Damage by John Lescroart Page B

going to have to be dealing with for the next God knows however many months. And you knew it! You goddamn well knew it, and you just said, ‘Well, fuck Wes.’ That’s what happened, and both of you were in on it, which is why when the first I heard about it is when fucking Cliff Curtlee calls me—oh yeah, he called me before he called Leland, demanding your badge, Abe, how ’bout that?—and I’m stuck defending both of you when I think you did just about everything completely backward and wrong, I’m just a little bit beyond pissed off.”
    Farrell did a full pirouette and came back at them for a last round. “Just for the record, I feel bushwhacked and betrayed by both of you, and I don’t know what the fuck is going to happen on Monday. All I know is that if the court lets Ro out, we’re in deep shit. And if it keeps him in jail, we’re also in deep shit. And either way, I’ve made an enemy out of Leland Crawford, and I’d like to thank both of you for that, too. You’ve both put in a hell of a day’s work.”
    Finally out of steam, Farrell did a kind of double take, reached over and went to push the button for the elevator, then stopped himself. “That’s all right. Fuck it. I’ll walk down to my car.” And turning on his heel, he opened the door to the stairway.

    Glitsky pushed open the door to his home at ten forty-five P.M. He had last called Treya from the hospital when he’d gotten the call three hours earlier from the mayor’s office that he was expected immediately or sooner at City Hall, no excuses. At that time, he thought and told Treya he’d probably be home in about an hour. But then had come Farrell’s outburst in the elevator lobby and another half hour of discussion with Amanda Jenkins after that. And now the original hour had turned to nearly three.
    The house was dark.
    He’d walked nearly four blocks from the nearest place he’d found to park. Now, closing the door behind him, he shrugged out of his soaking jacket and hung it on the hook on the wall. He stood still a moment, listening to the rain, then moved up to the front of his house, where the bay window through his plantation shutters overlooked the block. The streetlights reflected off the shining streets.
    “What are you looking at?”
    His wife’s voice startled him. He had assumed that she was sleeping, but there she sat on the living room couch.
    “Just the rain,” he said. He stayed at the window. Then, the thought just occurring to him, “Where are the men who were watching you?”
    “I sent them home after you told me you’d arrested Ro.”
    “Their orders were to stay.”
    “I told them they could go. In fact, I ordered them to go.”
    Glitsky sighed.
    “Did your cell phone break?” she asked.
    He looked over at her. “Don’t bust my chops, woman.”
    “I’m just saying ...”
    “All right. Noted. But don’t. Please. I’m sorry. If I would have thought of it, I would have. But there was no opportunity.”
    She patted the couch next to her. “Come sit down.”
    He came over and lowered himself, as though his body ached, onto the couch.
    “Have you eaten?” she asked.
    “No. But don’t get up.” He took her hand. “You’re all right?”
    “We’re all fine. It was just scary.”
    “He’s in jail now.”
    “I know.”
    “The Curtlees want my badge. I think the mayor does, too.”
    “Well, he’ll learn.”
    “And then there’s your boss.”
    Beside him, he felt her go a little tense. “Wes? What about him?”
    “He wouldn’t have arrested Ro yet. He didn’t think it was a real threat.”
    “He wasn’t here.”
    “No. I know that. But he thinks I should have called him first, before I went to pick Ro up. And maybe I should have. Anyway, apparently I’ve put him in a squeeze.”
    “Poor Wes.”
    “He’s really unhappy. Furious, even.”
    “Because you arrested Ro? It was a real threat, Abe. No doubt about it. I wasn’t making anything up.”
    “Nobody thinks you