"Because we both knew that Trupp videotaped the rooms on prom night. We thought that maybe we'd be lucky and find a video of Ashala 354
strangling Diggs. No cigar. Ashala probably tossed Trupp's place long ago. If there ever was a video, Kalil probably destroyed it."
"The remaining videos ..." Davidson's voice was a ghost whisper. "They've been bagged and filed as evidence?"
"You mean your video, Lieutenant? Rather, videofa?"
Davidson was quiet.
Decker sighed. "Martinez pulled them all as soon as he saw the badge. He doesn't know who the cop is, just that it's someone in my department. Because he saw the look on my face when he showed me the videos."
"What does Martinez want?"
"Nothing. He's leaving it up to me. And I'm giving you this choice. You can either retire... or you can fight me and take your chances. But I'm not going to bury this. Not because I care what you do in bed ... even though she was only seventeen "
"Eighteen. We were consenting adults, Decker."
"She was barely eighteen when she died, Davidson."
"That's not what she told me."
"Loo, for godsakes, hookers aren't known for their honesty ... or their discretion. Diggs had a big mouth, sir. Matter of fact, she actually told Whitman she was doing a cop "
"And you believed that little psychopath?"
"He didn't say she was doing you.. .just that she was doing a cop. And yes, I believed him. Damn lucky for you, Whitman didn't give Cheryl much thought. Otherwise ... if he had put two and two together..."
Decker exhaled forcefully.
"Davidson, you let your personal problems get in the way of your police work. Even so, I'm giving you an out. Martinez is giving you an out. Because we all make mistakes. Sometimes we make bad mistakes. And we have to correct them, look like friggin' idiots. Anyway, it's up to you how you handle it."
Softly the lieutenant said, "How about what you suggested in the beginning? How about a sideways promotion?"
Decker shook his head no. "You've got over twenty-five years. You've got a good pension "
"Deck, how do I explain it to my wife?"
"I don't know, Loo. However you explain it, it's got to be easier than explaining Cheryl Diggs."
Davidson looked up, regarded Decker with mean eyes. "The empty lieutenant's spot is going to look mighty good to you, isn't it, Decker?" 355
Decker paused. Silly to deny his intentions. Let the poor slob think the worst of him. He could live with it. "I just want to make sure nothing like this ever happens again. So, yes, after you announce your retirement, I'm going to Captain Strapp and ask him for your position "
Davidson turned florid with rage. "You motherfucking, grasping Jewish bastard "
"Think what you want if it makes you feel better," Decker said calmly. "I didn't screw her, you did. And if Strapp gives me the promotion, and if I fuck up in my position like you did, then by all means, let some other motherfucking grasping bastard kick my ass out, too."
"You self-righteous shit."
"Not only am I going to ask Strapp for my promotion, I'm also going to recommend Bert Martinez to fill my vacated spot in Homicide "
"You two little shits are in it together "
"Just letting you know what's going on. You want to charge Bert and me with conspiracy, go ahead. The only true conspiracy Bert and I are in is saving your ass from a very embarrassing situation. Because the last thing this department needs is media on another asshole who can't keep his zipper closed. Any other questions?"
Still red-faced, Davidson was about to strike back. Then suddenly he shrank in defeat. Quietly he said, "I'm surprised you didn't force me to recommend you as part of this deal."
"There is no deal here, Loo. We can chuck the videotapes because they're immaterial. No one's out to screw you. But I don't ever want to get screwed by you again. Just stay out of it. Let Strapp make the decision, all right?"
"Do I have a choice?"
Decker smiled to himself. Rina had asked him the same question. "Hell, yeah, sir. We all have choices."
Davidson looked down, talked as much to himself as he did to Decker. "I know this is going to sound corny, but... I liked her ... Cheryl. And she liked me, too. It wasn't like a... midlife crisis thing, Decker."
"I do believe you. But that's irrelevant."
"It's not irrelevant. Because it explains why I acted like I did. She talked to me, Decker. She talked to me about Whitman. He's a motherfucker ... a cold, cruel son of a bitch who used to abuse her."
"But he didn't kill her "
"He killed her, Decker. I don't care what kind of confession you 356
got from Ashala, I know what I know. Whitman's a fucking bastard who deserves to fry. If ever justice was done, it was putting that psycho behind bars. Instead, you go ahead and save the son of a bitch. You let him walk."
Decker stared at Davidson, unable to come up with an adequate defense. Because much of what Davidson said had struck a resonant chord in Decker's heart.
Whitman was a bastard. And now it appeared that the bastard was going out a free man.
