Page 63 of Crosshairs

Then Roberta told me to hang on while she set down the phone. I could hear her on her office phone calling someone to confirm what she’d found on the computer. I had to smile when I heard her tone. Whoever she was talking to must’ve asked why she was interested. Roberta said, “I’m interested in everything the FBI does. It’s my job. I’m not sure what you don’t understand about that.” There was a pause and then she said, “Thank you for your assistance.”

Hearing Roberta Herring dress down someone like that, especially someone in the FBI, made me smile. She’d been a great partner when we worked together in the Bronx. She couldn’t stand to see hungry stray dogs, so she always kept dog food in the patrol car. She’d take the dogs back to the precinct and hold themin a back room until she could find someone to adopt them. It worked well until a lieutenant looking for something stumbled upon the makeshift kennel. He would’ve let things slide, except he’d stepped in a big puddle of dog urine. After that, Roberta kept the dogs she found at a Department of Water facility at the edge of our precinct. One way or another, she always gets what she wants.

She came back on the line, apologized for the wait, and said, “Therewasan official investigation by the FBI into Gus Querva’s activities. The New York office had a RICO investigation that included drug distribution, extortion, and murder. The case went on for almost a year until someone blabbed and two key witnesses were murdered. That incident, coupled with the high-profile charity work Querva had been doing, led the US Attorney to decide not to proceed with the case partly for public perception.”

“Could Trilling have been able to see those reports?”

“The case was restricted while it was active, but it was closed about two months ago. He would’ve been able to see the reports. The FBI is weird because they protect the reports like gold but, like in any other agency, everyone talks. Someone must’ve let something slip. Looks like your boy Trilling cleaned up their mess.”

“Roberta, don’t make it sound like he’s doing a public service.”

“You telling me you don’t get a little discouraged with the way the courts just spit people out? That’s why every cop loved that old Charles Bronson movie seriesDeath Wish. Charles Bronson got to do what we dream about doing: killing some of these thugs who prey on people.”

“Except this isn’t a movie and Rob Trilling isn’t Charles Bronson. I’m worried about him as much as anything else. Now I havea definitive link between the four victims. Each had been in the FBI system. Maybe that was enough to throw Trilling over the edge.”

Roberta said, “Keep me in the loop, and call me if you need any more help. I’m not sure the ASAC in New York, Robert Lincoln, would appreciate you poking around.”

“I guarantee you Lincoln wouldn’t appreciate me doing anything.”

CHAPTER 78

ROB TRILLING HAD spent the day leaning against a light pole in front of the little dive bar where Lou Pershing was supposed to hang out. The one fugitive he wanted to catch was still out of reach. Hell, Trilling wasn’t technically allowed to evenlookfor Pershing right now. But he couldn’t concentrate on other things knowing this asshole walked free. Technicalities wouldn’t stop him from keeping the city safe. It’s how he lived with himself.

In reality, Trilling was doing everything he could not to think about his own problems. The alternative to looking for a dangerous fugitive was to lie around his apartment and feel sorry for himself. That wasn’t in his nature.

Trilling credited his grandfather with a lot of his attitude. Chet used to tell Trilling and his brother that no matter how low they felt physically, they could always still accomplish something.So on the few occasions when Trilling was sick and had to stay home from school, his grandfather would make up simple assignments to occupy his mind. Rob would read the entire newspaper, every story, then answer his grandfather’s questions. It didn’t sound like much, but Trilling knew it helped build his memory and reading skills.

Every time he stopped thinking about Lou Pershing, even for a moment, a feeling of dread washed over him. Trilling felt like his career was already ruined. What would happen if they charged him with murder?

A couple of times he’d even considered the possibility of fleeing. He had options. He could work overseas as a mercenary. Not his first choice. He could go back to Montana and get lost in the wilderness. The idea of not seeing his family again depressed him. So here he was, doing the best he could.

Just then his phone rang. Trilling looked down and saw that it was Darcy Farnan from the VA. He answered it quickly.

Darcy said, “Rob, I saw you called yesterday. Is everything okay?”

“No. Not by a long shot.”

“I’m on my lunch hour now, and it’s the only free time I have all day. Are you anywhere near Midtown?”

Trilling glanced up at the dive bar’s doors, making his decision instantly. “Yes, I’m in Midtown now.”

Darcy hesitated, then said, “Rob, there’s something I need to tell you.”

Trilling didn’t like how she’d said that. A quick flash of nerves ran through him. He said, “Why don’t you wait till we see each other in person.”

“That’s probably for the best.”

Trilling asked, “Where would you like to meet?” Then he glanced up and froze in place.

He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. Lou Pershing, in the flesh, walking out of the bar. How had Trilling not noticed him go in?

Darcy was still talking when Trilling ended the call and stuffed his phone into his front pocket. He fell in behind Pershing, who didn’t seem to have a care in the world.

Trilling hoped to change that very soon.

CHAPTER 79

I’D HOPED TO get a little more unofficial background on Rob Trilling’s NYPD career so had put in a call to Yvette Morris, a respected patrol officer who’d worked with him in the Bronx. When I got a call back, she told me that she was in training at One Police Plaza today, so I agreed to meet her for coffee in lower Manhattan.

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