Afraid of the Dark - James Grippando [11]
Jack bristled. I knew he was American. “Why?”
“Custody is being transferred to the Florida Department of Law Enforcement.”
Neil popped from his chair, unable to contain himself. “What do you mean transferred? The judge ordered his release.”
“He is being referred to the Miami-Dade state attorney for prosecution on criminal charges unrelated to terrorism.”
“What—jaywalking?” said Neil, his neck swelling. “This is ridiculous.”
“Easy, Neil,” said Jack.
“No, this infuriates me,” said Neil. “Every time a judge rules for a detainee, the DOJ tries to save face with vague references to some new evidence collected by the task force on detention that may lead to a criminal indictment. It’s sleazy. This is another example of the administration’s defiance of a court order and its refusal to admit that there was never any legal basis to detain these prisoners.”
“This morning a grand jury indicted your client on one count of first degree murder and one count of attempted murder,” said Gonzalez.
Neil fell silent.
Jack did a double take. “And you say this is unrelated to terrorism?”
“It’s purely a local law enforcement matter,” she said. “Your client is from Miami. His real name is Jamal Wakefield. And three years ago he killed a girl named McKenna Mays. Stabbed her to death.”
Jack gave it a moment to sink in. Then he looked at his old boss and said, “Let’s hold off on the press release, Neil.”
Chapter Five
Jack was back in Miami by nightfall. He was wandering around lost in the airport’s Flamingo Garage when he finally remembered that his car was in the Dolphin Garage. To a Floridian, parking garages named Dolphin and Flamingo were like identical twins named Frick and Frack. All that was missing was cousin Royal Palm. A ridiculously long moving sidewalk connected the two garages, and Jack’s cell rang as he stepped onto it. The display read SUNNY GARDENS OF DORAL. It was his grandfather’s nursing home.
“He’s being combative again,” the nurse said.
Jack got these calls about once a week. The usual scenario was that Grandpa was sleeping peacefully when the night nurse barged into the room, overpowered him with the health-care equivalent of waterboarding, and forced an unwanted and probably unnecessary medication down his throat fast enough to land her in the Guinness Book of World Records, Nursing Edition.
Who wouldn’t be combative?
Jack was tired of the arguments, and the sound of his grandfather ranting senselessly against the post office in the background was breaking his heart.
“P.O., no, no,” the old man shouted. “P.O., no, no!”
“Put him on the phone,” said Jack.
“I can’t. We’re restraining him.”
“What? I’ll be there in twenty minutes.”
He hung up and ran to his car. He was speeding down the ramps from the roof of the garage when his phone rang again. This time, however, the word PRIVATE appeared on the caller-ID display, and the timing brought a much needed sense of calm.
“Andie?” he said, answering.
“Hi, babe,” she said.
Andie Henning was Jack’s fiancée. He’d popped the question at the surprise birthday party she’d thrown for him last month. Andie had accepted on the spot—and disappeared eight days later. When people asked him what it felt like to be engaged, Jack honestly couldn’t tell them. He didn’t know where Andie was, didn’t know when she was coming back, and had no idea when she would call next. She made him promise not to come looking for her, refused to share her new cell number, and wouldn’t tell him who she was living with. He didn’t know what she looked like anymore, though he was certain that the gorgeous long hair that had once splayed across his pillow had changed entirely. Jack didn’t even know her new name.
Andie was unlike any woman Jack had ever known—and not just because she was an FBI agent who worked undercover. Jack loved that she wasn’t afraid