Kovacliska - Dust To Dust Part 10

"Come lock up behind me. I need to know you're safe." She nodded and went with him.

In the entry hall, he pulled on his shoes and coat, and hunted his gloves up out of the pockets. She never met his eyes once. He tried to wait her out, just standing there by the door like a dope, but she wouldn't look up and she wouldn't say anything. He wanted to shake her and pull her into his arms and kiss her. But men weren't allowed to make a point that way 2nymore, and it probably wasn't the way to play Amanda anyway. She needed care and time; enough s.p.a.ce not to feel threatened, but not so much that she could retreat.

Like you really think you can pull this off.

"Whatever you decide," he said at last, "this wasn't a mistake, Amanda."

She said nothing and he let himself out, the cold slapping him in the face.

Here's your reality, Kovac, he thought as the door shut and locked behind him.

Out in the cold, alone.

It wasn't anything less than he'd had before, but it was worse now because he'd had a taste of what could be.

He drove back into the city on empty roads, went back to an empty house and an empty bed, and lay awake the rest of the night staring inward at the emptiness of his life.

0 A G.

C H A P T E R.

L I S K A P U L L E D I N T 0 the driveway, barely sparing a glance at the dashboard clock. Sat.u.r.day morning in her house meant youth hockey. Kyle and Rj. started the day on the ice at Six A.M. She had left them under the watchful charge of a buddy who worked s.e.x crimes for the St. Paul PD and had two boys of his own in the same league. No adult would come within ten feet of those children with Milo watching them.

Barely seven-thirty now, ahd the sun was just coming up. Most of Eden Prairie was probably still sleeping off the eggnog hangovers from the Friday night Christmas parties. Liska didn't care. She'd spent the forty-five minutes driving out here stoking her anger like a blast furnace. She didn't care if she had to kick the door in and drag his hairy a.s.s out of bed. She was going to speak with Cal Springer, and he was going to listen.

She stormed to the front door of the too-nice house and leaned on the bell, then stabbed at it over and over. She could hear it ringing inside, and no other sound. The cul-de-sac was still. Cars parked overnight in driveways had windows thick with frost. The toothpickyoung trees in the yards were flocked with white. Liska's breath silvered the air. It was so cold, it hurt to breathe.

The door opened and Mrs. Cal, dressed in a flannel nightgown, stared out at her, her little mouth a round 0 of surprise.

"Where is he?" Liska demanded, walking in uninvited.

Patsy Springer stepped back. "Calvin? What? What do you want at this hour? I don't-,, Liska gave her a look that had cracked confessions out of hardened criminals.

"Where is he?"

Cal's voice came from the direction of the kitchen. "Who is it, Pats?"

Liska moved past the wife, digging a hand down into her purse as she homed in on her target. Cal sat at the oak table in the breakfast nook wearing the same clothes he'd had on the day before, a softboiled egg and a bowl of Malt-O-Meal in front of him. He gaped like a fish when he saw her.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded. "This is my home, Liska-"

She pulled the Polaroids from her purse and slapped them down on the table beside his plate. Springer started to move his chair back. She grabbed a handful of his hair and held him in place, close at her side, ignoring his howl of pain.

"These are my children, Cal," she said, working to keep from shouting in his face. "Do you see them? Are you looking at these?" "What's the matter with you?"

"I'm angry. These are my boys. Do you know who sent me these pictures, Cal?

I'll give you two guesses."

"I don't know what you're doing here!" he said, trying to get up again.

Liska yanked his hair and wound her fingers into it even tighter. Mrs. Cal hovered at the archway to the front hall, her hands fluttering at her chest.

"She's crazy, Calvin! She's crazy!"

"Rubel and Ogden sent me these," Liska said, grabbing one of the' snapshots with her free hand. She stuck it in Cal Springer's face. "I can't prove it, but they did. These are the people you're dealing with, Cal.This is what s.h.i.tbags they are.They would threaten little children. And you're protecting them.That makes you the same as one of them, as far as I'm concerned."

"Calvin?" the wife shrieked. "Should I call m'ne-one-one?" "Shut up, Patsy!"

he shouted.

"If anyone harms a hair on the head of one of these boys:'Liska said, "I'll kill that person. I mean that, Cal. I'll f.u.c.king kill them, and no one will ever find all the pieces. Do you understand me?"

He tried to get away from her. Liska yanked his hair and hit him in the forehead with her knuckles.

"Owwwr "You stupid son of a b.i.t.c.h!" she yelled, and hit him again. "What's wrong with you? How can you get in bed with them?"

She shoved him away from her abruptly and he fell off the chair and scrambled backward across the floor like a crab.

"You're despicable!" Liska shouted.

She grabbed the cup with the soft-boiled eggg and threw it at him. He brought his arms up to protect himself anZfell backward, hitting his head on a cabinet. It sounded like a gunshot. Mrs. Springer screamed.

