Читать книгу Don’t Look Twice - Andrew Gross, Andrew Gross - Страница 13

CHAPTER EIGHT

Wendy Sanger sat numbly on the couch, her daughter’s raw face pressed into her shoulder, eyes bleary from tears. A neighbor had come over to take care of her son, who seemed a bit handicapped, in a TV room.

Hauck sat across from them in the pleasantly decorated living room.

“I just can’t believe it.” She shook her head. “He just went into town to wash the car. He did that every Saturday. That was David’s thing. How he relaxed. You know…David’s a prosecutor with the U.S. Justice office—in Hartford. We’re supposed to be moving up there before Christmas. We were just…”

She caught herself, tears rushing into her eyes, her face a blank. Hauck noticed the packed suitcases at the door. “You were all headed somewhere?”

“We were just going to pack up the car. We were heading up to our place in Vermont. Stratton.”

Wendy Sanger cupped her face in her hands and shook her head, trying to keep from crying. Her daughter sniffed back tears.

“I know how hard this is for you, Ms. Sanger…” Five years ago, Hauck had had to pick up his own four-year-old daughter in his arms. He looked at Haley and tried to give her a supportive smile. “But if you can manage it now, there are some questions I need to ask…”

She didn’t say yes or no, just shrugged, her head shaking like a door off its hinge. “Why would anybody want to kill David, Lieutenant?”

“I don’t think anyone intended to shoot him, Mrs. Sanger. A truck pulled up and someone sprayed dozens of bullets all around the station.”

“Like a drive-by?”

Hauck nodded. “I was there myself. With my daughter. Your husband was standing just behind us in line. He was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

“Wrong place at the wrong time…This is fucking Greenwich, Lieutenant, not Newark. He just went out to wash the goddamn car!”

“We’re not sure yet, but we’re pretty sure this was aimed at something else. But I have to ask—you say there was no one who would want to hurt your husband? Were there any cases he may have tried where someone might have threatened him? Anybody he ever spoke of who he felt was out to get him? Maybe gang-related…”

“Gang-related?” Wendy Sanger looked back, incredulous. “My husband tried mostly bankruptcy cases. CEO malfeasance. He didn’t try gang-related cases.”

“And none of these people ever made threats toward him? Sent him letters, calls at the house? Maybe he wouldn’t even have told you?”

“No.” Wendy shook her head. “He would’ve told me. David and I didn’t hide things from each other. No one was threatening him. They were grooming him for bigger cases. That’s why we had to move up there.”

“Daddy said they were going to put him in charge of this big department,” his daughter said. She wiped a Kleenex across her nose. “That we had to move up there. I made it so tough on him, Mom. I—”

“It’s okay, baby, it’s okay.” Wendy Sanger squeezed her tightly. Hauck swallowed hard.

“My son, he’s got Asperger’s syndrome, Lieutenant. He needs a lot of attention. David commuted up to Hartford for two years. Left before dawn and came back at ten sometimes. He didn’t want Ethan’s situation to have to change. That’s the kind of man he was. He pushed off this promotion for over a year. Didn’t want to upset the kids’ life. Haley’s just finishing up at the middle school. Ethan’s in a special program…”

“I understand,” Hauck said, giving her a little time. “Listen, I know this is a long shot, Ms. Sanger, but does the name ‘Tarantino’ have any special meaning to you?”

Wendy Sanger looked confused. “Like the director?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“What about ‘Por Sephina’? In Spanish. I know how tough this is. I know this is out of the blue.”

“This is crazy, Lieutenant. I can’t do this! No one wanted to kill my husband! No one had any ax to grind with him.”

“Why did this have to happen, Mom?” Haley dug her fists into her mother’s sweater and cried.

Wendy stroked her hair. “I know, baby, I know…”

Hauck looked into Wendy Sanger’s swollen eyes. Her straight blonde hair falling over her Fair Isle sweater and turtleneck. Her sharp chin and high cheekbones. There were pictures on the walls. The four of them together. Skiing. At Disneyland. Posing with Goofy. He knew there was no reason to press. He could check with Sanger’s office in Hartford about his cases.

“Do you have anyone that we can call? Give you some help in getting someone here?”

Numbly, she shook her head. “My sister lives in New Hampshire. I don’t know how she’s going to take this news…You never know how this feels, do you, until it happens to you?”

“No.” Hauck shrugged. “I’m going to leave an officer outside for the time being. You just let him know if there’s anything he can do.”

Wendy nodded vacantly. “Thanks.”

Hauck stood up. “We’re gonna find the people who did this, Ms. Sanger. I give you my word. I’ll let you know as soon as we know something.”

“Thank you again, Lieutenant.” Her daughter’s face was pressed to her lap.

Outside, Hauck paused on the steps. A carved jack-o’-lantern was already sitting on the slate landing.

You never know how this feels until it happens to you…

Yes, I do.

All over again, he saw the window rolling down, the man wearing the red bandana extending the gun—his face light-skinned, chiseled, a thin mustache. David Sanger, in his down vest, stepping up behind them. You guys, go ahead…He smiled.

Was it me…?

Was it him they were aiming at? Was it because of something he had done, some stray act of vengeance, that this family’s life had to be upended too?

They had been packing up for a weekend in Vermont. The guy had just gone to gas up the car. Only an hour before he’d had a life like Hauck’s, a daughter not much older than Jessie.

I know what you’re going through, man…

A fist dug in Hauck’s gut. If someone somehow wanted him dead, they could have gotten him any day of the week. At home in Stamford. On a jog. With no one around, and not in the middle of the day. In front of the whole fucking world!

No, it would be suicide to go at it this way.

His cell phone rang. Munoz. “Yeah, Freddy?” He snapped it open, heading toward his car.

“Looks like that angel of yours is still on duty, Lieutenant.”

“What angel are we talking about, Freddy?”

“We found the truck!”