Daylight (Atlee Pine #3)(71)

“Thank God,” Puller said quietly.

To herself Pine added, “Yes, thank you, God. Thank you.”





CHAPTER





45





A FEW HOURS LATER PINE AND BLUM left the hospital and returned to Lineberry’s condo. Robert Puller had opted to stay at the hospital. Pine texted him her address. She planned to be back at the hospital later that day. Hopefully, they could see John Puller then.

An exhausted Pine slept until two in the afternoon, then sat in her bedroom and looked out the window. The day looked like it would be warmer than the previous ones had been, and free of rain. Her belly was empty, and she had a hunger headache, but she didn’t want to waste time eating right now. She felt terrible guilt for what had happened to Puller. She knew all about the company line—that it came with the territory—but still . . . she felt immense responsibility for the man’s nearly dying.

And with Sands dead, they really had no leads to pursue.

She phoned Robert Puller. He told her that his brother seemed to be doing as well as possible. She thanked him for the info and said she would come to the hospital later.

She showered and changed into fresh clothes. When she came out, Blum had a meal on the table.

“Carol, thank you, but you don’t have to do this. I’m perfectly capable of taking care of myself.”

“It gives me something to do, Agent Pine. I don’t like feeling idle and useless.”

Pine’s phone buzzed. She didn’t recognize the number, but it was a New Jersey area code. She answered it.

The voice said, “Agent Pine, this is Norma Bailey, I’m the principal at Jerome Blake’s school.”

“Yes, Mrs. Bailey?”

“I wanted to let you know that I have the photos of the school employees ready for your review.”

“Can you email them to me?”

“Yes. I can do that right now. Have you made any progress on what happened to Jerome?”

“A little, but things are getting very complicated very fast.”

“I hope you find the truth. Jerome deserves that.”

“I’ll do my best.”

Pine gave her the email address. A minute later the photos were deposited in her inbox.

She looked at Blum. “I just got the photos of the school personnel from Norma Bailey at Jerome’s school.”

“Terrific. Now we just have to find that young man, what was his name again?”

“Peanut. But I have a shortcut that I hope will save us some time.”

They left New York and drove back to Trenton, arriving at Jerome Blake’s home about ninety minutes later. His mother answered their knocks.

“Have you found out who killed my boy?” she said.

“Not yet, but we’re still working on it,” replied Pine. “We met a friend of Jerome’s, he said his name was Peanut?”

Blake nodded, looking thoughtful. “Jerome and Peanut were real tight when they were younger, then they went their separate ways.”

“Do you know where we might find Peanut? And what’s his real name?”

“Donald Washington. His grandma lives on the next block over. What does he have to do with what happened to Jerome?”

“He told us he saw a man speaking to Jerome the day of the shooting, at school. He said Jerome looked really weird afterward. I’ve got some pictures of employees at the school to show him. To see if he recognizes the man. Can you give us Peanut’s address so I can do that?”

“Peanut don’t live at home anymore. Just his grandma there now, and she’s doing poorly.”

“So where might we find him?” asked Pine.

“He hangs out over at a gym on Broad Street. Calhoun’s.”

“Why a gym? Does he like to work out?”

“A few guys box there. But I don’t think most folks who go there care nothing ’bout working out. It’s just a safe place to go to and hang out. You find the guy who owns it. His name’s Gerald. He’s a good man.”

“But other business happens there?” said Pine.

Blake held up her hands. “Not in the gym, no. Gerald don’t allow for that. But outside? I ain’t getting in the middle of that. I got my Jewel to raise. She needs her momma.”

“How’s she doing?”

“Not good. Still crying her eyes out.”

“This must be so traumatizing for her. I . . . I know what it’s like to lose a sibling. If we can do anything, please let us know.”

They drove off and quickly found Calhoun’s. It was an old, dilapidated building with ancient boxing posters plastered across its front, many of them ripped or faded by the sun. Some young men were hanging around outside. The area was run-down, with boarded up storefronts and a general air of decay. She parked at the curb about a block down and told Blum to wait in the car and to get in the driver’s seat, which she did.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to go with you?”

“Very sure, Carol. And keep the doors locked and the engine running. Anything starts looking hinky just leave.”

“If you’re not out in twenty minutes, should I call the police?”

“I’ll be okay.”

Pine walked past the groups of young men who gave her long stares and some catcalls. But they otherwise ignored her. She went into Calhoun’s, which turned out to be built out like a warehouse. There were high, angled ceilings, industrial support columns, three boxing rings, and thousands of square feet of workout equipment that looked old and shabby. There were a few guys hoisting iron, and others expertly skipping rope and still others going after speed and heavy bags, but most were congregated around one of the boxing rings.