by Kitt, Sandra
The black man seated behind the desk was on the telephone. Captain Gregory Jessup indicated that Lee was to sit down while he finished his call. He passed several pages across the desk. Lee knew it was the ballistics report.
“I take it you haven’t seen that,” the captain said as he hung up the phone.
Lee leafed through the document, looking for the summary paragraph. He decided not to mention the conversation he’d had with the technician at the lab. “No, I haven’t.”
“The bullet was our issue. It came from one of two guns, yours or Detective Peña’s. That is conclusive.”
Lee blindly turned the pages of the report. So, there was a fifty-fifty chance that he had shot Carol Taggart and almost killed her. Lee knew he could never gloss over that. That Carol Taggart was amazingly composed and graceful about the whole thing left him speechless. And ashamed. Lee didn’t particularly like the sensation, but he couldn’t deny it either.
He closed the report. The control that he’d maintained for nearly a week was beginning to crack.
“No one else has seen the report,” Jessup told Lee. “The department won’t hold you responsible. We’re not going to let anyone else try to blame you either.”
“I think I did it,” Lee said, putting into words what he’d suspected from the beginning. He felt terrible even saying it out loud. “I saw the victim go down. When I could get closer I saw it was a woman. A black woman…”
Jessup nodded in understanding.
“She was having trouble breathing, but the first thing she wanted to know was if her dog was okay. I knew right then that we’d made a big mistake, that maybe I had…”
“Look, it was a dangerous situation. It was dark, you were being shot at. You had to return fire.”
“That’s what I keep hearing,” Lee said tightly.
Jessup shook his head and swiveled in his chair. “The newspapers are starting to put together a story that doesn’t make us look good,” he said. “I want to protect my officers and the department from unfair press.”
Unfair, Lee repeated to himself. Interesting word. It really wasn’t unfair if the reports were right. If he was wrong. What was unfair was that Carol had been shot. But so far Lee hadn’t heard anyone in the department express concern about that.
“What happens next?” he asked.
“You continue to work. No charges have been brought against either you or Barbara. I’m not going to kid you, Lee. We could get crucified. My idea is to try to turn this situation to our advantage.”
Lee was immediately alert.
The captain’s eyes gleamed. “They want us to identify the shooter… so we’ll give them a shooter.”
“Willey?” Lee guessed.
Jessup shrugged. “It would certainly deflect attention away from us.”
Lee grimly quirked a corner of his mouth. “You mean deflect attention away from the truth.”
Jessup gestured with his hand. “It’s not like we’re making up anything,” he said. “This reporter is speculating that our people fired the shot that hit the victim. I’ve had a talk with our counsel, and they present another point of view. Not that they’re suggesting anything, you understand, but what if we hinted that our suspect shot her? What if we identify him? Will he come out of hiding to try and clear himself of attempted murder charges? Do we care if he gets fingered?”
The captain closed the report, a signal that the meeting was over. “I don’t have to tell you not to talk to anyone. We’ll work with Public Affairs on this one. I may get the commissioner’s take on it.” Lee got up, preparing to leave. “I see you got your sidearm back.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I know you guys feel naked without it.”
That wasn’t how he felt at all, but Lee didn’t explain to the captain. It wasn’t the presence of the gun, but the weight of responsibility that often felt so heavy. “Yes, sir,” he said and left the office.
As Lee passed the secretary’s desk, he again spotted the envelope sitting in the In box. He had gone about ten feet when he stopped in the middle of the hallway to think. He turned around and went back to the desk.
“Did you forget something, sir?” the assistant asked him.
Lee pointed to the manila envelope. “Is that for the property office?”
“Yes, sir. It’s a dog leash.”
“Mind if I take it?” Lee asked.
The young man appeared uncertain about the appropriate protocol. “Well…”
“I’ll sign for it,” Lee assured him, taking the package. “And I’ll fill out the report for the officer on duty in the property room. How’s that?”
“Thanks, Lieutenant. I appreciate that,” the clerk replied.
When he’d finished with the necessary paperwork, Lee returned to his office with the envelope. The briefing room was empty, and he knew his team had dispersed to their various assignments. He stood there for a moment, not sure what to do next. His thoughts kept drifting back to Carol Taggart.
Lee knew she’d gone home from the hospital that day. He’d called to find out. Accustomed to being questioned by the police, the nursing supervisor had offered to give him Carol’s address and phone number, but he’d declined. There was no reason for him to have that information, and he’d resisted making up an excuse. And he could always change his mind.
Essentially his part in the case was done. Lee was relieved that Carol would heal and return to whatever her life had been before the shooting. He would finish the Willey operation sooner or later and then move on to something else.
Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed. He felt restless and edgy. Angry and scared. Like he didn’t know who he was anymore. Day after day, it was getting worse. He didn’t know what to do about it, but he was determined to deal with whatever he was going through on his own.
It would pass. He’d get over it. He took care of some official paperwork, had a conversation with some detectives about another case, then let his gaze drift over his office. It seemed narrow and cluttered with files and papers, manuals and equipment. His grin became a crooked twist of irony. His life was not structured to create peace of mind. He stared at the envelope containing the dog leash. Now that he had it, he had no idea what to do with it.
