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“How to fight with swords, what magical spells work best, and most importantly, how much fun it is when the girls all go out for a while.”
Trent chimed in. “And Eddie figured out how to hack the game to give us access to more powerful weapons.”
Is it wrong to be proud of your son when he uses his incredible ability with computers to hack a stupid game like this? It didn’t matter. I’m proud of them all.
I said, “Where are Mary Catherine and the girls?”
They said in unison, almost like they had practiced it, “Wedding stuff.”
I chuckled. “What about Brian? Have you seen him?”
“Mary Catherine left some money, so he went to go pick up pizza,” Eddie said. “He should be back pretty soon.”
My stomach tightened when I heard that Brian had some extra cash and had volunteered to go out. I was more worried about him than I’d let on to Mary Catherine. Before I could start my interrogation about how much cash and where he’d said he was going, the front door opened and Brian walked in holding two large pizza boxes.
He looked at me and simply said, “Hey, Dad.” No subterfuge, no hiding anything. He put the boxes down on the dining room table, then joined his brothers in the living room.
All four of my boys together, playing a game and getting along. No scene could have made me happier.
I decided to throw caution to the wind and took a slice of pizza into the living room, breaking one of Mary Catherine’s most sacred laws: all food must be eaten at the dining room table.
I felt emboldened, but as soon as I sat at the end of the couch with a slice of mushroom and onion pizza in my hand, I considered my actions and quickly asked, “What time did Mary Catherine say they would be back?”
“The girls said they were going to grab something to eat while they were out,” Trent said. “I doubt they’ll be back before nine o’clock.”
I relaxed and took a big bite out of the slice. I was excited to spend an evening with my boys, playing some kind of stupid video game. It was every father’s dream.
“Am I allowed to join the game?” I asked.
The boys were delighted at my request. They immediately stopped the game and restarted it to add me as a player. As I basked in the unanimous acclamation, I felt like a celebrity.
Before I could start my turn, though, my phone rang, and I dug it out of my pocket. It was Detective Dan Jackson. All he said was “Looks like we have another homicide.”
“Where?”
“SoHo. I’ll text you the exact address.?
??
“I’ll be there as quick as I can.” A tiny part of me shriveled up when I had to inform the kids I was going back to work. It hurt like hell to leave my boys. Especially with those looks on their faces.
A classic example of a cop leaving his own family to protect someone else’s.
Chapter 56
I found the building in SoHo, one with three apartments above an Asian grocery offering certified organic produce. The kind of place young hipsters love.
A small, anxious crowd had gathered behind the yellow crime-scene tape. About a dozen people watched intently as NYPD personnel came and went from an unmarked blue door on the right side of the market. It was a mild evening with a cloudless sky. New Yorkers will do anything to get outside for a few minutes in nice weather, but I wished they would move along to a park or the waterfront instead of worrying about a serial killer.
I immediately spotted Detective Dan Jackson’s broad form in the shadows next to the building’s door. He looked up from where he was directing some NYPD forensic investigators and held up a hand in greeting as I walked toward him. Jackson was sufficiently imposing to stop a fight with just a look. But he also got the most out of the people he worked with. The talent that came naturally to him was a difficult skill to learn, much less to master.
After we slipped hooded biohazard suits over our street clothes and walked up a straight staircase with thick carpet that muffled our steps, Jackson pulled out his notepad. “Lila Stein, twenty-six, didn’t show up for work at the county courthouse on Centre Street. She’s reliably held her position as a court clerk for the past four years. One of her coworkers stopped by to check on her and got no answer at the door. The coworker called 911, and first responders entered the apartment and found the body. Seems to be in keeping with our serial killer’s MO. Dispatch called patrol. They called me. I called you. And here we are on this fine evening.”
“You know, Dan, I had other plans for ‘this fine evening,’” I said. “They involved video games, pizza, and my teenage sons.”
“I feel ya, brother. I was going to watch Frozen with my five-year-old twins.”
I slid on my filtering mask and followed Dan Jackson through the door. I immediately saw Lila’s body, lying on the linoleum floor at the edge of the kitchen, her long brown hair spread out around her head. She almost looked like she was sleeping.
