It was building speed like an avalanche-and he didn’t even have the charge to do anything about it.
Hauck grabbed his case and stuffed it with all the files he had been compiling: the photo of Thibault and Glassman, the phone records Vito had pulled for him, the connection between Thibault and Donovan. He told Brooke he was leaving for the day. He went downstairs to the ground-floor parking garage.
He found his Beemer in his private parking space and depressed the lock remote. He heard the familiar beep and opened the door. He threw his case on the passenger seat and went to climb in. He noticed something sitting on the windshield.
A book of some kind. He got back out and lifted it off.
The Idiot’s Guide to Understanding Wall Street.
Hauck froze.
“Thought you’d like the touch.” It was Shep Campbell’s voice.
Hauck turned around and saw the NYPD detective leaning on a nearby car.
“You really learn anything in that book or do you just use it as a prop?” Hauck asked, lifting it off his car.
“Nice wheels,” Campbell said, coming over. “But, hey, you deserve it, right?” A heavy-set black man remained leaning on the city detective’s car. “Say hi to Detective Washburn.” Campbell’s chummy tone was starting to wear thin. Bringing in his partner. Making this visit official. What was going on?
“Hey.” The large black dude waved. “Seen you on TV.”
Hauck nodded. If they hadn’t been two New York City cops, he’d have thought he was in for some kind of fight.
“Okay, I’m flattered.” Hauck shut the door. “What brings you by, detectives? I’m afraid I’m in a bit of a rush.”
Campbell came up to the other side of his car. “I took your advice. On the Donovan thing. I started looking at it in a different way.”
“No charge,” Hauck said.
“Talon.” The detective bunched his lips. “You’ve been working there around, what, four months?”
“I feel like we’ve already been through this, Campbell. Check with personnel.”
The auburn-haired detective cocked a finger at him and chuck-led, like he was saying, One for you, guy. “They handle a lot of banks, I see. Tough time for banks, isn’t it?”
“Listen, detective, I really don’t have the time…” Hauck had no clue where this was going.
The detective smiled smugly. “This thing’s been in your craw from the very beginning, hasn’t it?”
“What thing?”
“These murdered traders. That’s what you called it, isn’t it? Murder. You were at the crime scene in Greenwich. Then the station right after. Called the new head of detectives a few times. That guy who took your place. What’s his name, Chrisafoulis? Pumping him for details. Even harassed him at his kid’s school. You had something going on with that first guy’s wife?”
Hauck stared back, grabbing on to the door handle. To keep from slugging him. Only Steve knew about these things. Brenda said he’d been in the city. Where was Campbell going with this?
“Then you come into the city…All hopped up on this Donovan thing. Pushing me for info. Telling me how to do my job. Then, not an hour later, you’re harassing his widow. Tee-bo, wasn’t it?” He pronounced Dani’s name like it was a Cajun nickname. “The guy you’re trying to tie into all this. I checked him out myself.” Looked at his partner and grinned. “Y’know, I’m finding myself in a whole new social circle these days.”
“What do you want, Campbell?”
There was a click of heels against the pavement and a woman came out of the staircase and crossed over to her car. He waited for her to get inside and start the ignition.
“So, I’m trying to figure it out.” Campbell smirked. “Your prints are all over this mess, aren’t they, Mr. Private Executive? Mr. TV Star?”
“You check out the phone logs yet?”
Campbell shrugged.
“What about the security tapes in Donovan’s building? I saw a camera. You look at them?”
“Maybe I did,” Campbell said, smirking.
“So what’d you find?”
“What did we find?” Campbell glanced around to his partner, cockily scratching the back of his head. Then he dug into his inside jacket pocket like he was about to unholster a gun. To Hauck’s relief, he came back out with just an evidence bag, something inside, and tossed it on the hood of Hauck’s car, never taking his eyes off Hauck. “What we found was this.”
Hauck picked it up and stared at what was inside. As he did, it became clear to him exactly what was going on. His lungs deflated like he’d been punched in the stomach.
It was a pen. A corporate pen. The lettering on it familiar.
The Talon Group.
“We found it on the floor, next to the super’s desk,” the detective said with a self-satisfied smile. A grin that seemed to suggest he enjoyed watching Hauck’s worried reaction. “Could’ve fallen out of someone’s pocket, I guess. Maybe during a spat. Never made the connection until you came in.”
Hauck’s eyes locked on the pen. He had several like them. Everyone did there.
“Just wondering”-Campbell blinked annoyingly-“how the hell you think that got there.”
Hauck shook his head. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Kidding?” Campbell clucked at his partner. “I’d like to think I was kidding, Mr. Hauck. Mister Hero. But y’know, you come around, pump us for information on the case, no longer on the job. Then whaddaya know…whammo. Look what pops up at the crime scene. A bit of a major-league clusterfuck, wouldn’t you say?”
“It’s not my pen.”
“Well, I’m hoping that turns out to be the case.” Campbell laughed. He turned back to his partner. “Don’t you, Lee? You sure?”
“I’m sure,” Hauck said. But he wasn’t liking where his mind was going, bouncing back and forth, atoms careening through an accelerator, except in this case the atoms were saying, What if that somehow did turn out to be my pen? His prints on it. And worse, why…? Of course, he had never been to the building before, never even heard of Donovan prior to the incident. But what was it doing there? What if he was being set up?
He looked at Campbell squarely and smiled. “And you’re the one who said the other day it wasn’t even a crime scene.”
“Yeah, I did say that, didn’t I? But y’know, you’re starting to turn me around on that one. It’s sure starting to resemble one now.”
Hauck was thinking he could tell him what he would find in the phone log: Thibault’s phone number. The proof was sitting right on his car seat. But this jerk was the last person he was going to share it with, until he could figure out just what was going on.
“Just a Good Samaritan, huh?” The detective grinned, clearly cynical. “Just following up for an old friend…”
“A dead friend,” Hauck said, glaring.
“I’ve seen her picture. Must’ve been quite a friendship,” the city detective sniffed, glancing at his partner.
“I’m gonna head out now,” Hauck said. His fingers flexed and he felt his body heat up. The thought crossed his mind that slugging an NYPD detective with the case he was making would not be the best of moves. He tossed the evidence bag back to Campbell. “Unless there’s something else…”
“Just keep in touch,” the detective said, and winked. “Until this baby comes back from the lab. You know the drill.”
“Yeah, I know the drill. And here…” He tossed The Idiot’s Guide to Understanding Wall Street over to Campbell’s partner. “Does that book have a chapter in there that talks about collusion to defraud financial markets?”
“Not sure.” The black detective caught it, surprised.
“Too bad. Tell your partner he might want to find one that does.”