THE EXPLORER screeched to a stop outside the administration building. Jacobi and I got out and cut through the Spanish loggia overlooking the Main Quad.We ran right into Kimes, barking orders into a handheld radio. He was with the grim-faced dean of students, Felix Stern. "We still haven"t found Rusty Coombs," Kimes told me. "He was seen on the Quad twenty minutes ago. Now he"s diappeared again." "How are we doing with that SWAT team?" I asked him. "How are we doing with that SWAT team?" I asked him."They"re on their way now. You think we"ll need them?" I shook my head. "I hope not. We won"t need them if Coombs got spooked and spilt." I shook my head. "I hope not. We won"t need them if Coombs got spooked and spilt." Just then, we heard shots. I know that none of the police would fire first. Besides, it sounded like rifle fire. Just then, we heard shots. I know that none of the police would fire first. Besides, it sounded like rifle fire."I think he"s still here," Warren Jacobi deadpanned.Screams of panicked students echoed down the loggia. Then they started to run toward us, fleeing the Quad.Someone shouted, "He"s in the Hoover Tower. The f.u.c.ker, the f.u.c.king madman!" Jacobi, Kimes, and I ran right into the stampeding students. Joe Kimes was on the radio. "Shot fired! All personnel and EMS to the Hoover Tower. Use extreme caution!" Jacobi, Kimes, and I ran right into the stampeding students. Joe Kimes was on the radio. "Shot fired! All personnel and EMS to the Hoover Tower. Use extreme caution!" We got to the green in the next few seconds. Students were hiding behind trees, pillars, large flower pots, anything that afforded some cover. We got to the green in the next few seconds. Students were hiding behind trees, pillars, large flower pots, anything that afforded some cover.Two students were down. One of them was a black woman, a b.l.o.o.d.y circle widening on her chest. G.o.dd.a.m.n him. G.o.dd.a.m.n Chimera Chimera."Stay down! Stay where you are!" I yelled across the Quad. "Please keep your heads down!" A shot rang out from the tower. Then a second and third. A male student dropped from behind a slatted bench. A shot rang out from the tower. Then a second and third. A male student dropped from behind a slatted bench."Please stay down!" I screamed again. "Stay the h.e.l.l down!" I fixed my eyes on the belfry of the tower, searching for a shape, a gun, anything to set Rusty Coombs"s position. I fixed my eyes on the belfry of the tower, searching for a shape, a gun, anything to set Rusty Coombs"s position.Suddenly, two more shots echoed from the tower. Coombs was definitely up there. There was no way we could protect this many people. He had us where he wanted us. Chimera was still winning.I grabbed Kimes. "How would I get up there?" "No one"s going up there," Joe Kimes snapped back, "without a SWAT escort." His eyes were wide and frozen. He shouted into the radio. "All SWAT and medical teams to the Main Quad! Sniper is shooting from the Hoover Tower. At least three down." "No one"s going up there," Joe Kimes snapped back, "without a SWAT escort." His eyes were wide and frozen. He shouted into the radio. "All SWAT and medical teams to the Main Quad! Sniper is shooting from the Hoover Tower. At least three down." I looked him in the eye. "How do I get up there, Joe?" I demanded. "I"m going, so tell me the best way." I looked him in the eye. "How do I get up there, Joe?" I demanded. "I"m going, so tell me the best way." "There"s an elevator on the ground floor," Dean Stern cut in. "There"s an elevator on the ground floor," Dean Stern cut in.I pulled my Glock out of my side holster and checked the smaller Beretta I had fastened to my ankle. Chimera was up in that dome, raining bullets down.My eyes fixed on a building that would provide some cover. Jacobi reached for my arm. But he knew he wasn"t going to stop me."You wouldn"t give me a minute to grab us both a vest, would you, L.T.?" "I"ll see you up there, Warren." I winked. Then I broke for the tower in a tight crouch. "I"ll see you up there, Warren." I winked. Then I broke for the tower in a tight crouch.And somewhere in the back of my mind, I wondered - why am I doing this? why am I doing this?
Chapter 117.
