Four Friends

by Robyn Carr

  Gerri ignored her. She gave her name to the police dispatcher. “Of course, I’ll witness charges. Whoa, he just shoved her again. She’s up against the car and he’s still at her, screaming, threatening with a closed fist. This isn’t going anywhere good. Yeah, yeah, I’ll get the license plate in case they clear the parking lot.”

  “No, we can’t do this,” BJ said.

  Gerri glanced at BJ and saw she’d gone pale, her eyes wide, her lips white. Gerri could see something about this had thrown BJ into a total state of panic. But she couldn’t take care of everyone at once. She fished her keys out of her purse and handed them to Andy. “Take everyone home, I’m following through. I’ll get home later, probably get a lift from a cop.”

  “You’ll be okay?” Andy asked.

  “Of course. I’m steps from the inside of the restaurant and I have this big kid right here to protect me. Just go. Get Sonja and BJ out of here.”

  Andy took the keys. “Come on,” she said to the others. It wasn’t as though this sort of thing happened with Gerri on a regular basis, but given her job Andy knew she was on a first name basis with a lot of the local cops. And she was determined, committed. She handled cases of abuse almost daily—this didn’t frighten her in the least and even though she was off the clock, she couldn’t turn her back on something like this even if she wanted to.

  Gerri was barely aware of Andy leading Sonja and BJ away as she watched the man grab the woman’s upper arm, pull her back, shake her and drag her toward the car door. She still had the dispatcher on the line. “He’s shaking her and forcing her into the car. You might want to put a rush on this.” And then she watched, stricken, as the woman banged her head on the roof of the car while getting in. The man took that opportunity to grab her by the hair and give her head another cruel bounce off the car roof. “Oh, God,” Gerri said. The young valet started into the parking lot, now pushed too far, but Gerri grabbed him, pulling him to her side. “No,” she said to the kid. “No, don’t get into it. He’s got you way outsized. Go inside—get help.” Gerri turned back to her phone. “He’s banging her head against the roof of the car,” she said. “Where are the cops?”

  Gerri took a couple of brazen steps into the lit parking lot, cell phone against her ear. The man slammed his passenger’s door closed, shouting furiously at her through the closed window. But he was caught—he’d beat her in front of a witness and even if he got out of the parking lot, the police could be in pursuit as long as they had the description and plate number. As he rounded the front of the car he caught sight of Gerri.

  “What are you looking at, bitch?”

  She took another step, very conscious that she could quickly retreat to safety if necessary. “You,” she said. “I’m watching you! I have the police on the line!”

  He stopped where he was and snarled at her, baring his teeth, but then he whirled and got into the driver’s seat. Gerri described the car and rattled off the license plate to the dispatcher, using the phonetic code on the letters.

  “Ma’am, are you P.D.?” the dispatcher asked.

  “CPS,” she said. And then she watched the man scream at his companion, likely blaming her for making a scene, right before he pulled back a fist and let it fly into her face. He was so out of control, he continued his assault even through the threat of police. “He just punched her in the face,” Gerri reported. “He started the car.”

  Gerri heard sirens in the near distance. “I think your cops are gonna make it,” she said into the phone. And then she glanced in the direction of her departing vehicle, saw Andy driving, Sonja sitting in the front seat with eyes very wide and BJ in the back, her hands pressed over her face. They cleared the parking lot seconds before the police vehicle came flashing around the corner. The abusive man was too busy screaming and hitting the woman to get out of there. His rage had slowed him down.

  The valet came out with a couple of waiters and Gerri pointed at them. “Stay back,” she said. “The police are here and won’t know who’s who. Stay back.”

  Gerri stepped into the parking lot under the lights and flagged the police car, moving her hand in a circular motion, pointing. They stopped in front of her and with the phone still pressed to her ear, she indicated the car with the couple in it. It was too dark inside the car to see exactly what was happening, but the couple appeared to be still.