He was preparing to leave when the phone rang. “Lieutenant Grafton.”
“Hello.”
Lee smiled slowly at the sound of Karen Sorano’s silky voice. He relaxed in his chair. “Can I help you?”
“Maybe,” the soft voice responded. “Depends on what you have to offer, Lieutenant.”
“What do you need?”
“I don’t think I should discuss it over the phone.”
Lee grinned. He could imagine Karen lying across her platform bed. She would have gotten home from the gym and just finished her shower. Her skin would be warm and glowing. They always had the best, most intense sex after she’d been working out, or when he came to her straight from his precinct after a day of hard physical activity himself. He hadn’t seen her in three days. He was overdue.
At twenty-six, Karen was bold and carefree. She was one of a new breed of woman who, as had been confirmed by many of his colleagues, didn’t necessarily need or want a commitment. She could take care of herself… and she wasn’t trying to get him to quit the force. On the contrary, Karen had made it clear that she was turned on by his being a cop. And what did he want from her? Beyond the obvious, Lee hadn’t given it much thought. What else was there?
“Would you like to come in and discuss it?” Lee suggested to her.
“Well… I would like to talk to someone, but… do you think you could come here?”
“If that would make you feel more comfortable.”
“It’s just that—what I have to say is… so personal.”
“I understand,” Lee murmured, enjoying the telephone foreplay. “When’s a good time?”
“How about… now? It really can’t wait,” she purred.
Lee w
as tempted, but he pursed his mouth. “I can’t be there for a while. I have to see to something important. How about after dinner?”
“I’ll be waiting.”
“I’ll see you then.”
“Thank you, Lieutenant Grafton. I’ll have to send a letter of praise to your commanding officer for your kindness and professional behavior. ’Bye.”
Lee hung up on an amused chuckle. His prospects for the evening were looking up. As he shrugged into his jacket he caught sight of the envelope again. He picked it up, thoughtfully turning it this way and that, then flicked off the light and, taking the envelope with him, left the office.
Lee watched in awe as Erica bit into her third slice of pizza. She was so petite that he would have expected her to call it quits after the first piece. Weren’t all teenage girls supposed to be worried about their weight? But he was grateful that despite plenty of signs that Erica was maturing into a pretty young woman, there was still a lot of the little girl in her.
It wasn’t going to last long.
Lee stared at his daughter and, as he seemed to be doing a lot lately, experienced a sense of wonder and fear that this child’s well-being lay in his hands, and in the hands of her mother.
Once again, he had confirmed something he’d noticed the last few times they’d been together. Erica looked a lot like him. And he was willing to concede that she’d gotten the best of his genes. She had his cautious sense of humor. It took a lot to make him laugh, but Erica could make him laugh. Lee was distracted momentarily by another observation: Carol Taggart made him laugh too.
“There’s one more slice,” Erica said, cutting into his speculations.
Lee sighed and shook his head. “I’m done. I don’t have the stamina you do.”
“Come on, Dad. You’re not going to let your daughter eat you under the table, are you?”
He chuckled. “I’m getting to be an old man. What can I say?”
She wrinkled her nose. “You’re not old. You’re in better shape than a lot of the cops I see on the street. A lot of them need to lose some serious weight.”
Lee raised his brows. “No comment,” he murmured, sitting back in his chair. Lee saw that she was suddenly regarding him steadily. “What?”
She put her unfinished slice back on the plate. “I guess I should thank you.”
“Thank me for taking you for pizza? You’re a cheap date.”
She giggled. “No. I mean for promising to talk to Mom for me.”
Lee ran his hand over his spiky hair. “I don’t know how much good it will do, Ricca. Are you getting along better?”
“Well… maybe a little. She’s not yelling as much as she used to. But she still says no every time I want to do something with my friends.”
“The truth is, Ricca, she’s just worried you’ll do something to get hurt or in trouble.”
She looked annoyed. “You sound like you’re on her side.”
“I’m trying to be fair.” There was that word again, he thought. “You know, it’s not always easy for her either.”
“I wish I could come live with you.”
“I’d still make you clean up your room, and give you a curfew, and want to know who your friends are and where you go on the weekends.”
She looked disappointed. “You would?”
“Absolutely. That’s my responsibility as a parent. To make sure you don’t grow up wild in the streets.”
She gave him a half smile.
“I know you don’t think so, but you’re probably better off with your mom right now.”
“I don’t see how,” Erica mumbled.
“Well, you both understand girl stuff. I’m clueless.”
“You do okay.” Erica began to dig in her pockets. “I almost forgot. I have something for you.”
“As long as it’s not a bribe and doesn’t require batteries or being assembled,” he teased.
“No, it’s something I made.”
She held up a braid about an inch thick. He took it and examined it. It was a nice piece of work, but Lee wasn’t sure what he was supposed to do with it.
“Here, let me show you,” Erica said, taking it back and placing it around her father’s left wrist. She deftly intertwined the loose ends to secure it. “It’s a friendship band,” she explained. “You’re supposed to keep it on all the time.”