JESUS, HE FELT GOOD.Chimera pulled back the rifle and sat against the hard concrete wall. In a moment, h.e.l.l on earth was going to bust loose in the Quad. SWAT teams, snipers, maybe even helicopters. He knew he had the advantage - he didn"t care if he died.He fixed on the big carillon bells. He"d always liked the stupid, d.a.m.n bells. When they played, you could hear them all over campus. He wondered, when this was over, when he was no longer around, if he could have bells played at his funeral. Yeah, right.Then he realized he was alone in the Hoover Tower and had just killed five people. What a f.u.c.king day this had been - what a life he"d had. He was going down in history, no doubt about that anymore.He lifted himself up and peered over the side. Suddenly, everything was pretty quiet down there. The Quad had been cleared. Soon there"d be a high-tech SWAT team on the scene, then he"d just have to take out as many as he could get. They were going to have to earn their overtime pay.But for now, up here, man, everything was beautiful...Then he spotted Lindsay Boxer! He squinted through the rifle sight to be sure. The "hero cop" who had killed his father. She had run from the cover of the administration building, zigzagging in a crouch toward the tower. He was glad she was here. Suddenly, everything changed. He could still bring this bus in on time... He could still bring this bus in on time...He followed the darting shape and gently closed the left eye. He let his breathing slow to an almost meditative rate.He was thinking that his father had taken nine shots.So should she.He drew in a breath and fixed the crosshairs on her white blouse.You"re a dead woman.
Chapter 118.
IT WAS QUIET NOW in the quadrangle. Rusty Coombs was either taking a breather or reloading.Lets do it. Me and you, pal.I headed for the building in front of me. I felt a kind of controlled hysteria. Not good. I knew I was a target, and that Coombs could shoot.Suddenly, I heard a gun burst behind behind me. I glanced and saw Jacobi firing at the tower. me. I glanced and saw Jacobi firing at the tower.Before Coombs could train on me, I darted under the cover of thick poplar branches, then around the building to within a few yards of the base of the tower.I looked around and saw Jacobi with Kimes. He shook his head at me. I knew it meant, Please, Lindsay, stay put. I can"t do backup once you"re in the tower. Please, Lindsay, stay put. I can"t do backup once you"re in the tower. I winked at him almost apologetically. I winked at him almost apologetically.I ran around the tower until I found an entrance on the north side. I headed up the stairs and found myself in a marbled WPA-style lobby.Elevator straight ahead.I pressed for the elevator over and over, my gun trained on the doors. They didn"t open. In futility, I slammed my fist against the polished chrome doors. I screamed, "Police." The shout echoed down the halls. I needed someone, anybody. I had no idea how to get to the top of the tower from here.An older man in a maintenance uniform emerged from down a corridor. He recoiled at the sight of my gun."Police," I yelled. "How do I get up there?" "Man"s blocked the elevator," he said. "Only way up is the auxiliary stairs." "Man"s blocked the elevator," he said. "Only way up is the auxiliary stairs." "Show me. Please. It"s a matter of life or death." "Show me. Please. It"s a matter of life or death." The caretaker led me through a door and up to the third floor, then down a corridor to a narrow set of stairs. "You got youself thirteen flights. Fire door at the top. Opens from both sides." The caretaker led me through a door and up to the third floor, then down a corridor to a narrow set of stairs. "You got youself thirteen flights. Fire door at the top. Opens from both sides." " "Wait in the lobby and tell anyone who comes that I"m up here," I said as I headed into the narrow stairwell. "That"s a matter of life or death, too." in the lobby and tell anyone who comes that I"m up here," I said as I headed into the narrow stairwell. "That"s a matter of life or death, too." "Yes ma"am. Understood." "Yes ma"am. Understood." I started up. Thirteen flights. And I didn"t know what to expect at the top. My heart was racing and my blouse clung to my back with cold sweat. I started up. Thirteen flights. And I didn"t know what to expect at the top. My heart was racing and my blouse clung to my back with cold sweat.Lucky thirteen. With each story, my breaths grew tighter and sharper. My legs began to ache, top to bottom, and I run four times a week. I didn"t know if I was crazy, going in there without backup. No, h.e.l.l, I knew knew I was crazy. I was crazy.Finally, I pused past twelve and reached the top. Jesus. Jesus. Only a solid metal fire door separated me from Chimera. My heart was exploding. Only a solid metal fire door separated me from Chimera. My heart was exploding.Through the door I heard more shooting. K-pow, k-pow, k-pow. K-pow, k-pow, k-pow. He was at it again. I was scared that someone else might be killed. I was angry, p.i.s.sed, I wanted him so bad. I checked my Glock and sucked in a breath. He was at it again. I was scared that someone else might be killed. I was angry, p.i.s.sed, I wanted him so bad. I checked my Glock and sucked in a breath. Oh G.o.d, Lindsay ... whatever you do, do it fast. Oh G.o.d, Lindsay ... whatever you do, do it fast.The fire door had one of those heavy emergency levers that had to be pushed down to release.I pressed it down and burst onto the observation deck.
