بخش 04 - فصل 22

22 Hodges takes his Nokia from his inside suit coat pocket, aware as he flips it open that it would probably be so much

melted plastic and fizzing wire in the glove compartment of his baked Toyota, if not for Janey’s gentle chaffing. He hits Jerome on speeddial, praying the kid will pick up, and he does. “Mr. Hodges? Bill? I think we just heard a big explo–” “Shut up, Jerome. Just listen.” He’s walking down the glass-littered sidewalk. The

sirens are closer now, soon they’ll be here, and all he has to go on is pure intuition. Unless, that is, his subconscious mind is already making the connections. It’s happened before; he didn’t get all those department commendations on Craigslist. “Listening,” Jerome says. “You know nothing about the City Center case. You

know nothing about Olivia Trelawney or Janey Patterson.” Of course the three of them had dinner together at DeMasio’s, but he doesn’t think the cops will get that far for awhile, if ever. “I know squat,” Jerome says. There’s no distrust or hesitance in his voice. “Who’ll be asking? The police?”

“Maybe later. First it’ll be your parents. Because that explosion you heard was my car. Janey was driving. We swapped at the last minute. She’s . . . gone.” “Christ, Bill, you have to tell five-oh! Your old partner!” Hodges thinks of her saying He’s ours. We still see eye to eye on that, right?

Right, he thinks. Still eye to eye on that, Janey. “Not yet. Right now I’m going to roll on this, and I need you to help me. The scumbucket killed her, I want his ass, and I mean to have it. Will you help?” “Yes.” Not How much trouble could I get in. Not This could totally screw me up for Harvard.

Not Leave me out of it. Just Yes. God bless Jerome Robinson. “You have to go on Debbie’s Blue Umbrella as me and send the guy who did this a message. Do you remember my username?” “Yeah. Kermitfrog19. Let me get some pa–” “No time. Just remember the gist of it. And don’t post for at least an hour. He has to

know I didn’t send it before the explosion. He has to know I’m still alive.” Jerome says, “Give it.” Hodges gives it and breaks the connection without saying goodbye. He slips the phone into his pants pocket, along with Holly’s sunglasses case. A fire truck comes swaying around the corner, followed by two police cars. They speed

past the Soames Funeral Home, where the mortician and the minister from Elizabeth Wharton’s service are now standing on the sidewalk, shading their eyes against the glare of the sun and the burning car. Hodges has a lot of talking to do, but there’s something more important to do first. He strips off his suit coat, kneels

down, and covers the arm in the gutter. He feels tears pricking at his eyes and forces them back. He can cry later. Right now tears don’t fit the story he has to tell. The cops, two young guys riding solo, are getting out of their cars. Hodges doesn’t know them. “Officers,” he says. “Got to ask you to clear the area, sir,” one of them says,

“but if you witnessed that–” He points to the burning remains of the Toyota. “–I need you to stay close so someone can interview you.” “I not only saw it, I should have been in it.” Hodges takes out his wallet and flips it open to show the police ID card with RETIRED stamped across it in red. “Until last fall, my

partner was Pete Huntley. You should call him ASAP.” One of the other cops says, “It was your car, sir?” “Yeah.” The first cop says, “Then who was driving it?”