Lee was surprised. He liked the bracelet. The fact that it was from his daughter and that she’d made it just for him touched him.
“Thank you, Erica. This is way cool.” Lee grinned at her.
She shrugged, a little embarrassed by his pleasure. “You’re welcome.”
He looked speculatively at her as he reached for his wallet to pay for their dinner. “Mind if I ask you a question?” he said.
“Okay.”
“How do you get along with your mother’s new husband? What’s he like?”
For a moment a streak of rebellion changed her countenance. Then it softened as Erica gave his question serious thought.
“He’s okay, I guess. I thought he was just going to take over and try and tell me what to do and try to be like a father to me.” She looked beseechingly at Lee. “I don’t want another father. You’re my father and I’m never going to like him as much.”
“But you do like him?”
Erica looked stubborn for a moment before giving a nod that turned into a shrug. “He talks to me at least. He thinks I’m a good artist…”
Lee mentally, if reluctantly, gave the man ten points.
“And he does try to calm Mom down when she starts in on me.”
Lee stood up. “So, it sounds like at least some of the time he’s on your side.”
“Yeah… I guess you could say that.”
“Then maybe all these changes aren’t so bad after all,” Lee suggested cautiously. He paid the bill and held the door open for her as she preceded him to the parking lot.
They were on the road for the three-mile drive to her house when Lee spoke again.
“Why don’t you just give your stepfather and your mom a chance, sweetheart? You gave me a few, after all those times I had to back out of seeing you.”
“That’s different. You’re my father and I… I love you.”
Her admission made Lee feel a combination of pride and joy. “And I’m always going to be your father. But that doesn’t mean that other people can’t love you too. The more the merrier. Look, anyone who can keep your mother in line can’t be all bad, right?”
“Right.” She glanced at him. “He might be nice and everything, but I don’t want anyone else but you for my father.”
Lee stole a quick look at the stubborn set to her mouth and chin, and he wanted to smile. Instead he reached out to tweak her hair.
“Thanks, Ricca. That makes me a lucky man.”
Mario hesitated at the entrance, peering closely through the plate glass window. Almost nobody inside. The female cashier straight ahead was doing an early register count and entering the night’s take on a banking form. The one remaining cook was scraping down a grill in the back of the kitchen. The manager sat in the last booth to the right of the door, reading the late edition of the paper and pretending not to have noticed him.
On the other side of the entrance the two local old men that the manager had made his charity cases were seated at the counter, bent over plates of leftover food and packing it away like it was their last meal.
It was almost one in the morning.
Mario opened up the neck of his expensive leather coat. Underneath was a stylish muffler and a Tommy Hilfiger sweater. It was not an outfit that would hide his identity. Everyone in the diner, as well as the few hanging around outside making contacts and deals, knew who he was.
He stepped inside and headed to the left. Barbara, sitting still and alert, watched him approach. He knew he had the kind of profile she’d been taught to hold suspect. He was good-looking in an extremely physical way, and taller than the typical Dominican. Men were cautious around h
im. Women were another matter. When he was just thirteen, one of his uncles had crudely referred to him as a “pussy magnet.”
She said nothing as he slid into the seat opposite her, opened his coat but kept it on. He rested his arms on the table. A charming grin gave him an expression of seductive interest.
“Mija…”
Barbara glared. “Cut the crap, Mario. I’ve been waiting here an hour.”
He lifted his shoulders and turned his hands upward. A chain-link silver bracelet gleamed on his wrist. “I had to take care of something.”
Barbara narrowed her eyes and leaned forward a fraction. “Where were you?”
“None of your fuckin’ business.”
For a moment Barbara was distracted by the conviction that he had been with another woman. He had taken someone else to bed and done to that woman all the things he’d been doing to her. She felt an irrational sense of betrayal. She was furious.
She should have known that Mario would let greed and his dick control his loyalties. She’d realized that when she first met him. Any man that good-looking had to have plenty of women on the side. She’d known the first time they went to bed that he liked it often… and rough. When Mario had offered up Earl Willey in exchange for a better deal for himself, Barbara had also realized that he was without a conscience. But a primitive desire had taken hold of her when she first set eyes on him. Mario had seen it too, and had taken advantage of it. And she had let him.
Barbara had refused to consider the consequences. She and Mario had set upon each other like animals in heat. Even afterward, when she’d learned more about him, it hadn’t been enough to stop the overwhelming need to have him.
He lowered his voice as he leaned back in his seat. “Look, I helped you set up Willey, right? I gave you everything you asked for. It’s not my fault it got fucked up. I did my part.”
“So, you’re saying you weren’t there?”
“Something came up and I couldn’t be at the deal. I told Willey.”
“But the plan was, Mario, that we’d bring you in with the whole crew so it wouldn’t look suspicious. There’d be no reason to hold you for what we had on Willey, and we’d let you go.”
“Yeah, I know, but… what can I say?” He glanced over his shoulder at the others in the diner. “I’m here, ain’t I? You getting something to eat?”
