Abrams shook his head. They could seriously compromise their case by acting prematurely. “Maybe it is true,” he said, wanting to see the attorney’s reaction. “Think she slept with him?”
Hopkins lunged at him, ready to rip his throat out. Then he quickly reined himself in. “You’re an idiot, Abrams. You know Ann. Do you think for a moment she’d fuck a guy like this, a probationer, for chrissakes? That’s ludicrous.”
“Sorry,” Abrams said, throwing up his hands. “I’m just trying to play the devil’s advocate here. Believe me, I want this guy too.”
“Just book the prisoner and let me handle the rest,” Hopkins said, quickly exiting the room.
Left alone, Abrams turned and stared at Sawyer. The kid was dirty, no doubt about it, probably up to his eyeballs in criminal activity…but something didn’t fit here. The detective could feel it in his gut. Sure, he wanted the person who had shot Ann, but if they tried a case without doing their homework. Sawyer could be acquitted and that would be that. It always made more sense to wait out a weak case, even though he understood where the D.A. was coming from. If he’d been the one dating Ann, Sawyer would probably be in a hospital by now.
“Shit,” he said out loud while his eyes tracked Sawyer pacing. “Whether you know it or not, asshole, you’re in for one fucking rough ride.”
Jimmy Sawyer had made a serious mistake today. He’d picked on a probation officer, someone a doctor’s son would see as nothing more than a bit player. If he had accused anyone else but Ann Carlisle, his clever little defense might have worked as planned. The woman would have been discredited or at the very least intimidated enough to back off, and Sawyer’s problems would be over. But he wasn’t going up against a solitary woman or a small-timer, as he thought. Jimmy was going head to head with the entire police department, the district attorney’s office, and the probation department.
“You stepped on the wrong fucking toes, bud,” Abrams said through the glass. The D.A. could play the heavy and file the charges, but that was only step one. Hopkins needed hard evidence to bring in a conviction, and for that he had to rely on the man in charge of the investigation. Yours truly, Abrams thought.
He thumped the glass with his finger and saw Sawyer jerk his head toward the door, thinking it was his attorney. When the door didn’t open, his eyes filled with fear and he turned toward the glass. “That’s right,” Abrams said, “someone’s watching you. Sawyer. And I’m going to keep on watching until I can see right through you.”
Before he got through with him, Jimmy Sawyer would be crying for more than his attorney.
Chapter 8
Ann was playing gin rummy with David in the kitchen when he saw Reed through the glass in the back door. “Tommy,” he yelled, rushing to let him in, his cards still in his hands. “Look at this,” he said to the detective, grinning wickedly at his mother as he showed him his hand.
“You’re in big trouble, Ann,” Reed said.
“Yeah,” she laughed, rearranging her cards. “He’s already whipped me three times in a row. I’m losing bad here.” Then she noticed the grim look on the detective’s face. Placing her cards on the table, she turned to David. “Let me talk to Tommy for a few minutes. I think he’s got some information about one of my probationers.”
“But I’m going to win,” he protested. “That isn’t fair.”
Ann noticed the dishes piled in the kitchen sink. “Why don’t you be a sweetheart and wash the dishes for me? Then when Tommy leaves we’ll have time to finish our game.”
Once they were in the having room, Ann didn’t sit down. She stood near the front door. Because the house was small, it was hard to have a conversation without David overhearing them. “Did you ring the doorbell?” she asked, curious. “I didn’t hear you.”
“No,” he said. “I thought if I came to the kitchen, I might catch you before David saw me.”
Ann knew the detective was feeling guilty that he hadn’t spent more time with her son lately, but he couldn’t be there for the boy all the time.
“How is he?” he asked.
“Fine, I guess,” Ann said, slowly shaking her head. “He’s wetting the bed again almost every night now, and he’s having nightmares. He was better for a while, but…”
“Maybe you should take him back to the shrink,” Reed said.
“That’s not the answer,” she said. Turning thoughtful, she went on, “What happened to me has brought everything back. You know…all the fear. Time is the only cure.”
