Page 34 of Paranoia

ROB TRILLING WAS glad the surveillance had gone as well as it had, despite not making a firm ID of “Little D.” He was anxious to take a few moments to call Mariah, the paramedic. He’d talked to her a couple of times since their lunch. She definitely seemed interested. She had texted him a couple of times from the fire station where she worked. On one of the texts, she’d added at the end:Be careful out on the streets.It was nice. And the first time a woman other than his mom and sister had ever shown concern about his safety.

Before Trilling could get out of the SUV with Terri Hernandez, though, she wanted to go over what they’d learned.

Hernandez said, “We found out a few things today. This group is doing business with outsiders, and the dead men we’re investigating all seemed to have been associated with them, either working together or as rivals. We need to find what they had incommon. How does this new outsider figure in? Were they in favor of or against doing business with him? Did the victims all know something that someone else needed to keep quiet? Was there some financial aspect to their murders? Was there an emotional reason these men were targeted? Those are the main reasons homicides are committed: passion, money, or silencing someone.”

Trilling almost felt like he should be taking notes. Hernandez may have been rough and stern with him, but she definitely knew what she was talking about. He was learning a lot. He couldn’t wait to get back to the office to talk all of this over with Michael Bennett. He found his senior partner always had a way of putting things in perspective. Plus, who knew if any of what they’d heard today could be of help in Bennett’s investigation.

As they sat in the SUV, he and Hernandez noticed an elderly woman with a walker start to cross the street alongside a little girl who was probably seven or eight. The little girl held on to one side of the walker as the woman slowly made progress from one sidewalk to the other.

Hernandez said, “Let’s see if we can track down our informant and debrief him. Maybe he can fill in the blanks of what we missed and identify the outsider more clearly.”

Trilling nodded. Their standard method for talking with Nantes was to drive around in Hernandez’s car so no one saw them sitting and talking somewhere, like at a restaurant. Hernandez would have Trilling sit in the back seat, directly behind the informant, in case he did something unexpected and the situation turned bad quickly. Trilling understood her concerns. He hadn’t dealt with a lot of informants, but none of them seemed particularly stable or trustworthy.

Trilling got out of the front seat and went to open the rear passenger door so he could slip into the back of the SUV. When he opened the door, the wind caused several papers to blow out onto the sidewalk and he had to chase down a couple of the sheets. As he recovered them, he noticed the elderly woman and the little girl about halfway across the street—and a delivery van rounding the corner way too fast. Acting quickly, Trilling darted into the street and managed to grab the woman around the waist and the little girl under her arm, pulling them out of the way of the speeding van. The three of them basically fell onto the street, a few feet away from where the van swerved, missing the pedestrians but clipping the walker, sending it flying through the air.

The van slowed for a moment, then the driver hit the gas and fled the scene. The woman on the ground started to speak in Spanish. From her tone, Trilling thought she was scolding him.

Hernandez hopped out of the SUV and reached them in a couple of steps. She started speaking to the woman in Spanish as she helped her to her feet. Trilling still had the little girl in his arms. After they had all made it safely to the sidewalk, Trilling recovered the mangled walker, then turned to Hernandez and said, “I’m not sure what she’s so angry at me about.”

Hernandez laughed. “Why do you think she’s angry?”

“Her tone and how loud she is.”

“She’s excited. She’s saying God sent an angel down to protect her and her granddaughter.”

The little girl hugged Trilling around his leg. Then the old woman stepped over and gave him a hug as well. It confused him. He wasn’t sure what to do. The elderly woman motioned him to bend down. She kissed him on the cheek and said something else.

Hernandez smiled and said, “She wants you to come to dinner Sunday night.”

Trilling couldn’t hide the grin that swept across his face. He said, “I wish I could, but I’ve already got an invitation to Sunday dinner.”

The detectives stayed with the woman, helping her and the little girl make it to an apartment half a block up from where they’d almost been killed by the delivery van. Once the woman and the girl were inside, Hernandez turned to Trilling and said, “You just turned the term Super Jock from an insult into a compliment. I’ve never seen reflexes like that. If you hadn’t been here, that little girl and her grandmother would’ve been dead meat. The way that delivery guy took off, he probably would’ve fled even if he’d hit them. I’d say you’ve earned the rest of the day off.”

Trilling smiled. All he really wanted was time to call Mariah.

CHAPTER 51

IT WAS PRETTY late by the time I got back to my apartment on the Upper West Side. The early morning flight and investigation in Florida, followed by a two-hour flight delay out of Fort Lauderdale, had really taken it out of me. The only thing I could think about was sprawling on the bed next to Mary Catherine and being unconscious for as long as the kids would let me.

I’d been turning over the case in my mind for hours. Each of the retired cops’ deaths had some odd aspect to it. Even FDLE Special Agent Carol Frederick had agreed that Ralph Stein and Gary Halverson weren’t candidates for committing suicide. But the one thing they all had in common was a connection to the old Richard Deason case.

I entered the apartment like I was a second-story man. I was quiet and deliberate. I managed to open, close, and relock the front door without waking anyone. I stood in the darkness of theentryway and listened for a moment. It was one of the few times in the last decade I could remember the apartment being this silent.

I was hungry. But more tired. I padded back to our bedroom, still working hard not to disturb anyone’s sleep. I quietly eased open the door to the master bedroom, hoping to avoid any of the usual creaks. As I turned in the dark after closing the door softly, a voice startled me.

“I was starting to worry about you.”

Mary Catherine flicked on the light next to the bed. I was about to apologize when I noticed the three extra bodies strewn across the bed like it was a war zone. Shawna and Chrissy were lying sideways near the foot of the bed, and Trent was sprawled with his head resting on Chrissy’s leg and his feet on my pillow. They all snoozed peacefully. I gave Mary Catherine a look.

She shrugged and said, “I’m a soft touch. When they come in and want to spend a few minutes with me, I can’t say no.”

“What are you doing awake so late?”

“Are you kidding? I sleep all day. At some point my body rebels and makes me stay awake. It’s okay. I’ve done about two hundred sudokus and found a Wordle archive online. It keeps my mind active.”

I eased onto the bed next to her on the opposite side from Trent and ran my fingers through her hair. Then I leaned down and kissed her on the forehead. “How do you feel?”

She let out a long sigh. “I really don’t know. It’s only been a few days, but I feel like I’ve been stuck in this bed for months. I feel useless. Worse, the kids have gotten by just fine without me. No one’s been late to school, and either Jane, Brian, or Juliana has gotten everyone to all their activities. Ricky supervises the kitchen and meals. While I just sit here like a big lump.”

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