Blind to Sin Page 21

  “Now you’re just busting my balls,” Herrick said. “I gave you three names. And the more time you waste with me, the harder it will be to catch them.”

  Montana shook his head. “If those are the right names, we’ll get them.”

  “Bullshit. Elliot Cole is probably on a plane to Cuba already.” Herrick blinked. “He told us he wanted to go to Cuba.”

  The words had tumbled from his mouth, and he knew he was giving too much away. Why did he want to protect these people? Probably because of what Montana uttered next.

  “You knew about this? In advance? Why didn’t you tell us? The cops. Anyone. Maybe you do need a lawyer.”

  Before Herrick could answer, a private ran up to Montana and handed him a computer printout. Montana snatched it from the private, dismissed him and then read over the paper. He dropped his arm to his side and turned his gaze back to Herrick.

  “So, when were you going to tell me about your father?”

  Herrick tilted his head.

  “You’ve been in here what? Two hours? We’ve already got a ton of information on you, son.”

  Time to fake ignorance and annoyance. Anything to keep them from asking about his phone. It was too chaotic in the Reserve right now. Herrick didn’t think they were thinking straight.

  “Stop calling me—”

  Montana held up a hand. “We know you shot a suicide bomber in Iraq. A kid. Commendable. But we also know your dad was in prison, with Jackson Donne, until about a week ago. Now your dad is found in a Hoboken alley—not far from your apartment—beaten to death. He was a bloody fucking pulp. I mean, thank God for fingerprints. And that was only a day ago. Jesus, Matt.”

  “People say that to me a lot these days. Listen, I don’t know what to tell you. I know Cole was involved, I saw him on the street shooting up your soldiers. My dad came to visit me and talk to me after he got out of prison, and then he died. That was it.”

  Montana shook his head. “You also visited the National Guard station in New Brunswick a few days ago.”

  Herrick closed his eyes. He exhaled. Fine. They got everything on him.

  “Cole and my dad were going to rob the reserve. They wanted my help. I think my dad was trying to get the family back together in his own sick way. I wanted nothing to do with it.”

  Montana slammed his hand down on the table. “Then why didn’t you tell us?”

  Herrick exhaled again, trying to calm the rattling he felt in the back of his head. He had kept it together during a firefight. He was not about to have a breakdown now.

  “Because it was my dad. Because it was my mom. Because it was Jackson Donne, who saved my life when I first met him. I was trying to stop them, but I didn’t want them arrested again. They had their chance to live on the straight and narrow. This was the only way I could fix things. I thought my mom was sick. She was my number one concern.”

  Montana shook his head. “And instead, it blew up in your face.”

  Herrick didn’t say anything.

  “You really fucked up, Matt. Really fucked up.”

  “Maybe you did too. All of you. Couldn’t put the pieces together. I talked to the National Guard and you talked to Christenson too. I talked to MPs when the rocket launchers were stolen. I was in contact, and you all couldn’t be bothered to figure this out. I handed it to you on a silver platter.”

  “You should have called us and told us everything.”

  Herrick shook his head. “I didn’t know everything. Until just now. Every time I turn around, someone is trying to kill me. I’ve talked to more cops than I can count.”

  Montana said, “Fine. I’ve got bigger things to worry about right now. You’re a witness and we are going to be in touch. Get the fuck out of here.”

  HERRICK WAS back on the street.

  Minutes earlier, Montana had explained to him how important it was to find Donne or Cole, ASAP.

  Herrick said, “Yeah. You wasted enough time.”

  “You hear anything, you call me. Do not keep it to yourself.”

  “I’ll get right on that.”

  Montana didn’t say any more, and Herrick left, trekking through security and onto the street near the stadium. His car was up on Hoboken Road about three quarters of a mile away. Before traveling there, he took one last glance at the carnage. The bodies had been removed, but cops and military police were examining the rest of the evidence. One guy in fatigues sat on the curb on the corner staring at his feet, hands between his legs.