“Did Hopkins call you?” he asked.
“Yes,” Ann said. “He said I shouldn’t worry, that he gave you the green light to arrest Sawyer.” Seeing the look on Reed’s face, she placed her hand over her chest. “He is in jail, isn’t he? I mean, after what I saw in his house…”
Reed’s eyebrows went up. “Is that all Hopkins said?”
“He said some pretty harsh things about Sawyer,” Ann said, trying to recall the conversation. “What’s going on?”
Reed proceeded to fill her in on what had happened in the interview with Sawyer. Ann was livid by the end. “That slimy little bastard. Does he really think anyone will believe him?”
“Obviously,” Reed said, clearing his throat. “And listen, Ann, I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but his parents are heavy hitters in the community. His father’s a surgeon, and the family is active in local and state politics. This isn’t your normal dirtbag off the streets. His statements could carry some weight.”
Ann suddenly felt light-headed and went to sit down in the leather recliner. Reed took a seat on the sofa across from her. Bending forward from the waist, she locked her arms down around her stomach. “What about the fingers?”
“We’re checking the morgues now. Without a body—” He stopped himself. They had already covered this earlier.
“What if he says this vile stuff about me in the courtroom? The press could get wind of it.”
Reed tried to flick this off. “Then don’t go to the hearing.”
“Right,” Ann said, jerking her head up. “That’s really the answer, Tommy. Can you imagine how it will look? The guy saved my life. He’ll look like a hero and I’ll look like an ungrateful bitch.”
“I wouldn’t concern myself with how things look.”
“Mom,” David called from the other room.
“I’m coming,” Ann yelled back. She grabbed the detective’s hand as he stood to leave, needing comfort. “I’m scared, Tommy. Do you really think he shot me?”
“It’s possible,” Reed said. “I have to say that I’m still undecided.”
David called out again, and Reed followed her into the kitchen. Once he had said his goodbyes, he left by the kitchen door.
“All right,” David said, picking up his cards, eager to resume the game. “I just discarded, so it’s your turn.”
Ann took a card off the top of the deck and then just held it in her hand, staring out over the room. If Hank had been alive and learned about the disgusting things Sawyer had said about her, he’d have torn him apart limb by limb. All Reed had done was shrug. Six years ago when one of the bailiffs had made a snide comment about her in the courtroom, Hank had met the man in the parking lot the next night. Exactly what he’d done to him Ann didn’t know, but he’d never bothered her again.
“Mom,” David said, impatient, “you have to throw a card away now.”
Ann dropped the card on the stack, lost in her thoughts. She depended far too much on the detective. It wasn’t right. Reed couldn’t step into Hank’s shoes and fight all her battles. He wasn’t her husband, any more than Glen was her husband. Ann slumped in her chair, tears forming in her eyes.
“Gin,” David yelped, slamming his cards down on the table and startling his mother out of her thoughts. When Ann spread her hand out, David was ecstatic. “You don’t have even one pair. Mom. I bet there’s forty points here.” He started adding up the total, rubbing his hands with glee. “That’s it,” he said, looking at her now. “I won
again.”
Ann quickly swiped at her eyes with the back of her hand, but David saw her.
“What’s wrong, Mom?” he said, concern leaping onto his face. “What happened? Why are you crying?”
“I’m not crying,” Ann lied, managing a smile. “I’m just mad because you beat me.”
His fingers stretched across the table to his mother’s, touching them lightly and then withdrawing. “You miss Dad, don’t you?” he said softly. “I miss him too. Will he ever come back, Mom?”
“No,” Ann said, looking deep into her son’s eyes. “He’s never coming back, honey. We have to go on with our lives.”
David’s face muscles froze. A second later, he exploded, sweeping all of the cards onto the floor. “He is coming back. I know he’s coming back.”
“Pick up the cards,” Ann demanded, glaring at him.
“No,” David said, defying her. “Not until you take it back. You have to believe. Mom.”