"You go to Castleton, you spineless worm," Liska ordered. "Tell him where you weren'tThursday night.You go to IA.They don't love anything more than they love a sniveling, worthless piece of s.h.i.t like you.You turn these aruimals in or I'll make the rest of your career a misery job couldn't survive! n.o.body.

n.o.body threatens my children and gets away with it!"

She threw the Malt-O-Meal at him as a final exclamation point, then gathered up the Polaroids and stuffed them back into her bag. Springer stayed where he was, Malt-O-Meal running down his cheek.

Liska took a couple of fast, deep breaths to compose herself, and looked at Patsy Springer. "I'm sorry to have interrupted your breakfast:' she said, her voice still trembling with rage.

Mrs. Cal made a little cry in her throat and ran into a corner of the room.

"I'll see myself out:'Llska said, and left the house, shaking so hard she felt as if she was having a seizure.

When she got in the Saturn, she let go of a sigh.

"Well," she said aloud as she cranked the key and started the engine. "I feel.better."

W H Y D i D Y o u have to tell? I could have made it right.... What the h.e.l.lhad Jocelyn Daring meant by that?Kovac sat on a small chair in one corner ofAndy Fallon's bedroom,D U S T T 0 D U S T 27S staring at nothing. He replayed the memory ofJocelyn Daring walking intoPierce's study. The look on her face. The fury in her eyes. If he hadn't beenthere to stop her, what kind of damage might she have done to Pierce?He probably should have arrested her for what she had done. Minnesota lawshad zero tolerance for domestic abuse. Even if the victim didn't want to presscharges, the state did. But he hadn't taken that step. Mitigatingcirc.u.mstances, a lawyer might argue. Poor Jocelyn. Upon hearing her fianc6sconfession of a h.o.m.os.e.xual relationship, she lost her mind for a moment andstruck out.Why add insult to her injury?Because she might decide to finish the job.She had left the house willingly, silently, dragging an overflowing -suitcaseto the waiting car of her maid of honor. Steve Pierce had gone by cab to thenearest ER to claim he'd slipped on the ice and cracked his head.Love American style. Love ...Kovac tried to shake off that thought and focus instead on the scene ofAndyFallon's death.That was part of the reason he had come here: to get his rmindon something other than the big tumble he might have actually taken for a ladywith lieutenant's bars and some deep dark trouble on her nuind. He was tryingnot to wonder at the source of her nightmare, trying not to think that whathad happened wasn't an isolated incident, and that was why she'd asked him togo,because she was afraid it would happen again and he would want to know why.Those were the thoughts he had come here to avoid. Those thoughts he keptthinking and then reminding himself not to.Nor did he want to think about how it had felt to make love to her or the incredible sense of protectiveness that had come over him as he'd held herafter the nightmare. He would put his rmind on work, which was the only thinghe was really very good at anyway. The job never told him to take a hike.The corpse smell lingered in the room. Kovac stuck his nose over a steamingcup of Caribou dark roast and breathed deep.Iguess Id be doing a public service if I invited you infor a cup of coffee....He blinked out the image of Amanda standing at her front door, peeking out athim. He needed to consider a different blonde. Question: Could Jocelyn Daring have killed her fianc6s gay lover?276 T A M 0 A G Yes. Had she had the opportunity? He didn't know and couldn't ask her.The casewas officially closed; he had no right to question anyone. Had Piercementioned being with her the night of Andy Fallon's death? If she'd had theopportumity and taken it, how had she pulled it off? How would she have gottenFallon to bed? No one had suggested Andy Fallon had flipped the switch bothways. Everyone had spoken too highly of him to imagine he might go to bed withhis lover's girlfriend. So, there was that problem.He thought of the sleeping pills, of the winegla.s.ses in the dishwasher. Maybe ... Next question: If she had drugged him, knocked him out, could she have hunghim? Could she have lifted a man's deadweight?He stared at the bed, then at the beam the rope had hung from. He got up fromthe chair and went to sit on the edge of the bed, then rose and stoodapproximately where the body had been hanging. The fulllength rmirror waspositioned exactly as it had been; the word Sorry appeared scrawled across hisbelly. The mirror had been dusted for prints but hadn't been confiscated asevidence because no crime had been committed. Kovac looked in it now and tried to picture Jocelyn Daring on the bed behind him.

