What Have You Done Read online

  Before Don could respond, Sean took Keenan by the arm. “Let’s go.”

  The group of men walked down the hall and into one of the empty interrogation rooms. Sean went next door to the observation room behind the one-way glass and turned off the microphone. When he returned, he shut the door and stood against it.

  “You gonna confess something?” Heckle asked. “Maybe we should be recording this.”

  “Shut up,” Sean snapped. “I’m going to level with you guys, but I need this to stay here. Cop to cop. This is between us. Deal?”

  Keenan dropped Don’s card on the table. “Go.”

  “I knew about my brother’s affair with the victim. That’s why he called me to the Tiger that night. He’s my brother. I needed to find out what was going on before I turned him in. I had Don check on a few things for me while I tried to figure out what was happening. At first we thought Liam was being framed. I couldn’t tell you because I was hoping either you would find the perp, or this would get filed unsolved and I could figure things out on my own. And if it was Liam, I could get him some help without anyone knowing. I was trying to protect him.”

  The room was quiet for a moment.

  “Jesus Christ,” Heckle muttered. “This is obstruction in the worst way, Sean. Guzio’s death is a direct result of you tampering with a homicide investigation.”

  “I know, but he’s my brother. What am I supposed to do? And he’s a cop. We stick together when it comes to our own. I don’t have to tell you guys that. I had no idea he’d go after the hotel owner. I just needed to figure out if Liam killed Kerri or if he was being framed by someone else. That’s the story. All my cards are on the table.”

  “Why would he kill the hotel owner now?” Keenan asked.

  Sean shrugged. “Tying up loose ends, maybe? Might’ve thought the owner would recognize him? I’m not sure.”

  “Or maybe he just snapped.”

  “Could be.”

  “Do you know where he is?” Heckle asked.

  Sean shook his head. “I don’t. And that’s the truth.”

  “How do we know you’re not lying again?”

  “What’s there left to lie about? Everyone knows my brother killed Kerri Miller and the hotel owner. At this point, I want to bring him in and get him help. No more lies when it comes to the four of us. But this stays between the four of us. I just got out of a meeting convincing Phillips I didn’t know Kerri and was unaware of Liam’s affair. Phillips made me write and sign a statement. I gotta be on the inside to bring him in the right way. If he knows I knew her, he’ll bump me from tracking Liam. Don’t dime me out now.”

  Keenan hopped off the table and rubbed his hands together. He took a deep breath. “Okay,” he whispered. “We’re good. This stays here. But we know what you know from now on. Got it?”

  “Agreed.”

  “I’m serious. If we find out we’re out of the loop, we go to IA with everything you just told us, and you can share a cell with your brother.”

  “Okay.”

  Someone knocked on the door, and Sean opened it. It was a uniformed officer.

  “They traced Liam’s GPS on his cell phone. He’s near Boathouse Row. They’re rolling units now.”

  Heckle and Keenan filed out of the interrogation room. Before Don could follow, Sean grabbed him and pulled him back inside.

  “What?” Don asked.

  “You went to the friend’s house?”

  “Yeah. When you guys started investigating me, I thought it was only prudent to clear my name. I took a ride to the friend’s house and asked some questions. I needed to hear what happened that night from their lips instead of reading it in a file. I needed to see the expressions on their faces.”

  “You never mentioned that to me.”

  “I know the feeling.”

  “Anything else I should know? Anywhere else you’ve been without telling me?”

  “No.”

  “You sure?”

  “Positive.”

  The two men stared at each other, neither saying a word. Sean finally turned and walked out into the hall. The rules of the game were changing by the minute. He had to roll with it and make his adjustments if things were going to work out in the end. He needed to bend without breaking. There was still time.

  46

  Liam walked among the throngs of people who meandered along the path of Kelly Drive, hidden within the crowds. He was still wearing the outfit he’d stolen from the hospital, but he’d gotten rid of the red hat. It was too noticeable. The jacket was tied around his waist. He approached the cluster of storage houses that made up Boathouse Row, on the edge of the Schuylkill River, and was relieved to see several members of a crew team working.

