it.”

“A patriot.”

“Excuse me?” Anders said, his face registering anger and offense.

“Forget it,” Preston said.

Anders said, “You’re worried that you framed a man. Perhaps you think you framed a guilty man. If so, you should know that I think he was guilty, too.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about. It was years ago.”

“Alan, do you think I’d invest all this time and money in you without having your background checked?”

Preston turned to him, taken aback.

“Yes,” Anders said, “I’ve known about it for a long time. Before you told me.”

Preston said, “We should have just left him in prison.”

“No. Things like that have a way of getting out. Particularly when a man runs for the highest office in the land. The problem needed to be addressed.”

“I don’t like this. I don’t like any of it.”

“Alan, the man’s a traitor. You did what you thought you needed to do. And the proper sentence for treason is death, not prison. That’s what the judge should have done in the first place. Don’t you agree?”

Preston wasn’t sure. He had put it behind him. Now, though, he wondered if Kyle Anders was quite sane.

“…I don’t know,” Preston said.

“You know he’s guilty. You told me yourself he was.”

“He is. But…”

“If he’s guilty of treason, he deserves to die.” Anders’s gaze at Preston was steady and assured. “He’s here now, here in this city, coming after you. You believe it, don’t you?”

“I don’t know.”

“I do. I think you do, too.” Anders turned back to indicate the two mercenaries eating their dinner. “But not to worry. I’ve got these two and a few more. There will be at least half a dozen men covering your house at all times. And these are professionals. Not a bunch of Keystone metro cops.”

Preston gestured to Dexter Troy and Clu Rogers. He said, “You’re going to have these guys follow me around?”

“Not exactly,” Anders said. “They’re not guards. They’re hunters.” Anders smiled again. “Don’t worry, Alan. If Reese is in town, they’ll find him.”

Hastings sat at his desk, looking at the bottle of pain pills he had been prescribed. His shoulder hurt and he wanted to part with the pain. But he had never liked taking pills. Even antibiotics kept him awake at night. He wondered if he could just take a couple of Tylenol and get a full night’s sleep. He wondered if John Reese would still be in town when he woke up. He wondered if pain medication would affect his thinking, his ability to track Reese. He wondered what it would be like to be back there in the darkness, looking up at the sky, waiting to die. He wondered if he would be able to turn off the memory. He wondered if he would be able to stop feeling scared.

The telephone on his desk rang.

“Hastings.”

“George?”

“Carol?”

“Did you—were you shot?”

“Uh, not really. It was more of a graze.”

“You were, weren’t you? God, why didn’t you tell me? I heard about it at the courthouse today. Why didn’t you call me?”

“Sorry. I—really, it’s not that big a deal.”

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. Just a little bruising. Like knocking your shoulder into a door.”

“You were shot. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I’m sorry. It’s just’ I’m sorry.”

“Is it because we’ve broken up? You think you can’t tell me about a major event like that because we’re not seeing each other anymore?”

“I don’t know.”

“Like I wouldn’t care?”

“I never thought that—”

“For God’s sake, George. Give me some credit, will you?”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t do that to me. Okay?”

“Okay.”

Silence for a moment. Then Carol said, “Are you all right?”

“I’m fine. Just a little pain in my shoulder.”

“Did they get the bullet out?”

“There was no bullet to get out. I told you. It just passed through.”

“Well, don’t get short with me.”

“I’m not. Sorry.”

“And quit saying you’re sorry. Jesus.” Carol said, “George?” a familiar tenderness in her voice.

“Yeah, sweetie?”

“I miss you.”

“I miss you, too.”

“But we did the right thing, huh?”

“I think we did.”

Another silence. Then Hastings said, “Carol?”

“Yes?”

“…Nothing.”

Carol said, “Do you want me to come over tonight?”

“Well…” It was exactly what he’d been going to ask her. He leaned back in his chair. “Yeah, I guess so,” he said.

“You guess so.” He could hear a smile in her voice.

Hastings sighed. “I don’t know, Carol. It’s a bad idea. You broke up with me for good reasons. I’m lonely and I’m horny and I’m—well, I’m…”

“A little scared, too. Am I right?”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“There’s nothing to be ashamed of, George. You could have been killed. I cried when I heard about it. Even when I was told you were okay.”

“Sorry.”

“I told you to stop that.”

“I know.”

Another silence. Then Carol said, “Will you be home in an hour?”

“…Yes.”

“I won’t stay the night. Can you understand that?”

“Yes.”

“Okay,” Carol said, and hung up the phone.

He awoke from an unpleasant dream around three in the morning. The room came into focus and he looked to his right and saw Carol lying naked in a fetal position, her back toward him, her skin pale, her figure beautiful. She was sleeping peacefully beside the covers. She had always been comfortable with her body, comfortable being naked. She swam thirty laps a day, five days a week, and it showed.

Hastings’s shoulder throbbed. The Tylenol had worn off. He quietly climbed out of bed and walked to the kitchen and took two more. He stood in the dark for a moment and then he walked to the large front window of the condominium. An old habit. He looked out the window at the street and saw his car parked below. Still, quiet, no traffic on the street. He looked beyond the street to Francis Park. Nothing going on there. Nothing he could see anyway.