attacker as Grace Brookstein.’
Mitch burst into the intensive-care unit.
‘Detective Connors. I’m here to see Tommy Burns.’ He flashed his badge at the staff nurse
‘Right this way, Detective.’
The head of admissions had filled Mitch in on the van driver’s story. According to Tommy Burns, he was a freelance gardener who’d happened to pick up a hitchhiker a couple miles outside of Bedford last Tuesday night. The woman went by the name of Lizzie. Tommy drove her about forty miles north before she suddenly pulled a knife on him, forced him into the woods, stabbed and robbed him, leaving him for dead.
‘Some local kids found him. They were out hunting. A few more hours and he’d have bled to death for sure.’
‘And he believes this Lizzie who attacked him was actually Grace Brookstein?’
‘He seems certain of it. A few hours after he came to, he asked to have the TV turned on. Brookstein’s face came on the news and he went crazy. We had to sedate him. He wants to talk to you but he’s still very weak, so go easy. His wife and kids haven’t even seen him yet.’
Mitch thought, Wife and kids. The poor bastard’s a family man. But of course Grace Brookstein didn’t care about that. She picked him up, used him to get what she wanted, then left him to die in the woods, alone. Painful memories of his dad’s murder came flooding back to him. Pete Connors’s killer would never be caught. But Grace Brookstein sure as hell would be. Men like Tommy Burns deserved justice. They deserved to be protected.
Mitch approached Tommy Burns’s bed full of compassion.
When he left the hospital fifteen minutes later, he found himself wishing Grace Brookstein had finished the job. Tommy Burns was about as likable as a bad case of hemorrhoids. He was also a rotten liar.
‘Jesus, Detective, I already told you. I was the Good Samaritan, okay? I saw a chick in trouble and I did the right thing. One minute we was driving along, listening to the radio, nice as pie. The next minute, bam! The bitch has a knife to my throat. I never stood a chance.’
Mitch wanted to believe him. Badly. Right now Tommy Burns was the only witness he had. But he didn’t believe him. Something about the guy wasn’t right.
‘Let’s go back to when you first picked her up, shall we, Mr Burns? You said she looked like she was in trouble?’
‘She was half dressed. It was freezing out there, snowing. She had this thin blouse on. You could see right through it.’ A half smile flickered across his face at the memory. Just then a pretty young nurse came in to refill the water pitcher. Mitch Connors watched Tommy Burns follow her lustfully with his eyes as she turned and left the room. A light went on in Mitch’s brain.
‘You didn’t think to ask her why she was dressed like that on a freezing winter’s night?’
‘Nope. Why should I? None o’ my business.’
‘I suppose not. Still, out of curiosity …’
‘I’m not a curious person.’
‘Yes. I can see that.’
Tommy Burns’s eyes narrowed. Something about Mitch’s tone gave him the feeling he was being mocked. ‘What d’you mean by that?’
‘I don’t mean anything by it. I’m simply agreeing with you that you lack curiosity. For example, you don’t seem to have asked yourself why, after going to all the trouble of trying to murder you, this woman didn’t finish the job.’
Tommy Burns became agitated. ‘Hey now. Don’t you go givin’ me no “this woman” bullshit. It was Grace Brookstein. I saw her on the TV, plain as day. You catch her, I’ll be wanting that two-hundred-thousand-dollar reward.’
‘Fine,’ said Mitch. ‘Let’s say it was Grace Brookstein who attacked you.’
‘It was.’
‘If it were me, I’d still be asking myself that question: “Why did she let me live? Why didn’t she finish the job?” But then again, you see, I am a curious person. We detectives usually are.’
Tommy considered this. ‘I guess she thought she had. Finished the job, I mean. We were out in the middle of nowhere. Probably figured I’d die slow.’
Mitch pounced. ‘Really? Why do you think she would want you to die slowly?’
‘’Scuse me?’
‘According to you, her motive was theft. She needed a ride and she needed money. That being the case, I could understand her wanting you dead. She wouldn’t want witnesses, right?’
‘Right.’
‘But what reason would she have to make you suffer? To prolong your agony?’
‘What reason? Hell, I don’t know. She’s a woman, ain’t she? They’re all fucked-up bitches.’
Mitch nodded slowly. ‘You’re right. I mean, if a man had done this, he’d have taken the van, right?’
‘Huh?’ Tommy Burns looked well and truly confused.
‘Once he’d gotten rid of you, he could have used the vehicle to get another forty, fifty, a hundred miles away from the crime scene before he dumped it somewhere. That’d be the smart thing to do, wouldn’t it?’
‘I guess it would.’
‘But women aren’t as smart as us, are they?’
‘Damn right they ain’t.’
Mitch leaned forward conspiratorially. ‘We both know what women are good for, don’t we, Tommy? And it isn’t their powers of reasoning!’
Tommy smiled stupidly. Now the cop was talking his language …
‘Tell me, Tommy, do you regularly pick up hitchhikers?’
‘Sometimes.’
‘Are many of them as attractive as Grace Brookstein?’
‘No, sir. Not many.’
‘Or as good in the sack?’
‘No, sir!’ Tommy Burns grinned. ‘She was something else.’
It was a full five seconds before he realized his mistake. The smile wilted. ‘Hey now, don’t you go putting words in my mouth! I didn’t … I mean … I’m the victim here,’ he stammered. ‘I’m the goddamn victim!’
It was late by the time Mitch got home that night. If you could call the shitty two-bedroom rental that was all he could afford since
