She had no idea if anyone even knew she was in trouble and now realized the few restrictions her parents put on her were not enough to scare her away. If she got out of here, she was moving back home for good.
She didn’t let herself cry; that didn’t help anything. She sucked it up and tried to think if she could use this quiet, conscious time in the room to help her escape. She worked her hands in the cuffs, then tried her feet. Nothing. Then she heard footsteps outside the door and decided to play possum and not let William know the drug dosage wasn’t enough to keep her asleep all night.
She had to try anything she could if she wanted to live.
Patty Levine closed her phone on the fourth time she got John Stallings’s voice mail message. She knew he’d been relieved of duty just like she knew he’d never call a TV station. Why would he? All she wanted to do was make sure he was okay. He was tough. Tougher than anyone she’d ever met. With all that he’d been through she wasn’t the least bit worried about him making it through something like this. But she still wanted to speak to her partner.
She glanced across the wide squad bay of the detective bureau, and Tony Mazzetti quietly caught her eye with a wink and a smile. She couldn’t help but smile back. She watched as he carefully disguised a route across the busy room to her. He picked up a couple of file folders, then looked at them as he walked. He leaned down next to her, holding a folder open like he needed advice on something.
Patty hid her grin. “What was that wink for?”
“A hint at tonight.”
Her smile broadened. “Pretty confident there, Detective Mazzetti.”
“Actually, no I’m not. But you’ve given me hope that I won’t freeze up.”
She looked at the bags under his eyes and lines on his face. “Are you sure you’re up to it? You look beat.”
“I’ve waited long enough.”
She considered her next comments. “I’d like to talk to John before I leave.”
“That traitor, why?”
“He’s no traitor. It’s a mistake, and if you want me to look favorably on you, don’t say another thing.”
He shut his mouth.
She wanted to pat him on the head like a puppy and say, “Good boy.” Instead, she said, “How about my condo tonight?”
Mazzetti said, “I’m gonna be late.”
“Somehow I’ll survive.” She smiled, knowing he could take a joke.
The report of Lori’s accidental electrocution was barely mentioned at the pharmacy. The manager told the employees first thing in the morning, then the store got busy. The only thing really bothering Dremmel about her death was the lack of sleep. He’d been up late with Lori, then gone home to Stacey. He’d dozed off for one hour at the house before coming into work and feigning surprise and chagrin at the news that Lori was dead.
The manager had even said, “It was just shitty electrical wiring in a shitty old house. All of Durkeeville should be bulldozed.”
A help-wanted notice was on the Internet before lunch.
Dremmel felt pretty pleased with himself for the efficient and well-disguised job he’d done on Lori. On another level he didn’t want to dwell on what he thought might be remorse. He’d made Lori part of his game, but she didn’t deserve it. She’d been nice to him. She liked him. He already missed her smile around the pharmacy. But she knew too much. That’s what he had to keep telling himself. She knew too much.
Luckily, he had other things to focus on. He’d spent part of the day researching other drugs and dosages for Stacey. She’d seemed hard to rouse this morning when he brought her breakfast and tried to spend time with her before work. Maybe he’d been going a little heavy on the sedatives. He could lighten it up for a few days to let her get back on a normal schedule. Stacey presented some challenges.
And she wasn’t the only one. He already had a plan to deal with the pretty JSO detective. He knew where she lived and that she lived alone. His heart raced just at the thought of her lying in the little bed next to Stacey.
Life was sweet.
Tony Mazzetti had driven like a maniac, or, as they said here in Florida, driven like a New Yorker, to get to his house, shower, grab a protein shake, and change. He shaved and used Dolce & Gabbana balm on his face so there’d be no way he could give Patty a beard burn anywhere on her smokin’ little body.
His house on a canal that led to the St. Johns River could’ve been the model of a bachelor pad from the seventies. It was clean, neat, and furnished with some of the funkiest furniture Mazzetti and his mother could find seven years ago when he bought the three-bedroom with a deck built to the edge of the water. He had visions of parties and an endless stream of women when he took out a loan that terrified him. But that was before he figured out that no one really liked him. It was tough to throw a party when only a couple of detectives spoke to you on a regular basis, and the guys you hung with at the gym didn’t even know your name. He was pretty sure a couple of them had felony records, which meant he was supposed to steer clear of them or face questions about consorting with felons. It hardly ever happened, but was still a no-no for cops certified in Florida. He didn’t want to hang out with shit-birds anyway.
He took an extra minute to dress casually, but well, for his big date with the first woman he could relax with in a long, long time. She’d like his odd taste in interior design. She appreciated his work ethic. She liked his smile. His fucking smile! No one had ever told him that before.
He made a quick check to make sure the house was perfect in case she wanted to come over here in the morning or even later tonight. There was so much he wanted to show her that it made him start grinning like a goddamn Patriots fan after Belichik cheated his way to another AFC championship.
He rifled through his nightstand to find the condoms he’d bought six years ago but had never used, sitting on the edge of the bed as he fumbled through reading lights, old issues of Civil War Times, and a cupful of change. The simple act of sitting and removing the pressure from his legs and back made him relax almost instantly. He’d been on full speed since early in the morning and missing sleep most nights. He laid back on the soft Posturepedic, feeling it support his back and neck as his lower legs dangled off the side of the bed. He shut his eyes for a moment and felt the world rush away, then saw a cloud with a monkey in the Union officer’s uniform float by. His own snores didn’t even wake him up.
Thirty-nine
John Stallings looked over his Sprite at Charlie and Lauren as they debated the virtues of PlayStation versus Wii game system. Next to them in the booth at Chili’s were Maria and Helen, staring across at each other with the wall to their sides. Stallings intentionally jammed his wife against the wall, away from any possible egress. It was a risk bringing her along at all. His intention was to keep the kids’ minds off the family problems, but Helen suggested they make it a family adventure and now he saw she was right. The kids liked as many adults around as possible and responded well to it. He wondered if it was a safety issue in the back of their minds.
He’d been very quiet, pretending to listen to the children. In fact, his mind kept playing out the events of the day and then back to that stupid phone bill and the call to the TV station. He’d done a little of his own checking and there was no doubt that a call to the station was made on his phone. That’s what stumped him. He had no real recourse to appeal the decision because, as usual, Rita Hester had tried to take care of him. He hadn’t been suspended or even technically punished. Just moved off a case. A case that was his lifeline, his chance to restore something inside himself. He couldn’t explain exactly what had been pushing him so hard, but now that he could no longer work the case he felt the void even more acutely.