by Jules Court
Priya gestured with her coffee cup. “From all this? The addicts and the criminals, the unmedicated and overmedicated, the abused and the abusers...the children...” She rubbed her eyes from the parade of violence that marched in front of them. Maybe her mother was right. Not that she could tell her mother that.
“How about the people we help?” Elizabeth said. Her eyes flicked past Priya to look at something out in the hallway. “And then there are the green-eyed policemen with cheekbones you could use to cut diamonds.”
Priya whipped her head around, nearly spilling her coffee.
“Calm down, he’s not here,” Elizabeth said. “I was only wondering if you were going to follow up on that. I’ve been meaning to ask since you stitched him up. I’ve never seen you so flustered before.”
“There’s nothing to follow up on,” she said. But she had the sudden urge to tell Elizabeth everything. To just spill her guts to the nurse with the kind eyes. But they weren’t friends, because Priya didn’t have time for friends. She had work. Mass General was one of the top hospitals in the country and her residency was competitive. If she let up for one moment, if she sat still, all this would be for nothing. Sara’s sacrifice would be for nothing. “I don’t have time to date anyone.”
“I hear you on that. I haven’t made it past coffee with anyone since I became a single mom to a teenager. And forget about getting any. No hook-ups when you’re supposed to be setting an example. But I’ll tell you this. After she leaves for college, I’m getting so much strange. I’ve got a six-year dry spell to make up for.”
“Scotland,” Priya said.
“What?”
“I’d like to see Scotland. That’s where I’d run away to.”
“Guys in kilts?”
“Red-haired guys in kilts.”
“Thought you weren’t interested in the cop.”
“I didn’t say that. I just said I can’t have him.” Again, she mentally added.
“I’m going to guess you’ve read a lot books with Scottish warriors in kilts bending flexible heaving-bosomed women over their brawny forearms to administer punishing kisses, haven’t you?”
“How many of those heroines ever looked like me?” Priya asked.
“How many of us actually have violet eyes?” Elizabeth countered.
“I’ve got to get back to work,” she told Elizabeth. Work made sense.
* * *
“Yo, Mac,” Detective Ken Nelson called out to Brian when he entered the squad room. “You coming out for beers with us tonight? It’s Doyle’s birthday and the old lady let him off the leash.” Nelson leaned back in his chair with a smirk, the buttons on his shirt stretching to contain his gut.
“Maybe you should hit the weight room with me instead, Nelson,” Brian said. “You know fit tests are coming up.”
Nelson grabbed his belly and jiggled. “All muscle, my friend,” he said. “I’ve got those twenty-ounce curl gains. So, you coming or what?”
Brian shook his head. “Probably not. We’re getting some heat to close this case fast.”
His instincts had been right. Sara had been present when Big Jack O’Donnell hit the pavement. And, once her bulldog lawyer worked out a deal, she’d obligingly pointed the finger at Thomas “Tommy Gun” McGuiness who, to the surprise of no one, took his marching orders from the Castle Hill Gang. Now Brian and Danny were just waiting for the arrest warrant so they could go kick some doors in.
Sara had been dropped at a safe house with a pair of uniforms to look after her. Mike Kelly, the ADA on the case, was putting her in front of a grand jury ASAP. Kelly had plans to leverage the murder charge to force Tommy Gun to roll on his bosses and domino those motherfuckers. Kelly was ambitious and wanted a RICO case bad. Which worked out for Sara, because he’d be willing to do anything up to sacrificing his firstborn to lock up her testimony.
“One beer,” Nelson said. “Your partner can wait for the warrant. Not like that guy has anything else to do.”
“What does that mean?”
“Nothing,” Nelson said, holding his hands out in a “quit overreacting, Drama Queen” gesture. “Just he’s kind of a dud. Not like he’ll want to grab a beer.”
“Have you ever asked him?”
“What is this, kindergarten? Do I have to give everyone a paper heart on Valentine’s Day? The guy’s just not...”
