Chapters (27)
- Cover Page
- Title Page
- Dedication
- Part One
- Chapter One
- Chapter Two
- Chapter Three
- Chapter Four
- Chapter Five
- Chapter Six
- Chapter Seven
- Chapter Eight
- Chapter Nine
- Chapter Ten
- Chapter Eleven
- Chapter Twelve
- Chapter Thirteen
- Chapter Fourteen
- Part Two
- Chapter Fifteen
- Chapter Sixteen
- Chapter Seventeen
- Chapter Eighteen
- Chapter Nineteen
- Chapter Twenty
- Chapter Twenty-One
- About the Author
Somehow it seemed more important than publicity. There was an urgency that blew it up large. There had been no discussion of Scanlon’s civil rights, none of the customary nods in the direction of principle. Captain Leland had not thought of the prisoner’s rights; the correct application of the official procedures gave Scanlon all the protection he could hope to get. Now Captain Leland found himself with a prisoner who had not been booked. It frightened him. He was angry, but he was frightened more. As the senior officer, he was responsible. Scanlon was just liable to have a heart attack and die. The Captain wanted the name in the book. He wanted Scanlon’s signature on the list of personal possessions.
Schoenstein and the other detectives from the Fifth had pressed for the interrogation they had been promised. From his office Captain Leland led his son down the corridor to the door off the back of the squad room.
“When I called your office this afternoon it was after I got the call from downtown. I wanted to tell you to stay away from here, but as long as I’ve got you, I might as well let you enjoy yourself.” He opened the door.
The blinds were drawn, although it was dark outside now. Only one fluorescent fixture was lit, at one end of the room, and Scanlon sat under it. The detectives of the Fifth were leaning on desks around him. Scanlon was filthy. Dirt was rubbed into the pores around his eyes and the corners of his eyes were clogged with mucus. His beard, the mess of his hair, the dirt, and the fear in his eyes made it impossible to know what he really looked like. He was gazing up at Schoenstein as if the detective were an executioner. Leland had not seen Schoenstein in five years and now it seemed as if he bore more than a slight resemblance to Murray Kaminsky. He was taller, stronger, with a longer, thinner face. He had the same thinning blond hair and Leland knew that when he was away from both of them he would not be able to recall one without confusing him with the other. Now Leland saw Tanner, and Danny Curran. They did not notice him.