If Angels Fall (61 page)

The shake
was strawberry, Zach Reed’s favorite. He sat up in the hospital bed to take it
from his father.

“Thanks, Dad.”

Zach’s mother continued stroking his hair. She had
never left his side once the doctors and the psychiatrist finished looking at
him. Danny and Gabrielle were across the hall with their parents. Every now and
then, they could be heard laughing, along with the sound of Gabrielle’s cocker
spaniel barking.

“The children are fine. They’ve suffered some shock,
exhaustion, dehydration,” one of the doctors told Ann and Tom. “We want them to
eat. At this stage, pizzas, burgers, shakes, and fries are good medicine.” He
winked at Zach, adding, “We’ll have them spend the night here resting. Let him
sleep naturally when he gets drowsy. And Dr. Martin’s available anytime, if
anybody wants to talk some more.”

The doctor left, closing the door softly.

“Everything’s going to be okay, right?” Zach said.

“Sure, honey.” His mother brushed his cheek.

Zach set his shake aside and bit his lip, worried
about the fall out for breaking all the rules, for talking to that psycho doof,
believing his lies. Still a little juiced from everything, he thought about how
cool it was going to be telling Jeff and Gordie about the choppers. But the
idea went away. He had almost drowned. He was still frightened. And there were
a lot of other things. Things he couldn’t understand. That nice lady doctor,
the psychiatrist, Dr. Kate whom Dad knew, said she could help with that when
they talked some more. She actually knew the creep and promised to answer all
the questions she could. She was smart. Even after their short talk, she seemed
to know what was going on with Zach. She didn’t get him wrong. He was happy,
but he was still a little scared; scared about his mom, his dad. Everything.
Well, Doc Kate wanted him to talk about it with his folks, so here goes: “I
mean, I’m sorry about all this mess, for running away from Grandma’s, getting
in that creep’s van. I made a mistake.”

“Oh, sweetie.” His mother crushed him in her arms.

“Zach, it’s not your fault.” His dad smiled. “You did
good, calling me like you did, son. Very good.”

“You’re not mad at me?”

“No.” Ann touched her eyes with a crumpled tissue.

He stared at his parents. They looked different,
older, relieved, like something had been decided.

“So are we going to talk about living together again?”

“I don’t think so.” Ann reached across the bed, taking
Tom’s hand, fingering his wedding band, looking into his eyes. “I don’t think
we need to talk anymore. I think it’s settled.”

“We’re moving back to our house? Together?” Zach said.

“Yes.” Ann smiled.

Zach hugged them.

“Hey,” Reed told him, “we’ll let you in on a secret.
The President is going to be calling from the White House later.”

“The President? No way!”

“Come here.” Reed took Zach to the hospital window. TV
satellite trucks and news crews jammed the parking lot below.

“You’re big news, Zach.”

“Awe-Some! Wait ‘til I tell Jeff and Gordie!”

A quick knock on the door. It was SFPD Inspector Linda
Turgeon. “Sorry to interrupt. Could I see you, Tom, about your statement?” She
smiled at Ann and Zach. “How you doin’, sport?”

“Good. Great, actually.” He sucked on his shake.

Outside in the hall, Reed and Turgeon talked in a
quiet alcove. A news conference with the children, parents, and police was set
for the hospital’s lecture room in ninety minutes. And tomorrow, Reed was to go
to the Hall of Justice, to give his statement on the case.

No problem. He took Turgeon’s hand.

“Thank you, everybody, the FBI, the task force. Thank
you.”

“You and Zach helped break this.”

“Where’s Sydowski? I’d like to see him.”

“He wants to see you, too. Downstairs in the coffee
shop.”

Heading downstairs, Reed passed Danny’s and
Gabrielle’s rooms, smiling at the joy, the relief flooding the hallway.
Professor Martin waved at him from Danny’s room. The uniformed officers
standing guard outside grinned at Reed, slapping his back.

Downstairs, he met Molly Wilson coming from the gift
shop with balloons. She threw her arms around him, her bracelets chiming.

“Tom! Oh, Tom. I’m so glad it all worked out!”

“Yeah, yeah, me, too.” He stepped back, gazing into
her blue eyes. “Everything worked out the way it was supposed to.”

She smiled her perfect-teeth smile. “That’s good.”

“You here working, Wilson?”

“Yes, but -- ” She remembered she had a bouquet of
oversized balloons. “These are for Zach.”

Reed stared at them, then Wilson, saying nothing.
Thinking.

“Maybe I’ll just have them sent up,” she said.

“Wait for me here. You can give them to Zach
yourself.”

“Sure.”

“And I suppose you would like an exclusive chat with
him?”

“Yes, I would, if it’s alright?”

“Let me talk with Ann. I think it would be fine.”

“Thanks, Tom.”

“Molly, I appreciate what you did back in the
newsroom. Getting Tellwood’s help when I needed it.” Reed turned to leave.

“Tom, are you coming back to the paper? Tellwood’s
left the door open for you and Benson is gone.”

“I don’t know. I need time to think things through.”

Reed found Sydowski alone, huddled over a coffee,
peering through is bifocals at bird show brochures.

“Well, well: Tom Reed. My favorite
voychick.
”

“Why you hiding out?”

