Hauck opened and knelt down as the excited dog jumped against his chest. âHey, budâ¦â
It seemed like days ago that he and Jessie were supposed to pick him up before heading onto the boat. But it was only hours. âYou must be starved, guy.â
He went into the bedroom, pulled off the soiled fleece pullover, and flung it into the hamper. He took a long look at himself in the mirror.
His short, dark hair was matted from sweat, his clear blue eyes dulled and drawn from the day. Hauckâs body, still fit and athletic at forty-three, ached like it did after heâd been pounded by two-hundred-and-fifty-pound linemen back in college. He was exhausted. The bandaged gash on his neck had begun to throb. He couldnât remember his last meal.
He trudged back to the kitchen and opened a can of dog food and a Yuengling beer. He clicked on the TV, still standing there bare-chested in his jeans.
âBrazen gunfire erupts in one of the areaâs poshest suburbsâ¦,â the newscaster announced, âand a rising young attorney is dead.â
Hauck listened as the pretty reporter recounted the details of the drive-by shooting, set up in front of the darkened, blocked-off Exxon station on Putnam. She went through the details of how David Sanger was killed, the suspicion that he had stepped into a hail of gunfire intended for someone else. âA tragic act of revenge gone wrong,â she called it. He saw a shot of himself on the screen, a quick sound bite of him trying to urge calm and not sounding very effective.
His cell phone rang.
Hauck reached for it, pleased to see Karenâs name on the caller ID.
âSo, how the hell was your day?â He exhaled, throwing himself on the couch in front of the TV.
âTyâ¦â Karen exclaimed. âI just heard. I canât believe what I just saw on the news down hereâ¦â
âSee what happens,â he sniffed, âwhen you bail out on me.â
âTy, donât joke about this, please. I just saw you being interviewed. You were there ?â
âJess and I were getting ready to take the boat out one last time. We were waiting in line to pay.â
âJessie was with you?â
âDonât worry, Karen, sheâs okay. They took her to Greenwich Hospital, just for precautions. Sheâs back in Brooklyn with Beth now.â
âMy God, Ty, that must have been awful! What about you? Are you okay?â
For a moment he thought about telling her. His horror as he turned at the register and saw the red pickupâs window roll down. The feeling of hugging his daughter with everything he had, flashes of orange death all around. Seeing her body lying there, covered with blood.
Instead, he just took in a breath and shut his eyes. âYeah, Iâm doing okay, Karen.â
âI saw that someone was killed,â Karen said. âA lawyer.â
âNot just a lawyer, a United States attorney. Based in Hartford. He lived here in town. We were all just sort of standing at the cooler a minute before picking out drinks.â
âTheyâre saying revenge?â
âNot on him. Just the wrong place at the wrong time.â
âOh, God, thatâs so horrible, Ty.â
âYeah. The guyâs cell phone started to ring. The bodyâs just lying there on the floor, eyes wide, whatever heâd been carrying, cans of soda, off to the sideâ¦And his phone starts chiming. His wife calling in. It goes into his voice mail. What the hell do you do then, Karen?â
âI donât know, Ty. I donât know what you do.â
Hauck paused, lowering the volume on the TV. âYou just let it ring; what the hell else is there? You just stand there and suddenly you realizeâsheâs just wondering where he is, whyâs hetaking so long. He just went to fill up the fucking car. Like any dayâ¦Except her whole world is about to implode on the other end of that line.
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