Unlucky 13 (Women's Murder Club 13)

By now the passengers must be in the building, right?

What was the holdup?

Where were our people?

Joe put his arm around me as we waited, and then finally a door opened. There were a lot of people between me and the door, but I found a gap in the crowd and focused through that.

First in, an Air Canada pilot came through to cheers and mad applause. He was pushing a young woman in a wheelchair. People screamed, “Jenny!” and raced toward the chair.

Other crew came through that narrow doorway pushing wheelchairs, and every time a chair came through, the new arrival was greeted with shouts and tears.

I was tearing up before I saw Yuki and Brady—and then slowly they came through the doorway, and I saw some of what had been done to them.

Brady had been wounded more than once.

His left arm was in a sling, and there was a huge bandage over his left ear. He walked stiffly, and it looked to me like his ribs were taped under his shirt.

Yuki looked like a child who’d been living on the street. Her jeans and sweatshirt hung from her frame. Her face was thin and pale. I yelled her name.

She turned toward my voice, and when she saw me, it was as if a light went on behind her eyes.

She broke away from Brady and I ran toward her, and when I got my arms around her, I hugged her bony little self half to death.

“How are you? Are you okay? Are you hungry?”

She said over my shoulder, “I’m never letting Brady plan another vacation as long as we live.”

Brady was right there and he heard her. Grinning painfully and holding on to his rib cage, he said to Yuki, “I want another chance.”

Joe was shaking Brady’s hand when a woman in a bright red sweater appeared and grabbed Brady’s right biceps. She said, “You’re in my prayers for life, Mr. Brady. Christmas cards until the end of time. I’ll write to you soon.”

People flowed around us as Yuki said to me, “He saved us. I mean, Lindsay, he saved us all. I don’t know how many passengers. Many, many. Hundreds.”

Brady said, “You have no idea what strong stuff my wife is made of. She—”

Brady stopped, putting his hand over his eyes. His shoulders shook, and that great big man, the hero who fought for the passengers of the FinStar, started to cry.

Yuki put her arms around him, very gently.

“Okay,” she said. “It’s okay, dear one.”

“I’m not crying,” he said. “This is…”

It hurt to hear his huge wracking sobs, but I understood that he was feeling overwhelming relief. He was alive. Yuki was alive. He was home.

“Let’s get out of here,” Yuki said.

“Car’s right outside,” said Joe.

CHAPTER 100

EVERY COP IN Homicide, all three shifts, as well as Robbery, Vice, and the brass on the fifth floor, was crowding our squad room, spilling out the gate and into the waiting room and halfway down the hall.

It was an insanely happy crowd and a very tight fit.

Cappy and Samuels were trying to hang a WELCOME BACK BRADY banner over Brady’s office door. Really. Watching those two extra-large cops balancing on wheelie chairs, ordering each other around—well, it was hilarious.

I was putting out cookies on Brenda’s desk, telling Conklin about last night.