  The squad car blocked the suspect’s car and the officer got out, brandishing his weapon, his flashlight propped on top of the gun and shining it into the suspect’s car. “Please step back into the restaurant, ma’am,” he said. “Right now.”

  She backed away quickly. It hadn’t for one second crossed her mind that the man could be armed, but it should have. Domestic disputes like this were frequently accompanied by panicked shots fired, people killed or wounded. She grabbed the sleeve of the valet, realizing the boy was about Jed’s age, and pulled him and his reinforcements back against the restaurant door, out of the parking lot lights, into the darkness. But she didn’t go inside because she was too invested in the situation. She wanted to watch as this asshole was apprehended. It took only seconds for the next cop car to make the parking lot, lights and siren flashing. He blocked the exit.

  “I should’a stopped him,” the young valet said.

  “The best thing you can do now is give the police a report,” Gerri said.

  And almost immediately the abuser got out of the car, hands in the air, protesting loudly. “What?” he yelled. “What? I’m just trying to take my girl home!”

  The police had him on his knees in seconds, cuffed and rendered helpless for the time being. The woman, however, remained in the car, sheathed in darkness.

  Gerri stepped out of the doorway. “You better check the victim. He beat her,” she called out.

  “She hit me!” the cuffed man shouted back.

  “She didn’t,” Gerri said calmly, clearly.

  The police officer took charge. “Ma’am! I want you to stay back!” And like a good girl, she skittered back to the restaurant.

  Ah, yes, she thought. She knew very well the police had procedures and wouldn’t take risks. They brought the victim out of the car at gunpoint, as well, and when she exited the vehicle Gerri could see her nose was bleeding. At least they didn’t cuff her, though they did pat her down. It wasn’t unheard of for a battered woman to pull a gun on police and rescue her abuser—it was a complex and often irrational syndrome. But the young woman came out, hands up, crying, bleeding, and the second officer took her to the back of his vehicle.

  Two more squad cars appeared, though the officers let the original two handle their suspects, standing by if needed. Gerri listened in fascination while the young man argued in a whimpering tone about never having hit, never having raised his voice, they were just having a discussion when she struck him and he merely defended himself.

  Within ten minutes the young man and woman were seated in the backs of separate patrol cars, the restaurant manager was outside and patrons were pouring into the parking lot to see what was happening. It took Gerri less than fifteen minutes to give her statement to the police. Because there was an injury, paramedics were called but the victim was released to drive herself home or to the hospital because she refused medical treatment.

  “Can you please give her this,” Gerri said, passing a business card to a patrol officer. It had the number on it for victims of domestic abuse. She had no confidence whatsoever that the young woman would seek help, but at the very least her abuser was going to spend a night in jail. Gerri knew it was highly likely he would be picked up by his victim at daylight—such was the typical scenario.

  “Any chance you have time to give a witness a lift home?” she asked one of the superfluous cops. “If not, I can get myself a cab. I sent the party I was with home in my car while I stayed to give a statement.”

  In just an hour from start to finish, Gerri was being dropped off in front of her house. When she walked in, Phil was sitting in the family room and he stoo
d and approached her. “Got in the thick of it, did you?” he asked.

  “Well, what else could I do?” she replied, dropping her purse on the sofa. “I guess Andy told you what was happening?”

  “I got the bare facts,” he said. “They’re waiting outside on the deck.”

  “Waiting?”

  “For the debrief, I assume. And at least one of your girls is shaken up.”

  Gerri glanced out the window. “Yeah, that would be BJ, who Jessie’s babysitting for. She kind of panicked at my getting involved.”

  “She must not know you all that well. I gave her a glass of wine. Then I left them the bottle.”

  “But you didn’t sit out there with them? You’re usually a lot friendlier than that.”

  “I’m keeping a low profile until I’m officially received in the neighborhood again,” he said, smiling.

  “You want to take off?”

  “I don’t think so,” he said. “Think I’ll get in line for the end of the story. If it’s all the same to you.”

