Mary Catherine broke the tension by asking Allan how he liked going to Holy Name.
Allan smiled and said, “My mother thought about sending me to Regis for the superior academics, but my dad wanted me to have a real-world experience. He says attending Holy Name helped him mix with all kinds of people as he was building his career.”
I mumbled, “You don’t get much better at ‘all kinds of people’ than this family.”
Seamus laughed at that.
Then Brian focused his laser-beam eyes on the young man. “Who do you hang out with at Holy Name?”
Allan hesitated, as if he wasn’t sure he was supposed to answer questions from the gallery. He threw out a few names, then shrugged and added, “I also hang out with John Chad and Tim and Terry Jones.”
Brian didn’t hesitate to say, “The Jones brothers are bad news. I’d recommend you stay away from them, especially if you’re going out with Jane.”
Jane gave her brother a look. “Chill out, Brian. Those boys are in all of our classes,” she explained.
Mary Catherine was about to follow up, but I placed a subtle hand on her leg under the table. I wanted to see where this was going. I also, selfishly, wondered if Brian would ask questions I might shy away from.
Trent, my youngest son, said, “You’re on the basketball team at Holy Name, right?”
“Yes, I’m a guard on the varsity team.”
“That’s not saying a whole lot. I was the captain of a basketball team once. It didn’t mean I could play,” Brian retorted.
As Jane’s sisters Bridget and Fiona erupted in nervous laughter, I realized Brian was talking about the team he played on in prison. I looked over at my grandfather, who was eating quietly but keeping an eye on Brian. The two of them had always had a special connection. I wondered why he was staying so silent.
Brian said, “I heard you play lacrosse too. Holy Name’s got a pretty good lacrosse team. How do you think they’ll do in the city tournament?”
Allan brightened at the question. “I think we’ll take home the trophy this year.”
“What makes you so sure?” I asked.
He smiled and said, “Because I’m captain of the team.”
Brian subtly rolled his eyes, but I liked Allan’s confidence.
Mary Catherine started to engage the young man in a much friendlier and warmer tone. “Have you given any thought to where you might go to college?”
“My parents are insisting on an Ivy League school.”
Mary Catherine beamed and said, “You could even stay in the New York area. Columbia is a great school. Even Cornell is at least in the state.”
Allan winced and said, “My dad calls Cornell the community college of the Ivy League. He’s been pushing me toward Harvard, but I’m worried they’re a little stale. From what I know of the place, they’re mired in too much tradition. It’s a new century, and I want to be on the cutting edge.”
I revised my opinion—Allan wasn’t confident; he was a cocky little shit. I silently began to hope that Jane would quickly get tired of this entitled ass.
But the way she was looking at him didn’t give me much hope.
Chapter 8
It was late in the evening and I thought everyone was asleep in my little hostel on the Upper West Side. Lying in bed, I used a penlight to read reports from a dozen different detectives about persons of interest who’d been interviewed regarding the recent homicides. I reread a couple of Brett Hollis’s reports. One of them had a few speckles of blood on it. Like tears on a sad letter. I didn’t know if this made him a tough guy or a biohazard.
I needed some sleep. All the sentences were starting to run together, and it was becoming difficult for me to pick out the useful information in the interviews.
Detectives Terri Hernandez from the Bronx and Javier Tunez from Brooklyn were both leads on homicides similar to my Chloe Tumber case. I knew I could rely on the accuracy of their reports. They were both too sharp to make careless mistakes.
I was startled when Mary Catherine turned in bed and squinted at my weak light.
“I’m sorry. Am I keeping you awake?”
“Are you kidding? I have so many thoughts swirling in my head I’m surprised I even lay down.”
“Need more help with the wedding planning?”
“Nah, I’ve got a handle on the wedding plans. Seamus has been great. He has a good sense of what’s important, and he’s really come through on a couple of details at the church I needed him to handle. It’s like having me mam’s help, without all the criticism.”
“Don’t worry, the criticism will come. Just give it time.”
We both giggled. I waited a moment, then said, “Are you getting cold feet? I’d understand. I wouldn’t like it, but I get it.”
“It’s nothing to do with that. Though it is just a bit…overwhelming to think I’ll be stepmother to ten children. I love them all to pieces, but it’s loads of responsibility, isn’t it?”
I marveled at my incredible luck. I had found not only a beautiful woman but one who loved me and my kids too.
“I worry about them all,” Mary Catherine continued. “I already told you my concerns about Brian, and now I’m a little bothered by Jane’s new boyfriend. Does it ever end?”
“Not really, no,” I told her truthfully.
Mary Catherine gave me a smile, which reassured me. Then she kissed me and I felt even better. She brushed the papers off my stomach and took the penlight out of my hand. Her soft lips caressed my neck and she nibbled at my ear.
Then Mary Catherine wrapped her delicate hands around my face and pulled me toward her as she stretched out on the bed.
I mumbled, “What’s going on?”
“Really? The city’s best detective can’t figure it out? I worry for the fate of our citizens.”
The more she kissed me, the less I worried about anything else. It was exactly what I needed.
Chapter 9
I was on edge the next afternoon as I stepped through the front door of One Police Plaza. My lieutenant, NYPD veteran Harry Grissom, and I had been called in for a meeting, and I’d brought Brett Hollis along as comic relief. The swath of white bandages across his face would distract anyone. To his credit, Hollis had not complained once about breaking his own nose while chasing Van Fleet through Harlem.
The conference rooms in this public face of headquarters, where the NYPD often hosted other agencies, journalists, or politicians, tended to be more plush and technologically up-to-date than the cheap furniture and threadbare carpet in the precincts. These rooms looked like government offices are supposed to.
As soon as we stepped into the second-floor conference room, which overlooked the parking area for the highest-ranking NYPD administrators, I froze. I turned to Harry and said in a very low voice, “I didn’t know the FBI would be here.”
“Neither did I,” he said, stroking his long gunslinger mustache.
In the room were four FBI agents, all of whom seemed to be in a staring contest with us lowly NYPD detectives.
That was the real problem: law-enforcement agencies working together. Even though the national rate of unsolved murders was just under 60 percent, no one really thought the solution was to trust people from other agencies. Not only because they were worried other agencies might steal their cases but, even worse, other agencies might screw up any cases they were brought in on. It was petty and stupid, and I was as guilty as anyone.