Polly Iyer - Diana Racine 03 - Backlash (17 page)

D
iana
let Willy Cash into her house shortly after six a.m. He examined the doors and windows, closing all the blinds, checked the outside heating and air units, and searched both inside and out for bugs. When he cleared her house, he sat down at the kitchen table and ate the bacon and eggs Diana prepared. After, he delved into paperwork.

Diana carried on with housework she’d put off all week. Every so often, Cash checked the front of the house and the back. To her delight, Lucier called around ten to inform her that the doctor would release him after lunch. She removed the freshly washed linens from the dryer and made the bed in the guestroom. Then she cut up ingredients for a pot of beef stew and put them on the stove to cook.

“There has to be something I can do, Willy. Some way I can find out who’s committing these murders.”

“If Marty Feldman lives, we wouldn’t need you, but if not …” Cash left the sentence hanging. “You do great with dead bodies.”

Diana’s eyes opened wide, and “Willy!” came out in a high-pitched voice. “Doing great with dead bodies? Aargh! What does that say about me?”

“I didn’t mean anything bad. I mean, you’re great at what you do.” He groaned. “I should probably shut up now.”

Diana would have laughed if the situation weren’t so grave. “Ernie didn’t mention Feldman might die.”

“I sure hope he doesn’t, and not only to get a line on who’s behind this. Cops don’t like shooting people, despite what some think. I know one cop who had terrible PTSD after he killed someone.”

“Oh, dear.” Diana thought a minute. “Maybe if we get something of Feldman’s son, a cap or T-shirt ―”

“And you find out where he is? That’s a great idea, but first his mother has to admit he’s missing.”

Scowling, Diana said, “Why would she hide that?”

“Because they used the kid as a pawn to make Feldman kill the lieutenant, and they might not let him go.”

“Poor woman must be beside herself crazy.”

“She’s foolish, that’s for sure.” When the doorbell rang, Cash said, “I’ll go. You stay put, Florence Nightingale.”

Diana laughed out loud. “That’s me. Gonna nurse my man.”

When Cash called back that Beecher and Lucier were at the door, she hurried to greet them. She stood on tiptoes to kiss Lucier, who lifted her chin to kiss her so he didn’t have to bend down. His pale face concerned her. “How are you?”

He shuffled to the sofa. “Good. I’m good. I’m also hungry, and I want whatever that terrific smell is coming from the kitchen. The food in that hospital is enough to keep people sick and in the hospital.”

“Beef stew will be ready soon. Now come on, sit down on the sofa. Florence will fetch you a cup of coffee and some toast.”

Lucier looked around. “Who’s Florence?”

Cash blushed. “An inside joke. I called her Florence Nightingale.”

Lucier laughed, then winced as he eased himself down into the cushions. “Crouching in the bathroom last night didn’t speed my recovery. Any news of Feldman’s son?”

“His wife insists her kid isn’t missing. She says he’s with his grandparents on vacation.” Beecher scoffed. “You know that’s bullshit. Someone told her if she talked, they’d kill the boy.”

“What I figured,” Cash said.

“Let’s hope Feldman pulls through,” Lucier said. “I told the doctor to call me immediately if his condition changes, one way or the other. Sam, I want you at the hospital. If Feldman dies, you break the news to Mrs. Feldman.”

“Even if Feldman lives, he won’t talk if his son’s life is in danger,” Beecher said. “And if the kid can identify his abductors, he will die.”

Lucier repositioned himself. “Tell me something I don’t know.”

“Why can’t Diana find the boy?” Cash asked.

Lucier glanced at her with a hopeful expression.

“You know I can’t promise anything,” Diana said, “but I’m willing to try. First, Mrs. Feldman has to admit her son is missing, then we need her permission to let me try and find him.”

“Someone must have threatened her,” Beecher said. “I know my wife would keep her mouth shut if this happened to one of our kids. She’d be scared to say anything.”

“Maybe if I went to see her,” Diana said. “Time might be important.”