It rmight have been possible to get the victim into a sitting position onIthe edge of the bed, put the noose around his neck, then hoist him up withthe rope and tie the rope off on the bedpost. Maybe. What had Andy Fallonweighed? One-seventy-five? One-eighty? One hundred eighty pounds ofunconscious, uncooperative weight. Jocelyn was strong, but ...While a woman might have struggled to accomplish what he had just imagined, aman would have been able to pull it off more easily. Could Neil have followedthat same basic plan? Killed his brotherfor not loaning him money, or for not being a loser like him, or because hewas jealous, or because he wanted to punish their father before he did him intoo? Kovac went back to his chair and sat again. He looked at how tidy the roomwas, remembered how perfectly made the bed had been. It had struck him oddthat Andy wouldn't have sat on the bed before he did the deed. And that therewere sheets in the washing machine.Who did their laundry, then killed themselves?He thought of Neil Fallon's place as they had executed the search warrant.Thekind of frat-house filth and disorder that gave single guysD U S T T 0 D U S T 277 a bad name. Pierce had said it: Neil's the messy type, don't you think? . . .devastation at the scenefingerprints everywhere ...Neil Fallon hadn't changed a sheet in his life. There was no evidence in hisown home that he had any idea how to run a dishwasher. Who then? Who else hadmotive? Ogden's beef with IA wasover. Unless Fallon. had come up with something new. And they might never knowthat unless they found Fallon's personal notes on the case. And how could thatox Ogden pull off something with this much finesse? It wouldn't be his nature.Beating someone with a pipe was his nature. How would Ogden even have gottenin the front door? Fallon wouldn't have let him in the house. Maybe atgunpoint.There was no denying Liska had stirred the hornet's nest looking at theCurtis-Ogden angle....As for Steve Pierce, Kovac felt he had done his confessing. He didn't seePierce killing his lover in cold blood, the way Fallon had died. If he hadloved Andy the way he seemed to, he couldn't have humiliated him that way. Andthe s.e.x-game angle didn't play, according to Kate Conlan.Kovac sighed. " Speak to me, Andy."It didn't take Sherlock Holmes to figure out most murders. A true whodunit wasthe exception rather than the rule. Most people were killed by someone theyknew, for a reason that was simple.Calls to the friends in Andy's address book had turned up nothing. He hadn'tbeen that close to that many people. Too many years of living a secret life.Only Pierce had mentioned having seen him recently with another man. Anotherlover? Most people were killed by someone they knew, for a reason that was simple.Private life: family, friends, lovers, ex-lovers.Professional life: coworkers, enemies made on the job or because of the job.He didn't know what other cases Andy had had in the hopper. Savard wouldn'tgive that out, especially since his death had been ruled something other thanhomicide. She didn't seem concerned that any of his current caseload might beharboring a murderer. And so Kovac came back to the only case he knew anythingabout: Curtis-Ogden.No. That wasn't exactly true. According to Pierce,, Andy might278 T A M have been looking into the Thorne murder. But what could have come of a caseclosed twenty years ago-besides resentment from his father?Which brought Kovac back to suicide. Maybe a guy like Andya guy who dotted all his i's and crossed all his t's, a guy who needed approval and control ...

Maybe a guy like that would change his sheets before he stretched his neck.

Most people were killed by someone they knew, for a reason that was simple.

Themselves. Suicide. Depression.

Death didn't get more simple than that. Too bad he couldn't make himself buy it.

THE HOMICIDE OFFICE was quiet on Sat.u.r.day. Leonard never came in on weekends.

Shift detectives were primarily on call. People sometimes came into the office to catch up on paperwork. Kovac spent most of his Sat.u.r.days here because he had no life.

He hung his coat up and wondered what Amanda was doing with her Sat.u.r.day.Was she thinking about him, about what had happened? Was she reliving the moment he'd walked out the door, rewriting it in her head so that she asked him to stay?

He fell into his chair and stared at the telephone.

No. No, he wouldn't call. But he s.n.a.t.c.hed up the receiver to check his voice mail. On the off chance ... There was nothing. He sighed, flipped through the Rolodex, and dialed a number.

"Records, Turvey." The voice on the other end rattled with gravel and phlegm.

"Russell, you old mole. Why don't you get a f.u.c.king life?"

"Ha! What the h.e.l.l would I want with that? J. Christ. If I had to interact with regular people ..."The old man made a gargling noise. "Argh. I'd sooner hump a monkey."

"Yeah, there's an image." Russell Turvey: sixty-whatever years old with a face like Popeye, a cigarette hanging on his lip, a stomach like a basketball, doing it with a monkey.

Turvey laughed and coughed and hacked. His lungs sounded like a couple of plastic bags half-full ofJell-O.

Kovac picked up the pack of Salems he'd bought on the way in and threw it in the garbage.

"Whatd you need, Sam? Is it legal?"

D U S T.

T 0.

D U S T 279.

"Sure."

"Well, s.h.i.t.You're no fun. Getting dull in your old age. Hey, that was too bad about Iron Mike, huh? I heard it was you found him. It's always those hard-a.s.s guys that eat their guns."

:, Yeah, well, he might not have. I'm looking into it."

'j. Christ! You're s.h.i.ttin' me! Who'd waste a bullet on a moldy old t.u.r.d like him?"

I'll keep you posted:'Kovac promised. "Listen, Russ, I came across an old badge the other day in a junk shop. I'm curious who might have worn it. Can you find something like that?" "Sure. If I don't have it, I know who does. I got nothing else to do here but sit around with my thumb up my a.s.s."

"You're killing me with the visuals here, Russell."

