the long period of their removal while a subway station construction project caused the closure of most of the park.
Gladden looked at the photo again. The boy on the slide was identified as seven-year-old Miguel Arax. Gladden wasn’t familiar with the area where the new park was located but he assumed that a subway station would be approved only for a low-income area. That meant most of the children would be poor and with dark brown skin like the boy in the photo. He decided that he would go to the park later, after taking care of his chores and getting situated. It was always easier with the poor ones. They needed and wanted so much.
Situated, Gladden thought. He knew then that getting situated was his real priority. He couldn’t stay in this motel or any other, no matter how well he had covered his tracks. It wasn’t safe. The stakes were constantly rising and they would be looking for him soon. It was a feeling not based on anything other than his gut instinct. They would be looking soon and he needed to find a safe place.
He put the paper aside and went to the phone. The smoke-cured voice that answered after he dialed zero was unmistakable.
“This is, uh, Richard . . . in six. I just wanted to say I’m sorry about what happened earlier. I was rude and I apologize.”
She didn’t say anything and he pressed on.
“Anyway, you were right, it’s getting pretty lonely in here and I was wondering if that offer you sort of made before was still out there.”
“What offer?”
She was going to make it difficult.
“You know, you asked if I saw anything I liked. Well, I did, actually.”
“I don’t know. You were pretty testy. I don’t like testy. Whatcha got in mind?”
“I don’t know. But I’ve got a hundred bucks to make sure it’s a good time.”
She was silent for a moment.
“Well, I get outta this dump at four. Then I got the whole weekend. I could come over.”
Gladden smiled but kept it out of his voice.
“Can’t wait.”
“Then I’m sorry, too. About being rude and the things I said.”
“That’s nice to hear. See you soon—oh, you still there?”
“Sure, baby.”
“What’s your name?”
“Darlene.”
“Well, Darlene, I can’t wait till four.”
She laughed and hung up. Gladden wasn’t laughing.
18
In the morning I had to wait until ten before Laurie Prine was at her desk in Denver. By then I was anxious to get on with the day but hers was just starting and I had to go through the greeting and questions about where I was and what I was doing before finally getting to the point.
“When you did that run on police suicides for me, would that have included the Baltimore Sun?”
“Yep.”
I assumed it would have but had to check. I also knew that computer searches sometimes missed things.
“Okay, then can you run a search of the Sun using just the name John McCafferty.”
I spelled it for her.
“Sure. How far back?”
“I don’t know, five years would be good.”
“When do you need it by?”
“Last night.”
“I guess that means you’re going to hold.”
“It does.”
I listened to the tapping of keys as she conducted the search. I pulled the Poe book onto my lap and reread some of the poems while I waited. With daylight coming through the curtains, the words did not have the same hold on me as the night before.
“Okay—whoa—we’ve got a lot of hits here, Jack. Twenty-eight. Anything in particular you’re looking for?”
“Uh, no. What’s the most recent?”
I knew that she could scan the hits by having just the headlines print out on her screen.
“Okay, last one. ‘Detective fired for part in former partner’s death.’ ”
“That’s weird,” I said. “This should have come up in the first search you did. Can you read me some of that?”
I heard her tap a few keys and then wait for the story to be printed on her screen.
“Okay, here goes. ‘A Baltimore police detective was fired Monday for altering a crime scene and attempting to make it appear that his longtime partner had not killed himself last spring. The action was taken by a departmental Board of Rights panel against Detective Daniel Bledsoe after a two-day closed hearing. Bledsoe could not be reached for comment but a fellow officer who represented him during the hearing said that the highly decorated detective was being treated with undue harshness by a department he had served well for twenty-two years. According to police officials, Bledsoe’s partner, Detective John McCafferty, died of a