Chapter 119.
I WAS STRUCK with a blast of blinding sunlight. Then the chilling sounds: k-ping, k-ping, k-ping k-ping, k-ping, k-ping... the ejecting sh.e.l.ls from the rifle jangling to the floor.Rushing onto the deck, I spotted Coombs. He was kneeling in front of an opening with his rifle extended through the bars.Suddenly he pivoted toward me.His gun exploded in my direction. A deafening burst, orange flashes all around. Loud metallic dings.I dove away from the door, peeling off a burst of four shots. I didn"t know if I"d hit him. I sucked in a breath, waiting for a stab of pain to see if he"d hit me. if he"d hit me. He hadn"t. He hadn"t."It"s a lot harder when somebody"s shooting back at you," I yelled.I was crouched behind a tall metal grating. It housed a collection of seven masive bells. Each looked as if it could shatter my eardrums with a single ring. The rest of the observation deck was no more than an eight-foot-wide path. It circled the bells with viewing openings every six feet or so in the wall.Coombs was on the other side - the bells acting as a cover for both of us.His voice called out, an easy, arrogant tw.a.n.g, "Welcome to Camelot, Lieutenant.... All these big-shot brains down there... and now you coming all the way up here just to talk to me me." "I brought along friends. They won"t be talking, Rusty. They"ll be looking for any shot to take you down. Why die like this?" "I brought along friends. They won"t be talking, Rusty. They"ll be looking for any shot to take you down. Why die like this?" "I don"t know, seems like a good plan to me. you want to die up here with me, be my guest," Rusty Coombs called back. "I don"t know, seems like a good plan to me. you want to die up here with me, be my guest," Rusty Coombs called back.I squinted through the grating, trying to get a fix on where coombs was. Across the belfry, I heard him shove in a fresh clip."I"m glad it"s you. I mean, it"s fitting, don"t you think? You nail my dad, now I get to do the same to you." His voice seemed to shift, His voice seemed to shift, as if he was circling. as if he was circling.I started to circle as well, my Glock aimed toward the corner of the bell housing."I don"t want you to die up here, Rusty." "A little slow on the uptake, aren"t you, Lieutenant? Just like always. I gave you everything I could think of. The chimera symbols, the van, the nine one one... What did I have to do, send you a f.u.c.king E-mail and say, "A little slow on the uptake, aren"t you, Lieutenant? Just like always. I gave you everything I could think of. The chimera symbols, the van, the nine one one... What did I have to do, send you a f.u.c.king E-mail and say, "Hey, fellas, I"m over here?" "Hey, fellas, I"m over here?" Took you long enough to figure it out. Cost a few lives along the way." Took you long enough to figure it out. Cost a few lives along the way." Suddenly, a burst of gunfire rattled the iron grating, bullets clanging loudly off the bells. Suddenly, a burst of gunfire rattled the iron grating, bullets clanging loudly off the bells.I ducked down, holding my head between my hands."You father"s gone," I shouted. "This doesn"t bring him back." Where was he now? I peered through a gap in the grating. Where was he now? I peered through a gap in the grating. Brain freeze. Brain freeze.There was Rusty Coombs. He was smiling at me, his father"s smug, hateful grin. I saw the rifle extended throuh the bell housing. He was smiling at me, his father"s smug, hateful grin. I saw the rifle extended throuh the bell housing.In that instant, I saw a sudden flash, felt a recoil of brute force. Then the powerful impact of the shot hurled me backward.I landed hard on my back, scurried for cover as Coombs rushed around for a clear shot. My fingers groped for my Glock, my gun ... wasn"t there. my gun ... wasn"t there.Coombs had shot it out of my hand!He walked forward until he stood over me. His rifle was pointed at my chest. "You have to admit, I sure can shoot, huh?" Every lingering hope was gone. His eyes were green and held such a cold, impa.s.sive burn. I hated this b.a.s.t.a.r.d so much. Every lingering hope was gone. His eyes were green and held such a cold, impa.s.sive burn. I hated this b.a.s.t.a.r.d so much."Don"t add any more deaths," I said, my mouth completely dry. "SWAT teams are coming. Kill me, five minutes later, it"ll be you." He shrugged. "At this point, it"s gonna be a b.i.t.c.h to square myself with the coach. People like you" - he stared blankly - "you don"t have the slightest idea what it"s like to lose your father. You b.a.s.t.a.r.ds took my father." He shrugged. "At this point, it"s gonna be a b.i.t.c.h to square myself with the coach. People like you" - he stared blankly - "you don"t have the slightest idea what it"s like to lose your father. You b.a.s.t.a.r.ds took my father." I watched his finger move to the trigger and realized I was going to die. I said a silent prayer and I thought, I watched his finger move to the trigger and realized I was going to die. I said a silent prayer and I thought, I don"t want to die. I don"t want to die.Then the deepest, ear-splitting sound interrupted. It had the force of a building crashing down. One resounding gong was followed by another, then another. I had to grab my ears to keep from going deaf.It was the bells. They were going off, and it was the loudest noise I"d ever heard - by a lot. The entire tower shook with the thunderous sound.Coombs"s face twisted into a contortion of shock and pain. He staggered, reflexively crunching into a ball to protect himself.When I saw him coil up, I reached inside my pant leg. I pulled out the Beretta strapped to my ankle.Everything happened so quickly, like a film with the action running but the sound a high-pitched distortion.Coombs, seeing me, swung his rifle into firing position.I fired three times, spurts jerking back my hand. The bells continued to gong ... over and over. The bells continued to gong ... over and over.Three crimson bursts spattered across Coombs"s broad chest. The force sent him tumbling backward.Then the bells again. Each earsplitting clang felt like a sledgehammer slamming into my skull.Coombs came to rest in a sitting position. He gazed down, saw his torn flesh. He blinked with a glazed, mystified look. He raised his rifle toward me. "You die, too, b.i.t.c.h!" I squeezed the trigger of the Beretta. The bells gonged as a final blast thudded into his throat. He grunted loudly and his eyeb.a.l.l.s rolled back into his head. I squeezed the trigger of the Beretta. The bells gonged as a final blast thudded into his throat. He grunted loudly and his eyeb.a.l.l.s rolled back into his head.I realized that my hands were cupping my ears again. My head ached. I crawled to Coombs and kicked his rifle away. The bells continued to sound, a melody that was unidentifiable to me, maybe an answer to my prayer.My eye fixed on something as I knelt beside Coombs. "There it is," I whispered.A curled, reptilian tail in red and blue, leading into the body of a goat with the fierce and proud heads of a lion and a goat. Chimera Chimera ... One of my shots had pierced the wicked beast"s torso. It looked dead, too. ... One of my shots had pierced the wicked beast"s torso. It looked dead, too.I heard shouts coming from behind, but I continued to kneel over Coombs. I felt I had to answer what he"d said at the end. You don"t have the slightest idea what it"s like...to lose your father You don"t have the slightest idea what it"s like...to lose your father...."Oh, yes I do," I told his still eyes.
Chapter 120.
