Son of a bitch! He almost wanted to turn the whole operation ninety degrees and go after John Sampson instead. No way that pathetic excuse for a cop was going to get any closer to his family than he already had. That was for damn sure.

Either way, the signs were unmistakable. It was time to make a big move. The only question was—what first?

When the phone in his pocket buzzed, Guidice gritted his teeth. He didn’t have to look at the ID. His mother was the only person who had this number, and it was the fourth time she’d tried him in the last hour. It was getting ridiculous.

“What, Mom?” he finally answered. “I’m working.”

“Daddy?”

Instead of Lydia, it was Emma Lee at the other end. Immediately, he regretted his tone.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said softly. “What are you doing up so late?”

“When are you coming home?” his daughter asked. Her little Virginia accent coaxed at him, pulling his heart right through the phone. He felt guilty as hell, but that couldn’t be helped right now.

“Just a few more days,” he said. “Not much longer.”

“The baby’s been crying a lot. I think she misses you.”

“That’s what babies do, sweet pea. Don’t worry about it. Now, put Grandma on the phone, okay?”

“I love you, Daddy.”

“I love you, too. More than the moon.”

After a short pause, Lydia came on the line. “Ronald?” she said.

Guidice could feel his gut turn a one eighty at the sound of her voice. “What the hell is she doing up?” he said. “You’re supposed to be looking after her.”

“Don’t you curse at me,” his mother said. “Your daughter misses her daddy. Can you blame her? You move us all the way out here and then don’t come around for days. And we’re out of milk, by the way. I can’t keep walking back to that store on these ankles.”

Guidice gave himself a ten count. There was nothing to do but suck it up. He needed Lydia now more than ever.

“Mom, we’ve talked all about this,” he said slowly. “As long as I’ve got this lawsuit going, I don’t think it’s safe for me to be around you and the girls too much. It’s no secret the police are out to get me.”

“But you’re the victim! You’re the one who got his nose broken.”

“That’s exactly what I’m talking about. The last thing you want is cops like that coming around, asking questions. Then it’s just a matter of time before you’ve got reporters out there, trying to snap pictures of you and the girls. Right through the windows, even.”

“Stop it,” she said. “Now you’re scaring me.”

“I’m not trying to, Mom. I’m just explaining.”

In fact, he was trying, a little. If there was one thing Lydia Guidice hated, it was seeing pictures of herself. The fat ones reminded her she was fat, and the skinny ones reminded her that she wasn’t skinny anymore. Somewhere there was a box of family snapshots—including half a dozen of Guidice’s old man, standing there with his arm around nobody anymore—where she’d torn herself right out.

It was too bad the old man had dropped dead instead of her. He might have actually appreciated what Guidice was trying to accomplish here.

“Don’t trust anyone, Mom,” he said. “You know your rights, don’t you?”

“Yes, Ronald. You’ve told me a thousand times.”

“If someone comes around asking questions, you tell them you’re not required to identify yourself, and that you want to speak to your lawyer first.”

“Oh, for pity’s sake. I know, I know.”

It was one of the best ways to get Lydia off the phone. She hated talking about this stuff.

“I’ll try to get out there when I can,” he told her. “I just need you and the girls to hang on a little longer without me, okay?”

“Do we have a choice?” she asked, edging back into that childish tone of hers—the one that made Guidice think maybe the old man had been the lucky one after all.

“No, Mom,” he said before he hung up again, “I guess you don’t.”

CHAPTER

85

THE NEXT MORNING, VALENTE BRIEFED THE ENTIRE INVESTIGATIVE TEAM ABOUT Elijah Creem. At least, that’s what I inferred. I wasn’t permitted into the briefings, or the Joint Operations Center, where they took place.

But as soon as everyone started filtering back into the office, I could feel the buzz. Valente waved at me from across the room before he took off again, followed out the door by Huizenga and Jacobs. I didn’t expect him to catch me up in front of everyone, but it was clear that this case was now moving forward.

Before I could start sorting anything out, I got an unexpected call. It was Chief Perkins’s office telling me I was wanted upstairs. Perkins’s assistant, Tracy, didn’t offer any details. She just said to come right away.

I knew this summons could cut either way—good or bad news. Up to now, Perkins had been looking out for me as much as not. He’d let me spend the night in jail, but he’d also pulled me off the cell block early. He’d kept me on the sidelines all this time, but he also made sure I got my gun and badge back, which he didn’t have to do.

So what now?

“Go on in,” Tracy said, waving me past reception when I got there. “He’s waiting for you.”

Perkins’s door was open and he was sitting behind his huge maple desk—Old Ironsides, we call it—signing a stack of paperwork when I came in.

“Have a seat if you like,” he said.

I stayed on my feet while he signed a few more forms. When he finally looked up, he took a separate page out of his inbox and held it out for me.

“What’s this?” I said.

“A letter of declination from the US Attorney’s Office,” he told me. “It looks like today’s your lucky day. They’re citing insufficient evidence for prosecution.”

I felt like a weight had just been lifted off me. A letter of declination meant they were declining to advance my case to an indictment.

“I’m a little surprised, to be honest,” I said. “Internal Affairs has been riding me pretty hard since this whole thing started.”

“Let’s just say you owe me one. Or two or three,” Perkins said without a smile.

Whatever he’d done, it had tilted the scales in my favor—which I appreciated, but quite frankly it shouldn’t have been that hard to do, since I was innocent on all counts.

“And you’re still going to be taking piss tests for the next couple months,” he added.

“I can live with that,” I said.

There was also the possibility of administrative charges, and Guidice would undoubtedly move forward with his own civil suit. But none of that was going to stop me from finally getting back to work. I was four days out of the loop by now, and that’s like dog years in homicide. I had some catching up to do.

“Anything else?” I said.

“Yes. Not everyone’s going to be happy about this. We’re going to take some heat,” Perkins said. “I need you to keep your mouth shut about the whole thing. Don’t defend yourself to the press, don’t talk about Ron Guidice, nothing. Just keep your head down and go back to work.”

“That’s all I ever wanted, Lou,” I said.

“Good,” he said. “Because I think they’re expecting you downstairs. We’ve got Elijah Creem in for questioning right now.”

CHAPTER

86

BY THE TIME I GOT DOWN TO THE INTERVIEW SUITE ON FOUR, THEY ALREADY HAD Dr. Creem alone in a room with Detective Valente.

I found Huizenga, D’Auria, and Jacobs sitting at the end of the suite’s L-shaped hallway, gathered around a laptop and watching and listening in. Chief Perkins must have said something to Huizenga at the morning briefing, because she just nodded and made room for me at the table.

“Good to have you back,” she said.

“Shh,” D’Auria said, and tapped the screen in front of us.

I could feel the tension in the group. I wasn’t sure how long Creem had been in there, but something told me it wasn’t going well.