Close Encounters

by Kitt, Sandra

  “Okay, you can stop,” she told the hospital attendant.

  She braced herself on the chair arms and slowly pushed herself up, shaking her head to indicate that she didn’t need help. She made her way unaided to the car. Only then did she accept Matt’s assistance in getting into the backseat. She got settled and leaned forward to wave at the hospital worker who stood watching from the sidewalk.

  “Thank you for everything,” she called. “Sorry I can’t say it’s been fun.”

  Matt closed the door and hurried around to get in next to her. The driver pulled away. For a moment Carol stared wide-eyed out the window at the panorama of New York City street life. Everything looked the same—was the same—but she felt so different. She didn’t completely understand why. Of course she was glad to be going home, but a tiny frisson of fear returned because she didn’t know what she was returning home to.

  “Jim and Rosemary are waiting for you. You’re only going to have an hour or so with them before they head out to the airport.”

  “At least I get to see them,” Carol said absently, watching outside the car window. “I spoke to them last night.”

  “Good. They said they also talked to the police about what happened. I told them not to believe everything the cops tell them and only half of what they see,” Matt finished dryly.

  “Why’d you do that?”

  “Because I think the only reason the cops stayed on your case the way they did is because they’re afraid you’re going to sue. And you should.”

  Carol made an impatient sound. “What good would that do?”

  “Make you damned rich. Then you can support me,” he chuckled. “You wait until this story breaks, Carol. Black woman shot by police while out walking her dog…”

  “You don’t know that’s what happened.”

  “You don’t know that it didn’t. But let’s suppose that it did. Don’t you know what that means?”

  Carol understood the implications, and she quailed internally at the thought of the controversy. There would be demonstrations and protests against the racist police, against a government that did nothing to protect black citizens from police brutality, against a legal system that failed to hold maverick cops accountable. She had no interest in being used by others with their own political agendas. She’d been at the center of such controversy as a child, she really couldn’t face being the focus of headline news again.

  “I just want to put this behind me, Matt. I just want my life back. Boring, routine, but mine. The only thing I want to do now is sleep in my own bed and eat real food.”

  Matt took her hand. “I hear you. We can talk about suing later.”

  “Matt…” Carol began impatiently.

  “Look, I should be back around two or so. I’ll try not to wake you when I come in. You don’t have any food in the house. I guess we could order in…”

  Carol, preoccupied with her own adjustments to the situation, blinked when Matt’s words finally penetrated. “What did you say?”

  “They didn’t tell you not to eat certain things, did they? I mean, it’s not like you’re sick. Soup is probably good. I could—”

  “What do you mean, you’ll be in around two?”

  “When I finish at the club tonight. I have to play. It’s too late to get a replacement and—”

  “Matt, what has that got to do with me?” Carol asked, puzzled.

  “I’m going to stay with you for a while.”

  Carol stared blankly at him. “No, you’re not,” she responded flatly.

  “The doctor said—”

  She shook her head firmly. “I don’t care what the doctor said. You can’t stay with me.”

  “Carol, come on.”

  “Matt, look, I appreciate it that you were there for me in the hospital, but I’m all right. I can take care of myself. I don’t want…”

  Matt pursed his lips and nodded in understanding. His dreadlocks swung gently. “I get it. You don’t want me with you.”

  She wasn’t going to lie, but she didn’t see that she had to hurt his feelings. “It won’t work,” she said. “We’ll be at each other in about three minutes. I’ll be at you, trying to make you be someone you can’t be. Let’s leave it alone.”

  “That was a long time ago, Carol,” he said quietly. “Can’t you give me some credit for maybe changing? I know I fucked up when we were married. Not thinking about anything but music. Being late, missing things, not being there when you needed me.”

  “Well, don’t stop there,” Carol said dryly. “Don’t forget fooling around.”

  Matt tucked her hand against his thigh. “So I don’t get a second chance?”

  “Is that what you were hoping for last week when we slept together? Sure, you get a second chance. Just not with me.”

  He shrugged. “I thought being together again was great. Just like it used to be.”

  “For a very short time it was great, Matt. But it was just sex.”

  He looked taken aback by her blunt appraisal. “Maybe I could change your mind.”

  Carol grinned at him and shook her head. “You’re not staying with me.”

  “I’m a changed man,” he said contritely.

  Carol stared straight ahead and nodded slightly. “I believe you. But I’m not looking for anyone to take care of me. I’ll be fine.”

  “No, you won’t. You can’t do stuff like wash your hair or shop for groceries or lift anything heavier than a pillow. You can’t even put out the garbage.”

  “I’ll manage. I have friends and neighbors in the building,” Carol said. But almost immediately she realized that that didn’t necessarily mean she could call on many of them to run an errand for her… let alone do something personal like help her wash her hair.

  Matt put his arm around her shoulder. He began stroking the side of her neck. “You shouldn’t be alone right now. For at least a week,” he insisted quietly.

  The thought had never occurred to Carol that her daily routine would have to change once she was home. Of course she couldn’t do all those things that Matt mentioned. The realization that he was right frustrated her—and frightened her.