  “It wasn’t that big a deal, Phil,” she said. “I saw an ugly argument in the parking lot, had a hunch where it was headed, then saw him get physical while I had the dispatcher on the line. I had to wait around for all that to be taken care of, that’s all.”

  “He hurt her?” Phil asked, frowning.

  “Gave her a bloody nose and whacked her head on the roof of the car.”

  Phil winced and shook his head. “Scumbag.”

  “She refused medical and left in his car. She’ll probably beat him to the jail to try to spring him.”

  He tilted his head toward their deck. “Take care of your girls out there. I’ll hide in the office till it’s all clear.”

  “Really, you don’t have to—”

  “I want to wait for you, Gerri. That okay?”

  “Yeah,” she said. “That’s absolutely okay.” Then she headed for the deck.

  Her friends had a candle lit on the outside table and they were completely silent until she sat down. “Everything is all right,” she said. “The police arrived seconds after you left and took him away. I don’t know how much you saw—”

  “He hit her,” Sonja said. “I didn’t want to leave until I saw you throw yourself on him and beat him senseless with your purse.”

  Gerri chuckled. “He was a little on the huge side. You okay?”

  “Me?” Sonja asked. “Peaceful as a river. BJ’s pretty unstable right now, though. I offered her one of my pills, but she decided on wine.”

  “You okay, BJ?” Gerri asked.

  “Sorry,” she said. “I didn’t mean to get all weird on you like that. I have one or two real mean bastards in my personal history. I think I might’ve had a flashback or something.”

  “I wondered.”

  “I wanted you to do what you did, but, Gerri...” She paused and swallowed. “You know how it’ll end up, don’t you?”

  “Unfortunately I know the statistics. But I’m relentless. Know why? Every once in a while I get a case that works out. We get the kids and the woman out of there and they actually break loose. Like you obviously did.”

  “Yeah, but the price can be—”

  “I know, kid. I know.” Gerri ran her fingers through her short hair. “It just kills me when they’re so young. I don’t know how old he was but she was twenty-five. And so beautiful. They’re not married, how about that? It’s a boyfriend. We didn’t have a conversation, but if I know anything, he’s not the first boyfriend who’s treated her like an animal. Listen, here’s how it is—if she doesn’t leave him, he’s going to beat her again no matter what I do. If he’s locked up, she has a window of opportunity to get away, though the odds are she won’t take it. I’m pretty well educated on these issues and I understand how it happens, especially if the woman was raised on abuse. But I still can’t figure out how they never seem to get to a point when it’s enough. I mean, she’s stunning. There must be a hundred good men who’d love to love her. It’s baffling.”

  “Well, I could explain that, but if you don’t mind...”

  “I’m sorry, BJ,” Gerri said. “You’re obviously traumatized by that whole circus we witnessed. Maybe someday when you’re feeling a little more in control and comfortable we’ll have that conversation.”

  “That kind of thing happen to you a lot?” BJ asked, taking a sip of her wine.

  “When I’m not working? Only once before, almost an identical scenario. It was ten or twelve years ago, if I remember. Another domestic in a parking lot, but I was alone. I had stopped off for groceries on the way home and it happened right in front of me. I didn’t have a cell phone. I had to go back into the store. The manager and bag boy held them apart until the police could come.” She leaned forward. “I see things professionally. I used to get in a lot of tight spots when I was doing more home visits. But it’s what I do—it’s not something I can turn on and off. You know?”

  “Of course you can’t,” Andy said. “So—they took him away?”

  “And one of the cops gave her a card with a phone number on it. If she’s up to it, if she’s had enough and isn’t too terrified, she might call it.”

  “Did you get their names?” BJ asked.

  “As a matter of fact, I did. I thought I should know, in case they need a witness. The police charged him.”

  “Do you ever, you know, run ’em up? Check out the record? Check and see how things come out?”

  “I don’t have access to police files, but I never have any trouble getting whatever information I need,” Gerri said. “We’re pretty well connected at CPS.”