  He approached the team with Kerri’s photo in hand from the pictures he’d taken from Kiki and his grandfather at the dock. While he had been hiding in one of the subway tunnels in North Philadelphia, he’d studied the picture, and something had struck him odd about it. Now he needed confirmation.

  “Excuse me,” he called as he jogged from the safety of the crowd toward one of the kids who was lining oars next to his shell. “I was hoping you could help me.”

  The kid was tall with long blond hair, athletic and already tan despite just coming off a cold winter. He stood as Liam approached. “What’s up?”

  Liam held out the picture.

  “Don’t know her. Never seen her. Sorry.”

  “That’s not what I’m asking.” Again, he held the picture out. “Take a look and tell me if that’s a crew team rowing behind the girl? Over her left shoulder.”

  The kid took the photo and held it close. “Yeah, that’s crew. Not sure of the team, but it’s definitely crew. You can see the coxswain with the megaphone right there.”

  “Does anyone around here practice on the Delaware River? By the Ben Franklin Bridge?”

  A chuckle. “Are you kidding me? You’d get run over by the ships, and the current’s way too strong. Around here you crew the Schuylkill, or you don’t crew.”

  “You’re sure.”

  “Positive.”

  “I was told this picture was taken at the docks by Penn’s Landing.”

  The kid took another look. “Nah, this picture was taken about a half mile up the road. Right there you can see the orange signs on the other side of the bank where the old Washington Walk Bridge was closed. I don’t know who told you it was the Delaware, but they don’t know what they’re talking about.”

  “Thanks. You’ve been a big help.”

  “No problem.”

  Liam left the kid and made his way back into the crowd. He was walking, but his mind was a million miles away. He knew he was being framed, but now that he was a fugitive and a suspect in two murders, it would be hard to convince anyone else. He had to get to Sean.

  The cell phone in his pocket rang, and Liam looked at the caller ID. It was Sean.

  “Hey, I’m glad you called. We need to talk. I found—”

  “Shut up and listen. They’re tracking you through your phone’s GPS. They know you’re at Boathouse Row, and they’re coming. Shut it off and run.”

  “But I—”

  “Run!”

  The line disconnected. Liam powered off his phone and stuffed it back in his pocket. He looked around and saw a few police officers walking with the crowd. They didn’t appear to be searching for anything, but he couldn’t be sure. Another officer on mounted patrol took his horse through Fairmount Park, where he and his brother had met only a few days ago. Sean had asked him that day if he’d killed Kerri, and he’d said no. Today he was surer of that answer than ever.

  The first set of steps leading up to the museum was only about a hundred yards away. Liam turned around and began to walk back up the street. He went quickly, his head down, the people around him his only cover. The crowd was thick and slow-moving, filled with tourists stopping to take pictures or study maps as they made their way toward International Boulevard. He moved around them as best he
could, weaving in and out, jumping into the street, then back onto the sidewalk. When he was at a small clearing, he glanced over his shoulder. One of the two officers was staring right at him. He quickly looked away and kept moving, but there was no doubt. He’d been spotted.

  Liam jogged to the stairs and began to hop up, two at a time. He could see in the reflection of a mirrored sculpture on the first landing that both officers were in a calm pursuit, one of them talking into his radio. They were closing in.

  When he reached the top of the stairs, a small group of college kids clapped and cheered as they pointed at him and sang the Rocky song. He spun around and saw more officers below, cutting into the crowd and spreading out, covering the perimeter of the museum. He surveyed his surroundings, trying to find an escape route. Inside the museum itself would be his only real chance.

  The line of people in front of the entrance moved even slower than those walking on the streets outside. Liam pushed his way through and ran down the hall to the right, then took a large set of stairs to the second floor. He knew police procedures. One team would cover all the entrances and exits while a larger team would each take a floor to begin an extensive yet quiet search. More officers would be placed outside. They would cast a net over the entire property. His opportunity to escape was closing with each passing second.

