She's Not Coming Home (17 page)

Chapter Thirty-Four

‘
Hey, slow down
a minute.’

Squinting in the late afternoon sun, Lieutenant Weber looked down the alleyway they were passing.

‘No, stop here.’

Mancini pulled up and applied the brake. ‘What is it?’

‘There’s someone down there,’ he said. ‘Behind the trash. Wearing a hood.’

They both got out of the car and walked to the alley entrance. An elderly woman with a supermarket cart filled with newspapers hurried on by, giving them a curious look. Silently, Weber cocked his head in the direction of the alley and they both slowly walked down. Both had a hand on their weapon.

The alley was about fifty yards long. At the end was a chain link fence, around ten to twelve feet high. On the other side there was a small parking lot. On both sides were the rear entrances for the buildings either side, business properties on the left and a night club on the right. Weber reflected how out of place premises like this look in the daytime, the neon signs which would be colourfully lighting up the street in a few hours looked dull and derelict. Like Christmas decorations in a sunny daytime. Outside each door was a dumpster, maybe two, some overflowing with plastic garbage bags.

They heard a sound from behind a large blue dumpster at the end of the alley. The two police officers looked at each other, silently nodded, and pulled out their weapons. They were about to cry out to identify themselves when a figure shot out from behind the dumpster, knocking Mancini to the ground.

‘Police, stop!’ Weber called out as the figure ran towards the open street. Mancini stood up.

‘Stop, or I shoot!’ he called out again. The figure stopped and turned round, both arms raised. Still covering him, Weber and Mancini caught up. Weber pulled the hood down. The figure was a white male, early twenties, around six feet, shoulder length red hair, and wearing grubby sneakers, jeans and a red sweatshirt.

‘Okay, assume the position.’ Roughly, Mancini took his arm and swung him round and leaned him against the wall. Weber watched while she patted him down. ‘He’s clean,’ she called out.

‘Right,’ she said, swinging him round to face her. ‘We’ll get round to assaulting a police officer later. For now, you want to tell me what’s going on?’

‘Uh?’ the man grunted.

Weber walked over and put his face six inches away from the young man’s face.

‘She’s asking what you were doing here, and why you -’

‘Sam, there’s another,’ Mancini called. They both swung round as a second figure, smaller this time started climbing the fencing.

‘I’ll get him,’ Weber said.

Mancini looked down at Weber’s stomach. ‘You gotta be kidding,’ she called out, already running off.

Weber took a set of handcuffs off his belt and secured the young man, watching Mancini.

‘Police, stop!’ Mancini called out as the figure got further up the fence. She put her revolver back in its holster and began to climb the fence. The figure had almost reached the top when Mancini grabbed its leg, and started to pull down. The leg kicked about a few times, then the figure stopped climbing.

‘Down, now,’ Mancini said, tugging at the leg. The figure began to slowly climb down. ‘Take the hood off,’ Mancini ordered when they were both on the ground.

The figure did so. She was a girl, maybe late teens. Pale skin, black hair in an untidy cut, lipstick the same colour. She had a ring through her left nostril, and was chewing. Her sweatshirt was a dark grey and had a logo which Mancini didn’t recognise on the right breast.

‘Assume the position,’ Mancini repeated, and checked the girl. Weber had already brought the young man over.

‘So,’ Weber said to the young man. ‘I’ll ask you again: what are you two doing back here? Making out or something?’

‘Yeah, that’s right,’ the young man smirked. ‘We were making out.’

While Mancini cuffed the girl, Weber looked around the side of the dumpster they were behind. There were a couple of opened soda cans, a cigarette end and a sweater. Weber picked the sweater up. It looked almost new.

‘That’s mine,’ the young man said.

‘Sure,’ said Weber and continued to look around, poking around with his foot. He looked up at the dumpster. It was nearly full, mainly of black trash bags. On the top, however, wedged in the side of the dumpster was a smaller plastic bag, which probably originated from a store. ‘What’s this?’ he said.

Mancini watched the couple’s faces during Weber’s search: they showed no reaction.

Weber pulled out the bag and looked inside. ‘Jesus,’ he said, slightly recoiling.

‘What is it?’ Mancini asked. Weber passed her the bag.

Mancini recoiled as well as she looked in the bag and saw the contents: a half eaten burger and a used condom. The ketchup from the burger had spread inside the bag and gotten mixed with the semen on the condom. ‘Ugh,’ she said, closing the bag and passing it back. ‘That’s gross.’

‘Yours?’ Weber asked, holding it out to the young man. He shrugged and looked away.

