by Randy Mason
She shifted her weight.
“He deserves better than this from you.”
Her eyes sparked, and she took her hands out of her pockets. “He deserves better than this? That son of a bitch told me I’m a worthless piece of shit. So fuck him and fuck you.” With amazing speed, she picked up the bag of candy and hurled it at the cop, who put his arms up to protect his face. While the contents scattered all over the floor, the orderlies descended upon her.
“Okay, kid,” one of them said, “you just earned a few hours in the rubber room.” Which was what they called the padded cells.
Gould’s shoulders sagged as he watched them dragging her away. Thinking only of Baker, he’d committed the cardinal sin and jumped in with only half the story.
And now he’d have to tell his partner what he’d done.
♦ ♦ ♦
WHEN THEY CAME TO take her to her session, Micki was on the floor in a corner, staring vacantly, streaks running across her face where tears had fallen. After punching and flinging her fists into the padded walls, she’d scratched her face and then, more deeply, her arms, digging her short, ragged nails firmly into the skin before ripping them cruelly through her flesh. There were parallel rows of raised welts—dark, clotted blood on top of the ones on her arms. But she wouldn’t let the nurse clean the wounds, even as the orderlies tried to hold her still. They called Dr. Lerner to inform her of the delay and were told to bring her to the office as she was.
“It’s all right,” Lerner told the orderlies standing in the doorway. “You can go.”
“Are you sure?” the taller one asked. He cast a sharp glance at Micki, who’d already seated herself.
“We’ll be fine,” Lerner said.
Once they were gone, the doctor waited for Micki to speak, but she only stared out the window.
“Do you want to tell me what happened?” Lerner asked gently.
Slowly turning her head till her eyes met the doctor’s, Micki whispered, “I hate myself. I don’t wanna live anymore.”
“What’re you feeling?” Lerner asked.
“No matter how hard I try, everything I do turns out wrong. Somebody’s always blaming me for something. And—and underneath it all, I feel used and—and dirty.” Tears streamed down her cheeks. “Nobody loves me, and nobody ever will. I just don’t wanna hurt so much anymore.”
“Tim cared about you—”
“And now he’s dead.”
“Sergeant Baker cares about you—”
“No! No he doesn’t!” Micki’s eyes were blazing. “He hates me! He said I ruined his whole fuckin’ life. He thinks I’m shit.”
“He wouldn’t be visiting you here if he didn’t—”
“Don’t you get it?” Micki screamed, “I’m a fuckin’ job to him. And he needs me; he needs me so he can get back to workin’ the fuckin’ street. They’re just usin’ me for some kinda fucked-up therapy for him. Everybody just uses me; nobody gives a shit about me. His fuckin’ cop friend comes here worryin’ about him.”
“So you’re just part of Sergeant Baker’s job.”
“Yeah.”
“And he’s a cop.”
Micki’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah, so?”
“Would you say he’s a good cop?”
“Whatta y’mean?”
“Is he good at what he does?”
“Yeah, I guess so.”
“How do you know?”
Micki shrugged. “I dunno. He’s a detective. And a sergeant. And he’s got a lot of those ribbon things.”
“Hmm, I see,” the doctor responded. “Tell me something, then: when he caught you about to shoot up, did he arrest you?”
“No, but—”
Lerner put her hand up for silence. “Did he send you back to Heyden?”
“No, but like I said—”
Once again, the doctor raised her hand. “Did he at least ask you who your dealer was?”
“Well … no.”
“Huh!” Lerner said. “He doesn’t sound like a very good cop to me.”
♦ ♦ ♦
AS BAKER APPROACHED, MICKI stood up—which was her way of telling him to leave. And yet, this time she studied him through different eyes. Haggard and thinner, the effect the last two weeks had had on him seemed genuine. She’d been shocked to learn he could’ve been rid of her a long time ago, could’ve switched her for another kid. And since that opportunity had come and gone before they’d had sex together, his decision couldn’t be written off to guilt. She felt all mixed up now. Hating him had been so much easier before she knew all this.
Seeing her expression, Baker would’ve given anything to know what she was thinking, but it was the scratches on her cheeks and the bandages on her arms that commanded his attention.
“What happened to you?” he demanded.
She pushed The Foundation Trilogy across the table. “I finished this,” she said.
“What happened?” he repeated.
“I need another book.”
Sighing, he picked up the paperback. “Did you like this?” he asked. When she didn’t respond, he said, “I liked it. Y’know, it’s always hard at first to get into science fiction stuff; you’ve got to learn all the made-up names and words. But you get used to them after a while, don’t you?”
Her eyes had drifted toward the TV, where a Spic and Span commercial was playing.
“I just want to know if I should bring another science-fiction book,” he said.
Now staring out the window, she mumbled, “I wanna get outta here.”
He seemed startled. “Are you really working with Dr. Lerner, Micki?”
She turned to face him, then looked up into his eyes. She wanted to ask if what the doctor had told her about him was true. But then maybe he’d lie—just like he could’ve lied to the doctor. Her eyes dropped, and her gaze became unfocused.