“We’ll arrange to take you to her house. If we can convince her that she’s gambling with her son’s life, she may help. Diana can’t go to the hospital. We might as well make a public announcement. When you leave the house, Willy will be with you.”

“Don’t worry. I’m not going out alone. One bullet whizzing by my head is enough to last me a lifetime.”

“Go back to the hospital, Sam. If Feldman dies, you have to convince the doctor and everyone else to keep the news quiet. Tell him to call me if he resists.” Lucier sniffed the air. “Is that stew ready? I’m starved.”

* * * * *

L
ucier
woke at the steady beep of his phone. He’d fallen asleep on the sofa and was alone. He checked the readout. Beecher.

“Feldman died a few minutes ago,” Beecher said. “Dr. Havel said they did all they could, but the damage was too extensive. Sorry, Ernie.”

The wonderful beef stew he’d devoured earlier lay like a block of cement in his stomach. He hated hearing about Feldman for many reasons, not the least of which was another dead cop, one he killed.

“Is his wife still there?”

“She is.”

“Does she know about her husband?”

“Havel told her. She’s distraught. I brought up her son, and don’t worry, I was sympathetic and considerate.”

Lucier wanted to scoff at Beecher’s attempt at self-awareness but held back. “And?”

“She started to deny the boy was missing, but when I said he was in danger now that her husband had passed, she broke down completely. I told her our plan and how Diana wanted to find her son. Her sister was there, and they went into a huddle, finally agreeing. Ernie, I don’t think I’d make a good grief counselor, but I did good today.”

“Excellent, Sam. I need to talk to Dr. Havel. Is he around anywhere?”

“Saw him a minute ago. Let me check at the desk.” After a moment, Beecher came back on the line. “He’s here. I’ll hand you over.”

“What can I do for you, Lieutenant?” Lucier recognized the impatient tone.

“I need you to keep Feldman’s death quiet, Doctor, except for his family and the medical personnel involved.” Lucier explained the dilemma of Feldman’s missing son. “If the men who took the boy think Feldman is still alive, his son may have some time. The kid’s their ace in the hole. If they know Feldman is dead, they’ll have no use for him. They might let him go if they haven’t shown themselves, but we have no way of knowing.”

“I see.” There was a long pause. “Keeping this quiet won’t be easy. This is a hospital, and news travels fast, especially with the press hanging around every time there’s a police-related incident. Since Feldman has been in the ICU, which is relatively isolated, we may have a chance to keep his death from leaking. I’ll see what I can do and let you know. Sorry, Lieutenant, I know how you must feel.”

Lucier thanked the doctor and broke the connection.
No, you don’t, doctor. I’ve killed a man, maybe an innocent pawn.
He felt worse from that than from the wound paining his chest.

He called Cash and told him to come to Diana’s right away. The boy’s captors would kill him. They’d already killed two cops and who knew how many others to carry out their twisted brand of justice. He wouldn’t take bets they wouldn’t kill an innocent boy who could blow their scheme to smithereens.

“Did I hear your phone?” Diana said.

“Huh? Oh, yeah. Feldman died a few minutes ago.”

Diana lowered herself into the armchair. “Oh, no. I’m so sorry, Ernie. I hoped he’d pull through.”

“Me too.”

She reached to touch him. “He would have killed you. He shot into the bed, thinking you were under the covers. You can’t feel guilt over that.”

“I know, but I do. I should have shot him in the knee or arm, somewhere other than a killing zone.”

“Even after he knew you weren’t in the bed, he still tried to kill you. You told him to drop the gun, and he turned to shoot again. It was him or you, and I’m glad it was him.”

Lucier scrubbed his chin stubble. “Everything you say is true. That doesn’t make me feel any better.” He explained what he asked the doctor to do.

“Who told his wife?” Diana asked.

“The doctor. Sam told her about your plan to help find her boy. She agreed.”

Diana sighed. “Okay. Should I go to the hospital?”

