I cleared my throat. ‘But.’
Burns nodded. ‘Right. The Russians tell us – now – that Prokopev is not the man we’re looking for. They’re certain of it.’
I felt completely drained. ‘Because?’
It was Burns’s turn to shake his head. ‘They know what the Wolf looks like. He was KGB after all. The real Wolf set us up to believe he was Prokopev. Andrei Prokopev was one of his rivals in the Red Mafiya.’
‘To be the Russian Godfather?’
‘To be the Godfather – Russian or otherwise.’
I pursed my lips, took a breath. ‘Do the Russians know who the Wolf really is?’
Burns’s eyes narrowed. ‘If they do, they won’t tell us. Not yet anyway. Maybe they’re afraid of him too.’
Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen
Late that night I took the decision to return to my home. I sat at the piano on the sun porch with one of Billy Collins’s poems running around my head. It was called ‘The Blues’ and was about the band giving sympathy to a lonely musician who had lost his lover. Which was what I was thinking about as I sat at the piano and made up a melody to go with the poem. We had lost. It happened a lot in police work, though nobody wants to admit it. Lives had been saved, though. Elizabeth Connelly and a couple of others had been found; Brendan Connelly was in jail. Andrei Prokopev had been caught. But we seemed to have lost the big one – for now anyway. The Wolf was still out there. The Godfather was free to do what he did, and that wasn’t good for anybody.
The next morning, I arrived early to meet Jamilla Hughes’s flight into Reagan National. I had the usual butterflies before her plane got in. But mostly I couldn’t wait to see Jam. Nana and the kids had insisted on coming to the airport. A little show of support – for Jamilla. And for me. For all of us, actually.
The airport was crowded, but relatively quiet and peaceful, probably on account of the high ceilings. My family and I stood at an exit from Terminal A near the security check. I saw Jam, then so did the kids, who started poking me all over. She was wearing black from head to toe; she looked better than ever, and Jamilla always looked good to me.
‘She’s beautiful, and so cool,’ Jannie said and lightly touched the back of my hand. ‘You know that, don’t you, Daddy?’
‘She is, isn’t she?’ I agreed, looking at Jannie now, rather than at Jamilla. ‘She’s also smart. Except about men, it would seem.’
‘We really like her,’ Jannie continued. ‘Can you tell?’
‘I can. I like her too.’
‘But do you love her?’ Jannie asked in her usual no-nonsense, get-to-the-heart-of-the matter-way. ‘Do you?’
I didn’t say anything. That part was between Jam and me.
‘Well – do you?’ Nana joined in.
I didn’t answer Nana either, so she shook her head, rolled her eyes.
‘What do the boys think?’ I turned to Damon and little Alex. The Big Boy was clapping his hands and grinning, so I knew where he stood.
‘She’s definitely all that,’ said Damon, and he started to grin. He always got a little goofy around Jamilla.
I moved toward her and they let me go alone. I snuck a glance, and they were grinning like a Cheshire cat family. I had a lump in my throat. Don’t know why. I felt a little spacey and my knees were weak. Don’t know why either.
‘I can’t believe everybody came,’ Jamilla said as she slid into my arms. ‘That makes me happy. I can’t tell you how much, Alex. Wow. I think I’m going to cry. Even though I’m a tough-as-nails homicide detective. You all right? You aren’t all right. I can tell.’
‘Oh, I’m fine now.’ I held her tight, then I actually picked Jam up, set her back down.
We were quiet for a moment. ‘We’re going to fight for little Alex,’ she said.
‘Of course,’ I told her. Then I said something that I’d never told Jamilla before, though it had been on the tip of my tongue many times. ‘I love you,’ I whispered.
‘I love you too,’ she said. ‘More than you can imagine. More than even I can imagine.’
A single tear ran down Jamilla’s cheek. I kissed it away.
Then I saw the photographer taking pictures of us.
The same one who was at the house the day we were evacuated for personal safety.
The one hired by Christine’s lawyer.
Had he had gotten Jamilla’s tear on film?
Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen
They came to the house on Fifth Street; they came about a week after Jamilla went back to California.
Them again.
One of the saddest days of my life.
Indescribable.
Unthinkable.
Christine was there with her lawyer and Alex Junior’s law guardian, and a case manager from Children’s Protective Services. The case manager wore a plastic ID around her neck, and it was probably her presence that bothered me the most. My children have been raised with so much love and attention, never with abuse or neglect. There was no need for Children’s Services. Gilda Haranzo had gone to court and been granted a declaration of order giving Christine temporary guardianship of little Alex. She had won custody based on the claim that I was ‘a lightning rod for danger’, putting the child in harm’s way.
The irony of what was happening was so deep that I almost couldn’t stand it. I was trying to be the kind of policeman that most people wanted, and this was what I got? A lightning rod for danger? Is that what I was now?
And yet – I knew exactly how I had to act this morning on Fifth Street. For little Alex’s sake. I would abandon all my anger – and focus on what was best for him. I would be supportive during the handover. If it was possible, I wouldn’t let anything frighten the Boy, or upset him. I even had a long printed list of Alex’s likes and dislikes ready for Christine.
Unfortunately, Alex wasn’t buying any of this. He ran behind my legs and hid from Christine and the lawyer; I reached around and gently stroked his head. He was shaking all over, quivering with rage.
Gilda Haranzo said, ‘Maybe you should help Christine take little Alex to the car. Would you please do that?’
I turned and tenderly wrapped my arms around the Big Boy. Then Nana, followed by Damon and Jannie, knelt beside him for a group hug. ‘We love you, Alex. We’ll visit you, Alex. You’ll come see us, Alex. Don’t be scared.’
Nana handed Alex his favorite book, which was Whistle for Willie. Jannie gave him his love-worn plush cow ‘Moo’. Damon hugged his brother and tears started down his cheeks.
‘I’ll be talking to you tonight. You and Moo,’ I whispered and kissed my son’s darling little face. I could feel his heart going fast. ‘Every night. Forever and a day, my sweet boy. Forever and a day.’
And little Alex said, ‘Forever, Daddy.’
Then they took my son away.
Epilogue
Wolves
Chapter One Hundred and Nineteen
Pasha Sorokin was due at the courthouse in Miami at nine o’clock on Monday morning. The van he rode in was escorted from the federal prison by half a dozen cars; the route wasn’t known by any of the drivers until the last possible moment before departure.
The attack took place at a stoplight just before the cars would have gotten on the Florida Turnpike. They hit with automatic weapons, but also rocket launchers, which took out most of the escort cars in under a minute. Suddenly, there were bodies and smoking metal everywhere.
The black van that Pasha Sorokin was riding in was quickly surrounded by six men in dark clothes, no masks. The car doors were yanked opened and the police guards were beaten and then shot dead.