  Herrick had been there, that day in the sandbox. He remembered sitting on the fender of a Jeep and staring at the ground for a long time. He lost a friend that day too. And a lot of himself.

  Before the tightness in his chest could start to constrain his heart, Herrick turned and headed toward Hoboken Road. He hoped to be back in Hoboken proper within two hours. With Route 17 closed in both directions and rush hour humming hard, that was wishful thinking.

  IT TOOK more than three.

  But Herrick was back in his apartment. His mother was sleeping again, and that was a good thing. It gave him time to think and process. Too much had gone on in the past twenty-four hours.

  He wanted to get Tammy and Sarah to a hotel, but Sarah was able to persuade him otherwise, due to Tammy’s health. She made sure the cops had collected as much evidence as they could and re-opened the apartment, so it wouldn’t be contaminated. Detectives and the MPs would soon ask more questions. The media would probably pick up on it too. That was bad for his job as a basketball coach.

  Working for a school, you never wanted to be the headline. Especially one that had someone’s violent death in it.

  Herrick sat down on the couch, rubbed his face and then got down to it. Time to do some real detective work. If Cole were on his way to Cuba by now, there’d be no catching him. But something about that line of thinking seemed off. Tammy was his reason for going to Cuba. Judging by what she had said when she got there, this wasn’t about saving Tammy. It couldn’t have been.

  So where would Cole start?

  He already had two safe houses. The one in Paterson that had been cleaned out, and the one in Long Valley, that was likely cleaned out as well. The key was to get as far away as possible with the money. Out of the public eye. That was the problem with the Lufthansa heist, wasn’t it? Spent the money too quickly and with too much flash. At least, that was what Goodfellas said.

  And then there was Donne. Where would he go?

  Step one: buy a car. First stop, cash for a cheap vehicle that moved. Donne would get the hell out of Dodge. It was his M.O. Vermont. Jail. Wherever the violence wasn’t.

  Herrick got up and walked to his bedroom door. He tapped on it lightly, hoping to wake his mother as gently as possible.

  “How are you feeling?” he asked as he poked his head through the door.

  “Better, I think. Maybe this is running its course. Turn on the lights and come sit down.”

  Herrick did as he was told. The edge of the bed was still cold. Her feet didn’t reach that far.

  “They pulled it off, Mom. I couldn’t stop them.”

  She adjusted her position on the bed to look at him. “Did you expect otherwise? You went after them with nothing but your mouth and your fists. Elliot Cole is not someone you can talk out of ideas.”

  “But Jackson Donne is.”

  “I don’t think he’s the man you once knew. I know your father wasn’t. Prison changed him. Hardened him even more. Messed with his head.” Tammy tapped her temple. “Makes you want to do crazy things. He wanted you to help him rob a federal building. I can barely stand for more than an hour. As he lifted weights and snapped necks in jail, I rotted. The Bonnie and Clyde days are over, but he couldn’t figure that out.”

  Herrick nodded. “I guess you don’t notice times changing when you’re staring at prison bars for ten years.”

  “He thought you were a lot like him too—anything to get the job done. I bet he thought that because of what you did in Iraq. With the kid
.”

  Herrick turned his head. “I had no choice. We would have all died.”

  Now, Tammy reached over and put her hand on his shoulder. “I know, Matt. I know. You’re more like me. When we were young, you know what I wanted to do anytime we stole? I didn’t want to be Bonnie. It was the 70s. I wanted to be Robin Hood. I wanted to go into the bad neighborhoods—like Newark after the riots. I wanted to use the money to help rebuild. Your dad and Cole were harbingers of the eighties. They wanted it for themselves.”

  Herrick exhaled, and listened.

  “You did what you had to do to save people. You coach basketball for the same reason, I’m sure.”

  “It’s not right what they did, Mom.” Herrick rubbed his hands together. “Where would Cole go?”

  “He told me Cuba.”

  Herrick shook his head. “That was a lie and you know it. He told that lie to keep you quiet. What would he want to do with all that money? What was he willing to destroy people’s lives for?”