“No. If any reporters or news hounds staked there see you, all hell will break loose. Sam will take Mrs. Feldman home. Cash will drive you to her house.”

“Okay.”

“If news about Feldman breaks, and the kid has seen his abductors, he’s dead. We need to get to him before that happens. You’re our best chance. Maybe our only one.”

Diana tsked. “Don’t put that pressure on me, Ernie. You know that makes me nervous.”

“Sorry. I’m not thinking about political correctness now. I’m thinking about saving a boy’s life.”

“You’re right, but don’t you have to get permission from Craven for me to go?”

“Yes, but I’m not going to.”

She stared at him a long time. “I thought you made a deal with him.”

Oh, yeah
. “I did, but the fewer people who know what we’re doing, the better.”

“Do you think your captain is involved?”

“No, but someone higher than Chenault is. He wouldn’t follow just anyone. He was too much of an egomaniac and control freak. But if the right person appealed to his sense of revenge, knowing or suspecting what he did to his father, he would, and did. If I tell Craven, he might confide to someone he trusts, and word might spread. Then there’s the leaker or leakers. I can’t allow this news to get out. For the safety of everyone involved, including Feldman’s kid, I’ll keep this within our group. I’ll deal with the reprimand later, which I’ll deserve.”

A
s a
child, when Diana’s psychic ability failed her, she blamed herself. As she grew to understand her rare gift, she accepted her fallibility. Success or failure was out of her control.

“You look nervous,” Willy Cash said.

“I remember doing this when I was a kid, only then the police brought me an article from the missing person. I rarely confronted those looking for their lost kin. I’m not looking forward to facing Mrs. Feldman, especially when her husband is accused of attempted murder, not to mention dead.”

“She obviously didn’t know him well.”

“What if he had nothing to do with the revenge murders? What if they abducted his son solely for the purpose of blackmailing him into killing Ernie?”

“Then whoever is behind these murders is worse than we thought. It’s one thing to take out a bad guy ― and being honest, that’s one more person off the street who might harm someone else ― but their intentions, good or bad, have escalated to eliminating people who could expose them. I still fear for you and the lieutenant.”

Diana didn’t need to hear that. Willie Cash was a good cop, but he was the youngest and least experienced on Lucier’s team. Who was looking after the love of her life, alone and injured in her house?”

“Call Halloran to go to my place and stay with Ernie. He’s by himself and in no condition to protect himself.”

Cash hummed thoughtfully. “I didn’t think of that, and if the Lieutenant did, he wouldn’t say anything.”

With his Bluetooth phone connected to his ear, Cash speed-dialed Halloran to ask if he could stay with Lucier. “Don’t let him think we’re babysitting him. He won’t like that.” He listened. “Okay, I will.”

“What did he say?” Diana asked.

“He’s checking out a shooting per captain’s orders. Beecher is at Mrs. Feldman’s. He’ll go to your place when we get there.”

Diana sighed. “I feel better. Ernie’s not used to needing help, but now he’s hurt and he knows it.”

“He’s lucky to be alive.”

Diana set her gaze outside the window.
So am I.
Lucier had saved her life, and he could have been killed in the process. They drove the rest of the way to the Feldman house in silence. When they reached their destination, one car sat in the driveway. Beecher had parked on the street.

“Glad to see the place isn’t overrun with reporters. That means they don’t know Feldman is dead.”

“Relax, Diana,” she said aloud.

“They have her son,” Cash said. “She’ll want to see you.”

Diana blew out a breath. “Okay, let’s get this over with.”

The front door opened before Diana and Cash got there. A heavyset woman with short dark hair and a ruddy complexion answered the door.

“Ms. Racine. I’m Marilyn Chase, Sheila’s sister. I’m happy you’re here.” She turned to Cash.

“Detective William Cash.” He offered his hand and said, “Sorry for your loss.”

She snorted. “Don’t be sorry for my loss. I couldn’t stand Marty. That’s no secret. My sister and I are both distraught ― about Alan, not Marty.”

