Blindside (Michael Bennett #12)(76)

Brian dropped his bag and ran right to me for a big hug. All I could manage to say as the weight of my grown son pushed me back onto a couch was “Brian’s coming home.” I would’ve given more explanation, but I started to cry.

Before I could be self-conscious about crying in front of corrections officers, everyone in my family started to cry. And they piled on me and Brian.

My glimpse of the corrections officers told me they liked the happy scene. They all smiled and clapped.

My grandfather had to sit at the end of the couch just to catch his breath. The combination of excitement and joy had worn out the old man. Seamus asked, “How did this happen? It has to be the hand of God.”

I couldn’t speak with everyone piled on top of me, but it was better that way. Because Brian was released with the help of God. That’s the only way I could view it. God helped me find Natalie and rescue her. He certainly protected us during our escape. And that led the mayor to work extra hard and push for Brian’s release. The mayor’s pressure, and the work Brian had done on a drug case against the cartel, had led to an early parole.

Part of it might’ve been the failure of the Department of Corrections to keep Brian safe when he was attacked by cartel members last year. But it didn’t matter. Only one thing mattered at this moment.

Brian was coming home.





CHAPTER 106





ONCE WE GOT Brian home, I took a few extra days off. It might’ve been the most joy-filled week of my life, and that includes the week before every Christmas as a kid. Brian was home and was still himself, although he was not the boy who’d left us. Prison can do crazy things to people. It can twist them and distort their view of reality, or cause a depression that never leaves.

One of the common threads I’d seen among convicted felons was a victim mentality. It’s counterintuitive but prevalent. Released felons believe they were unfairly targeted by the police while others get away with everything. Brian accepted his mistakes and was ready to move on. He’d taken what the corrections system had offered in classes and training. It had made me proud in an odd kind of way.

He was already looking for air-conditioning companies he might be able to work for. And he blended back into the family fairly easily. The boys played basketball at Holy Name, where the faculty seemed thrilled to see Brian home. My grandfather and I sat in the bleachers and watched Brian, Trent, Eddie, and Ricky play for hours.

On the third day after Brian’s release, Seamus turned to me in the bleachers and said, “You did a great job raising these kids. I’m proud to be part of your family.”

I waited for the punch line. Then I realized the old man was sincere. I draped my arm around his bony shoulders and said a silent prayer of thanks. What else is there to do when you realize all the blessings God has given you?



I went back to work a couple of days before I’d intended to. But it was for a good reason. My informant Flash had gotten word to me that he might have found the suspect in the murder of the nurse and her daughter—the elusive Tight.

Usually a suspect like Tight would have some kind of record. An assault charge is common. Those kinds of charges always get pleaded down, but there would still be a record. But we had nothing on him, not in either police intelligence or arrest files.

Flash told me he was supposed to meet Tight at Convent Garden on 151st Street up near Washington Heights, one of the places where Flash and I usually met. It was quiet and comfortable and, from a tactical standpoint, suitable for a quick arrest.

Even though I had worked with Flash for a few years and I knew his real name was Evis Tolder, I didn’t tell anyone else what was going on. Informants are notoriously unreliable, and I didn’t want to waste anyone’s time.

I thought about calling Terri Hernandez, but if things went south, I didn’t want her in the trick bag. She had a bright future ahead of her. I decided if I was able to grab Tight, I’d call her, and she could take the collar.

The second reason, as important as the first, was my overwhelming need to be the cop who put cuffs on this killer. I thought back to the murder scene of the nurse and her daughter, with those giant holes the .45 slugs had made in their heads. I saw them at night when I started to fall asleep. I also remembered Tight goading the young man who’d robbed me. Without Tight, it would’ve been a simple robbery and we both would’ve walked away.

As soon as I met Flash, he said, “Did you bring the 2K for the pills he wants to sell?”

“Nice try. This is not a dope case. We don’t have to do any kind of deal. As soon as I see him, I’m going to grab him. That’s the end of this caper today. Understood?”

Flash looked troubled. Finally he said, “Then you’ll throw some cash my way afterward?”

I said, “Have I ever stiffed you on information you gave me?” That seemed to satisfy my informant. He told me everything he’d done to find Tight. It wasn’t much. He had been lucky and had met the pill addict at a Narcotics Anonymous meeting. Now he was supposed to buy a few thousand dollars’ worth of pills from Tight.

Once we got to Convent Garden, I made Flash wait at the far end of the park. No one was inside the fence, and I was able to sit on a bench across the park without being seen easily. I ran through the drill in my head quickly. Once I grabbed Tight, I could charge him with attempted robbery. I could articulate how he had been part of the robbery with RJ and had fled after the shooting. Then Terri Hernandez would have to tie him to the homicide. If he had his pistol on him, we could match the slugs. Otherwise, it might be up to DNA.