Page 55 of Crosshairs

I looked up from my iPad to see Juliana standing next to me. “Of course. You can always talk to me.” She slid onto the seat beside me. Her eyes looked a little bloodshot. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

“Did you and Rob have a fight?”

“Why do you ask that?”

“I was texting with him, and his last message said he couldn’t talk to me for now until you and him got something straight.” She wiped her eyes with her finger. “Was it a fight about me?”

“No, sweetheart, it has nothing to do with you. But it could be a pretty big deal. Maybe try not to have any contact with Rob until we resolve it.”

“Can you tell me what it’s about?”

“I wish I could. But it has to do with work, and I’m not allowed to discuss it.” That may have been the truth, but the look on my daughter’s face made me feel like shit for saying it.

I didn’t like how threads of this case were getting entwined in every part of my life. Maybe I’d get some clarity tomorrow. I try to keep my work and home lives separate. This whole situation with Trilling blurred that line.

I couldn’t focus with the kids that night and slept in fits. All I kept thinking about was whether Rob Trilling could be the Longshot Killer.

CHAPTER 67

ROB TRILLING DIDN’T exactly wake up. He just sort of transitioned from lying in his bed, unable to fall asleep, to standing up and moving around. Even if he didn’t have sleep issues, he wouldn’t be able to get any rest now anyway. His whole world felt like it was crashing in around him.

He had no idea how seriously the NYPD was looking at him. His ex-partner, Michael Bennett, was probably working the case right now.

Trilling needed some friendly human contact. Some lively conversation. He wasn’t going to find that in his apartment. At least not with his current roommates.

He got dressed quickly and slipped out the door. The cool early morning air invigorated him. The feeling wore off before he reached the sidewalk. Without even thinking about it, Trillinghopped on the subway. He was hoping to catch Darcy Farnan at the VA off-site counseling center in Midtown.

There were only five people on his train as it rolled toward 42nd Street. Sitting by himself in the back of a subway car wasn’t any way to get his mind off his troubles.

Two men stepped onto the train at the next stop. They were both in their mid-twenties, trying to look cool. Light shirts in the cool weather to show they were tough. Maybe it would be okay on the subway, but the wind in the city would cut right through them. Trilling went back to feeling sorry for himself.

A few minutes into the ride, raised voices caught Trilling’s attention. When he looked up from the rear of the car, he saw the two men without jackets were standing over a pudgy guy who’d been typing on his phone.

One of the men looked down and said, “Nice phone you got there.”

The other man said, “Give it here. I wanna take a closer look at it.”

The seated man was older, maybe forty, with wire-rimmed glasses and a heavy parka like he was in Wisconsin.

This was the shit that drove Trilling crazy. That bullies like this would just take things away from people because there was no one to stop them. A bullet in the head might stop them. Maybe a good thrashing on the subway would too.

Trilling sat up straight and watched the confrontation for a moment more. The man meekly handed his phone to one of the bullies. The bullies just turned and went back to their seats with it, satisfied with their effort.

Trilling stood up and held the overhead rail. He tested its strength to see if he could pull himself up and kick if he had to.He realized it was a little theatrical and decided that his heart wasn’t in the effort anyway.

He watched silently as the bullies got off at the next stop with the man’s phone.

Three stops later, Trilling left the subway car. He didn’t even give a look of concern to the man whose phone had been taken. Instead, as soon as he came up onto the street level, Trilling called Darcy Farnan at the VA. But he got no answer.

Trilling wasn’t sure what he’d say to her anyway. That all he was trying to do was help the people of New York? That his meds and lack of sleep had caused too many problems for him, and he needed more serious therapy?

Maybe it was just as well Darcy didn’t answer.

CHAPTER 68

I’D ALREADY BEEN to the office and was out running down leads when my cell phone rang. I was surprised to see that the caller was Lois Frang. I debated picking it up. I really had nothing I wanted to tell her about. But I also knew that she’d met Harry Grissom for breakfast once already this week. If I didn’t answer, she might call Harry. I decided to make it a quick conversation.

“Hello, Lois. What can I do for you on this beautiful morning?”

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