Page 16 of Crosshairs

The door to the Marine’s apartment opened, and I was surprised to see Trilling chatting amiably with Anton. The man who’d wanted to be left alone now laughed at something Trilling said, then slapped him on the back like they were old friends.

Trilling and the Marine shook hands and Anton shot me one last suspicious look before he shut the door.

We took the stairs back to the ground floor. Trilling said, “He’s not our man. He had a plane ticket showing he was out of town during the Staten Island shooting, and he was at a group therapy session the night before yesterday, when Glossner was shot in Manhattan. I’ll follow up with his therapist to get the details, but I could tell this guy hasn’t shot anyone in New York.”

I asked, “What did you write on your business card that convinced him to open the door?”

“Just my Ranger background and the date I deployed. I also wrote down that I understood. That’s what most people want to know: can you step into their shoes and understand their circumstances.”

If Trilling knew that, he’d already discovered one of the most important lessons of being a good cop: understanding where people are coming from and having some compassion.

Maybe I’d been a little harsh in my initial judgment of the former Army Ranger.

CHAPTER 20

I DROVE TRILLING back to the Three-Three to pick up his car. When I pulled into the lot, I was greeted by a couple of cops I’d met over the years, as well as a few of the precinct’s administrative people who knew me from past assignments.

Trilling sat silently as I shook hands and gave hugs to the people walking past the car. It was a little like dealing with a surly kid. He clearly didn’t care about meeting anyone new. I tried to make introductions a couple of times but then sort of gave up when he barely acknowledged the other person.

I considered calling him out on the rude behavior. Something told me that a guy with Trilling’s good manners would take being called “rude” to heart, though, so I decided to keep my mouth shut instead. I felt like we had made some progress today with our interpersonal relationship. I had to weigh the risk-to-reward ratio of calling him out on something as petty as not being friendly enough.

Once we were alone, standing between my car and his, I said, “I was very impressed with how you handled the Marine. I’m glad you’re on the case and I hope you feel the same way.”

As usual, I had to wait for some kind of response. Unlike what I’ve seen before with a lot of young cops, Trilling didn’t spend any time getting puffed up with the praise and bragging about how he handled the situation. Trilling just smiled, nodded his head, and mumbled, “Thanks.”

I was starting to appreciate my new partner, quirks and all.

I glanced over at the Ford Taurus he was driving. “Is that an NYPD car?”

Trilling shook his head. “The Bureau said I could keep it from the task force since I was only working here temporarily. I haven’t been assigned a car by the NYPD.”

That made sense. Officially, Trilling was still a patrol officer. Based on what I’d observed so far, though, it was clear to me he’d make detective pretty quickly. That was another one of the reasons I wanted him to start meeting people at different precincts. Contacts are what separate good detectives from great detectives. Knowing where to go to get information or who to ask for help. That is stuff absolutely no one can learn in the Police Academy.

I checked my phone for the time and discovered that it was earlier than I’d thought. I gazed out over the parking lot and surrounding streets. Traffic still wasn’t too bad. “We got another couple of interviews we might be able to knock out quickly.”

Trilling turned from his car and said, “Sorry, I have an appointment.” That was all he said before he climbed into his Ford Taurus and pulled out of the lot.

I was still standing there, just staring at the rear of his car as it disappeared down the street. It wasn’t often you saw a juniorofficer blow off a senior detective with a line like that. Especially twice in two days.

I couldn’t make too big of a deal about it. Therewerea couple of interviews to knock out, but I was also supposed to meet Mary Catherine in two hours at the fertility clinic. I’d planned to give Trilling a present by cutting him loose a little early. Apparently it wasn’t early enough.

I decided to swing by my apartment and act as chauffeur to my wife.

CHAPTER 21

THE APPOINTMENT AT the fertility clinic was uneventful. I listened, but beyond that they were still monitoring all aspects of Mary Catherine’s treatments, I didn’t really understand everything that was going on. The important thing was that Mary Catherine did. She had already scolded me for asking too many questions and making our appointments go longer. That’s why I held my questions until after we were free of the confines of the upscale clinic in Midtown Manhattan.

After the appointment, Mary Catherine and I decided to sneak in a quick, private dinner since my grandfather, Seamus, was looking after the younger kids tonight. The Bennett clan is definitely an Upper West Side kind of family. Between our apartment, Holy Name School, and all of the kids’ extracurricular activities, it felt like we were rarely east of Columbus Avenue.

Tonight we ventured a few blocks north of 72nd on SecondAvenue on the Upper East Side to a place called Up Thai. I liked the ambience of the narrow little restaurant. It looked more like a popular bar than anything else. I saw several plates of appetizers strung out among the young couples and professionals crammed in at the bar. Mary Catherine and I were in a corner at a tiny table just for two. It was a nice change from needing a giant table just for thirteen.

I said, “Is this what quiet feels like?”

She giggled, then said, “Is this what conversation is like?”

I smiled. It did feel like we spent a lot of time at home either giving orders or shouting for someone’s attention.

Mary Catherine said, “What should we do about Fiona’s struggles with algebra? Maybe a tutor?”

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