The air had turned slightly cooler with the nip of fall, but her smile was pure sunshine, her eyes were golden rays. Delight was etched into her face when she opened the door. When she saw it was Decker, she brought her hands to her mouth and blushed.
"Omigod!" Terry stepped aside. "Oh please come in. I'm so embarrassed. I've been meaning to call you "
"It's fine." Decker entered her house. His smile was gentle. "I'm sure you've been busy. College is what... a week away? UCLA usually starts around October, doesn't it?"
"I guess so. I haven't thought about it much." Terry clasped her hands. "You've done so much... you've done everything." She breathed out air and looked at the ceiling. "I can't believe you actually came through. No one has ever come through for me. Except Chris of course. I don't know how to thank "
"I didn't do it for you, Terry."
She turned red. "Oh, no, of course you didn't. You helped Chris because it was the right thing to do. I didn't mean to imply "
"S'right," Decker cut her off. "Anyone home?"
"Nope." Terry smiled. "It's wonderful to have some solitude. There's so much to think over." She made eye contact. "Even if you didn't do it for me, thank you anyway. Thank you, thank you, thank you."
"Wait until I leave. Then if you want to thank me, be my guest."
As expected, she gave him a puzzled look. But she was too polite to question him.
"Please sit down," Terry said. "Can I get you something to drink?"
"Nothing, thanks. But I will take a load off for just a moment." Just like the last time he had been here, he sat at her dining-room table. "You sit, too."
Terry sat down. "So much has happened these past six weeks. I 357
can't believe it's really over. Chris is being released in three days, you know."
"I know."
The room was quiet.
Decker said, "Are you excited about starting college?"
"Uh, that may be delayed for a semester or something like that."
"What happened?"
"Just a change of plans. I'm not going to be going to UCLA." She looked down. "I'll be going to New York instead."
Decker paused. "Back with Chris?"
She nodded.
"What about his upcoming marriage?"
Her smile broke into a grin. "His uncle is having second thoughts about Chris getting married. It may not be what he wants . .. what his uncle wants. It may not be the right family. So he's postponed the wedding. And he's letting Chris take me along with him."
Decker kept his face flat and said nothing.
"They're paying for me and my education and everything else ... until his uncle decides. It's like a dream come true for me."
Decker raised his eyebrows, but said nothing.
Terry looked down. "I guess I shouldn't expect you to understand."
Decker said, "You know what his
family is, Terry?"
"Yes, sir." She nodded. "Yes, sir, I know everything. It's what Chris's family is, and I know that Chris is close to his uncle. I also know that Chris has to obey certain rules. He has to look the other way. But that's not the same as doing it, Sergeant. Chris is not his uncle."
"And you're sure about that?"
Terry closed her eyes and opened them. She said, "I know Chris has had a few problems in the past."
"A few problems?"
"All right. I know about his breakdowns. I know about his brushes with the law. I know lots of things that even you don't know about. But the past is the past and it's time to move on. I refuse to let him look back. I owe him that much."
"You know lots of things that I don't know?"
Again, Terry opened and closed her eyes. Decker wondered if she'd picked up the habit from Whitman. "Yes. And don't ask me about it anymore. Because that's all I'm going to say."
"Good for you, Terry. A tight lip will serve you well in that family." 358
The sarcasm angered her. Still, she was overly polite. "Thank you for what you did. I'll always appreciate it even if you don't understand certain things."
Decker kept his face flat. "Terry, maybe you do know everything. And if that's the case, what I have to show you will be pretty meaningless."
He handed her a manila envelope.
Her eyes clouded. "What is this?"
"Some newspaper clippings."
She broke open the seal with her fingernail and pulled out two articles the sum total of Decker's library research over the past month. But he felt it was enough. Her expression was a question mark.
"Go ahead," Decker said. "Read them."
Terry's eyes flitted over the print. Her face registered distaste but not horror. "They're articles about murders."
"Not just any homicides, Terry. The murdered men were rivals of Donatti."
She looked at him. "I told you, Sergeant. I know what his uncle is ... what he does. I hate it!" Her face was branded with rage. "But it's not Chris!"
"You're sure about that?"
"Yes!"
She was barely controlling her temper. Decker stood up. "I'm glad you're sure. Because I wasn't. Because Chris has always been kind of a cipher to me."
She kept her eyes on the articles and said nothing.
"I just thought it was odd that... here was this guy, old for a high school student "
"He missed a lot of school because of his problems. There's nothing wrong with that."
"I agree. Except Chris is a real bright kid. And he was hanging out with dolts. He didn't seem to fit the mold."
"Is there anything wrong with individuality?"