"Argh. Come on down and take a picture for your sc.r.a.pbook. What's the badge number?"

"Fourteen twenty-eight. Looked like a seventies issue. I was Just curious."

"I'll dig it up."

"Thanks. I owe you one."

"Catch the b.a.s.t.a.r.d that capped Mike.We'll call it even." "I'll do what I can."

"I know you, Sam.You'll do nine times more than that, and some bra.s.s c.o.c.ksucker'll take all the credit."

"The way of the world, Russ."

"Argh. f.u.c.k 'em." He hacked into the phone and hung up. Kovac dug the cigarettes out of the garbage, bent the pack in two, and tossed it back in.

He turned the computer on and spent the next hour getting to know Jocelyn

Daring. Through one source, he found out she had graduated c.u.m laude fromNorthwestern, where she had been a standout field hockey player. Athletic.Strong-he already knew that. Aggressive-he'd seen that for himself She wasfourth in her cla.s.s at the University of Minnesota law school. Ambitious.Hardworking. Through DMV records he discovered she had a lead foot and did apoor job feeding parking meters. That could suggest a certain disregard forrules ... or so would say John Quinn and his profiler pals.But he discovered no criminal record, no newspaper stories about her flippingout in a restaurant or anything of the sort. He hadn't0 A 0 really expected to. Even ifJocelyn had a history of irrational behavior, herfamily had the bucks to cover it up.Not so the Fallon clan, Kovac could see as he went through the file Elwood hadput together on Neil. Neil's life foibles were a matter of public record. Thea.s.sault conviction, a couple of DUls, tax problems, health code violations atthe bar, run-ins with agents of the Department of Natural Resources for takingmore than his legal limit of d.a.m.n near every living creature that had a seasonon it. The pattern was one of wanting more than what he was ent.i.tled to. A man withresentment for authority. The complete opposite of his brother--something Neilundoubtedly blamed Andy for, though it bad most likely happened the other wayaround. Andy had watched Neil screw up and cause trouble, and he had gone ahundred eighty degrees in the other direction to please his father. And he'ddone it right up to the end, with the unforgivable exception of telling theold man the truth about his s.e.xuality.Poor kid. Even going so far as to try to understand Mike through his lifeexperiences. What was to understand? There weren't that many layers to guyslike Mike Fallon. That was where Neil had the edge on Andy: he had understoodMike perfectly.I 'V E G 0 T N 0 T H I N Q to say to you, Kovac. Not without having my lawyerpresent."Neil Fallon glared at him and paced by the door to the interview room. Helooked natural in the orange jailhouse jumpsuit, except it should have haddirt and grease on it. He had had to cuff the pants legs to keep from trippingover them. "This isn't about you, Neil," Kovac said, sitting in the plastic chair andsquaring an ankle over a knee. Mr. Relaxation."Then why are you here? I got nothing to say to you.""So you've said. So I guess you don't want a chance to help yourself out.""How can I help myself out if it isn't about me?" "Good faith."Fallon's eyebrows climbed his forehead. "Good faith? Stick it up your a.s.s.""For a guy who claims to be straight, you're awful big on wanting me to sticksomething up my a.s.s," Kovac observed.D U S T T 0 D U S T 281 "f.u.c.k you!" Fallon snapped, catching himself too late. He growled and pacedsome more. "I'm suing you, Kovac. Suing this rotten police department."Kovac sighed his boredom. "Look, Neil, you tell me you're innocent.You tell meyou wouldn't kill your old man.""I didn't." "So help me understand some things.That's all I'm asking. Understanding is thekey to etilightenment.You know, the policeman is your friend," he said as ifhe were talking to a four-year-old. "And if he's not, you're f.u.c.ked. Make melike you here, Nell."Fallon leaned against the wall beside the door and crossed his arms, thinking."My lawyer says not to talk to you without him present.""Once you've engaged counsel, nothing you say without him present can be usedagainst you.You can't get hurt here.You can only help yourself I never wanted us to be enemies, Neil. h.e.l.l, we shared a bottle.You're a decent, hardworkingguy. So am L"Fallon waited, lower lip sticking out."I brought you some cigarettes," Kovac said, holding up the pack. Fallon cameover and took it, making a face. "They're all bent!" "Hey, they still burn.""Jesus," he grumbled, but took one out and tried to straighten it. Kovachanded him a lighter."I'm just curious about some things with Andy-and no, I don't think you