“And just like that,” Annie said, “Jeremy pulls out a second gun that he had tucked in the back of his pants.”
“It was an ankle holster. He drilled Raymond right between the eyes. He turned on me, and I head-butted him just as he pulled the trigger. He went down hard, and I ran for my life.”
“The cops will be looking for you. Sooner or later, they’re going to be knocking on my door. You can’t stay here.”
“Ma, I’ve got no place else to go.”
“I’m cat-sitting for the couple next door while they’re on a cruise. You can stay there for the next ten days.”
She taped down the ends of the ACE bandage. Then she picked up his shirt and helped him into it. “You can put your pants on by yourself,” she said.
Teddy stepped into his jeans, buttoned the fly, and cinched the belt. “Hey, Ma,” he said, digging his hand into his pocket. “I brought you a present.”
He pulled out the diamond and emerald necklace and handed it to her.
“Oh my God,” she said. “Teddy, it’s... it’s exquisite. I thought Jeremy took this.”
“He did, but when I knocked him down, he hit his head. He was kind of groggy, so I figured I’d grab the necklace while I could, and maybe one day you and me could find a buyer on our own.”
Annie Ryder stood there, watching the light refract off the eight million dollars’ worth of stolen jewelry in the palm of her hand. At first she was dumbfounded, unable to speak. And then she found the words that always brought joy to the face of her slow-witted but good-natured son.
“Smart thinking, kiddo.”
Chapter 26
I opened the door to my apartment. It was pitch-black. I’m from the school of “I’ll leave a light on in the window for you,” so this was not a good sign. I tapped the switch on the wall and breathed a sigh of relief. Cheryl’s purse, keys, and department ID were sitting on the hall table.
I made my way to the dining room, flipped on a light, and there it sat: the romantic dinner for two was exactly where it was when I walked out. Still on the table, untouched, and, by now, incredibly unromantic.
I didn’t have to wonder how Cheryl felt. Nothing says “You’re not getting laid tonight” like cold clotted lasagna and rock-hard garlic bread.
But in case I had any doubts, the bedroom door was shut, and my blanket and pillow had been dumped on the sofa.
I carried the perfect dinner out to the incinerator room, cleaned the kitchen, then tossed and turned on the sofa until five forty-five. The bedroom door was still shut, and I knew I’d be smarter to leave and shower at the precinct.
But first I stopped at the diner to talk to my therapist.
“The doctor is in,” Gerri said, bringing me coffee and a bagel, then sliding into the booth across from me. “What the hell did you do wrong now?”
“That’s the thing,” I said. “I’m not sure I did anything wrong.”
I filled her in on the details of last night. She didn’t say a word till I was finished.
“Let me start with a question,” she said. “Do you really want this relationship with Cheryl to work out?”
I didn’t hesitate. “Of course.”
“Then why would you leave her and go up to Harlem to be with Kylie?”
“Wait a minute — I didn’t leave her to be with Kylie. Kylie needed help. That’s the nature of who I am. When there’s a damsel in distress, I—”
Gerri erupted. “Damsel in distress? Kylie? News flash, Zach: Kylie MacDonald is a pistol-packing, ass-kicking, ball-busting hellcat. The day she’s a damsel in distress is the day I’ll be on the cover of the Sports Illustrated swimsuit issue.”
“Okay, okay, you’re right. Damsel in distress was a poor choice of terms.”
“More like a profoundly stupid choice of terms.”
“What I should have said was, Kylie is a loose cannon. She went up to Harlem — on her own, without backup — an off-duty cop on a harebrained mission to find her husband’s drug dealer and then strong-arm him into telling her how to find Spence.”
“So to sum it all up, you made a choice. You chose Kylie over Cheryl.”
“You’re oversimplifying.”
“Then let me undersimplify. Let’s say I have magic powers, and with one wave of my hand, I can guarantee you a happy life with the woman of your choice. Who’s it going to be?”
“Cheryl.”
“You know that for sure?”
“Yes.”
“Does she know that for sure?”
“Cheryl knows that I love her, and hopefully she understands why I bailed on dinner last night.”
“Zach, I’m not sure you understand why you did what you did last night.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing.” She stood up. “I’m a short-order cook, not a shrink. I’m sorry I said that.”
“Well, it’s too late to unsay it. What do you mean, I don’t understand what I did last night?”
She sat down. “When my daughter Rachel was nineteen, she had an affair with a married man who was thirty-six. A year later, he got divorced, and a few months after that, he asked Rachel to marry him. I told her I was against it.”
“Because of their age difference?” I said.
“No. Because the guy cheated on his wife. I said to Rachel, ‘If he’ll do it with you, he’ll do it to you.’ She married him anyway. Five years later, she caught him in bed with another woman. She was devastated. She left him and moved back home with me. I felt terrible for her, but deep down inside, a little piece of me felt vindicated... justified. I told her that he was no good for her, and I was right. So here’s my final question of the day, Zach. Did you go up to Harlem to protect Kylie from getting in trouble, or did you go to help her pick up the pieces of a marriage you’ve been hoping would crash and burn?”
I didn’t answer because I didn’t know the answer.
Gerri stood up again. “Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, but I think I may need a second opinion.”
“Good idea,” she said. “Try the Metro Diner on Broadway. Even if you’re not impressed with the therapy, you’ll love the mac and cheese.”
Chapter 27
I walked around the corner to the One Nine and headed straight for the locker room. I looked like a man who hadn’t spent the night in his own bed, and the last thing I needed was for Kylie to see me and badger me for an explanation.
I showered, shaved, put on clean clothes, and walked into the office looking as fresh as a gangbanger wearing a brand-new suit to his court date.
“I’ve been trying to call you for the last fifteen minutes,” Kylie said, not remotely interested in my appearance. “Let’s go.”
“Let’s pretend we’re equal partners, and I get a vote,” I said as I chased her down the stairs. “Where are we running off to?”
“Murray Hill Medical Center. They got hit last night.”
“What’d they steal this time? Bedpans? Kylie, we’ve got a double homicide on our hands. Why don’t we send Betancourt and Torres to take statements so we can focus on the Travers case?”
“Because our new best friend, Howard Sykes, called to inform us that an already delicate situation just became even more delicate. He’s at Murray Hill now waiting for his two star cops to show up and handle the situation with the utmost diplomacy.”
I followed her outside. “I don’t get it. We’ve been keeping this case under wraps since we started. What got stolen that makes it even more delicate?”
“It’s not what got stolen. It’s who witnessed the crime.”