Beach Wedding(63)

Courtney and her boss, Walter Marino, were already there with the assistant district attorney, Katrina Volland, when I arrived at around three thirty Wednesday.

“Hey, guys. Great weather we’re having, isn’t it?” I said as I sat down at their booth.

“Enough with the jokes,” Courtney said. “What the hell happened with the arrest?”

I checked the time on my phone.

“Before we get to that. It should be here by now,” I said.

“What should be here by now?” Walter said.

“You’ll see,” I said as the waitress came over.

“My name’s Terry Rourke,” I said to her. “The bartender is holding a package for me behind the bar. Could you get it for me, please?”

“Sure,” she said, walking off.

She came back thirty seconds later with a large white FedEx box and handed it to me.

“Thanks,” I said.

I waited until the waitress left with our drink orders before I ripped the seal and passed the box over the table.

“Oh, my goodness,” Courtney said.

“Is this what I think it is?” Volland said.

“The holy grail? The missing hoodie and the missing bullets?” Courtney said. “I mean, what? Hailey’s stolen evidence? So that’s why they arrested you! Where did you find it?”

“It was sent to me anonymously at the house,” I lied. “Maybe one of the people I interviewed had it? Your guess is as good as mine. I can’t figure it out.”

That was my story and I was sticking to it.

Like glue.

“Does this have anything to do with Chief Tapley?” Marino said, peering at me.

“How so?” I said, trying not to have a heart attack.

“He’s missing,” Courtney said.

Missing?

“What? What do you mean, missing?” I said.

“We heard from our wiretap that he’s been missing since yesterday. Wheaton is going crazy. So is Tapley’s wife. They have no idea where he is. They found his empty car parked at the Orient Point Ferry.”

“Is that right?” I said.

I wondered about that. I thought about the money in his gun locker. Was he on the run now?

“Maybe he thinks you’re about to scoop him up, and he got out of Dodge,” I said to Marino.

“Maybe,” he said.

“But we’re finally doing this now?” I said to Courtney. “No more bullshit? No more delays? Hailey is going to be retried?”

“Yes,” Volland said. “Even Wheaton can’t stop it anymore. There’s no way for him to get out of prosecuting now.”

After the waitress came back, Courtney lifted her drink.

“To you, Terry. You did it,” she said. “Game, set, match.”



87

The men of the Rourke clan were all downstairs sitting around the basement sports bar while all the ladies and girls took Emmaline into the village for a spa day. Up on the huge TV screen, the Mets were playing the Yankees.

Nick’s and Finn’s and Mickey’s boys were in the arcade behind us playing Pop-A-Shot basketball and doing dance routines, and from their constant screaming, it sounded like they were going completely freaking nuts. But Nick and Finn and Mickey didn’t seem to even notice, let alone mind, so who was I to point it out?

The Mets had the bases loaded in the seventh with one out, but as I watched, the Yankee reliever got a ground ball for a double play.

“Another, peach fuzz?” Nick said, hovering an open bottle of blue-label Johnnie Walker over the glass in front of me.

Even though it was three in the afternoon, I nodded. He poured. I sipped. I shouldn’t have, but I did.

I needed a damn drink.

Because I wasn’t feeling too hot. I still didn’t know what the hell was going on. Tapley was missing. Flat out missing. It was on the news now.

But where had he gone? No one knew. Was he on the lam? Was he coming after me? After my family? Also, Viv had gone back to being pissed at me for some reason. Probably because I could be heading for the slammer if everything came out.

And I hadn’t heard back from Courtney or Marino or Volland yet. Was this damn case going to happen or what? Had I done all this crazy stuff for nothing?

I was pondering all these things and more when my phone rang.

It was Courtney.

“Good news,” she said.

“I like that kind. What do you have?” I said.

“You near a TV?”

“Yes.”

“Turn on Channel 8.”

I grabbed the remote.

“Hey!” everybody yelled when I changed the channel.

On Channel 8, there was some kind of press conference, a podium with a woman behind it.

It was my buddy Katrina Volland, the assistant district attorney.

I turned up the volume.

“Thank you, everyone,” she said. “I called this press conference on behalf of the Suffolk County District Attorney’s Office. We are pleased to announce that due to new evidence received by our office, it is our intention to retry Hailey Sutton for the murder of Noah Sutton. We will not be taking questions at this time. Thank you.”

“What? Hailey the witch! Dad’s case? Does this mean what I think it means?” Finn said, jumping up.