  The gift shop was at the top of the stairs. Liam ran inside, breathing heavily. He was sweating and dizzy from having eaten nothing since the previous day. He grabbed a white souvenir T-shirt, paid cash, and ran into the bathroom. Inside the bathroom, he threw away the jacket and black golf shirt he was wearing and put on the souvenir shirt. He drank gulps of water from the sink until his stomach couldn’t take any more and stared at himself in the mirror. Perhaps this new outfit would buy him some time.

  There was a small window next to the urinals. He went to see if he could spot any more activity outside, but when he looked, his view was obstructed by the scaffolding that had been erected across the entire back of the building. He remembered seeing it when he and Sean were walking through Fairmount Park. The idea came instantly.

  Several officers were already on the second floor, searching. Liam cracked the door and watched as they spread out, two men down each hallway. He slipped from the bathroom and quietly took a set of side stairs to the third floor. A custodian was mopping up a spilled soft drink next to a soda machine.

  “Excuse me,” Liam said as he held up his police ID. “Philly PD. I need access to the roof. We’re conducting a search of the premises, and I need a bird’s-eye view. Can you take me there?”

  The custodian looked at the ID and nodded. “Nice shirt.”

  “Trying to blend in as a tourist. The guy we’re looking for might see the guys in uniform, but he won’t see me.”

  “Yeah, I saw all those other cops when they came in. Come on. Roof access is this way.”

  Liam followed the custodian through a door marked EMPLOYEES ONLY and up a small set of hidden stairs. At the top, the man unlocked another door and pushed through. They ascended an iron ladder sticking up from the floor, and he unhinged the access door in the ceiling. Liam took three more steps, and he was on the roof.

  He ran to the edge and saw the perimeter the police had set up. If he could get down the scaffolding without being noticed, he could go south through Fairmount Park and come back out at Boathouse Row.

  “Thanks. That’s all I need. You can go.”

  The custodian shook his head. “Can’t leave you up here alone.”

  “Well, then, I better head down.”

  Liam ran to the opposite end of the building and jumped from the roof onto the top level of the scaffold. He didn’t bother to look up to see if the custodian was tracking him. He was too busy climbing through the rungs on the side, trying to stay hidden and alive at the same time. His palms were sweating, and his hands slipped, almost sending him crashing to his death. When he reached the ground, he ran toward the entrance of the park, through the budding brush, and onto the other side near Boathouse Row. He was safe. For now.

  He crossed the street and jogged back up Fairmount Avenue, away from the activity around the art museum. As he ran, he looked for a way out of the area.

  Suddenly, a patrol car turned off 27th Street and headed right toward him. He was the only person on the sidewalk and knew he wouldn’t have much time before the officers inside the car got close enough to recognize him. The new clothes could only do so much. He ducked into a deli.

  “Can I help you?” a man behind the counter asked.

  Liam watched out the window as the cruiser passed by. “No, I’m good.”

  “What are you looking for?”

  “Nothing, really.”

  “Well, if you ain’t gonna buy anything, I gotta ask you to leave.”

  “Yeah, okay. Sorry.”

  He stepped back outside as the patrol car turned the corner. The Philadelphian was across the street. He made his move.

  The Philadelphian was a high-rise built exclusively for wealthy seniors. Among retirees, it was a much sought-after place to live. Liam scurried across a small one-way road and up the exit ramp to the front of the building. As he approached, the private charter bus that ran residents around the city was pulling up. He waited among the small gathering of residents and boarded the bus in a single file.

  “Who’re you?” the driver asked when he saw Liam. “Gotta have ID to ride this bus. Residents and employees only.”

  Again, Liam pulled out his police ID, obscuring part of his name with his thumb in case the driver recognized it from the news reports. “Need to hitch a ride to Penn’s Landing. It’s a police matter. My partner is meeting me there.”

  The driver looked at the ID. “Yes, sir, Officer. Welcome aboard.”

