“I wouldn’t bet on it yet,” Zochi said, “but I’ll be following up on it.” She looked eastward, down the narrow, tree-lined street. A magnificent sunrise was lurking just behind the Jacob Riis houses, barely visible in the distance beyond Avenue D, where the island ended. Reds and oranges streaked through high clouds. “I need to call back to my command and see who’s on the day tour. Oh, Bolds parked a van down that way, right?” She thought that was the case, but her head was churning with so many details, it was hard to keep them straight.
Letty nodded. About an hour before, with keys from Bolds’s pocket and information from his PO, they had located his panel van, parked down the street. “It’ll be towed to the CSU impound in Queens.”
CHAPTER 69
6 Iroquois Way
Yorktown Heights, New York
6:30 a.m.
The phone rang, waking Aideen up. It was the landline beside the bed, which she didn’t use nearly as much as when Ben was alive, more specifically when Ben was on the job. She sat up and cleared her throat. She had no idea who was calling, but it was unusual. Ben had kept their number very secret, not listed anywhere.
“Bradigan,” she said.
“You answer your phone like a cop.”
She frowned and then smiled. She recognized the voice. It was Anthony Marcos, a detective Ben had worked with for years. He was still on the job, now a lieutenant in Manhattan at the division level.
“Tony?”
“The very same. I’m sorry it’s so early. And it’s a holiday, right? Days run together for me. Anyway, I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay. What is it?”
“You’re still working that case, right? The guy from the AG’s office who was arrested for the homicides out in Brooklyn?” By “working that case,” Aideen knew that Tony meant defending it.
“Yeah, Joe DeSantos. He’s my client.”
“Right. Well, this is weird, but his name came up late last night.”
“His name?”
“There was a double in the East Village,” he said. Aideen stiffened. She knew a “double” to generally mean a double homicide. “I know your guy is at Rikers, but his name came up in connection with one of the victims.”
“Wait a minute,” she said. Then the door opened, and Máiréad walked in, her face puffy with sleep and fresh concern. She mouthed who is it, but Aideen put up a finger. “Do you have the names of the victims?” Máiréad’s eyes widened. Aideen pointed to the bed, and she sat down.
“One looked like a homeless guy, and they haven’t ID’d him yet. The other one was a guy named Evan Bolds. Does that ring a bell? From what I understand, the AG’s office was charging him under the civil management law. Your client had the case.”
Aideen could feel the color drain from her face. Máiréad looked ready to burst with curiosity. Thankfully, the boys were still asleep. “Evan Bolds. You’re sure it was him?”
“This is all unofficial, Aid, but yes, I’d say that ID will stick. His probation officer was alerted. Not sure if he has family.”
She looked at Máiréad and pointed at her briefcase. Máiréad brought it over and pulled out a notepad and a pen for her mother. “Wow, okay. And the homeless victim—not ID’d yet?”
“No, but they’ll figure out who he is. They may have already.”
“Any other details? Any witnesses? Arrests?”
“No arrests. There’s some chatter. No fives written up yet. I can only say so much, but it’s starting to shape up like Bolds might have been the principal assailant. There’s also a surviving witness. They’re thinking Bolds might have killed the homeless guy, then attacked the eyewitness, then ended up falling down an elevator shaft. His death is still considered a homicide, for now. That’s why they’re calling it a double.”
“This eyewitness? Got a name?”
“Um . . . Nate Porter. Black male, older. Lives in the building where it happened.”
She started writing the name, then froze. “Nate Porter?”
“Yeah, Nate. Or Nathan. He’s fine from what I understand. That’s all I’ve got for now. And, listen, you didn’t hear it from me, okay? I shouldn’t be calling you, period. But . . . you know, Ben’s memory and all. I figured you’d want to know.”
“Mom, my God, what’s going on?” Máiréad said, once Aideen had thanked Tony profusely and hung up. Her daughter sat cross-legged in her nightgown. Finster was beside her, looking concerned at the tension in the air.