Whoa
. Diana reeled inwardly at this unexpected wrinkle. Maybe they’d learn more about Marty Feldman today than they’d anticipated.

“Come inside,” Marilyn Chase said. She led them through the entry and down a hall to the kitchen. “I’ve given Sheila a tranquilizer. She gathered some things of Alan’s for you, Ms. Racine.”

“Call me Diana.”

“Glad you guys are here,” Beecher said. “I’ll go to my next assignment.” He winked as he headed for the door. Cash spoke to him quietly, then Beecher left and Cash joined Diana.

The woman sitting at a round wooden table looked like a blonde Marilyn Chase, minus a few years. Appearing dazed, she stood when they entered. A final dab at her puffy red eyes, and Sheila Feldman tucked the tissue into her pocket. She shuffled toward Diana and held out both hands.

“Ms. Racine. Thank you so much for coming.”

Diana latched on to the woman’s icy-cold hands, receiving nothing from her touch but anxiety about her son. “Lieutenant Lucier had hoped your husband could help identify the person behind this. I’m so sorry for your loss.”

The sisters exchanged glances. “Marty and I had our differences and lived separate lives. Still, I’m sorry he’s dead. I would’ve called the police when I found out my son was missing, but Marty warned me not to. He said they’d kill Alan if I did. Then he said he had things under control.” She snickered. “I guess saving his son meant taking another man’s life.”

“Did he mention any names? Give any hint who might be behind the kidnapping?”

“No. I begged and screamed and cried, but he wouldn’t talk. At that moment I could have killed Marty myself. He knew who took Alan. He knew.” She chewed on her bottom lip. “Marty was the kind of cop who loved power over people, and he was the same way as a husband. He loved Alan, I’ll give him that. Whoever took him knew Alan was Marty’s Achilles heel.”

Getting involved in family problems was not Diana’s thing. Every family had issues, most marriages had rough spots. But this was different. Marty Feldman could have been a murderer, and the way he treated his family reflected on whether he could have been one of the vigilantes. Sheila fought to keep her control, but Diana saw the strain. “What happened next?”

“I got a phone call. The voice was altered, like in the movies. It told me to keep my mouth shut, or else Alan would die. Now Marty’s dead, and my only concern is to get my Alan back from the monster who took him.” At that, Sheila burst into tears.

Marilyn rushed to her sister’s side and gently embraced her. “We’ll get him back, sweetie. We will.” Her sad eyes settled on Diana. “Won’t you?”

The weight of the task descended on Diana as if she were twelve years old all over again, adult reasoning notwithstanding. She glanced at Cash, who had remained standing against the counter, appearing as if he wished he were anywhere else.

“I’ll do what I can.” She meant every word, but intentions and reality didn’t always coincide.

“He’s only seven,” Marilyn said, her lip quivering. “Who would want to hurt a seven-year old? I’m sure he’s scared.”

If he’s alive
. She needed to calm the woman down. There could be no psychic interference, no barrier to reaching her son’s vibes.

“Thank you for giving me the opportunity to help. That said, I can’t promise I’ll be successful. I can only promise to do the best I can.”

“I understand,” Sheila said. “I know your reputation.”

“Lieutenant Lucier wants you to know that he appreciates your silence about your husband’s death. This gives us needed time to find your son.”

Sheila Feldman pointed to a few articles of clothing, a ball cap, and a baseball glove on the kitchen counter. “One of these might help you find my Alan.”

Diana looked them over. “Which was your son’s favorite? Something he’d want near him.”

“His favorite was,” Sheila caught herself, “is, his baseball glove. He carries it with him whenever he’s not in school. That’s how I know he didn’t come inside the house the day he went missing. The glove is here.

Diana picked up the baseball glove.

“Should I go?” Marilyn asked.

“No one needs to go. Detective Cash will take down what I say. We may not get the answer you want to hear right away. Sometimes what I see is a puzzle we have to put together.”

“I understand,” Sheila said.

