--”
“Where are you? I can be there in —-”
“No, you stay there. If Ben comes home, you’ve got to be there.”
She was talking, but not making sense, just a torrent of words coming out in a babble, like a crazy person talking to herself. She was crazy...crazy with fear and worry.
“Susan, stop. Calm down,” Louis said firmly.
Her voice dwindled to a small sob.
“There’s something else.”
“God, what?”
“Whoever killed the partner might be after Austin.”
She was silent but he could hear her heavy breaths.
“They might know about you,” he said. “And they might figure he’ll go back there.”
“Here?”
“I’m calling Dan Wainw right and having him send an officer.”
“To sit at the curb?”
“To sit in the house.”
“In my living room?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want a cop in my house all night .”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Susan, if you saw what I saw tonight, you’d want him in your bedroom. Trust me on this, please.”
He heard her choke back a sob then her voice came back in a whisper. “Okay.”
“Try to stay calm. I promise you, I’ll find Benjamin.”
“I know,” she said. “I know you will.”
Louis waited a few seconds until he heard the click of her phone. Then he pushed down the button, waited for a dial tone, and called Wainwright
Louis gave him a quick rundown on what he had seen in Austin’ s office. Wainwright agreed to go to Susan’s himself. Louis thanked him and hung up.
Louis glanced at the TV . The newscast had started and Louis saw the letters below the anchors: “Double Murder in Little Havana.” He picked up the remote and turned up the volume. But after a minute, he knew there was nothing in the report that he didn’t already know. The woman in the chest was, in fact, the office secretary and police were estimating the deaths happened sometime earlier in the day.
Louis leaned back against the headboard, the remote slack in his hand as he stared at the screen. The newscast had moved on to a frost report about farmers in west Dade covering tomatoes with netting. But Louis didn’t see it. He was seeing that slash of red on the white walls, seeing that woman’s bloody body bent into a fetal curl of death.
He rubbed his face. His gut was telling him Austin was dead. And Benjamin was, too. Whoever had done this was cold-blooded enough to kill a secretary who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They wouldn’t stop at a boy.
Louis closed his eyes.
Ignore it... ignore your gut feeling for once.
And replace it with what? Hope? Faith? Whatever it was that was keeping Susan going right now?
Louis pushed himself up off the bed and went into the bathroom. He flicked on the light and stared at himself in the cold light of the white-tiled cubicle. He ran the water, splashed some on his face, and went back to the bed.
He switched off the television and sat on the edge of the bed. In the sudden quiet, the outside sounds filtered in to him. The tire-hum of the nearby freeway ramp, the muted screech of a jet taking off overhead, the clatter of the ice machine, and a babble of Spanish out in the hallway.
How in the hell was he going to do this? He didn’t even have a map of Miami, let alone a badge. He stared at the phone. But it was either find a way to investigate or head for home, tail tucked between his legs, just like that detective said.
Louis picked up the receiver and dialed a Fort Myers phone number. It rang eleven times.
“Mel, it’s me, Louis.”
“Louis? Shit, what time is it?”
“Just after eleven.”
“Morning or night?”
“Night . Mel, I need your help.”
“Just a second.”
Louis heard the clunk of the phone and then the click of a lighter. He waited until Mel came back on line.
“Okay, what’s up,” Mel said, exhaling.
“I need your help. I’m in Miami and —-”
“Miami? What the hell you doing over there?”
“I’ll tell you later. You still got any pull with
“Where are you? I can be there in —-”
“No, you stay there. If Ben comes home, you’ve got to be there.”
She was talking, but not making sense, just a torrent of words coming out in a babble, like a crazy person talking to herself. She was crazy...crazy with fear and worry.
“Susan, stop. Calm down,” Louis said firmly.
Her voice dwindled to a small sob.
“There’s something else.”
“God, what?”
“Whoever killed the partner might be after Austin.”
She was silent but he could hear her heavy breaths.
“They might know about you,” he said. “And they might figure he’ll go back there.”
“Here?”
“I’m calling Dan Wainw right and having him send an officer.”
“To sit at the curb?”
“To sit in the house.”
“In my living room?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t want a cop in my house all night .”
He closed his eyes briefly. “Susan, if you saw what I saw tonight, you’d want him in your bedroom. Trust me on this, please.”
He heard her choke back a sob then her voice came back in a whisper. “Okay.”
“Try to stay calm. I promise you, I’ll find Benjamin.”
“I know,” she said. “I know you will.”
Louis waited a few seconds until he heard the click of her phone. Then he pushed down the button, waited for a dial tone, and called Wainwright
Louis gave him a quick rundown on what he had seen in Austin’ s office. Wainwright agreed to go to Susan’s himself. Louis thanked him and hung up.
Louis glanced at the TV . The newscast had started and Louis saw the letters below the anchors: “Double Murder in Little Havana.” He picked up the remote and turned up the volume. But after a minute, he knew there was nothing in the report that he didn’t already know. The woman in the chest was, in fact, the office secretary and police were estimating the deaths happened sometime earlier in the day.
Louis leaned back against the headboard, the remote slack in his hand as he stared at the screen. The newscast had moved on to a frost report about farmers in west Dade covering tomatoes with netting. But Louis didn’t see it. He was seeing that slash of red on the white walls, seeing that woman’s bloody body bent into a fetal curl of death.
He rubbed his face. His gut was telling him Austin was dead. And Benjamin was, too. Whoever had done this was cold-blooded enough to kill a secretary who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They wouldn’t stop at a boy.
Louis closed his eyes.
Ignore it... ignore your gut feeling for once.
And replace it with what? Hope? Faith? Whatever it was that was keeping Susan going right now?
Louis pushed himself up off the bed and went into the bathroom. He flicked on the light and stared at himself in the cold light of the white-tiled cubicle. He ran the water, splashed some on his face, and went back to the bed.
He switched off the television and sat on the edge of the bed. In the sudden quiet, the outside sounds filtered in to him. The tire-hum of the nearby freeway ramp, the muted screech of a jet taking off overhead, the clatter of the ice machine, and a babble of Spanish out in the hallway.
How in the hell was he going to do this? He didn’t even have a map of Miami, let alone a badge. He stared at the phone. But it was either find a way to investigate or head for home, tail tucked between his legs, just like that detective said.
Louis picked up the receiver and dialed a Fort Myers phone number. It rang eleven times.
“Mel, it’s me, Louis.”
“Louis? Shit, what time is it?”
“Just after eleven.”
“Morning or night?”
“Night . Mel, I need your help.”
“Just a second.”
Louis heard the clunk of the phone and then the click of a lighter. He waited until Mel came back on line.
“Okay, what’s up,” Mel said, exhaling.
“I need your help. I’m in Miami and —-”
“Miami? What the hell you doing over there?”
“I’ll tell you later. You still got any pull with
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