THIS TIME the newspapers had it right. Chimera was dead. Chimera was dead. The multiple-homicide case was closed. The multiple-homicide case was closed.There was no great joy in the final outcome, at least not for me. Homicide didn"t get together and wipe the board clean. There were no toasts with the girls. Too many people had died. I was lucky not to have been among them. So were Claire and Cindy.I took a few days off, to give my side and hand some time to heal, and the IA teams a chance to piece together what had happened at the shooting scenes. I hung out with Martha, took some long walks along the Marina Green and Fort Mason Park as the weather turned damp and cold.Mostly, I replayed the events of the horrible case. It was the second time I"d had to fight a killer one-on-one. Why was that? What did it mean? What did it say about my life and what it had come to?For a moment, I"d had an important piece of my own past given back, a father I never really knew. Then, that gift was taken away. My father had disappeared into the dark hole from which he had crept. I knew I might never see him again.In those days, if I could have come up with one meaningful thing I wanted to do with my life, I might have said, Let"s give it a ride. Let"s give it a ride. If I could plant, or had some secret urge to open a boutique, or the stick-to-itiveness to write a book... It was so hard to find even the thinnest slice of affirmation. If I could plant, or had some secret urge to open a boutique, or the stick-to-itiveness to write a book... It was so hard to find even the thinnest slice of affirmation.But by the end of the week, I just went back to work.Late that first day, I got a buzz from Tracchio to come up to his office. As I walked in, the chief stood up and shook my hand. He told me how proud he was, and I almost believed him."Thanks." I nodded, and even smiled. "That what you wanted to say?" Tracchio took off his gla.s.ses. He shot me a contrite smile. "No. Sit down, please, Lieutenant." Tracchio took off his gla.s.ses. He shot me a contrite smile. "No. Sit down, please, Lieutenant." From the edge of his large walnut desk, he picked up a red folder. "Preliminary findings on the Coombs shooting. Coombs From the edge of his large walnut desk, he picked up a red folder. "Preliminary findings on the Coombs shooting. Coombs Senior. Senior." I regarded it tentatively. I didn"t know if some IAB bureaucrat had found something suspicious. I regarded it tentatively. I didn"t know if some IAB bureaucrat had found something suspicious."There"s nothing to worry about," Trachio a.s.sured me. "Everything checks out. A perfectly clean shooting." I nodded. So what was this all about? I nodded. So what was this all about?"There is one thing outstanding, though." The chief stood and leaned against his palms on the front of his desk. "The M.E. lifted nine rounds out of Coombs"s body. Three belonged to Jacobi"s nine millimeter. Two came from Cappy"s. One from your Glock. Two twenties from Tom Perez out of Robbery. That"s eight. eight.He stared down at me. "The ninth bullet didn"t match up." "Didn"t match?" I raised my eyes. It didn"t make sense. The commission had every gun from every cop who was involved, including mine. "Didn"t match?" I raised my eyes. It didn"t make sense. The commission had every gun from every cop who was involved, including mine.Tracchio reached into a desk drawer. he came back with a plastic baggie containing a flattened, slate gray round, about the same color as his eyes. He handed it to me. "Take a look.... Forty Caliber." A jolt of electricity surged through me. A jolt of electricity surged through me. Forty caliber... Forty caliber..."Funny thing is" - his eyes bore in - "it did did match up to match up to these these." He produced a second baggie containing four more rounds, nicked, flattened."We took these out of the garage and trees outside that house in South San Francisco where you followed Coombs." Tracchio kept his eyes fixed on me. "That make any sense to you?" My jaw hung like a dead weight. It didn"t make sense, except... I flashed back to the scene on the steps of the Hall. My jaw hung like a dead weight. It didn"t make sense, except... I flashed back to the scene on the steps of the Hall.Coombs rushing toward me, his arm extended; that frozen moment before I fixed on his face. From behind him, the thing I always remembered, couldn"t put away: a voice, someone shouting my name. a voice, someone shouting my name.In the melee there was a pop pop.... Then Coombs lurched.The bullets didn"t match up. Coombs had been shot with a .40 caliber handgun.... My father"s gun...I thought of Marty, his promise as he stood in my doorway that last time.Lindsay, I"m not running anymore.... My father had shot Frank Coombs on those steps. He had been there for me."You didn"t answer, Lieutenant. That make any sense to you?" Tracchio asked again.My heart seemed to be bouncing side to side in my chest. I didn"t know what Tracchio knew, but I was his hero cop. Catching Chimera would erase the "Acting" in front of his t.i.tle. And like he said, it was a clean shooting."No, Chief," I answered. "It doesn"t make any sense." Tracchio fixed on me, weighing the file in his hand, then nodded, placing it at the bottom of a heavy pile of other reports. Tracchio fixed on me, weighing the file in his hand, then nodded, placing it at the bottom of a heavy pile of other reports."You did a good job, Lieutenant. n.o.body could have done better."
