Eventually, I had to turn the news off altogether. “It doesn’t matter,” I pointed out.
“Oh, it matters to me!”
“No,” I said as patiently as I could. “What matters to you is solving this case. Correct?”
He paused. “Yes. But if these idiots really do think I did it, I can’t run around the City questioning people or anything. It was bad enough when I was on suspension; now I’m awanted man.”
“You make a good point. Perhaps you should go and turn yourself in.”
“No!” he said, stung. “Oh, for—don’t use reverse psychology on the psychologist. It’s crass.”
“Don’t complain that false accusations are ruining your life,” I shot back, but I smiled. “Also crass.”
“They’renotfalse in your case,” he muttered, but at least I’d distracted him.
If anything, Baxter Flynn being the new top suspect in this case made him rather more valuable to me. He’d have double the motivation now, to clear his name as well as solve the case. And although he’d been cut off from the various systems and channels of the official task force, there were ways and means of getting back in. Bax would be useful to me in navigating them, if nothing else.
“Come on,” I said, once I had the dossier safely saved on the flash drive and to my own encrypted online drive. “It’s well past time we got out of here.”
“What about my clothes?” he asked suddenly, horrified.
“That’s the least of your problems.”
“Yeah, but—”
“Kid, we’llgetyou some clothes,” I said, less patiently. “Right now, we need to move. Fast. Are you in or are you out?”
His mouth went from a perfect downward curve to a straight line of defiance. “Oh, I’m in.”
* * *
When we gotoutside I led Bax on a long walk out of my own neighborhood to make sure we weren’t being followed, then stopped at the meeting place where we’d be picked up.
And then I made him put on a blindfold. He wasn’t happy about it.
“If I stand here on the sidewalk wearing a blindfold, it’ll bemoresuspicious.”
“In this neighborhood? People make an effort to look the other way. Anyway, put it on or don’t. You’re not coming without it, though.”
He put it on, grumbling, and then I texted Nick Fontana to come pick us up. He was one of the Family’s most reliable Capos, so even though he wasn’t in charge of this area he was my first choice. He wasn’t pleased at being called out in the middle of the night, but he was respectful enough to keep his thoughts to himself. Until he arrived, anyway. He took one look at Bax and I could see the dirty joke he wanted to make.
“Dylan 37,” I said, before he could make any problems between us. “I’ve sent the GPS co-ords. And this one in the back.” I thumbed at Bax.
He nodded and popped the trunk. I took Bax around to the back of the car and told him, “Mind your head when you climb in.”
“What the fuck? I’m not getting in there.”
“Happy to leave you here on the side of the road.”
Grumbling, he faltered his way into the trunk. “You better not kill—” he said, just as I slammed it shut.
* * *
“You wantthe couch or the bed?” I asked.
My Brooklyn safe house was surveillance-free, regularly bug-checked, soundproofed, lightproofed, and filled with everything a man might need when he had to disappear for a while. But that was the problem—it was intended foroneman. The place was tiny, built in a windowless basement under an empty building ostensibly owned by a respectable box-making company. It was a studio setup, with the bed, living area and kitchen all in one room, and a bathroom the size of a closet. The television was tiny. The canned food was edible, though not diverse. I suspected Bax would object again to the shelf-stable milk cups.
But none of that mattered. It wasn’t fancy, but itwassafe. And we would have decent coffee, since I’d brought my personal blend with me. Good coffee was non-negotiable.