killedhim. I don't know if anybody did. Everybody says he was depressed. I just wanta clearer picture of that, that's all."Behind the haze of smoke, Fallon narrowed his eyes, thinking: trick question."See, I'm a homicide cop," Kovac went on. "I look sideways at everybody whensomebody's suddenly dead. It's nothing personal. If my old man turned up dead,I'd look at my mother, for chrissake. But there's another picture here to lookat. Say, what if Andy wanted to get close with your dad again. He wanted achance to win him back, so to speak. So he tries to do some things with Mike,talk to him, spend time with.him. Maybe he buys him that big-a.s.s TV in theliving room-""Wyatt bought that Fallon said, matter-of-fact. He took a seat andconsidered the crooked cigarette.282 T A M 0 A 0 "What?" "Ace Wyatt. The old man's guardian angel:' Fallon said sarcasti-cally. "It was always that way since the shooting. Wyatt helped with hospitalbills, bought stuff for the house, for Andy and me. Mikee always said that'show it was-cops looking out for cops. That's what it's all about, he said,obligation. And that's what it was. Wyatt never wanted to spend any time withthe old man, or with any of us. He'd come into the house and act like hethought he was getting fleas. Big a.s.shole.""Yeah, that's pretty rotten, buying you stuff like that.""I always figured he felt guilty 'cause Mike caught that bullet. Wyatt livingright across the street from Thorne and all. Him being the one that Thornecalled for help. It should have been him in that wheelchair. But Mike beat himto it." Kovac digested the theory, thinking Fallon probably had a pretty good handleon it. Mike had caught that bullet instead ofAce Wyatt, and he'd n e*ver letWyatt forget it. The fading image of the n.o.ble legend washed kway by the acidrain of reality."Mike needed something, he'd call Wyatt," Neil went on, puffing on theL-shaped cigarette. "And don't think he didn't throw that up in my face everychance he got. I should have been taking care of him.The oldest son and allthat bulls.h.i.t. Like he ever did s.h.i.t for me." "How old was Andy at the time ofthe shooting?""Seven or eight, I guess.Why?""Someone told me he had wanted to sit down with Mike and talk about what happened. To try to get a better understanding of your father."Fallon laughed and coughed and puffed on the crooked cigarette. "Yeah, thatwas Andy. Mr. Sensitivity. What's to understand? Mike was a bitter old son ofa b.i.t.c.h, that's all.""I guess Mike didn't want to talk about what happened. Had Andy said anythingto you?"He thought about it for a moment, looking as if he was trying to remember. "Iguess he said something about it one of those last times I saw him. Mentionedit in relation to Mike not wanting him poking at old wounds. I didn't pay muchattention.What was the point digging all that up?" He studied Kovac for amoment. "Why do you care?"Kovac turned the information over in his mind, mixing it intoU S T T 0 D U S T 283 what he already had, trying to recall something he thought Mike had said inthe last few days of his life."I'm just thinking," he said, just to fill airtime. "Andy had some problemswith depression. If it meant a lot to him to get back with the old man, andMike wouldn't cooperate, then maybe he really did hit bottom and check out.And maybe Mike blamed himself. . . .""Well, that would be a first." Fallon finished the cigarette and crushed theb.u.t.t out on the sole of his shoe. "Never blame yourself when you can blamesomeone else. That was Mike." Kovac checked his watch. "So if you're on the suicide angle now, how long before I get outta here?""It's out of my hands, Neil," Kovac said, pushing to his feet. He went to thedoor and pushed the buzzer for the jailer. "Not my fault. It's those rottenlawyers. I'd help you if I could. Keep the cigarettes. It's the least I cando." 0 A QC H A P T E THE MINNEAPOLIS STAR TRIBUNE printed Ace Wyatt's shooting schedule for CrimeTime in the entertainment news every Thursday. Part of the show's gimmick wasWyatt's interaction with the audience. It was like a f.u.c.king inforriercial,Kovac had thought the few times he'd watched it. Or something ftom the FoodChannel. Ace Wyatt: the Emeril Laga.s.se of law enforcement.The crime du Jour was being reenacted in a hockey rink in the suburb of St.Louis Park. Murder by curling stone: a cautionary tale of poor sportsmanship.Kovac badged the security bruiser standing at the roped-off section ofbleachers and walked into the thick ofAce Mania. A twelve-by-twelve red carpet had been spread on a section of the ice. Thecamera stood at one corner of it, along with a bored videographer who lookedlike