  She closed her eyes.

  “One week, Carol.” Matt rubbed her neck and then the back of her shoulders. “After that you can kick me out. I’ll sleep on the sofa. I won’t use your toothbrush.”

  She finally sighed in resignation. A fleeting expression of regret passed over her features as she gazed at Matt’s handsome face. She blinked, trying to recapture that moment when she’d first met him, at a party of a college friend who played keyboard with a group. Matt had been one of the guests. She’d teased and flirted and warded off the advances of some of the other men. Matt had been the only one who hadn’t tried to hit on her.

  The host had started an impromptu set and Matt had uncased his sax and begun to play. Carol was captivated by his talent.

  Their early courtship had been one of the happiest times of her life. Matt gave her everything she could have wanted—romance and tenderness, surprises and intimacy. He was a black man with whom she could build an identity. She was with someone she should be with. The relationship made her whole, Carol believed at the time. It gave her a place where she fit in. But in the end that hadn’t been a strong enough glue to hold their marriage together.

  Matt had intended to show both her and her parents what kind of life she’d been missing by growing up in a white family. He was going to reconnect her to her rightful place in the black community. He was going to give her soul.

  She’d found out on her own she’d never been without it. She conceded that she’d learned a lot from him and, ironically, had almost lost herself in the process. Eventually she’d learned to reclaim the identity that had been hers all along.

  The car made a sudden turn and pulled up in front of Carol’s building. Again it seemed strange that everything looked the same. Several people cast curious glances at the vehicle, but otherwise people went about their normal activities.
What had happened to her didn’t affect them at all. If she’d died they would still have gone on living. The sense of her own insignificance struck Carol suddenly, leaving her with a profound loneliness.

  Her brother used to tell her when she was very young that she was not the center of the universe. As she grew up she heard that life was not a matter of being fair or unfair, but of how you dealt with the good and the bad. It came to her now, as the door opened and Matt helped her out, as she stood in front of her building alive and with a second chance, that her brother was right.

  Matt escorted her to the door while the driver retrieved the tote bag that contained the few belongings she’d accumulated during her hospital stay. Carol automatically searched her pockets, expecting to find her wallet. She had no idea where it was. Had she had it on her that morning?

  “Oh,” she said to the driver. “I think I’ll have to write you a check. Can you wait until I…”

  The driver shook his head and smiled. “It’s all taken care of. Have a good day.”

  Matt was beside her, holding her elbow solicitously as he ushered her inside. She was no longer in a lot of pain, just sore and tender around her wounds, and tired. She used the walls to steady herself as they walked to the elevator. She wished she could sit down while they waited, afraid that her knees might give out.

  “It’s okay, I got you,” Matt assured her. “I won’t let you fall.”

  Carol blinked at him in gratitude. Matt had always been kind, if not always thoughtful. His selfishness had never been intentionally malicious. Nevertheless, he had hurt her. Their relationship had ended because of their mutual insecurities and immaturity. She had given him her heart and soul, once, but they weren’t up for grabs anymore. She’d once wanted Matt to fill the position of hero in her life. That he’d failed should not have surprised her. That she’d never forgiven him did.

  “Thanks for arranging for the car to bring me home.”

  “No problem. Your father paid for it. Didn’t want you getting into what he called a crazy New York cab.”

  When Matt held out his hand to her, she hesitated. Only a week, she told herself. It wasn’t a promise or a contract. Carol accepted his offer. Everyone deserved the benefit of the doubt. At least once.

  Lee listened with some amusement to the boisterous exchange going on around the squad room table as the six members of his team toasted Barb. She had single-handedly captured a suspected rapist after having set herself up as his next target.

  “Barb, that was great work. Man, you got a pair of cojones.”

  A burst of loud male laughter resounded. “Yeah… but that’s not what he was after!” she reminded them, provoking another explosion of laughter.

  “Remind me never to tangle with you,” Mike said, raising his coffee mug.

  “Wow, Mikey… I didn’t know you could still get it up. Does your wife know about that?” she teased.

  The laughter this time wore them out.

  “Good work, Barbwire, really good work,” Jeremy added. “Don’t you agree, Lieutenant?”

  “’Course he agrees. She was outstanding,” Anthony declared.

  “The only thing that would have made it outstanding is if she’d called for backup,” Lee said. There were an equal number of groans and affirmations around the table. “But I know that sometimes you have to go with the moment. I’m glad for Barb it worked out the way it did.”

  She leaned toward him. “Does this mean I get better assignments?”

  “Hey, don’t push your luck, Barb,” Dave began. “You still have to answer for that botched setup a few days ago.”

  The men at the table fell silent.

  Lee took control. “That was a team operation,” he reminded them. “No one person is to blame. If we’re going to hand out praise today, we also have to accept responsibility for what happened then. And we need to finish what we started.”

  “But not now, Lee. Give us a break.”

  “Sorry,” he said. “We’ll do right by Barb some night after work. Right now we have a job to do.”