“I’ll bring you another book,” he said softly.
♦ ♦ ♦
BAKER HEADED STRAIGHT FOR the nurses’ station, demanding to know what had happened. The plump, middle-aged woman with wire-rimmed glasses and crimson-colored lipstick sounded aggravatingly blasé. “She scratched herself.”
“I can see that. I want to know why.”
“She had a visitor, then became unruly and was put into one of the padded rooms. Although we were checking on her regularly, she managed to do that in between. We should’ve put her in a straight jacket.”
Baker already knew about the provoking incident; Gould had called him at the school. What angered him was that no one from the hospital ever thought to keep him apprised of episodes like this. “Is Dr. Lerner available?” he asked. “I’d appreciate it if I could have just a few minutes of her time.”
“Let me see.”
Caught off guard, he said an extra-courteous, “Thank you,” and, after waiting patiently, was told the doctor could see him briefly when her current session was finished. But once he was inside her office, Lerner summarily informed him she was not at liberty to discuss anything—Micki hadn’t given permission yet.
Baker shook his head. “When can she get the hell out of this place?”
“I’d like to release her as soon as possible, but I can’t do that until I feel confident she’s not a danger to herself. I also need to know that she’ll accept your supervision. Her reticence to allow me to relate even the most basic information to you isn’t helping. Although I would’ve preferred to wait a while longer, perhaps we should try a session with both of you together. Could you be here Monday at one o’clock?”
“I’ll get someone to cover for me.”
“I’d keep this to yourself, Sergeant—otherwise, Micki might not show.”
♦ ♦ ♦
THE INVESTIGATION INTO THE break-in at M
icki’s apartment had come to a grinding halt. Considered a low-priority crime for that precinct to begin with, there simply wasn’t enough evidence to proceed. And early on, despite Baker’s hunch, the detectives assigned to the case had ruled out any connection to the super of Micki’s building. They said he lacked motive for vandalizing one of his own apartments and had no kids of his own to be involved. On the other hand, Baker had argued, why was he being so completely uncooperative?
So that Saturday, Baker washed some of his own clothes at Micki’s Laundromat. Trading on his good looks, he chatted up several of the women there and got them talking. A lot. And under the guise of hunting for an apartment nearby, he eventually uncovered the connection between the super’s wife and Joey’s mother. When the dryer was done and his shirts were folded, he threw the clean laundry into the trunk of his car, then sat in the bucket seat, drinking coffee and smoking. Until he had an idea.
♦ ♦ ♦
“I KNOW WHY YOU’RE really here,” said the wizened, scrawny man. “You’re that kid’s parole officer. You think you’re so smart tryin’ to act like you’re some undercover cop, but I know what’s goin’ on. All yous guys are the same, wantin’ to pin every goddamn thing that goes wrong around here on the neighborhood boys. But the truth is, it’s that delinquent kidda yours that’s causin’ all the problems. She’s the one on parole, right? Not Joey. She prob’ly trashed the goddamn place herself. I’m not givin’ you one red cent for whatever the hell you’re doin’ over there. You should be givin’ me money.”
Baker had named no names, yet the super—eyes bloodshot, nose red and pitted like an alcoholic’s—had mentioned Joey. His tone mild, Baker asked, “So where’s the key to her apartment? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind showing it to me.”
“Like I told those detectives: I threw it away ’cause some jerk—prob’ly you—changed the lock on her door. Jeez, don’t yous guys ever talk to each other?”
“That key went missing, didn’t it.”
“Get the fuck offa my property. I don’t havta to talk to you.” And he slammed the door in Baker’s face.
Baker turned and walked back to his car. Regardless of whether the key had ever played a role or not, the super was protecting those boys—out of loyalty to his wife’s friend or out of fear. Either way, the case was essentially dead. When Baker got home, he called Officer Roberts. “Can you make those boys’ lives miserable for me?”
♦ ♦ ♦
ON SUNDAY, BAKER BROUGHT Micki a copy of J.R.R. Tolkien’s The Fellowship of the Ring—now one of the most popular books at the high school. Feeling like a stubborn puppy dropping toys in front of its disinterested owner, he also gave her the homework he’d forgotten to give her on Friday. Day after day, he’d been faithfully handing over assignments, though he’d stopped borrowing Greg’s notes a while ago—she wouldn’t even take those. She’d sort through the papers, toss the notes to the floor, then look at him with a defiant glare while crumpling the remaining sheets—her homework assignments—into a tight little ball in her fist. That was, until today. For the first time ever, he saw her actually glance them over.
“I want to take my finals,” she said.
His brow creased. “Really? You’ve been studying?”
“I started yesterday, okay? But I’ll be ready by the end of the week.”
He looked at her closely. “I’ll see what I can arrange.”
chapter 30
IT WAS SNOWING AGAIN, but the dirty, mesh-covered glass robbed the snowflakes of most of their magic. Micki sighed: another Monday in the hospital. With each passing day, the routine of her outside life seemed further and further away. She left the window and walked through the dayroom, then down the corridors to Dr. Lerner’s office. She could hear the doctor talking, then recognized Baker’s voice.