“One of us?”
“Exactly,” Nelson said with the smile of guy who didn’t understand sarcasm. He actually thought Brian agreed with him.
“Maybe that’s not such a bad thing,” Brian said. “I’ll take a rain check on that beer.”
He turned to go, but had a thought. He spun back. “Hey Nelson, after Danny and I close this case, you and the rest of the guys should join us for a beer.”
Chapter Fourteen
By the time Brian finally made it back to his apartment for more than a change of clothes, it was Tuesday night. With an assist from SWAT, he and Danny had brought in their man. They hadn’t had a lot of time for celebrating, because the Feds promptly rolled in with their shiny shoes to take over. Unfortunately, they didn’t let him off the hook for the massive amounts of paperwork he still had to fill out. But Brian’s irritation over the law enforcement turf wars had to wait. He had an appointment to study the backside of his eyelids.
He toed his shoes off and padded to the kitchen. Opening the refrigerator revealed that no food had magically appeared in his absence. With a sigh, he shut the door.
Sara was safe now, but Priya would still be worried. He should call her. It was only right. Of course, Sara’s lawyer probably already contacted her, but then again, what if she hadn’t? Calling Priya was the decent thing to do. It’s not like he’d just be calling to hear her voice.
He dialed her number. No answer. Not surprising. Did he really think she’d be taking his calls? He hung up and tapped out a text: Call me. I have news.
He brought his phone with him into his bedroom where he had just enough energy left to shuck his clothes and crash face-first onto his bed. But fatigue kept him trapped just at the edge of sleep, unable to tip over into oblivion.
The air in his bedroom was muggy. The sheets stuck to his skin. He should get up and turn the air conditioner on. Which was probably something that Priya still didn’t have. If he’d learned one thing about her, it was that she didn’t take care of herself. So, if he was uncomfortable with no AC, then she must be miserable.
He rolled over onto his back and stared at the ceiling. Not his problem. She’d made it perfectly clear she didn’t want anything more to do with him.
But he still couldn’t sleep. With a sigh, he pushed himself out of bed. He was pretty sure Will had an extra air conditioner unit and probably didn’t need the electric bill that came with running both of them. Taking one of them off Will’s hands was really the kind of thing a good brother should do.
* * *
Priya had just dipped a toe into her ice-cold bathwater when her buzzer rang. Probably just some drunk pushing random buttons because they forgot which apartment their friend lived in. She stepped into the tub and sank down to immerse herself. The contrast between the ambient temperature of her apartment and the water almost caused her heart to skip a beat. Her skin instantly pebbled from the cold.
Someone leaned on her buzzer again. She ignored it. It was just her and her empty apartment. The only person who would just pop in probably never wanted to see her again—ever. In fact, Sara wasn’t even answering her phone when Priya called.
She’d worry, but Erin had promised that Sara was fine and was no longer under arrest. Which meant that Sara was just avoiding her. At least her life would be less chaotic without Sara’s messes to clean up. She could completely focus on her career now. Just like she wanted.
Priya splashed her bathwater and watched the ripples ra
diate outward. Away from her. Tightness built in her chest. She sucked in a mouthful of the sticky, hot air.
Her door buzzer sounded again. Her drunk was persistent. He obviously wasn’t going to leave her in peace.
“Fine,” she snapped. Sopping wet, she exited her tiny bathroom and marched across her studio apartment to the front door. She slapped the intercom button. “Who is it?”
Brian’s voice answered. “Let me up. This is really fucking heavy.”
The jolt of pleasure she felt at the sound of his voice was unexpected, unwelcome and downright unintelligent. She should tell him to go away.
“What’s heavy?” she asked instead.
“If you let me up, you can find out.”
“That’s probably not a good idea.” Definitely not a good idea.
“I’ve got something to give you.”
“You can keep it in your pants.”