  Tammy thought. They were quiet for a while. Herrick stared at the empty dresser top. He needed pictures of him with Sarah.

  Finally, Tammy said, “He wants to be famous. He wants to be the next Dillinger. A superstar.”

  “There’s no way he gets away with this without fleeing the country.”

  Tammy shook her head. “You’re right. Who was that guy who robbed the plane and disappeared? Back in the day.”

  “D.B. Cooper.”

  “That’s what Elliot loved. The last second escape. He’s not gone yet. They didn’t almost catch him. He needs that adrenaline.”

  And it all came flooding to Herrick at that moment. He grinned and said, “Thanks, Mom.”

  She gave him a kiss on the cheek. The first one since he was in high school. Herrick suppressed another grin.

  HERRICK TOOK the PATH. It was quicker, despite all the police presence, than trying to drive into the city. The doors pinged open at 33rd and Herrick stepped onto the platform, pushed past the crowds and made his way up to the street.

  Manhattan on a warm April afternoon.

  A slight breeze, the sun on your face and not a hint of the garbage smell that wafted into the city in July. And since Herrick hardly knew the subway, he decided to hoof it seventeen blocks. Think of it as exercise, he reminded his body. He hadn’t been to a shootaround since that night with Sarah. He needed it. Somehow, running for your life didn’t actually feel like a workout.

  Herrick brushed past tourists and businessmen on their cell phones as he made his way uptown. Twenty minutes later, Herrick found himself in front of Rockefeller Center, and the headquarters for NBC news. There wasn’t a sign of Elliot Cole. That wasn’t what Herrick was here for. Instead, it was to give Cole what he wanted.

  An audience.

  The lobby for NBC wasn’t all that hard to get into. But the newsroom was. Herrick walked up to the receptionist. When she asked if she could help him, he let her have it.

  “I want to talk to a reporter,” he said. “I know who the culprits are in the Federal Reserve armored car heist.”

  The receptionist smiled. “You can call our tipline at 1-8—”

  “No. I want to speak to a reporter.”

  The receptionist’s smile got wider. Like she’d been through this rodeo before.

  “I’m afraid I can’t do that, sir. If you have information, call our tipline and someone will be in touch.”

  Herrick pulled out his phone and held it up. He pressed play on the video he had taken, the bullets flying. The screaming. The smile went away.

  “They can have this video—free. But I want to talk to them.”

  The receptionist picked up a phone behind the desk and said something. She took Herrick’s ID, photocopied it, and seconds later a man dressed in an NBC security uniform escorted him back to the newsroom.

  THE MAKE-UP on Herrick’s cheeks felt weird. Sticky and powdery, more like a donut topping than something to make him look better on TV.

  The news anchor, a woman with overly sprayed black hair named Kelly Battle, smiled in his direction.

  “In two minutes, we are going to cut away from Produce Pete and then focus on you. Breaking news.”

  Herrick shot her a grin. “I thought Produce Pete was a weekend feature.”

  “He can’t do this weekend. But he has to appear per his contract. You’re a viewer?”

  Herrick shrugged. “I’m a fan.”

  “I thought I was supposed to be making you comfortable. Not vice versa.”

  The studio was smaller than he’d expected. There was a news desk and a screen with the silhouette of Manhattan in the background. Facing the desk to the left was a green screen for the weather. To the right, another separate desk for sports. They put Herrick at the main desk to the left of the anchor.

  “Ninety seconds.” The voice came from behind the bright lights shining in Herrick’s eyes.

  He’d never been in a TV studio. All the appearances he’d done for the team had been when a beat reporter stuck a microphone in his face just as the team was running off the court. He was more comfortable there than here. Here he felt like he had to be prepared. Spur of the moment wasn’t a thing when you were in a news studio. Spur of the moment was for the reporter on the street.

  “I’m going to ask you some questions about this morning. Answer them as clearly as you can. Speak slowly, so the viewers can understand you. Got it?” Battle shuffled papers on her desk. The weather guy was playing on his phone.

