BooksBarbecue
Back Blood in the Water Save as PDF
Chapters (82)
  1. Title Page
  2. Copyright Notice
  3. ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
  4. ONE
  5. TWO
  6. THREE
  7. FOUR
  8. FIVE
  9. SIX
  10. SEVEN
  11. EIGHT
  12. NINE
  13. TEN
  14. ELEVEN
  15. TWELVE
  16. THIRTEEN
  17. FOURTEEN
  18. FIFTEEN
  19. SIXTEEN
  20. SEVENTEEN
  21. EIGHTEEN
  22. NINETEEN
  23. TWENTY
  24. TWENTY-ONE
  25. TWENTY-TWO
  26. TWENTY-THREE
  27. TWENTY-FOUR
  28. TWENTY-FIVE
  29. TWENTY-SIX
  30. TWENTY-SEVEN
  31. TWENTY-EIGHT
  32. TWENTY-NINE
  33. THIRTY
  34. THIRTY-ONE
  35. THIRTY-TWO
  36. THIRTY-THREE
  37. THIRTY-FOUR
  38. THIRTY-FIVE
  39. THIRTY-SIX
  40. THIRTY-SEVEN
  41. THIRTY-EIGHT
  42. THIRTY-NINE
  43. FORTY
  44. FORTY-ONE
  45. FORTY-TWO
  46. FORTY-THREE
  47. FORTY-FOUR
  48. FORTY-FIVE
  49. FORTY-SIX
  50. FORTY-SEVEN
  51. FORTY-EIGHT
  52. FORTY-NINE
  53. FIFTY
  54. FIFTY-ONE
  55. FIFTY-TWO
  56. FIFTY-THREE
  57. FIFTY-FOUR
  58. FIFTY-FIVE
  59. FIFTY-SIX
  60. FIFTY-SEVEN
  61. FIFTY-EIGHT
  62. FIFTY-NINE
  63. SIXTY
  64. SIXTY-ONE
  65. SIXTY-TWO
  66. SIXTY-THREE
  67. SIXTY-FOUR
  68. SIXTY-FIVE
  69. SIXTY-SIX
  70. SIXTY-SEVEN
  71. SIXTY-EIGHT
  72. SIXTY-NINE
  73. SEVENTY
  74. SEVENTY-ONE
  75. SEVENTY-TWO
  76. SEVENTY-THREE
  77. SEVENTY-FOUR
  78. SEVENTY-FIVE
  79. SEVENTY-SIX
  80. Praise for Blood in the Water
  81. ABOUT THE AUTHOR
  82. Newsletter Sign-up

At the edge of the pier, two paramedics were frantically trying to bring Vincente Carpio back to life. They were breathing into his mouth and pumping his chest, but there didn’t seem to be any chance that they would be successful. Then, just as it looked like they were going to give up, Carpio’s body convulsed, and he spat up what seemed like a gallon of water.

Cicero shook his head. “God has an ironic notion of justice,” he said.

Cormack was tempted to grab a gun and shoot Carpio, but he held his temper. Besides, he still couldn’t feel his fingers, and he wasn’t sure he could hold a gun. “Let’s go,” Cormack responded. “There’s nothing left for us to do here.”

They started walking up the ramp, off the pier. “You can’t leave,” one of the cops nearby said.

“You gonna arrest us?” Cormack asked.

“We need to interview you,” the cop said. The confidence in his voice was wavering.

“OK,” Cormack said. “Call my lawyer and make an appointment. In the meantime, I have a harbor to run.”

Kit’s body washed up onshore three days later. She was found by a fisherman, lying facedown on the rocks at the end of Hull, only two miles from where she and Dillon and Ollie had spent their summers frolicking in the surf on Nantasket beach.

The funeral was a somber, quiet affair. She had no family and few friends. The FBI sent an official contingent, but none of the senior brass attended. Some of the local agents and cops who had worked with her over the years made appearances, but there was no talk of her wit or her warmth or her heart. All of that had been taken from her before any of those there knew her. They knew a different Kit Steele than the one that existed before her husband and son were murdered.

Cormack didn’t go to the funeral. His presence there would have drawn stares and raised questions that were not in anyone’s interest to have asked. Besides, he preferred to remember Kit as she was the last time they were together.

In all, not including the perpetrators, thirty-two people were killed in the attack on the John Joseph Moakley Federal Courthouse—ten of whom were law enforcement officers. Another two hundred people were badly injured. The funerals stretched out for two weeks, and the BOSTON STRONG signs once again were ubiquitous, not only in Massachusetts, but around the country.