The Dark Tide Free for a Limited Time (35 page)

Her face was pressed under the surface, breath tightening in her lungs, flailing at him with her arms, Cates’s strong hands pinning the back of her head.

Karen had fought him with everything she had. Clawing, trying to bite his arm, gasping to suck a gulp of precious air into her lungs. Once she even pulled him over on top of her, amusing Dietz, getting Cates all soaked, and he drew his fist to her face in a menacing rage. “Jesus, Cates, what a fucking woman!” she heard Dietz cackle.

Karen spit water out of her mouth and tried to scream. He dunked her under again.

Now it was ending. Cates had finally ripped off the tape from her mouth, and she was taking in water, gasping for breath with every last ounce of strength, coughing, but he cupped his hand over her mouth and forced her back down before she could scream.

And who would hear anyway? Who would hear in time? Her thoughts flashed to Ty.
Oh, please…please…
Now water was
pouring in. She twisted away from his grasp a last time, gagging. This was it. She could no longer fight it. In desperation, Karen reached back, vainly trying to claw at the bastard’s leg.

She heard him shout, “How’s the temperature, bitch?”

A desperate will fought the urge to simply open her mouth, just surrender. Give herself over to the dark tide. She thought of Sam and Alex.

No, Karen, no…

Don’t think of them. Please…
That would mean this is it.
Don’t give in.

Then the denial inside her slowly relaxing, her mind wandering amid her last futile throes to an image that even in her greatest fear surprised her: an island, palms bending in the breeze, someone on the white sand, in a baseball cap, stepping toward her.

Waving.

Karen stepped toward him.
Oh, God…

Just as the hand that pinned her under the dark water suddenly seemed to release.

H
AUCK STAGGERED UP
out of the grasses over the dune, his leg exploding in agony.

From thirty yards away, he spotted the man kneeling above her in the water, pressing her face down. Someone else—Dietz, he was certain—standing a few yards back on the beach, seemingly amused by things.

“Karen!”

He stepped forward, steadying his gun with two hands in a shooter’s position, just as the man kneeling over Karen looked up.

The first shot hit him in the shoulder, jerking him backward in surprise. The second and the third thudded solidly into his print beach shirt, spewing red. The man toppled into the water and didn’t move.

Karen rolled over and put a hand up in the soft tide.

“Karen!”

Hauck took a step toward her and at the same time spun on Dietz, who was scrambling along the sand, drawing his weapon. The bright moon had illuminated the first guy on the water, but it was dark. Dietz was like a shadow on the move. Hauck squeezed off a shot. It missed him. The next struck him in the knee as he tried to make a run toward the jetty. He pulled up, hobbling like a colt that had broken its leg.

Hauck ran, labored, toward Karen.

Slowly, she rolled over in the shallow surf, gagging, coughing up water. She pushed herself up on her elbows and knees. In horror, she stared at Cates’s wide-eyed shape—next to her, faceup in the water, and backed away as if it were something vile. She turned to Hauck, tears and disbelief in her wet eyes.

But Dietz had moved into position behind her, placing her directly in Hauck’s line of sight. He had his gun aimed at Hauck, momentarily shielded behind Karen.

“Let her go,” Hauck said. He kept stepping forward. “Let her go, Dietz. There’s no way out.” He steadied his gun at Dietz’s chest. “You might imagine just how much I’d relish doing this.”

“You better be good.” Dietz chuckled. “You miss, Lieutenant, the next one goes in her.”

“I am good.” Hauck nodded.

Hauck took a step toward him. More of a stagger in the sand. It was then he realized that his knees were growing weak and that his strength was waning. He had lost a lot of blood.

“No reason to die here, Dietz,” he said. “We all know it was Lennick who was behind the hits. You’ve got someone to roll on, Dietz. Why die for him? You can cut a deal.”

“Why…?
” Dietz circled behind Karen, keeping her in his line of sight. He shrugged. “Guess it’s just my nature, Lieutenant.”