She stepped inside. “What’s he doing here?”
Both heads turned.
“I think it’s time you had a session together,” Dr. Lerner said.
“This is my session; I don’t want him here.”
The doctor walked past Micki and closed the door. “Please sit down.”
Eyes smoldering, Micki took her usual chair.
The doctor seated herself.
No one said anything.
Micki looked at Baker. “What’s with the stupid hat, huh?”
When he’d grabbed his jacket from the closet on his way out that morning, Baker had spied his Yankee baseball cap on the shelf. Thinking it might lighten the atmosphere, he’d taken it. “I don’t know, Micki; I just felt like wearing it. I’m a Yankees fan.”
Micki turned to Dr. Lerner. “He just wants to give you the impression he’s Mr. Nice Guy.”
Though Baker was trying as hard as he could, he couldn’t keep himself from smiling.
“See?” Micki said, her voice rising. “He thinks it’s funny; he thinks everything’s so fuckin’ funny.”
“It’s just”—Baker tried desperately to control the nervousness that was fueling his behavior—“you always have these names for me: Mr. Morality, Mr. Nice Guy …”
Micki jumped up and confronted the doctor. “I’m sure you think he’s done everything the way he should’ve. I bet he made himself out to be some kinda fuckin’ saint who’s had to put up with god-knows-what kinda shit from me.” Neither Lerner nor Baker said anything, though Micki noticed Baker’s expression had turned grave. “Did he tell ya how he hits me?” Micki asked.
“Yes,” the doctor responded.
Shock flitted across Micki’s features. But then, voice rising further, she said, “Yeah? Well did he tell ya how he once beat me so bad I could hardly move, and it was all f’nothin’?”
“Yes, he did.”
Micki flashed Baker a dirty look before once again addressing the doctor: “Well, did he tell ya how he fucked me?”
Baker jumped up. “Why do you always have to say it like that? That’s not how it was.”
“Yes, it is!”
“No, it isn’t!”
“You were so fuckin’ stoned y’would’ve fucked a goddamn horse if that was the only thing available.”
Chest heaving, Baker paused. “Okay, Micki, I’ll admit it: I was completely wasted and horny as hell, but that doesn’t mean I wasn’t aware that I was with you.”
“Oh, yeah, right.”
Voice low, he said, “Let’s tell it exactly how it was, okay? When I started crashing, I wanted to stop because I knew what I was doing was wrong. I wanted to stop before I came, but you wouldn’t let me.”
“I just wanted t’keep things even.”
“Keep what even? You mean because of the money?”
Her eyes narrowed. “No, not because a the money. I didn’t even see the goddamn money till after you left.”
“Then what’re you talking about?” But all at once, a cunning look crossed his face. “You wanted me to come because I made you come, isn’t that right? If I was being such a selfish prick, how come I made sure to satisfy you first?”
She glared at him.
“Why can’t you answer that?” he asked. “Why can’t you admit that I made you feel good?”
Micki could see him kissing her scarred body.
“Why can’t you admit,” he said, “that I was making love to you—”
There was a loud, crisp smack as her palm connected with his face. Of the three of them, Micki looked the most stunned: lips slightly parted, eyes large and round. What astonished her most was that Baker had simply stood there and taken it. He’d made no move to block it, and not a single muscle had twitched to retaliate.
Voice hushed, she said, “I don’t wanna talk t’you anymore.” And she ran for the door.
He cut her off. “Don’t leave, Micki. Please.”
“Get outta my way.”
“You’re not leaving till the session’s over.”
“Says who? Y’can’t make me stay if I don’t wanna. Y’got no authority here.”
“I’ve got no authority here? It doesn’t matter where the hell we are; you’re still my kid.”
She drew a sharp breath.
He looked stricken.
“Micki!” he called, reaching out.
But it was too late. She was running down the hall, having slipped out the door while he’d been momentarily paralyzed.
When Baker turned back toward the doctor, his face was filled with pain. “I guess I didn’t handle that too well.”
The doctor’s expression was kind.
Lips trembling, he tried to smile. “I guess I should’ve worn a different hat.”
♦ ♦ ♦
WITH THE REST OF the session now his alone, Baker withdrew into silence. “This is never going to work, is it,” he finally said.
“Why do you say that?”
“Look at what just happened. It’s never going to go away; that night’s going to haunt my every minute with her.”
“Only by getting all of this out into the open will you be able to put it to rest. I realize it’s painful and unpleasant, but it has to be done.”
He lit a cigarette. “And then what?”
“What do you imagine?”
Body tense, he shifted his gaze past the doctor. “Y’know, she’s still attracted to me.”
“And you see this as a problem.”
Looking at Lerner like she was crazy, he exhaled a long trail of smoke. “Yeah, I see this as a problem; I see this as a big problem.”
“Then why did you wait so long to bring it up?”
Baker shrugged and looked away again.
“How do you know this?” Lerner asked.
“I know, that’s all. I can tell.”
“You think she wants to sleep with you again?”
