cupping his elbows now, looking nonchalant, but there was something misshapen about his mouth that gave the effect that his whole head was tilted. He took the documents from the other one’s hands and stared down at them. I got the sense that he could memorize the pertinent facts and did not write them down. In fact I doubted that he wrote anything down with the exception of work-related reports that were mandatory. He was a man whose secrets would all be filed inside his head.
After another minute, the two men nodded in affirmation and as muscle boy walked back toward me, Morrison turned and got back into his squad car.
I watched him do a three point turn as the younger cop approached my window and said: “Mr. Freeman, step out of the car, please. We are going to have to conduct a roadside sobriety test, sir.”
As he drove out and past me, Morrison did not meet my eye. He stared straight ahead and did not acknowledge me at all, as though I were something not worth his time or effort. He was leaving my detention to other, less important persons while he attended to something more pressing. He knew who I was now. But for the next twenty minutes, while I went through a small humiliation, I would shed an entire layer of doubt about his involvement in something ugly. And that, I promised, would not be a good thing for Kyle Morrison.
If they had tested me a few hours later at Billy’s penthouse apartment, the cops might have actually been able to hold me. I was working on my third beer and it had been no struggle at all. Billy was sipping from his crystal wineglass and his fiancée was out for the evening, “clearing her head.”
On the drive back north I’d called O’Shea and told him that our tail had called in his backup to make a bogus DUI stop and then split, ending any further chance of surveillance. He would be watching now, and he was no slouch when it came to paying attention. I had figured he’d be too caught up in Marci’s story to notice what was happening around him and I had been wrong. I wouldn’t underestimate him again.
“Sorry I had to leave you like that, Freeman. But you know my circumstances. Brushing up against rogue cops isn’t what I need right now,” O’Shea said. “So I figured if I got dealt out of the cop chase, I’d make myself useful and go back and set up on the girl.”
It was the smart thing to do. O’Shea had to be given credit, but even when I did it it felt like begrudging credit.
“You’re smarter than you look, O’Shea. Are you good to stay on her when she leaves?”
“Fuck you, Freeman. And yeah, I’ll hang with her. If you want, I’ll tail her to her apartment and babysit all night.”
Maybe he was just being a smart-ass, but I quickly agreed and told him I’d get back with him later. But before he could disconnect, I asked him one last question.
“You know what this is, don’t you, Colin?”
“I’m not stupid, Freeman. You’re figuring this cop for the abductions and ponytail is his next victim.”
“No, you’re not stupid,” I said. “You’re deductive.”
“I’m not deductive,” he answered. “I’m experienced, Freeman. I’ve seen this before, remember. But even if you’re as wrong on this guy as they were on me up in Philly, I’m still willing to help you find out this way instead of sticking the guy’s face into the official IAD toilet where innocence don’t mean jack.”
This time he was quicker on the button and the connection went dead. I might not like his attitude, but O’Shea was right. We were both hanging it out there. But I also took some peace knowing he was looking over Marci’s back. He would call me if Morrison showed up. And I’d spell him in the morning.
When I called Billy it was late but he invited me over and I launched into the story of my botched plan to follow the cop on the long shot that he might lead us to something worth more than speculation. When I got to the part about the DUI trap he winced. We were on the patio with the black, colorless ocean out in front of us. He listened intently, like he always did, before offering a question or opinion.
“So you d-don’t think they were in on anything t-together, this Marci girl