Using her as a screen, he fired.

A bright streak whizzed just over Hauck’s shoulder, the heat burning him. His wounded leg buckled as he staggered back. He winced, his arm lowering, exposed.

Seeing an advantage, Dietz stepped forward ready to fire again.

“No
…
!”
Karen screamed, lunging out of the water to stop him. “No!”

Dietz shifted his gun to her.

Hauck hollered, “
Dietz!”

He fired. The round caught Dietz squarely in the forehead. The killer’s arm jerked as his own gun went off in the air. He fell back onto the sand, inert, landing like a snow angel, arms and legs spread wide. A trickle of blood oozed from the dime-size hole in his forehead into the lapping surf.

Karen turned, her face wet, glistening. For a moment Hauck just stood there, breathing heavily, two hands wrapped around the gun.

“You didn’t leave,” she said, shaking her head.

“Never,” he said, with a labored smile. Then he dropped to his knees.

“Ty!”

Karen pushed herself up and ran over to him. Dark blood leaked from his side into his hand. Shouts emanated from behind them, flashlights raking over the beach.

Exhausted, Karen hugged him, wrapping her arms around him, a sob of laughter and relief snaking through her tears of fear and exhaustion. She started to cry.

“It’s over, Ty, it’s over,” she said, wiping the blood off his face, tears flooding her eyes.

“No,” he said, “it’s not over.” He collapsed into her, sucking back his pain against her shoulder. “There’s one last stop.”

The call came in just as Saul Lennick settled down for a late meal in his kitchen at his house on Deerfield Road.

Ida, the housekeeper, had heated up a pain du champignon meat loaf before she left. Lennick poured himself a glass of day-old Conseillante. Mimi was on the phone upstairs, going over donors for this season’s Red Cross Ball.

He caught his face in the reflection from the window that overlooked Mimi’s gardens. It had been close. A few days later, he didn’t know what might have happened. But he had tidied it all up. Things had worked out pretty well.

Charles was dead, and with him the fear that anything might fall on Lennick. The heavy losses and the violations of the loans, those would be pinned on Charles. The poor fool had simply fled in fear. The cop was dead. Hodges, another loose end, would be dealt with the same way that very night. The old geezer in Pensacola, what did it matter what he went on about now? Dietz and Cates, as soon as he got the call, they would be rich men and out of the country. Out of anyone’s sight.

Yes, Lennick had done things he never thought himself capable of. Things his grandchildren would never know. That was what his career was all about. There were always trade-offs, losses. Sometimes you just had to do things to preserve your capital, right? It had come close to all tumbling down. But now he was safe, his reputation unimpeachable, his network intact. In the morning there was money to be made. That was how you did it—you simply turned the page.

You forgot your losses of the day before.

At the sound of the phone, Lennick flipped it open, the caller ID both lifting him and making him sad at the same time. He washed down a bite of food with a sip of claret.

“Is it done?”

The voice on the other end made his heart stop.

Not just stop—
shatter.
Lennick’s eyes bulged at the sight of the flashing lights outside.

“Yes, Saul, it’s done,” Karen said, calling from Dietz’s phone. “Now it’s completely done.”

T
HREE
G
REENWICH BLUE-AND-WHITE
police cars were pulled up in the courtyard of Lennick’s stately Normandy that bordered the wooded expanse of the Greenwich Country Club.

Karen leaned against one, wrapped in a blanket, her clothes still wet. With a surge of satisfaction running through her, she handed Dietz’s phone back to Hauck. “Thank you, Ty.”

Carl Fitzpatrick himself had gone inside—as Hauck was under the care of a med tech—and the chief and two uniformed patrolmen pulled Lennick out of the house, his wrists bound in cuffs.

The banker’s wife, dressed in just a night robe, ran out after him, frantic. “Why are they doing this, Saul? What’s going on? What are they talking about—
murder?
”

“Call Tom!” Lennick shouted back over his shoulder as they led him onto the brick circle to one of the waiting cars. His eyes met Hauck’s and cast him a contemptuous glare. “I’ll be home tomorrow,” he reassured his wife, almost mockingly.