  It worked. He climbed in and sat.

  As the bus pulled out of the Philadelphian and onto the street, Liam could see the small army of uniformed officers beginning to canvass the area. No one would have noticed how many there were at ground level, but sitting atop the hill the building was perched upon, he could see them spreading out in the crowd. The windows of the bus were tinted. No one would be able to see him escape. He was on his way.

  He needed to find the truth.

  47

  The dock was busy. The warm afternoon brought as many people to Penn’s Landing as the art museum and, again, Liam blended in with them, working his way closer to Kiki and Grandpa. They were both at their spot under the tattered awning in front of the café. Kiki was shouting at those who passed by while his grandfather snapped picture after picture, aiming his camera at as many people as possible. Some folks exchanged money with the boy, but most passed by without so much as a glance.

  Liam approached them and, as he got closer, noticed the grandfather pull his eye away from the viewfinder. The old man looked at him and then called to his grandson in his native language. The boy ran back, and they both watched as he split the current of bodies walking back and forth from the water.

  “Hi, Mr. Liam!” Kiki shouted, waving. “You want Grandpa to take your picture? One picture, one dollar.”

  “No,” Liam replied. He held up Kerri’s photograph.

  “You already paid us for that one. Big tip. Nice man.”

  “Yes, I know. You told me you took this picture here, but I know you didn’t. Tell me who gave you this picture to sell me.”

  The boy’s demeanor changed. He smiled again, but this time it seemed forced. “Grandpa take that picture. We sell to you.”

  “No,” Liam said. “This was taken on the other side of the city. That’s the Schuylkill River in the background, not the Delaware.” He moved in closer so they could both see. “Who gave you this picture?”

  Kiki shrugged. “We don’t remember.”

  “What?”

  “We don’t remember. Sorry.”

  Liam showed the picture to the old man. “Ask Grandpa.”

  “He don’t remember, either.”

  “You haven’t
asked him.”

  The boy leaned over and said something in Cantonese. The old man responded in kind.

  “No,” Kiki replied. His eyes were darting in both directions now, nervous, uneasy. “He don’t remember. Sorry.”

  The boy tried to leave. He went to push past Liam as he began calling for other possible customers, but Liam put a hand to Kiki’s chest and gently pushed him back toward his grandfather. “I’m going to ask you one last time. It’s important. Someone got hurt, and I need your help. You won’t be in trouble, but it’s important you tell me who gave you this picture to give to me.”

  The boy looked at the photograph and then began shaking his head furiously. “I don’t know picture! I told you! Leave us alone! Go!”

  The boy’s shouts began to draw the attention of others in their vicinity. Liam put Kerri’s photo away. He left without saying another word, making his way into the tackle shop, where Bud was waiting on three customers.

  “Hey!” Bud cried. “Back again?”

  Liam ignored him and pushed through the swinging door at the end of the counter. “I need to borrow something,” he said. “Just for a sec.”

  Bud stopped what he was doing with his customer. “You can’t come back here,” he said. “What do you want?”

  Liam reached up on the third shelf.

  “Hey, man! What’re you doing?”

  He pulled a flare gun down and held it in his hand. The imperfections of the weapon were as plain as day, but it looked real enough, and he doubted the boy would know the difference. “I’ll give it right back.”

  “Hey!”

  The screams that carried through the air as he walked back across the dock, gun in hand, were piercing, but he was so focused on Kiki and Grandpa it didn’t register that the tourists and others on the dock were screaming and running from him. For a moment, the boy looked as if he was going to flee, but as Liam approached, he simply fell back against the old man, both of them watching him.

  “I’m going to ask you one final time,” Liam said calmly. He held the flare gun up against the boy’s skinny chest. “I’m not fooling around anymore. I like you, Kiki. I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to because people I care about have been hurt. Badly hurt. And I have to find out what happened. This isn’t a game. I want to know who gave you that photo of the girl, or I pull this trigger. Do you understand? If you don’t tell me, you’re going to die right here, today.”