Diana took the worn leather glove and studied it.
Come on, tell me something. Help me find the little boy.
She prayed to learn Alan was still alive. She closed her eyes and opened herself up to what the boy’s treasured baseball glove had to communicate.

She sat for a long time, receiving no vibrations at all. Nothing. Her heart pounded, and she felt the pulse in her neck straining against her skin. Then, from far away, the faint sound of sniffles and the word “Mommy” fluttered into her consciousness. She felt something warm and metal, small and tubular between the soft leather mitt and her palm, but when she looked down, the metal object wasn’t in her hand, it was in a little boy’s closed fist, hanging from a chain. A Star of David adorned the front.

Again, the plaintive cry of “Mommy.”

Where are you, Alan? Look around. Show me the room. Give me something. Anything.

A landscape came in view through a small window. A nothing view of trees and grass. No houses. Nothing to tell her where the boy was. Something that looked like an erector set tower loomed into her view. Seagulls and other birds circled over a hill in the distance. Around and around. Diving. Was this near water? A pond with fish? The ocean?

Though Sheila’s house was cool, sweat leached from every pore, drenching Diana. Alan was hot. Burning, boiling hot. He gasped for breath. So did she.

Then everything went black.

Diana woke with Sheila pressing a cold compress to her face and Marilyn rubbing her hands to get the circulation going. She wanted to say her circulation was fine, but her mouth was so dry she couldn’t speak. Cash put a glass of water to her lips, and she drank her fill.

“I told them this happens sometimes and not to worry.” In spite of his words, Cash looked concerned.

Smart man, Diana thought. He knew what to say to put the women at ease. But nothing puts a mother at ease when her son was missing and could be dead.

“Detective Cash is right. I can’t explain how this works, but I’m not in danger when it happens. Please believe that.”

How could she tell Sheila that her son was in a closed room, sweating and having difficulty breathing, and that if he wasn’t found soon, he’d probably die?

“My God,” Sheila said. “You saw something bad. Did you ―?” Tears flowed from her eyes.

“Alan is alive, Sheila. Do you hear me?”

“Tell us what you saw,” Marilyn said. “We have to know.”

She ignored the question. “Does Alan wear a mezuzah, Sheila?”

Sheila perked up. She grabbed Diana’s arm. “Yes. How did you know that?”

“It’s on a chain, and he’s holding the mezuzah in the palm of his hand and rubbing the Star of David.”

The two women cried and laughed at the same time. “He’s alive,” Marilyn said. “He’s alive. Thank God. But where is he?”

“Is there a hill around here in the middle of a large expanse of grass and trees? A place where there might be birds? A pond or a river?”

The women looked confused. “I’m from Atlanta,” Marilyn said. “I don’t know the area.” She turned to Sheila. “Does that sound familiar?”

“No.” Sheila inhaled a sniffle.

“If we’re to make any sense of what I saw, we have to go,” Diana said.

“You’re leaving?” Sheila rung her hands so hard, Diana thought she’d pull off her fingers. “But we don’t know where he is.” She turned to Cash. “Do you recognize what she saw?”

“Not offhand, but the rest of our team knows the area better than I do.”

“Here’s where you need patience,” Diana said. “We’ll meet with Lieutenant Lucier and his team. They know the landscape.” She got up. “Time is wasting. We’ll be in touch.”

Cash took Diana’s hand, but she pulled away and went to both women. “Trust me. We’ll find him.” She wanted to slap herself for making such a stupid comment, but she couldn’t leave them without hope. “Just know he’s alive.”

Marilyn put her arm around Diana’s shoulder. “Hurry to your meeting with the lieutenant. Keep us informed.”

Grateful that they could leave without hysteria, Diana and Willy Cash hurried out the door. In the car, Cash asked, “Is he really alive?”

“Yes, but just barely. We need to find that hill where the birds are. My guess is he’s either locked in a car or in a truck.” She told him about what looked like an erector set. “He’s looking out a window at that mound.”

“Now you’re calling it a mound.”

“Does that make a difference?”

“It might, Diana. It just might.”