As his head cleared, logic moved back in. He couldn’t stay here, of course. He had to keep moving.

It was just a quick drag down to the canal, where he emptied the boy’s pockets and rolled him into the water.

Then he made his way back up to the parking lot, popped his trunk, and changed quickly, bagging everything else for disposal.

By the time he was behind the wheel of his car again, heading south into the city, Bergman had come full circle and then some. He felt better now than he could remember feeling, ever.

And the night was young. It was time to take this party somewhere else.

CHAPTER

41

BY MIDNIGHT, BERGMAN WAS BACK DOWNTOWN AND READY FOR THE NEXT PART of his evening. He got out at the corner of Seventh and D, handed his keys to the valet, and headed inside.

The three-tiered lobby of the Woolly Mammoth Theatre was jumping, with the annual Fashion Fights Hunger fundraiser. They had the whole place awash in yellow light, with bright pink theatrical spots throwing shards of magenta around the room. It wasn’t exactly flattering, but it was festive, anyway. The deejay booth at the far end was spinning salsa, and it was a hoot to see some of these industry suits trying to shake the sticks out of their asses on the dance floor.

Bergman hit the bar first, then worked his way up to the third level, the better to take in the scene.

“Joshua!” a voice screamed out as soon as he hit the landing. He turned around and saw a big pair of red lips coming at him, with his friend Kiki attached.

“Incoming!” she said, and kissed him full on the mouth. “How’s my darling boy doing? It’s been forever and a half!”

Bergman nodded at the mostly finished pink concoction in her hand. “I think I have some catching up to do,” he said.

“Oh, you do,” she said. “You totally do. Garth and Tina are going to want to know you’re here, too.”

Unlike with Elijah, Joshua Bergman’s recent troubles in the press had only upped his stock. He was now Washington’s bad boy of style and fashion, it seemed. Well, if the shoe fit, why not?

He downed the rest of his watered half-rate Scotch and wagged the glass at Kiki. “Would you?” he said. “I have to make a call.”

“I would,” she said. “And stand by for Garth and Tina. I’m going to bring them back up here. I think Tina has coke, which is so freaking retro, I can’t stand it.”

As soon as she was gone, Bergman took out his phone and hit speed-dial one. He stood at the rail, watching the party and waiting for Elijah to answer.

“Josh?”

“Why do you always say my name like it’s a question?” Bergman said. “Don’t you trust caller ID?”

“I don’t trust my mother, Josh. Why would I trust my phone?”

Bergman loved the way they could just fall into it. Elijah acted like he didn’t care, Josh acted like he did, and both of them knew where the other was coming from. It was comfortable.

“Well, guess where I am,” he said.

“Someplace loud.”

“It’s the Fashion Fights Hunger thing. You should come down and have a drink with me. It’s been a big night.”

“Rain check,” Creem said. “I’m working at my desk, and I don’t want to put all of this away right now.”

Bergman felt a bubble of excitement rise up from his belly, and into his throat. It came out as a giggle.

“Let me try that again,” he said. “It’s been a very big night, Elijah, and I mean that in a way that only you could appreciate. I thought it would be nice to have a drink together.”

Elijah didn’t answer, or say anything at all for a very long time. Kiki, Garth, and Tina were on their way up the stairs now, and Bergman gave them a just-a-minute finger before he walked farther up the mezzanine.

“Elijah?” he said. “Are you still there?”

“I’m here,” Creem said. “And you need to slow down, my friend. This isn’t a race.”

“It’s not an anything,” Bergman said. “Isn’t that part of the beauty? It’s whatever we want it to be. Just like life.”

He could feel the adrenaline, or endorphins, or whatever it was running through his veins as hot as that salsa music down below. He even did a few giddy steps while they talked. Back, forth, cha-cha-cha.

“Well, enjoy yourself,” Creem said. “I’ll catch up with you soon.”

Bergman smiled. “I hope that’s a double entendre,” he said. “Because just for the record, Elijah—if this were a race? I’d be winning.”

“Good night, Josh.”

“Love you, Elijah. Talk soon.”

CHAPTER

42

THE NEXT DAY WAS ONE OF THE WORST I’VE EVER HAD ON THE FORCE.

It started just before the 6 a.m. briefing at headquarters. With all three of these cases in full go mode, the brass had shifted our morning meetings up to the Joint Operations Command Center on the fifth floor. Everything to do with these homicides was now tracked in real time through the JOCC, so we would always know who was working which leads, and if anyone had made any progress. The briefings were a chance to cross-reference any police action from the overnight shift against our open investigations, to see if anything might prove relevant.

When I got there that morning, Tom D’Auria was waiting in the fifth-floor hall to head me off with some very bad news. Word had just come in that Jeannette and Tommy Reilly, as well as the sheriff’s deputy assigned to their house in Shellman Bluff, had all been killed sometime in the last eight hours.

“All three of them were shot,” D’Auria told me. “But they’re reporting two different calibers, so some of this is a little up in the air. CIC just got it a few minutes ago.”

I nodded, but I wasn’t hearing much. My chest had gone tight, and I felt like I couldn’t breathe until I got an answer to my next question.

“What about the baby?” I said.

“Missing,” Tom told me.

It was a one-word punch in the stomach. D’Auria ducked his chin, just to give me a moment of space. He knew I was invested here.

“What can I do?” I said.

“Not much,” he said. “FBI’s already on it. They’re working with McIntosh County, and the state troopers. The AMBER Alerts are up. Transportation hubs in all contiguous states are already covered.”

“There has to be something,” I said.

“You can give a call down to the Atlanta field office if you want, or the Savannah satellite office, if anyone’s there. They may want to talk to you. But other than that, it’s going to be a waiting game at this point.”

They were coming at it aggressively. That was good. If and when they determined Rebecca had been taken across any state lines, it would automatically go federal, and they were already set up for that.

I just hoped it was all enough. Without knowing how long ago she’d been taken, it was hard to say.

Meanwhile, the shift change was filing past us into the JOCC. I saw a lot of bleary-eyed cops, either because they were just finishing for the night, or just getting started for the day.

“I’m going to cover all of this inside,” D’Auria told me. “I figured you’d want a heads-up.”

“I appreciate it, Tom.”

“If you need to talk—”

“I’m good,” I said. “I’ll be right in.”

Every cop I know gets overwhelmed sometimes. It’s nothing to be ashamed of. I always encourage my people to talk it out when they need to. We’ve got an employee assistance program for that, but there’s also supervisors, coworkers, shrinks, clergy, whatever. You just have to choose someone, is what I tell people.

Sometimes I take my own advice, and sometimes I don’t.

I walked down the hall and locked myself in the handicapped bathroom by the stairs. I just needed a minute to breathe.

This wasn’t my fault. Not technically. I knew that. But it was also true that I’d had more of a chance to stop it from happening than just about anyone else. I could have pushed harder to get Rebecca into protective services. I could have worked more closely with McIntosh County.