His gaze fell upon Karen. She shivered despite the blanket but didn’t break her gaze. Her eyes contained the hint of a wordless, satisfied smile.

As if she were saying,
He won, Saul.
With a nod.
He won.

They pushed Lennick into one of the cars. Karen came over to Hauck. Exhausted, she rested her head against his weakened arm.

It’s over.

The sound came from behind them. Only a sharp ping of splintering glass.

It took a moment to figure it out. By that time Hauck was screaming that someone was shooting and had pressed his body over Karen’s on the driveway, shielding her.

“Ty, what’s going on?”

Everyone hit the pavement or ducked protectively behind vehicles. Police guns came out, radios crackled. People were yelling, “
Everyone get down! Get down!
”

It all stopped as quickly as it began.

The shot had come from up in the trees. From the grounds of the club. No car starting. No footsteps.

Guns trained, the officers looked for a shooter in the darkeness.

Shouts rang out.
“Is anyone hurt?”

No one answered.

Freddy Muñoz got up and got on the radio to order the area closed off, but there were a dozen ways to get out from back there. Onto Hill. Deerfield. North Street.

Anywhere.

Hauck pulled himself up off Karen. His eye was drawn to the waiting police car. His stomach fell. “Oh, Jesus, God…”

There was a spiderweb of fractured glass in the rear passenger window. A tiny hole in the center.

Saul Lennick was slumped against it, as if napping.

There was a widening dark spot on the side of his head. His white hair was turning red.

Illegal search. Breaking and entering. Unauthorized use of official firearms. Failing to report a felony act.

These were just some of the offenses Hauck knew he might be facing from his bed in Greenwich Hospital. Not to mention misleading a murder investigation in the BVIs, but at least, for the moment, that was out of the jurisdiction here.

Still, as he lay attached to a network of catheters and monitors, recuperating from surgeries on his abdomen and leg, it occurred to him that a continuing career in law enforcement was pretty much of a morphine drip right now.

That next morning Carl Fitzpatrick came to visit. He brought an arrangement of daffodils with him and placed it on the sill next to the flowers sent by the local policemen’s union, shrugging at Hauck a bit foolishly, as if to say,
The wife made me do it, Ty.

Hauck nodded and said, straightfaced, “I’m actually a bit more partial to purples and reds, Carl.”

“Next time, then.” Fitzpatrick grinned, sitting down.

He inquired about Hauck’s injuries. The bullet to his side had had the good fortune of missing anything vital. That would heal. The leg, however—Hauck’s right hip, actually—with all the running and limping around as he went after Dietz and Lennick, was basically shot.

“The doctor says those end-to-end rushes on the rink are pretty much a thing of the past now.” Hauck smiled.

His boss nodded like that was too bad. “Well, you weren’t exactly Bobby Orr.” Then after a pause, Fitzpatrick shifted forward. “You know, I’d like to be able to say, ‘Good work, Ty.’ I mean, that was one sweet mother of a bust.” He shook his head soberly. “Why couldn’t you have just brought it in to me, Ty? We could have done it by the book.”

Hauck shifted. “Guess I just got carried away.”

“Yeah.” The chief grinned, as if appreciating the joke. “That’s what you could call it, getting carried away.” Fitzpatrick stood up. “I gotta go.”

Hauck reached over to him. “So be honest with me, Carl, what are the chances I’ll be back on the job?”

“Honest?”

“Yeah.” Hauck sighed. “Honest.”

The chief blew a long blast of air. “I don’t know….” he swallowed. “There’ll definitely have to be a review. People are going to look to me for some kind of suspension.”

Hauck sucked in a breath. “I understand.”

