LITMIR.BIZ

      9

      New York City

      In the minutes after Jeff had left the Fourteenth Precinct, Detective Vic Cordelli resumed staring at the pictures of the Griffins.

      Juanita Ortiz stopped reading her notes and shifted her gaze to him.

      “What is it, Vic?”

      Cordelli brooded as mistrust gnawed at him and he shook his head.

      “I just don’t know about this one, Juanita.”

      Ortiz tapped her pen against her notes, sighing to herself.

      “You got a lot going on—” Ortiz picked up her landline “—but I need you to help me get to work and run this thing, okay?”

      Ortiz called the Real Time Crime Center downtown at One Police Plaza. The RTCC operated a vast computer network, including hundreds of surveillance cameras and plate readers in all boroughs. She’d requested all footage covering the time and location of Sarah and Cole Griffin’s abduction.

      While that was being processed Cordelli ran the Griffins through the National Crime Information Center, which held active records on millions of cases, ranging from thefts, to missing persons, fugitives and terrorists. The query rang no bells—no arrest, warrants, nothing.

      As Ortiz checked with other local, state and regional databases, Cordelli got on the phone to Montana. He hooked up with Detective Blaine Thorsen of the Laurel Police Department, who was puzzled at why the NYPD was calling about Jeff and Sarah Griffin.

      “No.” Thorsen’s keyboard clicked as he consulted local computer records for Cordelli. “There’s no complaint history here. No custody orders. It’s a damn shame that they lost their baby a while back.”

      “What was the cause?”

      “The coroner said it was SIDS. We investigated and had no reason to believe otherwise. They’re nice people. Why are you checking? What’s going on in New York?”

      “They’re here on vacation,” Cordelli said. “Jeff’s reported that Sarah and Cole were abducted less than two hours ago near Times Square.”

      “Abducted? Shit, really?”

      “We’re looking into it.”

      “Do you have any suspects?”

      “A witness gave us a couple of men and a vague vehicle description. Nothing solid. Does this sound out of character for the Griffins?”

      “Completely,” Thorsen said. “That family went through hell when they lost their daughter and now this. Lord Almighty. If you need anything from our end, anything at all, let us know.”

      Cordelli hung up.

      His perspective was shifting.

      He reviewed the report from the uniforms, the witness statement taken by Roy Duggan. He knew Duggan, knew he was a hard-ass who didn’t trust many people. Duggan wouldn’t waste his time if he didn’t sense a case here. Cordelli would have to get down to the street and talk to Freddie.

      For now, he returned to the family photos, the baby, Sarah, Jeff and Cole. Cordelli considered putting out an Amber Alert for Cole but they had nothing on a vehicle.

      Juanita was still working her phone and the computer. These days an investigation entailed as much mouse clicking as shoe leather.

      The more Cordelli looked at the Griffin family pictures, the deeper he’d looked into himself and how hollow his life had become.

      Three nights back, in the case they’d just closed, a jacked-up addict had put a gun in his face but it jammed. Cordelli’s “this-is-it” moment made him realize that nobody would mourn him because, after five years, he’d determined marriage wasn’t for him. He’d told his wife that he couldn’t breathe, that he was on a leash.

      She got a lawyer and cut him loose.

      The papers came through yesterday.

      Seeing the Griffins underscored what he would never have.

      It’s what he saw with Juanita every day. He could never tell her how it ate him up. She had Lucy, her little girl, and Bert, her husband. He was a building contractor who often surprised her with picnics in Central Park or getaway weekends to Boston.

      Cordelli figured these things were factors contributing to why he had been skeptical and a bit of a prick to Jeff Griffin. Yeah, maybe, he thought, downing the last of his coffee, maybe a little.

      It was stupid.

      He would correct it, starting now.

      Going back over everything, one theory came to mind telling him that—

      “Hey, you there? Vic? Hello? Did you hear me?”

      Ortiz had yanked him from his thoughts.

      “I said RTCC just came through. I think we’ve really got something here. Come around, you’ve got to see this.”