Epilogue.
I"ll Fly Away FOUR MONTHS LATER... FOUR MONTHS LATER...It was a sparkling, clear March afternoon when we all went back to the La Salla Heights Church.Almost five months after that first b.l.o.o.d.y attack, every c.h.i.n.k in its exterior walls had been sanded and painted over with fresh white paint. The arched opening where the church"s beautiful stained-gla.s.s window had shone was draped with a white curtain erected for today"s event.Inside, VIP"s from the city government sat shoulder to shoulder with proud parishioners and families gathered for the occasion. New cameras rolled from the side aisles, recording the proceedings for the evening news.The choir, dressed in white gowns, belted out "I"ll Fly Away," and the chapel seemed to swell and resonate with the triumphant power of the raised voices.Some people clapped with the music, others tearfully wiped their eyes.I stood in the back with Claire and Jill and Cindy. My body tingled with awe.As the choir concluded, Aaron Winslow stepped up to the pulpit, proud and handsome as ever in a black suit and dress shirt. He and Cindy were still together, and we all liked him, really liked them. them. The crowd quieted down. he looked around the packed house, smiling peacefully, and in a composed voice began. "Only a few months ago, the play of our children was rocked by a madman"s nightmare. I watched as bullets desecrated this neighborhood. This choir that sings for you today was gripped with terror. We all wondered, The crowd quieted down. he looked around the packed house, smiling peacefully, and in a composed voice began. "Only a few months ago, the play of our children was rocked by a madman"s nightmare. I watched as bullets desecrated this neighborhood. This choir that sings for you today was gripped with terror. We all wondered, Why...? Why...? How was it possible that only the youngest and the most innocent of us was struck?" How was it possible that only the youngest and the most innocent of us was struck?" Cries of "Amen" echoed from the rafters. Cindy whispered against my ear, "He"s good, isn"t he? Best of all, he means it." Cries of "Amen" echoed from the rafters. Cindy whispered against my ear, "He"s good, isn"t he? Best of all, he means it." "And the answer is...," Winslow declared to the hushed room, "the only answer can be, so that she could pave the way for the rest of us to follow." His eyes scanned the room. "We are all linked. Everyone here, the families who have suffered loss, and those who have simply come to remember. Black or white, we are all diminished by hate. Yet somehow, we heal. We carry on. We "And the answer is...," Winslow declared to the hushed room, "the only answer can be, so that she could pave the way for the rest of us to follow." His eyes scanned the room. "We are all linked. Everyone here, the families who have suffered loss, and those who have simply come to remember. Black or white, we are all diminished by hate. Yet somehow, we heal. We carry on. We do do carry on." carry on." At that moment, he nodded toward a group of young children dressed in their Sunday best, flanking the large white curtain. A girl in braids, no more than ten, tugged on a cord, and the canvas fell to the floor with a loud At that moment, he nodded toward a group of young children dressed in their Sunday best, flanking the large white curtain. A girl in braids, no more than ten, tugged on a cord, and the canvas fell to the floor with a loud whap. whap.The church became awash in brilliant light. Heads turned, followed by a collective gasp. Where once shards of fallen gla.s.s had left a jagged hole, a stunning stained-gla.s.s window shone intact. Crise of acclamation rang out, then everyone began to clap. The choir started up softly in a hymn. It was so d.a.m.n beautiful.As I listened to the moving voices, something stirred inside me. I glanced at Cindy, Claire, and Jill, thinking, reliving just how much had happened since I"d last stood in this place, since Tasha Catchings had been killed.Tears welled in my eyes, and I felt Claire"s fingers at my side. She probed for my hand, squeezing me by the fingertips. Then Cindy cradled her arm through mine.From behind, I felt Jill bracing my shoulder. "I was wrong," she whispered in my ear. "What I said when they were wheeling me into the OR. The b.a.s.t.a.r.ds don"t win. We do. We just have to wait to the end of the game." The four of us stared at the beautiful stained-gla.s.s window. A sweet and gentle robed Jesus was motioning to disciples, a yellow nimbus around his head. Four or five followers were trailing behind. One of them, a woman, had turned to wait for someone else, her arm extended.... The four of us stared at the beautiful stained-gla.s.s window. A sweet and gentle robed Jesus was motioning to disciples, a yellow nimbus around his head. Four or five followers were trailing behind. One of them, a woman, had turned to wait for someone else, her arm extended....She was reaching toward the outstretched hand of a young black girl.The girl looked like Tasha Catchings.
