“"On my way home." "Stay there," he said. "I might need you later." "What's going on?" I said but the line went dead. The bridge was like spun silver behind me. On the hill above was the old fort which had been there since men in wigs and three-cornered hats made a revolution. The traffic was light and the sun blinding. I pulled my sunglasses out of my jacket pocket. It was cold and beautiful. The river was bright with sunlight, navy blue and silver, the way it gets in the winter, and there were... chunks of ice jamming it up. The short trip, water always on my left, I felt I was in a boat. I drove without feeling the road under the tires, as if I was driving on water. I wasn't sure why Sonny Lippert was so agitated, but it was Lippert who helped me get back on the job. Even before 9/11, I had wanted it. I hated the time when I worked as a private investigator. I tried it on my own; I had tried working for Keyes, one of the big security companies. I made more money, I had a fine health plan and an office and regular hours, but there was none of the stuff about being a New York cop that I'd always loved, even when I knew how much bullshit went down.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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