Weber tossed the bag back onto the dumpster and continued to ferret about. There were two small upside down wooden crates up against the wall, presumably where they had been sitting. As Weber’s foot touched one of the crates, Mancini noticed a flicker of reaction in the girl’s face.

‘Sam, check the crates.’

Weber squatted and moved the boxes.

‘Well, looky here,’ he said as he lifted the box up. The young man and woman looked over at each other. Under the crate was a small black backpack. Weber lifted the other box: there was nothing underneath that one. ‘What have we here?’ he asked, undoing the bag. He looked inside: there were three men’s wallets, two women’s purses and two wrist watches. Weber held the open backpack out so Mancini could see inside.

‘I suppose this isn’t yours?’ he asked, holding the backpack out.

The man sniffed. ‘Never seen it before.’

The girl said nothing, just looked at the man.

‘So your fingerprints won’t be on them?’ Mancini asked, her question directed more at the girl.

‘We didn’t take them,’ the girl blurted out.

‘Oh,’ said Weber. ‘Who did, then?’

No response.

‘I’ll ask you one more time,’ Weber said as he again put his face up against the young man’s. ‘Where did they come from?’

Still no answer.

‘That’s such a pity,’ Weber said, brushing the dust off the young man’s sweatshirt. ‘Because you see – if you don’t tell us where they came from we’ll have to assume you took them. And you’ll spend more time away for robbery than for just receipt of stolen goods.  So when your girlfriend here,’ – he looked over at the girl, who was staring down at the ground – ‘is released, she’ll be well into middle age.’

‘You can’t prove nothing,’ the young man said petulantly.

‘Well into middle age,’ Weber repeated looking at the girl.

‘It was Jay. We -’

‘Shut up, you stupid skank. They can’t prove nothing!’

‘You shut up,’ the girl said. ‘I’m not going down just because you’re too -’

‘She’s full of shit. She doesn’t know anything.’

‘We’re getting nowhere here,’ Weber sighed. ‘Let’s take these two cupcakes back and talk to them there.’

Mancini took the girl by the arm and started to lead her back to the car. Weber did the same with the man.

‘So who’s Jay, then?’ Mancini asked as they walked back.

‘Don’t say anything,’ the man called out.

‘Quiet.’ Weber held tighter into his arm as they walked back to the street.

‘Jay – I don’t know his other name. We got the stuff from him. To sell. We have to give him most of what we get for them.’

‘So this Jay steals the stuff?’ asked Mancini as Weber bundled the man into the back of the car. ‘Where can we find him?’

‘He’s probably at the Galleria at CambridgeSide,’ she said, her eyes darting back to where the man was sitting.

‘What do you think?’ Mancini asked Weber. ‘This guy Jay could be…’

‘I know. Let’s get down there. We can call for a blue and white to meet us down there. She can identify this guy, then we can get them all booked.’

Mancini pulled into traffic and hit the siren. Weber fastened the red light to the roof as they sped over to the CambridgeSide mall.

Chapter Thirty-Five

Weber and Mancini
pulled up outside the Galleria twenty minutes later. A patrol car was already outside the main entrance on CambridgeSide Place and Mancini pulled up alongside it. Two uniformed officers got out.

‘Keep an eye on this one,’ Weber said. ‘We’re taking her inside to see if she can spot their accomplice.’

As they stood in the doorway, Weber unlocked the girl’s handcuffs. ‘Don’t get any ideas,’ he said. ‘If you try anything, we’ll catch you, you know that.’

Still chewing, the girl nodded. The three of them stood in the doorway, looking around.

‘Well?’ Weber asked. ‘Where’s he likely to be?’

‘Most likely at one of the department stores.’

‘Wandering around?’ asked Mancini.

‘Maybe. Or maybe sitting around outside. Waiting for the most likely person.’

‘You mean someone who looks vulnerable. A little old lady loaded with shopping?’ said Weber angrily. ‘Son of a bitch.’

‘Do you have his cell phone number?’ Mancini asked. ‘Call him, see where he is.’

‘Don’t have his number. He just calls Robby when he has stuff to sell.’ She inclined her head back to the car outside.

‘Okay.’ Mancini looked around. ‘What’s your name, by the way?’

‘Abby,’ Abby grunted.

‘Robby and Abby,’ Weber muttered. ‘Not exactly Bonnie and Clyde, are you?’

Mancini picked up a guide from the nearby stand. ‘There’s a Best Buy up on Level 2. And a Sears and a Macy’s on 2 and 3.’

‘Let’s go up to Level 2 first,’ said Weber. ‘And don’t forget, Abby: no tricks. It would help you considerably with the DA if you identify him.’ He took Abby’s arm and they led her up the escalator to Level 2.