  “Maybe you’ll check,” BJ said. “If you do, maybe you’ll just tell us that he didn’t kill her or anything.”

  “Listen, it wasn’t nice, what happened tonight. But I don’t think we have to worry that her life’s in immediate danger. Long-term danger is more likely. She’ll go to her mother’s or sister’s, he’ll face battery charges, probably misdemeanor, make up with her, and this event will repeat itself several times before they either break up or something worse happens. It’s true, it’s a deadly game, but not every domestic ends that way, BJ.”

  “But you’ll check?” she asked.

  “Would it make you feel better?”

  “It would. If I hadn’t seen it, it wouldn’t matter. But I saw it. And I tried to get you to walk away from it. So now...”

  “Okay. It’ll be all right, but I’ll check and let you know.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’m sorry,” Gerri said. “It must have been so difficult.”

  “Tonight?” BJ asked.

  “All of it.”

  “Yeah. But it’s okay now.” She smiled her crooked smile. “I got loose.”

  “Good for you,” Gerri said. “You all okay now?” she asked, her gaze connecting with each of the women in turn.

  “I want to be you when I grow up,” Sonja said. “I want to be strong like you. You’re invincible.”

  Gerri laughed. Remarkable, she’d been feeling so powerless about her personal situation, having completely forgotten that she’d been programmed to react in crises like the one she encountered. It was the crisis at home she wasn’t trained to manage. “Maybe I’ve just turned into a crusty old broad,” she said.

  “You?” Andy said. “Anything but.” Andy pushed back her chair. “You’re just amazingly efficient and Sonja’s right, you are very strong.”

  “We’re all stronger than we realize. You girls ready to give it up? I’m shot.”

  Chairs scuffled back. Women stood. BJ touched her arm. “Listen, your husband. I tried like hell to hate him tonight, but it was hard. He seems like a pretty decent guy, first glance. He was real concerned about me. He could tell I was upset and he... He tried to be nice, you know? Got me a drink, told me to relax, reassured me that you knew exactly what you were doing.”

  “He’s a very decent guy,” Gerri said. “That puts a strain on me.”

  “Well, thanks for what you did,”
she said. “Before that happened, it was one of the nicest nights I’ve had in a long time. Maybe ever.”

  “Hey, we’ll do it again real soon. I mean, what are the odds of trouble again, huh? Just send Jessie home, will you? And watch her out the front door till she gets here?”

  When the door was closed on the women, Gerri went to the office she’d been sharing with Phil for fifteen years. He was focused on the computer screen. She walked up behind him, put her hands on his shoulders.

  “I need some information right away. I need you to get it for me. I could go through channels, but I don’t want to wait and it’s important,” she said.

  “Tonight’s event?” he asked.

  “Sort of. I want you to find out if Barbara Jean Smith of Fresno is in the system.”

  He swiveled his chair around to face her. “Your new friend?”

  “She overreacted tonight. It’s obvious she’s been the victim of abuse. Maybe there was a court case or something. I can wait till she lets it out, but if you don’t mind.”

  “Sure,” he said, turning back to the computer. “Age?”

  “About thirty-five. Give it a three-year span.”

  All he had to do was log in to the prosecutor’s office database. It would take quite a bit of searching, but Phil was accomplished at multitasking. While he got under way, she went to the chair at her end of the desk. “You okay with what happened tonight?” he asked.

  “It was kind of routine, sad to say. The only things that got to me in a big way were BJ’s and Sonja’s reactions.”

  “Sonja do okay?”

  “Too okay,” she said. “She’s had a complete personality change. It makes me wonder what’s happening to her in private, when no one’s around to see her react to this shift her life has taken. By the way, BJ confessed to me that she’s having trouble hating you. You must have been very nice to her.”

  He turned in his chair. “Does everyone in the world know what I did?”

  “I think so,” she said. “I told my girlfriends. I haven’t told them at work yet. They’re too busy to care. They’re oblivious.”

  He turned back to the computer, reapplying his reading glasses, clicking away. “You told my mother.”