Dead Man's Song полностью

“I’m sure you’re scared, and pissed off, but listen to me, Andy, ’cause I don’t know how many more times I can say this—there isn’t anything I can do. If he was sixteen I’d have his name and description sent out to every agency in the tristate area, but I’m not even allowed to do that with an eighteen-year-old.”

Andy McClintock straightened himself to his full height of six feet and glared at the seated Polk. He opened his mouth to say something very biting, and Polk could all but smell the acid forming on Andy’s tongue, but the moment of anger passed and Andy’s shoulders sagged, his face looking both confused and helpless. “Jim…he’s my only kid….”

Polk rose, came around the desk, and put his hand on Andy’s beefy shoulder. “Look, I’ll ask around anyway, okay? Let a few of the other guys know, too, talk to some of my buddies in Black Marsh and Crestville. Unofficial. Maybe we’ll hear something from someone. If we do, I’ll let you know first thing.”

“You promise?”

“Absolutely. First thing. But,” he said as they stood in the open doorway, “just give the kid a little time. Let him blow off some steam, get laid, get drunk. He’ll get it out of his system and come crawling home. Hell, we all did that at least once.”

Andy nodded and shook Polk’s hand and left. Polk watched him get in his car and drive out of the lot, then he turned and pulled the door shut behind him. The office was empty except for Ginny, who dozed at her desk, a Danielle Steele novel open and resting against her bosom. Quietly, unhurriedly, Polk walked over to the farthest desk and lifted the handset of the phone. He punched in a number and waited until someone picked up.

“Shanahan’s Garage.”

“Let me speak to Vic,” Polk said. “Tell him it’s Jim Polk.”

“Minute.”

Polk waited for nearly three minutes, then a voice at the other end said, “What do you want? I’m in the middle of a valve job.”

“I just had Andy McClintock in my office, came to report him missing.”

There was a brief silence. “Yeah? And?”

“I told him what I told all the others.”

“How many’s that? How many have actually been into the office to make reports?”

“Six, so far. That’s a lot for just a few days, Vic.”

“How many of them does Gus know about?”

“Maybe two. I’ve been doing the day work, so I’ve been taking almost all of the reports, and the ones I don’t take usually come across my desk at some point. The only two I couldn’t intercept were filed with someone else when I was off shift, but I can get into the computer and fix those.”

“Has Gus said anything?”

“Nope. Far as he knows, it’s just a couple missing persons. I’ve been inputting vacation notices for some of them, too. That way our guys are even doing drive-bys to make sure no one breaks in while the residents are away. I got all of this nailed down. Gus never checks, and I mean never. It’s why he made me sergeant in the first place, because he knows I like to handle all the reports and shit. We’re building a nice smokescreen, and public panic is helping. At least a dozen families have left town anyway because of the manhunt, and a lot of people have pulled their kids out of school. That’s stuff that happened without us doing anything, so it’s working as a nice cover. We’re covered here, Vic, but if this thing goes on longer than a couple more weeks then it’s going to get hard to fudge it. For right now, though, no one knows shit and that goes double for Gus.”

“You’d better make sure you keep it that way, ’cause I don’t want him even getting so much as a whiff of this. Not until the Man says so.”

“No sweat. Gus ain’t exactly the sharpest knife in the drawer.” He cleared his throat. “Even so, Vic, I think it would be a good idea to have Ritchie call his dad, maybe say that he’s down in Atlantic City, or up in New York. Someplace he’d go with his buddies. Better for Andy to hear from him than to start a fuss.”

There was a short silence before Vic said, “That’s a pretty smart idea, Jimmy-boy.”

“We should have some of, um, them, make some calls to relatives or friends—and especially to their jobs. Call in sick, or say they have to go out of town for some reason. Have Carby and the other parents write notes to the schools saying the family’s going to visit relatives somewhere. Y’know, settle things down, make it look normal, otherwise people are going to start talking, and then they’ll starting wondering…”

“I get it,” Vic said. “And you’re right, that’s a good plan. I’ll get some of the others to make calls, or send some e-mails. Good friggin’ call.”

“Great, that’ll help calm things down. Otherwise who knows who might start putting two and two together.” Polk paused and braced himself before heading off onto a new tack. “Look, Vic…this stuff you got me doing is pretty risky….”

“And you’re getting paid, so what’s your point?”