Read Online Airtight by David Rosenfelt - Free Book Online Page A

“How did it go?” she asked.
    “How did what go?”
    “Didn’t you speak to Bryan?”
    “No.”
    She seemed confused. “You never heard from him? Then why are you here?”
    “Julie, I’ve got something important to tell you; this goes way beyond the level of marital spat.”
    “It was more than a spat, Luke.”
    “Then this goes way beyond the level of marital earthquake.”
    “What is it?” She took a deep breath, as if bracing herself for the news.
    “Bryan has been kidnapped by the brother of the kid I shot.”
    I watched as her mind tried to compute what I was saying. It was so unlike what she expected that it took her a few moments to process it, and even then it didn’t make sense. “What the hell are you talking about?”
    I went on to tell her the story, exactly as I related it to Emmit. I watched her intently as I spoke; Julie watching is something I’ve spent a lot of time doing over the years. She seemed to go back and forth between horror-stricken wife and law enforcement professional. It was the latter I needed to help me.
    Her first words when I finished were not the ones I wanted to hear. “We need to go to the FBI with this.”
    “I’ve thought about that, Julie, but I don’t see the upside, at least now.”
    “The upside is that maybe they’ll catch him; maybe they’ll save Bryan. How can you not see that?”
    “Catching him doesn’t save Bryan; it probably does exactly the opposite.”
    “You don’t know that.”
    “Maybe you’re right, and we need to get as much information as we can about Chris Gallagher so we can make that judgment. But for now Bryan is alive, and our doing what Gallagher asks keeps him alive.”
    “Maybe he’ll kill him…,” she said, as her voice cracked and I thought she was going to break down. But she pulled it together. “… No matter what we do.”
    “If that’s the case, then Bryan is probably dead already.” When she reacted, I added, “I’m sorry, Julie, but that’s the truth.”
    She nodded her understanding, but said, “We have knowledge of a crime, Luke. It needs to be reported.”
    “I’m a cop; consider it reported.”
    We talked about it some more, and she reluctantly agreed to go along with my approach. I was relieved, but not as much as I expected. I was not confident that I was right; I just couldn’t think of a better way to go. With my brother’s life on the line, I would have liked to have greater conviction.
    “So what can I do?” she asked, the professional in her kicking into gear.
    “Can you start gathering information on Chris Gallagher?”
    “Of course,” she said. “And I know a judge advocate at Quantico. We worked on a case together last year; a Marine got into a fight at a rest stop off the Jersey Turnpike and killed a guy. I let the military handle it, so he owes me a favor.”
    “Great; call it in,” I said. “We need to know who we’re dealing with.”
    “What are you going to do?”
    “I’m going to investigate a murder and pretend it’s not already solved.”

 
    The door opened and I was looking straight ahead at a man’s chest.
    I was at the late Judge Daniel Brennan’s house in Alpine, and I expected to be greeted by his wife, not a man who looked to be seven feet tall. But he obviously expected me, because the voice from up there asked, “Lieutenant Somers?”
    I looked up. Way up. “Yes,” I said, to a face I recognized but in the moment couldn’t place.
    He held out his hand. “Nate Davenport. Friends call me Ice.”
    I shook his hand. We were just meeting for the first time, but I knew all about Nate “Ice Water” Davenport. He was the center for the Detroit Pistons in the late seventies and early eighties. He was one of the early big men who was also a great athlete; he could grab a defensive rebound and lead a fast break up court.
    The “Ice Water” nickname came from the coolness that was said to run through his veins when it came time to take the key shot at the end of