Blindside (Michael Bennett #12)(15)

He took a moment, then said, “Natalie is from my first marriage. It ended in a divorce—a messy, public divorce. Natalie even uses her mother’s maiden name of Lunden. It was my fault. Not only the divorce but allowing it to be so public. It cost me an election as an alderman.” He took another moment and added, “I’ve changed. More than anyone can believe, especially my ex-wife and daughter. I read that you have daughters yourself.”

“Six.”

“Good lord.”

“And four boys.”

“Oh, my God. I haven’t heard of a Catholic family like that since I was a kid. Back then every neighborhood had two or three families with eight-plus kids. How do you manage?”

“First of all, I am Catholic, but all my kids are adopted. And second, I don’t manage anything. We’re a family. We all work together. Kinda the way it’s supposed to be with the city. Everyone works for the greater good.”

“If only. No matter how we come down on a decision, there’s always about half the population that’s pissed off. I like the idea in principle, but in reality you have a unique family.”

“You have no idea.”

“I envy you, Detective. You know what’s important and appreciate it. I learned that lesson a little late in life. Now I just hope it’s not too late.” He took a moment to wipe his eyes with an embroidered handkerchief. “Let me show you my Natalie.”

He held up his phone. A photo of a smiling brunette in a cap and gown filled the screen. A tall woman, who I assumed was her mother, held an arm around her shoulders, and the mayor stood off at a distance, smiling.

He said, “This was her high school graduation. She was on her way to MIT a few months later. She was a computer prodigy. Even as a child, she learned to change the code on programs to fit her needs. She’s amazing.”

I thought of Eddie. Would I be able to afford MIT? Would he get a scholarship? I had a number of kids to get through college. I hoped I could figure out a way.

The mayor continued. “Natalie went off the rails a little bit. Her grades dropped. She was more interested in pushing the envelope than learning the basics of computer science. She started to party more. She and I grew more distant. She got bounced out of MIT. A few months ago she enrolled in City College, but it didn’t last.”

I listened and all I heard was an anguished father. I didn’t hear the politician I saw on TV regularly. I didn’t see the man cops grumbled about every single day.

The mayor wiped his eyes again with his bare thumb, then said, “Now she’s twenty-one. No one has heard from her in three weeks. Her mother’s frantic. Frantic enough to ask me for help. Some of her friends say she fell in with some hackers. I don’t know, but I’m scared.”

Now I was in familiar territory, talking to a frightened parent. I could deal with this. I understood this. I said, “It’ll be okay, Mr. Mayor. We’ll find her.”

His eyes were rimmed red when he looked up. His voice was much softer. He said, “Really? You think so?”

“Yes.” I really did.

The mayor sniffled. He said, “I might be able to help you, Detective.”

“How so?” This was always treacherous. People who thought they could help you also thought they could crush you if things didn’t go the way they wanted.

“If you find my daughter, I might be able to help you with your son Brian. I know about his unfortunate situation. I could make some calls, see what happens.” He looked at me as if he expected me to say something. Then he added, “Just one father helping another.”





CHAPTER 20





IT TOOK A little time to get everything together. I rode with Harry to pick up my car. On the way, he had one of his little talks with me. He called them “talks”; the squad called them “lectures.” Either way, we had learned it was stupid to ignore Harry’s advice.

He said, “You need to stay under the radar. It doesn’t help anyone if they know you’re already back on the job. You had a tough break. You had to shoot that kid. I know the feeling. Things will get better. Eventually smart people look past the crazy public outcries and examine the evidence and investigations. The mayor has just given you a shortcut to get back on the street. Don’t blow it.”

Who could refute such deep wisdom as “Don’t blow it”?

When I walked into the office, Terri Hernandez sat at the once-empty desk next to mine.

I said, “What are you doing slumming down here?”

“Temporary duty assignment. Supposed to fill in for some old geezer who was on suspension. I guess that didn’t last long.”

“I’ve gone from suspension into exile.”

“What happened?”

“Moved to a missing persons case. Low-key, low profile, and low probability of excitement.”

“So you’re cleared in the shooting?”

“Not officially.”

“Who are you looking for?”

“Not supposed to talk about it.”

“Even to me? You used to tell me everything.”

“Wish I could, but I made a promise.”

“You and your promises. One day you’ll promise someone too much and it’ll get you in hot water.”