  There was some shuffling as the congratulations to Barbara died down and the team got focused. Conversation turned to Earl Willey, killer at large, and a street criminal named Mario who had been used as their informant.

  “Let’s bring Willey in,” Larry said. “We know when he takes a leak, what he had for breakfast this morning, and who he screwed last night.”

  There was snickering from several others.

  “Larry’s right,” Mike said. “Can’t we just get Willey? We know where he is. We have enough stuff on him.”

  “But not enough to nail him for murder one and conspiracy to commit murder,” Lee said. “I want him off the streets for good. For that we need some hard evidence that he took out those two rival dealers in Brooklyn. I don’t want to waste time and energy on minor charges.”

  “Mario hasn’t done shit for us so far,” Larry scoffed, glancing at Barbara.

  “That’s right. That’s why we need to keep on his case,” Anthony said. “That asshole is playing both ends against the middle.” There were nods and grunts of agreement.

  “I say we bring Mario in and go after Willey the way we originally planned,” Mike added. “We could have avoided that woman getting hit.”

  “You don’t know that. It just happened,” Barbara retorted defensively.

  “It’s not supposed to just happen.” Anthony stared hard at her. “Hey, what’s with this leave Mario alone shit, Barb? You know he’s gotta go down. And he’s gotta know something about what happened.”

  His comment led to a moment of reflection around the table. “Anybody know what happened to her?” Larry asked.

  Lee was seated against the wall, an ankle crossed on his knee. On his lap was balanced an open folder of information which he’d already reviewed. He didn’t move a muscle or change expressions. He was surprised by his desire not to reveal anything about his recent encounters with Carol Taggart. To do so would seem an invasion of his privacy… and hers.

  “I hear she went home this week,” he announced casually. “She’s expected to make a full recovery.”

  “Yeah… and next week the department will be introduced to her lawyer, who will serve us papers for a lawsuit. Then there’ll be a press conference, and the usual suspects will appear out of the woodwork with accusations of negligence and racism. There will be a demonstration that will tie up traffic, or some fucking shit like that,” Larry recited.

  The team members chuckled. Dealing with New York’s special-interest groups had become just another part of their jobs, time-consuming and unavoidable.

  “Lieutenant, what do you think?” Jeremy asked Lee.

  He took off his reading glasses and crossed his arms over his chest, tucking his hands in his armpits. “Let’s move beyond what happened that morning, okay? Barb is going to run Mario to ground. That shouldn’t be too hard. He’s put himself in a bad spot. It’s pretty clear he hoped we’d put Willey away and he’d step in as new leader of the posse. But if Willey even suspects one of his crew rolled over on him…”

  “Our Charlie is toast.”

  “Lieutenant, call for you.”

  Lee glanced up at the uniformed officer who stepped into the room. “I’ll be right there,” he acknowledged, and the officer left.

  “Maybe there’s a way to turn this around,” Anthony suggested.

  Lee stuck his glasses under his sweater into the pocket of his shirt. Standing, he closed the folder and made his way to the coffeemaker in the corner, where he poured himself a cup. “How?” he asked, scanning the faces around the table as he sipped the coffee.

  “Maybe we can get the word out that someone saw Mario on the scene,” Anthony suggested. “Then let Mario talk his way out, if he can. Let’s play him off against Willey.”

  Barbara looked furtively at Lee to see his reaction to the ideas being floated. Her knee was bouncing nervously. Lee caught her gaze.

  “Since I was the contact, I fee
l like I need to follow up on this, Lieutenant,” Barbara said clearly.

  “Fine. Take someone with you. Let me know how it goes.”

  Lee quickly finished the coffee, dumped the cup, and headed out the door. He strode to a desk and picked up the phone. The call was very brief, then he moved quickly down the hallway toward the stairwell. He heard his name being called behind him and reluctantly stopped.

  “Lieutenant? Can I talk to you?” Barbara asked, hurrying to catch up with him. She glanced around to see that no one was within earshot. “Lee, I think I should try to talk to Mario alone.”

  “No way. You know better than that.”

  “But I was the initial contact. He might not be willing to talk if I have a partner with me.”

  “Mario isn’t going to tell you everything in any case, so don’t try to talk to him. Find him and bring him in.”

  “Yeah, I know, but…”

  “When it comes right down to it, he’s going to protect himself any way he can. Take Larry.”

  “Lee, I’m telling you I can do this without a backup.”

  “You’re not going to do it without a backup.”

  “But—”

  “Barb, I don’t have time for this. Just do it by the book.”

  Lee turned and climbed the stairs two at a time. He checked his watch again and cursed softly under his breath.

  He hated being called to the command floor. When things went wrong, as they frequently did, and the department came under attack, the blame always managed to settle at the bottom of the food chain.

  Lee approached a desk where a bespectacled officer sat before a computer terminal. The clerk used his phone to announce Lee’s arrival. While he waited, a bulging manila envelope in the In box caught Lee’s attention. It was marked with a date and the name Carol Taggart.

  “You can go in, Lieutenant.”

  Lee stopped staring at the envelope and walked into the office.