“It won’t fit in my pants. I’ve got too much going on down there already.”
He was a complication she didn’t need. Her job demanded almost all her time and energy. And with whatever was left over, she needed to make things right with her family, which left no room for him. Or for the dangerous feelings he stirred up in her.
But still, she felt the corners of her mouth lift and something suspiciously like happiness, as undeserving of it as she was and as ridiculous as it was to experience at this moment, fluttered in her stomach, moving up as it expanded, pushing back against the tightness in her chest.
“Fine,” she said, trying to put some bite on her tone. “Come up.” She buzzed him in. And then raced to find some clothes. By the time he knocked on her door, she’d managed to pull on a T-shirt and some shorts.
She opened the door. Brian stood almost eclipsed by the large box he carried. He stepped past her and put it down on her coffee table/dining room table/current clean laundry receptacle. She hadn’t quite managed to move her clothes back into the dresser. That she’d actually folded them—some of them—had been accomplishment enough.
He let out a theatrical groan and made a production of arching his back.
She averted her eyes. She didn’t need to enjoy the show. “What is that?”
“Air conditioner.”
“You bought me an air conditioner?”
“I knew you weren’t going to do it. You need to take better care of yourself.”
“You bought me an air conditioner.” She sank down onto the couch. “Wait. Is that your air conditioner?”
“Of course not. I picked it up from Will.”
“And he was okay with you giving me his air conditioner?”
“He may not have been home at the time.”
“So you stole it? What is that expression about cops being criminals?” she asked, even though she was only talking because she didn’t have the courage to actually speak. She took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I’m not who you think I am.”
“And who do you think I think you are?”
She looked down at her hands. “A good person.” Someone who deserved love and happiness. Not that this was love. It couldn’t be love. “I want to be good. But I’m not. I’m driven, self-centered, intense, jealous and a coward. I don’t deserve an air conditioner.”
“Look at me, Priya,” he said. His voice was serious. “There’s nothing wrong with who you are except when you’re trying to be someone you’re not.” He crouched down and gently cupped her chin, tilting her head back until their eyes met. “And everyone deserves an air conditioner,” he said. “Even arsonists.”
She allowed herself to lean forward and rested her head against his chest. His heartbeat was strong and rhythmic. “I’m still mad at you.”
“I can tell.”
She didn’t have to look up to know he was smiling. Just one more minute and then she’d push him away. Just let her have one more minute.
“Put your shoes on.”
“Why?” she mumbled into his T-shirt.
“Because there’s someone you need to see.”
* * *
He’d refused to tell her where they were going no matter how many times she’d asked.
“Just trust me,” he’d said.
She shouldn’t trust him. She’d already made an idiot out of herself over him. But she followed him anyway.
He drove them to a cheap hotel off I-95. “Is your wife back in town? This looks like somewhere you take your mistress.”
“Do non-millionaires have mistresses? I think at my financial level they’re called your sidepiece.”
“So why are we here?” she asked as he pulled into a parking spot next to a Toyota with a rusted-off bumper. But her heart began to beat faster in her chest because there could be only one reason for him to take her here.
“Patience,” he said.
“I don’t have any.”
“I’m discovering that.”
She followed him inside, past the front desk clerk who didn’t look up from her phone, down a hallway with well-trod carpeting to the elevator. When the doors opened, she hesitated. “Is this your idea or hers?”
He stuck his hand out to keep the doors from closing. “Does it matter?”
“She doesn’t want to see me and I don’t blame her.”
“You know what I like about you? You’re a fighter and you love fierce. I know you love your cousin, but maybe she needs to be reminded of that. Now quit being a wimp and get in the elevator.”
They got off on the fourth floor. Brian knocked on the door to Room 405 and held his badge up to the peephole. The door cracked open. A television blared in the background.
Priya shifted on her heels as Brian exchanged greetings with the female police officer on the other end of the door. When the officer opened the door wider, it revealed a dingy room with two queen-size beds. Across one, Sara lay sprawled atop the ugly floral bedspread, holding a remote control to the TV in one hand and a bag of chips in the other.