“I can’t,” Ann said, sighing. She didn’t want to have this conversation now. She started to rise from the table, but then lowered herself back down. The psychologist had instructed her to be firm with him when he got this way. He simply couldn’t go on believing his father was alive. “There’s nothing to believe. He’s dead. Your father died four years ago. You have to accept it.”
He stood, seething with emotion. His leg flashed out, kicking his chair halfway across the kitchen. This was Hank, Ann thought. The explosive temper, the inability to accept the obvious, the vulnerability lurking under the surface. They were so alike, and every day the similarities in their appearance and personality grew stronger. She remained silent, knowing David had to release his anger before she could reason with him. He was just like his father, and there was nothing she could say to stop him.
“It’s because of that man,” he said, pointing a finger squarely at her. “You don’t want Dad to come back because of him. That’s it. I hate him. He’s a prick. What do you do with him, anyway? Do you do dirty things with him? I know about sex, you know. I’m not a little kid. I see the way he looks at you, with his stupid snake eyes.”
“Stop it, David,” Ann said flatly, trying to remain calm until the tempest passed. Let him vent his feelings, the psychologist had told her. The reason he had nightmares was that he suppressed so much bitterness and rage. And there was a new source of anger now. Anger over his mother’s being shot.
Seeing him subside, Ann got down on her hands and knees and started picking up the cards. She did not have to wait long before he bent beside her to help clean up. Once the cards were all retrieved, Ann scooted back against the cabinets and just sat there on the floor, too drained to get up.
“I’m sorry,” David said, eyes down.
“I know you are,” Ann answered, a strange feeling of peace coming over her. The calm after the storm, she thought. She certainly knew about that. There had been plenty of storms with Hank through the years. Extending her arm, she reached over and pulled her son closer, giving him a kiss on the top of his head. “You’re all I have,” she said. “If your father were alive, he wouldn’t tolerate your talking back to me. And he wouldn’t allow you to throw things all over the place.”
“Yeah, well, he used to throw things,” David said, memories flashing in his eyes. “I remember him throwing a dish at you one time.”
Children saw more than people knew, Ann told herself, stiffening. She had never dreamed David remembered that night. “That was only one time, honey,” she said, wanting to change the subject. “We just had a fight. Married people have fights.”
He peered over at his mother and then quickly looked away. “He wouldn’t like you seeing that man. In my dream—”
Ann held up a hand to stop him. “Dreams are only dreams, David. I have dreams too.”
“About Dad?”
“About Dad, you, the past. But we have to live for today. You can never go back, you can only go forward.”
“Does that mean you’re going to keep seeing Glen?”
“I don’t know,” Ann said. “I’m being honest, David. Relationships aren’t easy. One of these days you’ll know what I mean. When people get married, they’re together every single day. That requires a lot of give and take. Do you know what I mean?”
“Not really,” he said pensively. Then his face flushed again. “You’re not going to marry him, are you?”
“I don’t know him well enough to marry him. I dated your father for five years. I’ve only been seeing Glen a few months.”
David’s face softened and he smiled at his mother. “Tell me again about how you met Dad.”
Ann sighed before speaking. “I was a rookie cop, remember, and they dispatched me to a shots-fired call. When I got there, your father was already there. He’d heard the call and was in the area, so he responded, even though he wasn’t supposed to.”
“Why not?” David asked.
“Because he was a highway patrol officer, and the call was in the city limits.”
“Was he handsome?”
“Of course,” Ann said, tousling his hair. “He looked just like you. I mean, he was taller, of course. He was compact, and built like a bull, and he had this way about him. Oh, I don’t know, sort of like there was nothing he couldn’t handle.”
“Tough guy,” David mumbled under his breath.
“Great smile,” Ann said, seeing him in her mind. “When he smiled, he didn’t look tough at all. He looked like a big teddy bear. And he laughed. Your father loved to laugh. Every day, it seemed, he had a new joke for me.”
