Page 83 of Stay Awake
“How did he die?”
He shrugged. “Heard he was stabbed. Body was found floating in the East River. When I found out, I figured it was the man at the bar who did it, or someone he paid to cover his tracks for him. I made agood decision to get out of town. I’ve kept a low profile ever since. More than two years now on the straight and narrow.”
“What did the man who hired you look like?”
He shrugged. “No idea. He sat next to me in a crowded bar. Told me to keep looking straight ahead while he slid over the phone. All I saw were his hands. No tattoos. No wedding ring. Nicely trimmed nails. Looked like he took care of himself. Dude didn’t drink either,” he said. “I thought that was weird. Who asks to meet at a bar and doesn’t order a drink?”
When Halliday indicated she was done, Lavelle approached, holding the pack of beer that Chalmers had ditched. A couple of cans were dented, but they were otherwise intact.
“Not sure if I did you a favor by rescuing your beer,” Lavelle said, tossing the box to Chalmers. “So here’s what happens next. Detective Regan will take you to the precinct where you’ll provide him with a sworn statement.”
Chalmers breathed hard with a mixture of fear and relief as he nodded. He stepped forward to follow Regan when Lavelle slammed his palm hard against Chalmers’s chest.
“If you disappear again, then me and Detective Halliday over here will personally look for you. We’ll haul your ass back and we’ll throw the book at you so hard your hair will be snow-white when you get out of the slammer.”
As they climbed back into their car, Lavelle asked Halliday if she believed Chalmers’s story.
“Why lie about something like that?” asked Halliday, starting the engine. “He has nothing to gain and everything to lose.”
She pulled the car out into steady traffic. They drove in silence for a while, contemplating how Chalmers’s information potentially changed the complexion of the case.
Halliday finally spoke. “Ted Cole’s fiancée, Elisabeth, told us thathe rented that apartment as a safe house for Liv Reese. He believed Amy and Marco’s killer was coming after her.”
“Why would the killer bother getting rid of Liv Reese, two years later?” Lavelle said. “Especially since she never remembered what happened.”
“The killer might not know that,” said Halliday, looking over her shoulder as she changed lanes. “Even if the killer knew she’d never remembered what happened that day, imagine the stress of knowing an eyewitness’s memory could return any time. Now that really is a motive for murder.”
“Where are you going with this, Halliday?”
“Jack, I think the killer is looking for Liv Reese. I think this whole thing is about tying off loose ends from the Decker-Reggio murders. Liv Reese is the biggest loose end of all. We need to find her before he does.”
Chapter
Forty-Six
Wednesday 6:37P.M.
TheCultura Magazinemeeting room is like a fishbowl for all the privacy it offers. The police officers must quickly realize that everyone in the office is surreptitiously watching them through the glass walls because somebody lowers the internal privacy shade so we can’t see inside.
An HR manager emerges from the meeting room and walks to the middle of the office as if she’s about to make an announcement. Everyone drifts over to listen.
“The police are here, as you’ve all no doubt noticed. They’ve asked for everyone to stay back to be questioned. Detectives will be here shortly. Once they arrive, they’ll split up and talk to us individually. They’ve asked that nobody leave until they’ve been questioned.”
Everyone scatters as they wait to be summoned for their interview with the police. A telephone rings somewhere near me. My heart rate goes up with each successive ring. I grip my hands into fists until my knuckles are white and my nails cut into my palms.
The phone stops ringing as abruptly as it began.
“Liv. Liv.”
My name is being called out by a disembodied voice behind a white partition.
“Liv, there’s a call for you,” says a man with John Lennon glasses, holding up a desk phone.
“Hello?” I press the phone receiver hard against my ear.
“Liv, it’s me,” says the same muffled voice I heard on the phone at the basement apartment.
“What do you want?”
