Free The Evil That Men Do by Dave White Page B

moisten her throat, Susan said, “Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.” Bernadette took Susan’s hand and helped her to her feet. “Let’s get you inside into the air-conditioning.”
    They walked along together and Bernadette said, “Are you going to be okay? I know it’s hard watching your mom be sick.”
    “It’s not only that,” Susan said. She stopped and looked around at the ground. “Did you see my cell phone?”
    Bernadette held it up. In two pieces.
    Susan quickly took the pieces and tried to fit it back together. No luck. Jesus Christ. What if Jackson had tried to call? Or the people who had her husband?
    She felt light-headed again, and Bernadette saw it. She put her arm around Susan and held her up. Kept walking.
    “Come on,” the nurse said. “Keep moving. Keep the blood flowing, you’ll be fine. Let’s just get inside.”
    Everything was going wrong. And Susan couldn’t do anything to stop it.
     
     
    Getting to the Clifton Police Department wasn’t very complicated. Iapicca made only one right turn once he found Valley Road. They followed Valley to Van Houten, passing a strip mall, two schools, a Charlie Brown’s, some houses, and an intersection that took seven minutes to get through because of construction. The entire way, Donne kept trying Susan’s phone.
    No answer.
    His instincts didn’t like whatever that meant.
    “How the hell do you know where the Clifton Police Department is?” Donne asked. “It’s not even marked.”
    “I have some family in Clifton.”
    The department was located inside Clifton City Hall, a long brick building with three glass doors in the middle. They walked through the doors, and Iapicca turned toward Donne.
    “The only reason you’re coming along is because I’m starting to believe your story. Anything doesn’t line up with what you’ve already said, you’ll find a different way home.”
    “I haven’t said much of anything yet.”
    “Keep it that way. I don’t need a headache.”
    They followed a long dark tiled hallway through a narrow doorway into a bright white waiting room. On the walls were various framed pictures of successful Cliftonites. The high school marching band seemed to have some kind of reputation, because the picture of it filled the biggest frame. Along the far wall was a windowed counter and another doorway. Behind the counter, a uniformed cop watched them.
    “Wait here,” Iapicca said.
    Donne took a seat on a plastic chair and looked at the brochures on the table in front of him. Most of them regarded sexually transmitted diseases. He felt more like he was in a doctor’s office than anything else.
    Iapicca was bullshitting with the cop behind the glass. They both laughed at some joke Donne didn’t hear. He checked his watch and worried some more about Susan.
    A buzzer sounded and Iapicca pushed the door next to the window open. He turned his head toward Donne.
    “Come on, tough guy,” he said.
    Donne followed him into the back office. It looked pretty much like any office you see on TV. Brightly painted walls, and cubicles. The only difference was that the guys in the cubicles were in cop uniforms. And the box of doughnuts by the coffee machine was empty.
    At the back of the office, a kid in a LeBron James jersey about six sizes too big for him, baggy jeans, and untied Timberlands sat looking pissed off. A plainclothes detective, jacket off, leaned on his desk watching him. Neither spoke until the detective noticed Donne and Iapicca.
    “You look like a Rutherford cop. Greasy as hell,” the detective said to Iapicca.
    “And you’re doing an impression of a police force in this town? Christ, do you even have a jail back here?” Iapicca shook the Clifton detective’s hand. “How you doin’, Krewer? This here is Jackson Donne. He’s a private detective. Or at least used to be.”
    Iapicca gave him a look, and Donne realized he’d done a little research on him.
    “A PI?” Krewer took Donne’s hand. “Is that