Gandhi in a down jacket. Another videographer, this one on skates andwith a handheld camera, leaned against the frame of the hockey goalie's net.Four lucky fans had been chosen to sit in the penalty boxes. Another hundredsat behind them. Lots of large women and wimpy-looking older men in redPROActive! sweatshirts. "We need quiet now, people!" shouted a thin, rawboned woman in black-rimmedgla.s.ses and a coat that looked as if it had been made285 from olive-green s.h.a.g carpeting. She clapped her hands precisely three timesand the crowd obediently went silent.The director, a fat guy gnawing on a Shm-Fast bar, shouted at the two actors:"Places! Let's get it right this time"'One of the actors, a fiftyish guy in a Nordic patterned sweater and whatlooked like blue tights, slipped and slid across the ice, arms working likespastic propellers at his sides."It's bothering me, Donald," he complained. "How can I think like a curlerwhen there's a hockey goal sitting there?""Tight shots, Keith. No one's going to see the net. Think small. If you haveto think at all." The actor went to find his mark.The director gave the G.o.d-spareme-from-actorsshake of the head. Kovac spotted Wyatt sitting away from the audience, having his makeupretouched. Hugging themselves against the cold of the arena, a couple ofHollywood mover-shaker types stood behind him, smiling gamely while Gainessnapped a Polaroid. An anorexic young woman with brilliant red hair sculptedinto a hedge on top of her head, and a twenty-something guy in a black leathercoat and tiny rectangular spectacles."One more for the sc.r.a.pbook," Gaines said.The flash burst, and the camera spatout its product."The audience doesn't seem to mind the cold," the guy said. Gaines gave them the engaging grin. "They love CaptainWyatt.We turn away droves at everytaping.They're so excited to be here.What's a little chill?"The girl bounced up and down and rubbed her hands over her arms. "I've neverbeen so cold in my life! I haven't been warm one minute since I got off theplane. How do people live here?""You think this is cold?" Kovac said, and huffed his disgust. "Come back inJanuary. You'll think you died and went to Siberia. Colder than agrave-digger's a.s.s."The girl looked at him the way she might look at some odd creature in the zoo.Gaines lost the grin."Sergeant Kovac. What a pleasure," he said flatly."For me too," Kovac said, giving the scene the disdainful once-over again. "Idon't get to the circus every day. I have a real job-""Yvette Halston:'the redhead introduced herself "Vice president, creativedevelopment, Warner Brothers television."286 T A M0 A GThe guy stuck his hand out. "KelseyVroman, vice president, realityprogranirming."Reality programming."Kovac. Sergeant. Homicide.""Sam!" Wyatt came up out of his chair, shooing the makeup woman away. Hepulled the paper-towel bib out of the neck of his double-breasted navy Italiansuit and tossed it aside. "What brings you here? Did you get the lab resultsback on the Fallon evidence?"The WB VPs p.r.i.c.ked up their ears at the sound of real cop talk. "Not yet.""I made a couple of phone calls. They're on it today.""Yeah, thanks, Ace," he said Wli thout appreciation. "Actually, I came to askyou about something else. Have you got a rruinute?"Gaines came to Wyatt's side, clipboard in hand, and tried to show him aschedule. "Captain, Donald wants to get through this section before one. Therest of the curling people were told to be here no later than bne-thirty forthe interview portion.We'll be cutting lunch by thirty minutes as it is.Theunion people will have a fit.""Then break for lunch nowl"Wyatt ordered. "But they're ready for the shot.""Then they'll be ready after lunch, won't they?" "Yes, but-""Then what's the problem, Gavin?""Yeah, Gavin," Kovac goaded. "What's the problem?"Gaines gave Kovac a cold look. "I believe you're the one who pointed out thatCaptain Wyatt is retired from the force," he said. "He has other obligationsthan to solve your case for you, but he's too decent a man to tell you to goaway.""Gavin Wyatt chided. "I don't have any obligations more important thana murder investigation."TheVPs both got wet on that one."Ace," the redhead purred, "you're consulting on a case?You didn't tell us!That could be very exciting! What do you think, Kelsey?" "We could getsomething set up with various law enforcementagencies for a weekly segment. Police, DEA, FBI. Have the consultation at theend of the show. Five minutes, mano a mano, detective to detective. Ace offersthe benefit of his no-nonsense wisdom. I like it. It adds a sense of immediacyand vitality. Don't you think so, Gavin?"D U S TT 0D U S T 287 " 1,.

