The Witnesses by James Patterson

Author:James Patterson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2016-07-18T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 21

After a three-hour run north from Levittown, New York State Trooper Leonard Brooks arrives in Latham—just north of Albany, New York—and parks his cruiser at the office building that houses the New York State Intelligence Center. Having called ahead, he gets a friendlier reception here than he had in Nassau County, and he is quickly ushered into a plain-looking office where he meets with Beth Draper, an intelligence analyst for the State Police.

She stands up from her desk, which is piled high with forms and folders, and comes around to give him a hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Brooksie, good to see you again.”

“The same.”

He sits down, feeling warm, thinking, Oh, yes, much nicer reception than Levittown. He and Beth dated for a year or so right after both of them graduated from the New York State Police Academy in Albany.

She had gone into intelligence and he had gone into patrol. They saw each other every few months or so and were now less than lovers and more than just friends.

Beth sits down, runs both hands through her long blond hair. She’s wearing a plain white blouse and black slacks that fail to conceal her pretty curves. “Okay, it’s past quitting time. Tell me what you need.”

He spends the next few minutes explaining his search for his cousin, the lack of response from authorities in Palo Alto and Levittown, and how messages to Teresa’s cellphone, home phone, and email have all gone unanswered.

“Damn,” she says. “Don’t like the sound of that.”

“Neither do I.”

“What do you think?” she asks. “She have enemies? Her husband?”

“She’s a freelance writer. He’s an archaeologist. Not the enemy-making type.”

“You’d be surprised. You said they were in North Africa recently?”

“Tunisia.”

“The whole family?”

“Teresa…she’s one of those granola types. Wants to expose her kids to the bigger world. And her husband…he’s sort of an expert on Carthage.”

“Car what?”

“Carthage. North African empire that were rivals of Rome until Rome crushed them. You’ve heard of Rome, haven’t you?”

She smiles, a perfect little smile of white teeth that still stirs him. “Sure. Rome. About ninety minutes away. Where the Erie Canal was started. Please stop busting my chops, Brooksie.”

“Chop-busting done.”

Beth sighs, scribbles a few things on a piece of scrap paper. “I’ll do what I can, I’ll start sniffing around…but you should prepare yourself.”

His hands feel chilled, like a block of ice was suddenly nearby. “What are you saying?”

“What you already know, in your heart of hearts,” Beth says, still writing. “Phone call unexpectedly broken off. No information from any authorities. Friends and relatives don’t know where they are. Phone, cellphone, and email all unanswered.”

She looks up, pretty face solemn. “You remember the Petrov family, two years ago? On the run from the Russian mob? Hiding out?”

Leonard feels much cooler. “Yes.”

Beth says, “It took one slipup…a postcard to a relative, saying all was well. And that’s all.” Beth pauses. “I hear that when the house was finally cleared by the FBI, they had to bulldoze it down to the foundation.

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