him, his daughter.”
Maria was a short, stocky woman with graying black hair, warm brown eyes, and a round face filled with lines from her perpetual smile. She also ran his and Jocko’s lives like a marine drill instructor, or at least tried to. But it was an effort always filled with an irresistible love. Harry hated seeing her so frightened and in so much pain.
Vicky came in and sat on the other side of Maria, taking hold of her hand. “Any news?” she asked.
Maria shook her head. “Thank you for coming. You take good care of my boy.”
“I try, but it isn’t easy.”
Maria gave her son a reproachful look. “Tell me about it,” she said. “I try for almost twenty years. Does he listen?”
Harry ignored the comment. “Tell me about O’Connell’s daughter.”
“A nice girl,” Maria said. “She’s maybe twenty-two, twenty-three years old. Her name is Mary Kate.” She shook her head sadly. “Some time last year she joins up with these Scientology people and a little while later she tells her father and mother that she can’t talk to them anymore, because they don’t belong to her church.” She shook her head again and drew a long breath as if that summed everything up. “Then last week Joey calls Jocko and asks him to find her, tell her she should come home. He thinks maybe these church people are keeping her a prisoner.”
“Why didn’t Joey go to the police? He knew Jocko was retired and didn’t have the authority to do anything, or even pressure anybody.”
“He told Jocko that he didn’t think the regular cops could do anything. But Jocko said he thought it was because Joey was ashamed. He didn’t want his friends in the department to know what happened to his daughter.”
Like everyone else in the Tampa Bay area, Harry was familiar with the Church of Scientology. It was a massive, highly secretive organization—to many, more cult than church—that had made Clearwater, Florida its spiritual headquarters. Over the years, church leaders had bought up more than half the buildings in the downtown area and turned it into a private enclave that discouraged anyone who tried to breach their guarded domain. Some claimed that resistance at times turned violent, although church officials vehemently denied it. Yet to many the separation was clearly visible and unmistakably aggressive. It was as though an impregnable wall had been built around the majority of downtown Clearwater.
Harry turned to the patrol officer who had been assigned to watch over Maria. She was in her early forties, tall and slender, with a plain, unremarkable face and the look of a cop who had seen more than she cared to remember. Her name tag identified her only as Moore.
“Patrolwoman Moore, where did they find Jocko?” Harry asked.
“Like your mother said, he was in the water in this small marina just west of that old elementary school on Osceola Avenue. The school was shut down a couple of years ago and the Scientology people are supposed to be buying it. Rumor is that the marina’s part of the deal. Anyway, it was a guy who keeps his boat there who heard the shots and found your dad. The detectives and forensics are still at the scene and will probably be there for quite a while. They could give you more info.”
The doctor, still in surgical scrubs, came out half an hour later and sat with them. His name was Josephs and he spoke directly to Maria.
“The surgery went well and your husband is in intensive care. He’s in critical condition mostly because of the extensive loss of blood he suffered. In addition to the bullet wounds he also had a collapsed left lung and some broken ribs, but I have every confidence he’s going to survive. The next twenty-four hours will be critical.”
“Can I see him?” Maria asked.
“Yes, but I can only allow one visitor.” He turned to Harry. “Are you his son?”
“Yes.”
“I’m afraid you’ll have to wait until tomorrow.” Dr. Josephs turned back to Maria. “You should go home after you see him. Get some rest and we’ll call you if there’s any change.”
“No. I stay,” Maria said.
Harry saw that her jaw was set and knew the doctor was wasting his breath. He had seen that determined look too many times, all the way back to his childhood. He turned to the doctor. “It’s no use arguing with her. Trust me.”
Dr. Josephs studied the floor and nodded slowly. It was a situation he had faced before. “I’ll want someone to stay with her . . . just in case he takes a turn for the worse.”
“I’ll stay with her.” It was Patrolwoman Moore. She held Harry’s eyes. “Jocko was a mentor to me, and a friend. I know you want to get to the scene. Let me do this for you.”
* * *
Clearwater detectives were still canvassing the surrounding area when Harry and Vicky arrived at the marina. The lead detective was a sergeant named Max Abrams. He was a contemporary of Jocko’s and knew Harry well. He was also a transplant from the New York City Police Department who had left that job after ten years of service and opted for warmer climes. He still carried the Brooklyn accent of his birth.
“Hey, kid, how’s the old man doin’?” Abrams was a short, stocky man with receding salt-and-pepper hair, a wide nose, and large lips. He looked totally ineffectual until you noticed the steel in his hard gray eyes.
“He’s out of surgery, still critical, but the doc thinks he’ll make it,” Harry said. He inclined his head toward Vicky. “This is my partner, Vicky Stanopolis.”
Abrams nodded to her, then turned back to Harry. “It’ll take more than two slugs in the back to take Jocko out. You have any idea what he was doin’ down here?” He waved his hand, taking in the largely unoccupied marina.
“He was doing a favor for Joey O’Connell.”
“What kind of favor?” Abrams asked.
“He was trying to locate Joey’s daughter. Seems she joined up with the Scientologists, and Joey was worried they had some kind of hold on her. Supposedly she had told her parents she couldn’t have any contact with them because they didn’t belong to the church. Joey asked Jocko to find her, see what was going on, and try to get her to come home.”
“You have any idea what brought him here specifically . . . to this marina?”
“Just one thing and I can’t verify it.” Harry glanced around the sparsely occupied marina. “The cop staying with my mom said the Scientologists were trying to buy this place, along with the abandoned school up on Osceola Avenue. That’s the only connection I know of.”
“You ever meet the daughter?”
“Once, but it was quite awhile ago. She was just a teenage kid. I met her at Joey’s house but didn’t pay much attention to her. She just sort of breezed through while I was there with Jocko. Her name is Mary Kate.”
“I’m sure Joey could give us a picture of the kid,” Abrams said. “I don’t expect much cooperation from the Scientologists if she did hook up with them. They never cooperate with the cops unless it’s in their interest. They just shut you down whenever you ask any questions about their church or anybody who belongs to