“Did he kiss you that night?”
“Of course not. I was on duty. Police officers don’t kiss on duty.” Ann had known officers who did a lot more than kissing, but she preferred to keep her son’s image of police officers intact. “So,” she continued, “once we made sure there wasn’t a real shooting going on, we went for coffee together. That’s when this man came up and started yelling for us to come outside.”
David smiled with pleasure. This was the part he liked best.
“There were these six huge apes duking it out in the parking lot,” Ann related. “What a brawl. They were Hell’s Angels, I think. You know, the motorcycle gang. I started to jump in, and your father gave me this look, like what did I think I was doing. He was old-fashioned about women in law enforcement. He never wanted me to get hurt.” Ann stopped, thinking of how crazed he would be knowing she had been shot. In a way, she was grateful he had not lived to see it. “Anyway, he took out all six of those guys by himself and hardly broke a sweat doing it. Boy, was I impressed.”
“I couldn’t beat up a puppy dog,” David said, pressing down on his flabby thighs with his fingers.
“Then start exercising,” Ann said firmly.
“No way,” he said. “Every time I exercise I get real hungry and end up wanting to eat a dozen hamburgers.
I’m starving to death right now. Do we have any ice cream left? Did Glen bring over any groceries today?”
“Nope,” she said. “We’re on our own now, kid. Back to the diet.”
While David rummaged around for something to eat, Ann went to the living room and collapsed on the sofa, meaning just to rest her eyes. In no time at all, though, she fell fast asleep. Soon she was dreaming. She was in Jimmy Sawyer’s kitchen, holding up a finger and examining it, when she saw the ring—the wedding ring she’d given her husband. She screamed, dropping the finger. When it struck the floor, it changed before her eyes to a rodent and scurried off. Bolting awake in a cold sweat, Ann glanced at the clock over the stone mantel and saw that it was after midnight. The house was still, David evidently in bed.
Sawyer’s arraignment would be tomorrow—no, today, she realized. That must be why she’d had that horrid dream. She would have to sit in the same courtroom with a man who had sliced off a woman’s fingers, who might broadcast his lies about her to everyone present.
Ann started to get up, and something fell off her chest to the floor. She bent over
to retrieve it. David had placed his father’s picture, the one in highway patrol uniform that he kept in his room, right in the center of her chest.
Detective Phil Whittaker was in his late forties and getting close to retirement. Since he had left the military at age twenty-one, he’d never had any job other than as a cop. He was overweight by at least twenty pounds, and his pants hung low on his hips in order to accommodate his protruding stomach. But he was a pleasant, likable man with a jovial plump face and a hearty laugh. Unlike many other veteran members of the department, Whittaker was not bitter and disillusioned with law enforcement. Oh, there were days when he wanted to cash it in and take off to Oregon, but he knew he would never last.
Phil Whittaker was a stone-cold addict. He loved the job, fed on the excitement. When he was at home with his wife and kids, he thought of the job. On his last vacation, in Hawaii, he hadn’t thought of the beautiful young bodies decorating the beach, he’d thought of the job, his mind still sorting through facts and faces, searching for that one detail that he might have missed.
Assigned to canvass the neighborhood and see what he could learn about Sawyer and his roommates, he had been knocking on doors since seven o’clock that morning, thinking he’d catch people before they left for work. All the detective had learned the night before was that the rental house needed a paint job, the yard needed water, and the boys were going to run over one of the neighborhood kids one day. Shit, Whittaker thought, from the way it sounded they were describing his own house. His yard was dead, his house needed a fresh coat of paint, and every time the detective was called out on a hot case and screamed down the street in his police unit, the neighbors called his wife and sounded off.
When he had informed the residents of Henderson Avenue that the three boys were moving out, they were all relieved. He was glad to make their day, but Whittaker needed information. When he got back to the station. Reed would be waiting like a hungry bear. Right now the only evidence he had of any illegal activity amounted to nothing more menacing than a few traffic violations. Not exactly what they were looking for.
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