When they reached the second level, Weber and Mancini looked around. Still holding her arm, Weber turned her around to get a 360 degree view. Macy’s was on the right as they stood at the top of the escalator. A store called Love Culture was behind them, and on their right a one hour photo shop sandwiched between Victoria’s Secret and Ann Taylor’s.  Ahead of them, along the mall, were seats, not heavily used. Mainly fathers with strollers waiting for their wives.

‘Look around, Abby,’ said Mancini. ‘Any sign of him?’

Abby looked and shook her head.

‘Should we go into Macy’s first?’ Mancini asked Weber.

Weber looked around and shook his head. ‘No, I think we might be better off outside here. If he catches sight of her with us, he’s going to run. And we could easily lose him inside there.’

‘What about getting her boyfriend to go round with you, and I’ll take her?’ asked Mancini.

‘Could do,’ he nodded.

‘He might be eating,’ Abby muttered.

Mancini looked at Weber and nodded. ‘Could be right. Late afternoon.’

‘Right. Is there a food hall here?’

Mancini consulted her guide. ‘Downstairs. At the back.’

‘Shit. Okay, let’s take her back downstairs.’

They stepped over to the down escalator and led her back down to Level 1. Then made a 180.

‘There. It’s down there,’ Mancini said.

As cautiously as before they slowly led Abby down to the food court. There were the usual establishments there: Burger King, Dunkin Donuts, Master Wok, Taco Bell, and various other eateries.

‘What does he look like?’ Weber asked, looking around.

‘Similar to Robby. He’s his brother.’

‘Jesus Christ,’ Weber said through gritted teeth. ‘Talk about keeping it in the family.’

‘Abby, focus.’ Mancini squeezed her arm. ‘Is he here? You owe him no favours, remember.’

Abby looked around. ‘No; can’t see him.’

Weber shook his head. He reached out to Abby’s arm to guide her out of the food court when he caught a flash of recognition on her face. He spun round and saw a young man, very similar to Robby coming out of the Sarku Japan Sushi Bar. It looked as if he was carrying a kind of wrap. He immediately recognised Abby, and it registered on his face whom she was with. He flung the wrap on the floor, scattering fish, vegetables and rice on the floor, and ran across the court towards a fire exit door. Mancini held onto Abby while Weber gave chase.

‘Stop, police!’ he called out, unable to draw his service revolver due to the people eating. Jay ignored this and ran to the fire exit. He pulled at the bar and opened the door. Weber followed him out the door and along a short white washed brick corridor which led to a door to outside.  Away from the food court, he drew his weapon. At the sound of the gun being cocked, Jay stopped and turned round. He had the same expression on his face as his brother had earlier.

‘Right. Against the wall,’ Weber ordered. He reached out for Jay’s arm and just as he was about to manoeuvre him to face the wall, Jay swung round and kicked Weber hard in the groin. Weber dropped the gun and with a groan, collapsed on top of it. Jay was about to push the door handle, but had second thoughts. He leapt over Weber’s prone body and ran back towards the food court. However, instead of returning to the mall, he began to climb up the stairs which led, Weber presumed, to the upper levels. At that moment, Mancini burst through the doors.

‘Sam! You okay?’

‘I guess,’ Weber gasped standing up and picking up his gun. ‘The bastard kicked me in the nuts. Where’s the girl?’

‘When he ran in here I called the guys outside. One of them came in and took her out. She’s in the car with her boyfriend. Where did he go?’ She could see the fire exit door was still closed.

‘He’s gone up there,’ Weber said as he started to climb the stairs. ‘God knows why; he can’t get away there.’

‘Yes he can,’ said Mancini. ‘There are parking garages on all three levels. He can get out there.’

‘Shit,’ gasped Weber. ‘Look, I’ll follow him up here. You call for more back up and see if you can get him on the other levels. Use the escalators.’

Mancini was about to argue with her partner, but he was already almost at the first landing. As he reached Level 2, he noticed that one of the row of five doors which led to the mall was not shut properly. He pushed it open and found himself on Level 2, opposite the entrance to Sears. He looked around: the mall was beginning to get busier. It was early evening now, dark outside, and many nine to five workers were beginning to arrive. He stepped forward a few paces, and looked around again. To his left was an H&M store. In the window of the store, he thought he could see Jay loitering around inside, looking out. Weber took a deep breath and ran over. Just as he got to the entrance, the man came out, and greeted an older woman. Weber turned and swore. He walked over to the railing and looked around: along this level, down at ground level, and up at Level 3. Level 3 was where he saw him, nonchalantly walking along the upper level.