TWO WEEKS LATER, a Friday night, I"d invited the girls over for dinner. Jill said she had big news that she wanted to share.I was coming back from the market, grocery bags in hand. In the vestibule of my walk-up, I fumbled for the mail. The usual catalogs and bills. About to move on, I noticed a thin white envelope, the standard air mail variety with red and blue arrows, the kind they sell you at the post office.My heart jumped as I recognized the script.It was postmarked Cabo San Lucas, Mexico. Cabo San Lucas, Mexico.I put the grocery bags down, then I sat on the steps and split the envelope open. I lifted out a folded piece of lined paper. Inside, a small Polaroid photo."My beautiful daughter," the letter began in an edgy scrawl,By now, you must know everything. I"ve come a long way down here, but I have stopped running.You no doubt have some idea of what happened that day at the Hall. You modern cops have it all over old slugs like me. What I wanted you to know was that I wasn"t afraid to have it come out. I hung around for a few days to see if the story broke. I even called you at the hospital once. That was me That was me... I knew you didn"t want to hear from me, but I wanted to hear that you were all right. And of course - you are just fine. you are just fine.These words are not enought ot let you know how sorry I am for having disappointed you again. I was wrong about a lot of things: one of them was, you can"t leave everything behind. I knew that the moment I saw you again. Why has it taken me my whole life to let such a simple lesson sink in?But I was right about one thing. And it"s more important than anything else. No one is ever so big not to need help every once in a while... even from their father.The letter was signed, "Your stupid Dad," then below it, "who truly loves you..." I sat reading the note a second time, holding back a rush of tears. So Marty had finally found a place where nothing would follow him. Where no one would know him. I choked with the sad realization that I might never see him again. I sat reading the note a second time, holding back a rush of tears. So Marty had finally found a place where nothing would follow him. Where no one would know him. I choked with the sad realization that I might never see him again.I flipped the grainy photograph.There was Marty... in a ridiculous Hawaiian shirt, posing in front of some dilapidated fishing boat, raised on a scaffold, maybe twelve feet long. There was a little note on the bottom: "New start, new life. I bought this boat. Painted it myself. One day, I"ll catch you a dream..." "New start, new life. I bought this boat. Painted it myself. One day, I"ll catch you a dream..." At first, I laughed... What a jerk, I thought, shaking my head. What the h.e.l.l did he know about boats? Or fishing? The closest my father ever got to the ocean was when he was a.s.signed to crowd control on Fisherman"s Wharf. At first, I laughed... What a jerk, I thought, shaking my head. What the h.e.l.l did he know about boats? Or fishing? The closest my father ever got to the ocean was when he was a.s.signed to crowd control on Fisherman"s Wharf.Then something grabbed my eye.In the background of the photo, past the proud countenance of my father, against the masts and hulls of the blue marina and the beautiful sky...I squinted hard, trying to make out the lettering on the freshly painted hull of his new boat.The single word scrawled there, in plain, white letters, in his own simple hand.The name of the boat: b.u.t.tercup. b.u.t.tercup.