"Of course not. But like you said, Chris is close to his uncle... his father actually. And here he was in LA while all his family was back east. At first I thought he might have been running from something."
"He wasn't."
"Yeah, I scratched that idea. But I wasn't satisfied. I get a little obsessive sometimes, even Chris noticed it. So I got to thinking about how he supported himself... by playing cello all over the country."
"Is there a problem with that?" 359
"Not at all if that's what he was doing."
Her head shot up.
"You were his tutor, Terry," Decker said, softly. "I assume you had a schedule of his sessions with you. If you still have your appointment book, you might want to check the dates. See if any of his ... gigs corresponded with the dates of those newspaper clippings. See, you'd have a record of when he was here in town ... and when he was absent."
Her eyes darted from the shreds of newspaper to Decker. Color suddenly drained from her face. Her hands started shaking.
Gently, Decker said, "Terry, I have no proof. And I'll never get proof. If I investigated his whereabouts, I'm sure he'd come up with an iron-clad alibi. Because that's the way it works with them. They take care of each other."
Decker tried to make eye contact, but she kept averting her glance.
"The question is," he whispered, "who's going to take care of you? I only told you this ... showed you this ... because I think you should know what you're really getting into."
Slowly, she lifted her head to look at him. And in her, he now found the expression that he'd been dreading.
Because now her eyes registered horror. 360
He was surprised to see me because that wasn't the plan. I didn't know if it was my sudden appearance or my expression, but something caught his attention, judging by the way he was scrutinizing me. I walked into his apartment.
It had been stripped bare, all the furniture removed and shipped back east. This room, which once represented to me adult independence, now looked lonely and rejected. I didn't go into his bedroom, but I knew it was the same. The only personal item left was Chris's sleeping bag lying like a twisted corpse on the white living-room carpet.
Two packed suitcases rested on the kitchen counter. He said, "What are you doing here? I thought I was supposed to pick you up in an hour."
I clasped my hands, then let them fall at my sides. "I finished early. I thought I'd come over and see if you needed help."
His smile was slow to come, but bright. "I'm fine, Terry. How'd you get here? Did you walk?"
I nodded.
"Where're your bags?"
"At home."
"Well, I'm almost done." He eyed me hungrily. "How 'bout if I take a break?"
I looked down and shrugged. He came to me, cupped my chin, and 361
raised my face. "I know it's been an intense couple of days for you. Are you real sore?"
I nodded.
"So how about doing me with your mouth?"
I managed a weak smile. "Sure. Whatever you want."
My focus met his expressionless eyes. Softly, he said, "Think you can fake a little more enthusiasm?"
I walked away and leaned against the counter, staring at his empty cupboards. I felt my throat go dry. A moment later, his hands were on my shoulders.
"It's just that I love you so much, Terry. I want you to want me."
I turned around and nodded, tears in my eyes.
"I know I should back off, give you a break." His hands went over my shoulders, around my neck. "I just can't seem to do it. You've got to remember where I've been, angel. I'm not adjusted yet. Seeing any female ... let alone you ... so incredibly gorgeous . .. delicious. Have a little patience with me. I promise I'll be more patient, too."
We kissed, softly at first, then more passionately, his hands taking what he considered rightfully his.
And perversely feeling so good for me.
He led me to his sleeping bag and drew me down. We never stopped kissing, even when he undid his pants and lifted up my dress. Another repeat of the last couple of days pain mixed with bits of pleasure. I knew I could erase the physical soreness within a month's time. And then it would be wonderful. He was beautiful and gentle, and was trying so hard to make it good. He was everything I'd ever imagined in a boy, but so much more.
It would take only a month.
If I'd give him another month.
When he was done, he rolled off my stomach and put on his pants. I stayed curled up in his bag. His oversized hand began to rub the back of my neck. It felt like a block of ice and I shuddered.
"What is it, my love?" Chris asked. "Are you scared?"
I nodded.
"Moving three thousand miles away ..." His voice was hypnotic. "A new town, new school, new people, and a lover who wants your body every fifteen seconds." He laughed. "I guess it's normal to be a little scared."
I didn't react. He rolled me over and looked me in the eye. "Terry, I swear I'll take care of you. Won't let anything or anyone hurt you."
I couldn't take my eyes off his. For the first time I noticed soft 362
specks of pale green floating in the aqua pools. We kissed, then he pulled away and stood up, hoisting me to my feet with him.
"I'll be ready in about ten minutes," he said. "You
'll feel better once you're on the plane."
"My parents are real mad," I said quietly. "Especially my stepmom. She's lost her baby-sitter."
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