“Reporters are dangerous to my health.”

Reed saw the gold in Sydowski’s smile and it was like
the shit a year ago never happened. He sat across from him, looking him in the
eye. “Thank you, Walt. Thank you for everything.”

“No need to thank me.”

“And, I wanted to apologize for the fuckup with
Franklin Wallace in the Tanita Marie Donner case. I was wrong.”

Sydowski shook his head, sipping some coffee. “You
were never wrong,” he said.

“But, Virgil Shook was the guy, Wallace had nothing to
do--”

“You were half right at the time. But we could never
tell you. I wanted to, but we couldn’t tell anybody.”

“Wallace was involved?”

“Yes. But Shook killed her. You scared the shit out of
us digging up what you did. You didn’t know that it was Shook who tipped you to
Wallace, thinking we would put it all on Wallace. We knew Wallace was involved,
but he wasn’t alone. We needed him to bring us his partner, who turned out to
be Shook.”

“So you let me hang, the disgrace, the lawsuit?”

“It hurt me seeing you go through that shitstorm, but
you hanged yourself, Tom. I told you to sit on your stuff.”

“Wasn’t Shook afraid Wallace would roll on him?”

“No. Shook dominated him psychologically. Fed him
crap, faked his own suicide over the phone to Wallace. That’s what did it, left
him thinking we were coming for him. And when you got there first, well, that
closed the lid on his casket. Shook was a clever bastard.”

“What about Keller?”

“What can I tell you? You knew him as well as anyone.
You practically solved the case, but I’ll deny I ever said that.” Reed
chuckled.

Sydowski continued. “Edward died at the bottom of the
Pacific, like he wanted. Now he’s on a slab in the hospital basement, out of
his fucking misery, like Shook. And you know what? The world feels a little
lighter without the burden of their presence.”

“Feel a song coming on there, Walt?”

Sydowski downed his coffee, tossing the paper cup in
the trash.

“Maybe. I got to check on my old man, head home, feed
my birds. Why not drop by some time, Reed? I’ll get some fresh kielbasa, some
egg bread, sweet butter. And you can buy the beer.”

“I think you owe me. I’m solving your cases for you.”

“Listen, you’re still young. It’s not too late for you
to join the SFPD. I’d put in a word for you. You think you can cut it?”

“Naw, I like being a hack. I like living dangerously.”

“You want danger? Let my old man give you a shave and
haircut.”

Sydowski clasped Reed’s shoulder warmly.

“Love your family, Tom.”

Before heading upstairs, Reed stepped into a washroom
to cleanse his face. He was haggard; he needed a shower, a shave. Parts of him
were still tingling. Christ, he had come so close to losing it all.

And he would have done anything...

Like Keller?

“...eyes that haunt my dreams...”

Reed knew he would never be the same.

He had been given a second chance.

The realization of a first novel is never a solitary achievement. I
wish to thank my family, my literary agent, Mildred Marmur, and her associate
Jane Lebowitz, the legendary Inspector Ed Erdelatz (retired) of the San
Francisco Police Department’s Homicide Detail, Ann LaFarge and the crew at
Kensington, Carsten Stroud, Margaret Dyment, the nuns of St. Michael’s Academy
and Holy Rosary School, Ken McGoogan, Paul Reid, Wendy Dudley, Mary Gilchrist,
Peter Way, Dorothy Proctor, Sharon Sellitto, Holly Desimone, Bill Thompson,
Peter Bloch, Mary Aikins, the SFPD, the San Francisco FBI, the Royal Canadian
Mounted Police, Calgary Police Service, and numerous friends in law enforcement
throughout North America who offered their support and a glimpse into their
hearts.

I also wanted to thank all of my friends and colleagues in the news
craft. I know you have been there and I know you know.

Rick Mofina is a
former crime reporter and the award-winning author of several acclaimed
thrillers. He's interviewed murderers face-to-face on death row; patrolled with
the LAPD and the RCMP. His true crime articles have appeared in
The New York
Times
,
Marie Claire
,
Reader’s Digest
and
Penthouse
.
He's reported from the U.S., Canada, the Caribbean, Africa, Qatar and Kuwait's
border with Iraq.

New York
Times
Bestselling author, Tess Gerritsen, says:
"Rick Mofina's tense taut writing makes every thriller he writes an
adrenaline-packed ride." His short stories have been selected for
anthologies by Michael Connelly, Peter Robinson, Ed Gorman, the Mystery Writers
of America and the United Kingdom's, Crime Writers Association.

The
International
Thriller Writers
,
The Private Eye Writers of America
and
The
Crime Writers of Canada
have listed Rick Mofina's titles as being among the
best in the world.

His books have
been published in 21 countries and have been praised by James Patterson, Dean
Koontz, Michael Connelly, Lee Child, Tess Gerritsen, Jeffery Deaver, Sandra
Brown, James Rollins, Brad Thor, Nick Stone, David Morrell, Allison Brennan,
Heather Graham, Linwood Barclay, Peter Robinson, Håkan Nesser and Kay Hooper.

Rick
Mofina

Rmofina
@ gmail.com

Please
visit my official
FaceBook page
.

You
can also follow me on Twitter
@RickMofina

or
at my Website
http://www.rickmofina.com