Fitzpatrick shrugged. “I don’t know, Ty, whaddaya think? Maybe a week?” He curled a bright smile. “That was one fucking kick-ass of a bust, Lieutenant. I can’t exactly stand behind the way you went about it. But it was sweet. Sweet enough that I want you back. So rest up. Take care of yourself. Ty, I probably shouldn’t be saying this, but you should be proud.”

“Thank you, Carl.”

Fitzpatrick gave Hauck a tug on the forearm and headed to the door.

“Hey, Carl…”

The chief turned at the door. “Yeah?”

“If I
had
done it by the book…If I had come to you and said I wanted to reopen the Raymond hit-and-run. Before I had something. Tell me straight, would you have agreed?”

“Agreed?”
The chief squinted in thought. “To open it back up? On
what,
Lieutenant?” He laughed as he went out the door. “No effing way.”

H
AUCK NAPPED A
little. He felt restored. Around lunchtime there was a knock at the door. Jessie came in.

With Beth.

“
Hey, honey
….” Hauck grinned widely. When he tried to open his arms, he winced.

“Oh, Daddy…” With tears of worry, Jessie ran over and put her face against his chest. “Daddy, are you going to be all right?”

“I’m okay, hon. I promise. I’m going to be okay. Strong as ever.”

She nodded, and Hauck pressed her against him. He looked over at Beth.

She curled her short brown hair behind her ear and leaned against the door. Smiled. He was sure she was about to tell him, something like,
Nice job, Lieutenant,
or,
You sure outdid yourself this time, Ty.

But she didn’t.

Instead she came over and stood by the bed. Her eyes were liquid and deep, and it took her a while to say anything at all, and when she did, it was with a tight smile and a fond squeeze of his hand.

“All right,” she said, “you can
have
Thanksgiving, Ty.”

He looked at her and smiled.

And for the first time in years, he felt he saw something there. In her moist eyes. Something he’d been waiting for for a long
time. Something that had been lost and had eluded him for many years and now, with their daughter’s wet cheeks pressed into him, had been found.

Forgiveness.

He winked at her and held Jessie close. “That’s good to hear, Beth.”

T
HAT NIGHT
H
AUCK
was a little groggy from all the medications. He had the Yankees game on but couldn’t follow. There was a soft knock at the door.

Karen stepped in.

She was dressed in her gray Texas Longhorns T-shirt, a jean jacket thrown around her shoulders. Her hair was pinned up. Hauck noticed a cut on the side of her lip where Dietz had slapped her. She carried a single rose in a small vase and came over and placed it next to his bed.

“My heart.” She pointed to it.

He smiled.

“You look pretty,” he told her.

“Yeah, right. I look like a bus just ran over me.”

“No. Everything looks pretty. The morphine’s kicking in.”

Karen smiled. “I was here last night when you were in surgery. The doctors talked to me. You’re Mr. Lucky, Ty. How’s the leg?”

“It was never exactly what you’d call limber. Now it’s just completely shot.” He chuckled. “The whole—”

“Don’t say it.” Karen stopped him. “Please.”

Hauck nodded. After a pause he shrugged. “So what the hell is a shebang anyway?”

Karen’s eyes glistened. “I don’t know.” She squeezed his hand with both of hers and stared deeply into his hooded eyes. “Thank you, Ty. I owe you so much. I owe you everything. I wish I knew what the hell to say.”

“Don’t…”

Karen pressed his fingers in her palms and shook her head. “I just don’t know if I can pick up the same way.”

He nodded.

“Charlie’s dead,” she said. “That’s gonna take some time now. And the kids…they’re coming back.” She looked at him. Amid all these tubes, the monitor screens beeping. Her eyes flooded over.

“I understand.”

She placed her head down on his chest. Felt his breathing.

“On the other hand”—she sniffed back a few tears—“I guess we could give it a try.”

Hauck laughed. More like winced, pain rising up in his belly.

“Yeah.” He held her. He stroked her hair. The fleshy round of her cheek. He felt her stop shaking. He felt himself start to feel at ease, too.

“We could try.”