"It could work very well," Gaines said diplomatically. in just concerned about our schedule today."

"We'll deal with it, Gavin," Wyatt said dismissively, then turned to Kovac

again. "Let's go upstairs, Sam.You can have a bite while we talk. Our catereris fabulous. Gavin found him. Makes the best little quiches."Wyatt led the way up the concrete steps to a room overlooking the rinkthrough a long window. Food h 'ad been artistically arranged on a longtable draped in red with the'Crime Time sc.r.a.pbook as a centerpiece. Wyattdidn't go near the spread, but gestured Kovac to."I don't like to eat when we're shooting:'he explained, opening a bottle ofwater. "I stay sharper that way.""Gotta stay on your toes for this." And not bust the girdle, Kovacthought.Wyatt looked as if he hadn't -taken a full breath in five hours. "Iknow you don't think much of it, Sam," he said, "but we're serv-ing a real purpose here. Helping solve crimes, helping people stand up forthemselves and prevent crime.""Making a bundle." "That's not a crime.,,"No. Never rm'nd me," Kovac said, paging idly through the sc.r.a.pbook, slowingat the pages from Wyatt's retirement party. Posed and candid-if there could besuch a thing as a candid shot of Ace Polaroid shots of the great man in hisglory.A shot of Wyatt pumping Kovac's hand, Kovac looking as if he'd justgrabbed hold of an eel. A posed shot with a Channel Five reporter. A candid ofWyatt speaking to Amanda Savard. His gaze lingered."I don't like game shows either," Kovac said, trying to remember having seenher there that night, but he'd been too busy feeling sorry for himself "I'mtold I'm getting cranky in my old age, but that's bulls.h.i.t. I've always beencranky.""You're not old, Sam," Wyatt pointed out. "You're younger than me, and lookwhere I am now. A great second career. On top of the world.""I'll probably just stick with the one career until someone shoots me' " Kovacsaid. "Which reminds me why I'm here.""Mike." Wyatt nodded. "Do you have anything more on the son, on Neil?""I'm more here about Andy, actually."Wyatt's brow furrowed. "Andy? I don't understand."288 T A M "I'm curious as to the why of * a1rhe s i in vague explanation. itaid i "I know he'd been looking into the Thorne murder, thinking maybe Mike wouldwant to reminisce, maybe they could get closer through it.""He talked to you." He put it as if it were a statement of fact, as ifhe'd seen the notes, leaving little room for denial, even though he knew nosuch thing."Yes," Wyatt said. "He mentioned it to me. I know Mike didn't want any part ofit. Painful memories." "For you too."Wyatt nodded. "It was a terrible night. Forever changed the lives of everyoneinvolved." "Tied you to the Fallons like you were family.""In a way, yes. You don't go through something like that with another officerand not come away with a bond.""Especially with the circ.u.mstances." "What do you mean?""With you living right across the street. With the Thornes calling you forhelp, but Mike getting there ahead of you.You had to feel a little like Miketook that bullet instead of you, huh? Mike probably felt that too."I "The tricks of fate,"Wyatt said with a dramatic sigh. "My number wasn't up.Mike's was." "There must have been a little guilt though.You went above and beyond the callhelping Mike out all these years."Wyatt stood silent for a moment. Kovac waited, wondering what the makeup washiding. Surprise? Anger?"Where are you going with this, Sam?"Kovac shrugged a little and picked a baby carrot from a tray on the table. "Iknow Mike took advantage all these years, Ace," he said, snapping the carrot in two. "I'm just wondering ... With you making the big move to Hollywood ...Making big dough ... I'm just wondering if he imight have tried to squeeze youfor a little more." Kovac could see the color rise in Wyatt's face now."I don't like the direction you're taking," he said quietly." I tried to doright by Mike and his family. And maybe he did take advantage and play on myguilt for not being the one in the chair. But that was between Mike and me,and that's how it slictuld stay.We both deserve better than what you'rethinking."U S T T 0 D U S T 289 "I'm not thinking anything, Ace. I don't get paid to think. I'm justwondering, that's all.You know me, I've gotta take things apart and see howtheywork.""The Job's made you too cynical, Sam. Maybe it's time you got out."Kovac narrowed his eyes a little, studying Wyatt, trying to decide if that wasa threat. Wyatt could make a couple of his famous phone calls, and thatd beit. Kiss the career good-bye or spend eternity down in Records listening toRussell Turvey hawk up lugies. And for what? To reveal the awful truth thatAce Wyatt felt guilty for being alive and whole? Even if Mike had tried tosqueeze a little extra something out of him, the notion of Wyatt killing overthat was ludicrous. Unless the reason he had paid Mike Fallon off all these years had to do withsome other kind of guilt altogether."How well did you know the Thornes?"Gaines rapped on the open door and came into the room then, eyebrows raisedatWyatt. "Excuse me, Captain. Kelsey andYvette have gone to buy parkas.Everyone is breaking for lunch. Will you be joining the audience, or is thisgoing to take longer?" he asked, emphasizing the word this with a look atKovac. He pulled a small lint brush from a jacket pocket and gave Wyatt'slapels a quick swipe."No,"Wyatt said. "We're finished here."Kovac popped the carrot in his mouth and chewed thoughtfully as Wyatt walkedaway. He followed at a distance and watched as Ace Wyatt worked the crowd ofpeople who had so little going on in their lives they would waste a Sat.u.r.daywatching this bulls.h.i.t.Like me, he thought with a smirk, and walked out.T H E 0 N - L I N E A R C H I V E S of the Minneapolis Star Tribune went backonly to 1990. Kovac spent the afternoon in a room in the Hennepin Countylibrary, straining his eyes looking at rmicrofiche, reading and rereading thearticles written about the Thorne murder and Mike Fallon's shooting. They