Without looking up from her program, she said, “You jackholes could have at least sprung for HBO. I’m missing Game of Thrones.”
“You’re not missing much,” Brian said, stepping forward. “They’re still dicking around Westeros.”
Priya stood frozen just outside the open door. She forced herself to step over the threshold. Her voice sounded forced when she said, “Hi.” The smile fluttered on her lips.
Sara’s head snapped up at her voice. She pushed herself up to a sitting position, but remained silent, eyes narrowed.
Priya swallowed against the lump in her throat.
“I’m going to leave you two alone for a minute,” Brian said. “I’ll be right outside the door.” He motioned to the female officer to follow him.
When the door clicked shut behind them, Sara broke the heavy silence. “You’ve got a lot of nerve coming here,” she said. Her voice was unnervingly flat. Sara wasn’t one for calm anger. She raged, but then it blew over.
“I know,” Priya said. “I’m sorry.” She sat down in the beige armchair by the window. “I know you probably won’t forgive me, but I’m so sorry. I should have looked out for you. I should have taken care of you. I let you down.” Her fingers worried a threadbare spot on the arm of the chair.
“Every time I close my eyes, I see it,” Sara said. “It’s like I’m still there. I don’t know why I hid. Instinct, I guess. The sound of the gunshot. It was so loud. I can’t believe no one came to check it out. It echoes in my head still. They just left him there.” Her words were staccato and Priya tried not to flinch.
“Do you know what brains look like?” Sara asked. “Of course you do, you’re a doctor. But people like me; we’re not supposed to see that crap. His were all over the pavement. So much blood. It was unreal. Like something from a movie. I don’t know how long I hid
there behind that Dumpster. It could have been five minutes, but it felt like hours. I didn’t even think about calling the police. When I finally moved, I just ran. I ran and ran and ran. But I still see blood. The human body is so fragile. We walk around thinking we’re safe, but we’re like the good teacups my mom hides up on the top shelf. I only wanted to look at them, but when I touched one it shattered in my hand.”
Priya instinctively crossed the room toward her cousin. She sat on the bed and reached for Sara, but Sara flinched away.
“Don’t,” Sara said. “I feel like that china teacup. One touch and I’ll shatter into pieces.”
“Are you sure you want to do this? Testify?” Priya lowered her voice. “It’s not too late. Erin’s smart. She’s a good lawyer. Maybe she can figure some way out of this. The cops strong-armed you into this. It’s blackmail.”
“Still trying to take care of me?”
“I need to get you out of this.”
Sara gave a grim laugh. “You were always an easy mark.”
Priya pulled back in confusion.
“Remember when you used to come over after school to ‘help’ me with my homework?” Sara made air quotes around “help.”
Priya nodded slowly.
“You weren’t helping me,” Sara said. “You were doing my homework. All I had to do was nod along and fake listening while you solved every single quadratic equation for me. I was so mad when you started seeing Justin because you never had any time for me anymore. You were always with him, and when you weren’t you were talking about him.”
They’d never talked about Justin or about that night. “I know. I was crazy,” Priya said.
“No crazier than any other teenage girl with her first boyfriend.”
“You don’t have to sugarcoat it. What I did was insane and you paid for it. I can never forget that.” She needed to remind herself because she could get so much worse over Brian. If she fell for him she might never get back up.
“Maybe it’s time you did forget,” Sara said. “When we were kids, I looked up to you. I wanted to be just like you. But I couldn’t. And then a little part of me started to resent you. I couldn’t compete with you. You were smarter, better behaved...even my own mother would ask why I couldn’t be more like you. And then it finally happened. You messed up. You were just like me. For a moment I thought about how wonderful it would be when our family saw you get arrested. When they had to bail you out. When you were the slutty one with a record.”