There was a stairway further along this balcony. Weber ran over to and up the stairs, three at a time. He had to push past several people who were in no hurry to go up or down. Once up on Level 3, he looked around again. There: over the other side, outside White House Black Market, Jay was walking along. Weber hurried along on his side, almost parallel with Jay, hoping to catch him at the end. Both had almost reached the end when Jay spotted him. With a look of shock on his face, he turned and ran. Breathlessly, Weber called out, ‘Stop! Police!’ but this had no effect. Weber rounded the end of the mall and chased Jay down his side. He could see him at the end, hesitating, not certain which way to go. Still, it was too busy for Weber to draw his weapon.

Jay leapt to his right, and disappeared from view. When Weber had reached that spot, he could see that Jay had run down a corridor leading to the restrooms. A man passed Weber as he made his way slowly down the corridor. There was one door either side half way down: one was marked
Stores
, and the other
Baby Change
. He tried both handles: the store room was locked and the baby change room was empty. At the end of the corridor were the men’s room, and the women’s. Weber hesitated for a second as he decided which to take first.

Training and experience had taught Weber that in a situation like this, the person being chased will invariably take the most conventional option. Despite being chased by the police, and knowing he could face a lengthy jail term, something inside the suspect will always click and he will do what comes most naturally, and head for the men’s room. Not the women’s. Most of the time.

Weber pushed open the door, this time with one hand on his gun.  Inside the men’s room, one man was just finishing at a urinal. He looked round, flushed it, and stepped over to the wash basin. He looked in the mirror and saw Weber’s reflection. He noticed where Weber’s hand was, and quickly dried his hands and left.  He looked around: there were five stalls, three of which were unoccupied with their doors open.  He heard the sound of flushing coming from one of them and an elderly man came out, giving him a surprised look. Weber nodded and went over to the other door. He pushed at it gently and it swung open. Empty!

Weber swore and ran out to the women’s. ‘Sorry, police,’ he said to two women who were leaving. Once inside, he paused for a second as he realised there would be no urinals here: just two rows of stalls beyond the wash basins. Two doors were shut; behind one, he could hear banging and rustling. He walked down to the stalls and looked up. There was a row of windows above the stalls, and Jay was halfway out one of them. Weber kicked open the door and climbed up onto the pedestal. By now, Jay was out of the window. Weber heaved himself up onto the window shelf and looked out. The window led to a flat roof, presumably over one of the stores, and Jay was running across towards a door on the other side. The space was about two feet square, only just enough room for him to squeeze through. He took off his overcoat, flung it on the floor and climbed through. He could hear some female consternation behind, and the sound of his own heavy breathing.

Puffing, and with a pain in his side, he chased Jay across the roof. The younger man was trying the handle of the door, but it was locked. Weber took out his gun and pointed it at Jay. ‘Face down on the deck, you son of a bitch,’ he said breathlessly. Jay had no choice now but to comply. Weber sat on an air conditioning unit covering Jay and breathing heavily.

*****

‘You idiot,’ Mancini yelled at Weber when she reached the roof.  The door which Jay was trying to open was at the top of an emergency stairway to the roof, designed for use by maintenance engineers needing access to the elevator gear and air conditioning. Weber had called her from the roof and ten minutes later she arrived with two uniformed officers to take Jay away with his brother and Abby. ‘Why didn’t you call for back-up?’

Weber shook his head. ‘There wasn’t time. I didn’t want to lose him. Have the others said anything else yet?’

‘Nah. But I’m sure they will when we get them downtown. I spoke to O’Riordan and he’s pretty sure they are the guys we’ve been after.’

‘How can he know that already?’

‘Some of the stuff in that backpack matched items on the stolen goods list. You okay, Sam?’

‘I’m fine,’ said Weber, standing up. ‘Just out of breath, that’s all. Let’s get downstairs.’

‘By the way,’ said Mancini, as they went down the stairs, ‘O’Riordan says you’re an idiot, too. Says a man your age and size shouldn’t be running about like a twenty-something.’

‘I told you: he’s full of shit. Always was, always will be. He might have a point about the size. Must get Mrs W to make me more salads.’

They eventually reached Level 1 and began to make their way to the car. Weber struggled to keep up with Mancini.

She turned round. ‘You sure you’re okay, Sam? You look real -’

Weber staggered a few steps and leaned against their car. He could feel a heavy, crushing, squeezing pain in the middle of his chest. He clutched it with both hands. He could hear Mancini calling to him but her voice was so echoic he was unable to make out what she was saying. He fell to the ground, rolling over.  He could still see Mancini, but she was blurred, and then she was gone.