  “Piece of cake.”

  Battle nodded. “Before we start, we will show the footage from your phone. I’ll do some voice over. Make sense?”

  “Like I said, I watch.”

  Battle nodded. Someone started counting down from twenty.

  “Here we go,” she said.

  The countdown stopped at three, and as if finishing it in her head, Battle nodded. Then said, “Pete, we will come back to you when we can. This is breaking news. The shocking phone footage you’re about to watch was taken by Matt Herrick, a local high school basketball coach. If you have kids in the room, be warned, this footage is graphic. Herrick was on the scene this morning during the dramatic attack on an armored car moving money from the Federal Reserve to Teterboro Airport. The military has been scarce with details from the attack, refusing to say how much money was taken. They’ve also refused to identify the victims and the assailants involved in this attack.”

  The video played on monitors behind the camera. Herrick didn’t want to watch, but couldn’t look away.

  Battle took another beat, then. “Welcome back to the four o’clock live news. I’m here with Mr. Herrick who is going to give us his eyewitness report on the attack. Matt?”

  As if it was an instinct from years of watching the news, Herrick said, “Good to be here, Kelly.”

  “What can you tell us about the attack?”

  “Well, as you can see from the video, three men appeared from behind the barrier near the car dealership and opened fire. They took out the armored car and the Jeeps escorting the vehicle.”

  Herrick’s phone started to buzz in his pocket. He ignored it, trying to keep his eyes on the camera.

  “And what were you doing in the area this morning?”

  Herrick thought, Keep Donne out of it. For now. This is about Cole. His phone continued vibrating.

  “I was out for a morning jog at the track nearby. I heard the gun shots and climbed the bleachers to get the footage you just showed.”

  “What else can you tell us? How many people were injured?”

  “From my count, one of the assailants was killed, and there were six soldiers murdered. The attackers got away with all the money.”

  Battle tilted her head. “All of it?”

  “The military appeared completely unprepared.”

  “And you would know, you are, after all, former military.”

  The words surprised Herrick, though they shouldn’t have. He’d been in the newsroom for nearly two hours b
eing vetted. Of course they’d find out about his time in Iraq.

  “Yes, I am a veteran of the Iraq war.”

  “How would you have handled this situation differently, Mr. Herrick?”

  Herrick went for it. “I don’t think I can even begin to speculate on that, Kelly. But I can give you a scoop.”

  Battle said, “Please do.”

  “I know the name of the ringleader of this case. His name is Elliot Cole, and he also killed my father, Kenneth Herrick.”

  Battle didn’t say anything. She had her finger pressed to her earpiece. A producer was talking to her.

  “Uh, Mr. Herrick, I—”

  Herrick spoke some more. “I’d love to hash this out with you, Cole. I’m sure you’re watching, and even if you aren’t, this is going to be big news and you’ll hear about it anyway. I’m a loose end, aren’t I? Just me sticking around here. There’s a way to wrap this all up and get all the Bonnie and Clyde buzz you want. Just meet me at Lattieri Park, remember that place? By the basketball nets at nine p.m.”

  Herrick pulled the microphone out of his shirt and dropped it on the desk. He stood up before Battle could ask any more questions and stormed toward the door of the studio. A producer stepped in front of him, but he pushed the guy out of the way and kept moving. That was the secret to getting out of here without anyone stopping him. It sounded silly, but it was true.

  Eyes forward, he just kept walking until it was time to leave the city. His phone vibrated like crazy.

  At Lattieri Park. The place where he remembered making his first lay-up.

  This wasn’t going to be a lay-up, that was for sure.

  THE POLICE had already started to scout Lattieri Park. Donne was lying in the weeds a good football field away, using the rifle sight to get a look.

  The perimeter the cops set up was probably fifty yards. They were just hoping Cole and Herrick would walk up to the park without seeing them. Guess what? If Donne could see them, then Elliot Cole wasn’t going to miss them either.