laidout the story as he remembered it.The drifter-c.u.m-handyman, Kenneth Weagle, had done some work for Officer BillThorne's wife and had apparently taken a shine to her. He had come to thehouse that night knowing Bill Thorne was on patrol. He'd been in theneighborhood long enough to scope out the cormings and goings of residents. Hehad attacked Evelyn Thornein her bedroom, raped her, slapped her around, then started looting the house.By chance, Bin Thorne had stopped back home and walked into the house,unsuspecting. Weagle shot him with a gun of Thorne's he had found in thehouse. At some point Mrs. Thorne had phoned Ace Wyatt across the street. Butbefore Wyatt could arrive, Mike Fallon did.Bill Thorne was given a hero's funeral with all the tr.i.m.m.i.n.gs. There werephotographs with that article. The long motorcade of police vehicles. A grainyshot of the widow in dark gla.s.ses, being consoled by friends and family.According to the article, Thorne had been survived by his wife, Evelyn, and anunnamed seventeen-year-old daughter. In the photo, Evelyn Thorne looked alittle like Grace Kelly, Kovac thought. He wondered if either of them was still in the area. He wondered if any of Bill Thorne's old cronies would know.Evelyn Thorne had been a relatively young woman at the time of the incident.Chances were she had remarried. She would be fifty-eight now, the daughterthirty-seven.IfAndy Fallon had been looking into the case, wanting to come to some kind ofunderstanding, he might already have done the legwork. But there was no file.Kovac wondered ifAmanda could be talked into letting him look around Fallon'soffice, check out his work computer. The Thorne murder wasn't an active IAcase. She might not care.You don't even know if she'll ever speak to you again, Kovac. There was that."Sir?"The librarian's voice startled him. He jerked around to find herstanding too close."The library is closing:' she said apologetically. "I'm afraid you'll have toleave." Kovac gathered the copies of articles he'd run off, and went back out into thecold. Afternoon had surrendered to night, though it was barely five.Thehomeless who had spent their day in the warmth of the library had been shooedout along with him. They rmilled around on the sidewalk, instinctively shyingaway from Kovac, smelling cop. The librarian had probably thought he was oneof them. He hadn't shaved, had spent the afternoon pulling at his hair andrubbing his eyes. He felt like one of them, standing on the cold street inthis bleak, gray part of town. Alone, disconnected.He tried to call Liska on his cell phone and got her voice mail;D U S T T 0 D U S T 291 debated paging her, then let it go. He drove home so he could feel alone anddisconnected in a warmer setting.The neighbor had added to his lawn display a painted plywood cutout of Santabending over, showing three inches of b.u.t.t crack. Hilarious. It was positioneddirectly toward Kovac's living room window. Such cla.s.s.Kovac contemplated taking out his gun and blasting Santa an a.s.shole. See thehumor in that, c.o.c.ksucker?The house still smelled of garbage, even though he had taken it out. Like thecorpse smell at Andy Fallon's. He tossed the copies of the Thorne murderarticles on the coffee table and went into the kitchen. He burned some coffee grounds on the stove to get rid of the odora trick he'd learned at deathscenes. See if Heloise put that in her helpful hints column. "at to do in'theevent ofputrid corpse decay.He went upstairs, took a shower, pulled on some jeans and wool socks and anold sweatshirt, and went back down in search of supper, even though he had noappet.i.te to speak of. He needed calories to keep the rmind going. If keepinghis mind going was what he really wanted tonight.The only edible food in the house was a box of Frosted Flakes. He ate ahandful, dry, and poured some of the scotch he'd picked up on the way home.Macallan. What the h.e.l.l. On the stereo, he found the faux jazz station playing a faux jazz tune, and hestood at the window listening to it and sipping the Macallan and staring atSanta's a.s.s. This is my life.He didn't know how long he'd been standing there when the doorbell rang. Thesound was so unfamiliar, it took three rings before he responded.Amanda Savard stood on the front step, the black velvet scarf swathing herhead, hiding her wounds. Some of them anyway. "Well:'Kovac said, "youmust be a detective too. I'm unlisted." "May I come in?"He stood back and waved her in with the scotch gla.s.s. "Don't expect much. Iget so many tips from the Home and Garden channel, but I just don't have thetime." She went to the rm*ddle of the living room, pushed the scarf off her head, but didn't remove her gloves or the long black coat. She didn't take a seat.

0 A 0.

"I came to apologize," she said, lookingiust past his right shoulder. Kovac wondered if she could see Santa's moon, but if she did, she didn't react.

"For what?" he asked. "Sleeping with me? Or throwing me out after?"

She looked as if she wanted to be anywhere but there. She held her hands together, then brought one up to touch her haiir near the burns.

1- 1 wasn't- I didn't mean-" She stopped and pressed her lips together and closed her eyes for a moment." I'm not- I don't easily ... share my life ...

with other people. And I'm sorry if I Kovac set his gla.s.s on the coffee table as he stepped close. He touched her cheek, his thumb brushing 'ust below the wound. Her J skin was cold to the touch, as if she must have been sitting out front for a long time before she worked up the courage to come to the door. "You don't have to be sorry, Amanda," he said softly. "Don't be sorry about me, or for me."

She met his gaze. Her lower lip was quivering ever so slightly. "I'm not good at this," she said.

"Hush." He bent his head and touched his mouth to hers. Not with pa.s.sion, but with something gentler. Her lips warmed, and softened, and opened to him.

can't stay," she whispered, her voice tight with whatever conflict she was battling internally.