by Joel Goldman
“You would destroy our lives for that?”
“It’s not me who would destroy your lives. It’s Alex and you, if you helped her in any way.”
Bonnie rose, went to the small desk in the kitchen, and took a sheet of paper from a drawer, reading from it.
“Marcus Ramsey. Julio Estevez. Rolando Chism. Frankie Meadows. I assume you recognize those names, Detective, since you killed each of them. Shot them to death, from what I understand.”
Rossi blanched. He knew those names by heart and couldn’t forget them if he tried. The better question was how Bonnie knew them.
“What’s your point? Each of those shootings was in the line of duty. And where did you get those names?”
“From a lawsuit.”
Rossi planted his hands on the table, leaning in at her. “What lawsuit?”
“The lawsuit that the families of those men are going to file against you and the police department and the city.”
“That’s not happening. Those incidents go back fifteen years. The statute of limitations ran a long time ago.”
“Except for Frankie Meadows. You gunned him down less than two years ago. His wife consulted a lawyer I recommended to her who thinks she’s got a pretty good case. Now, I don’t understand the law, but it has something to do with you and the department engaging in a persistent pattern of denying the civil rights of minorities through the use of excessive force and intimidation. All the men you killed were either black or Hispanic, but you knew that.”
“Every one of those shootings was investigated by Internal Affairs and the county prosecutor and each one was found to be justified.”
Bonnie pursed her lips. “Well, you know how some people are, Detective. They’re just never satisfied until things turn out the way they want them to. Especially when they suspect that you planted incriminating evidence to cover up what really happened.”
Rossi sat back. “So that’s what this is about. You’re trying to blackmail me with the threat of a bullshit lawsuit so I’ll lay off Alex.”
“Every night for the last year, Alex wakes up, sweating and shaking. The nightmares are always the same. Dwayne Reed coming after us. Raping us. Murdering us. And even when Alex kills him again and again in her dreams, it’s just as terrifying. I hold her and tell her everything is going to be all right, that she did the right thing, but it doesn’t do any good. Tell me, Detective, is it like that for you? Do you see those men in your nightmares? Is that why you spend so much time in bars at night drinking alone?”
Rossi stiffened, trying to keep a lid on his anger, knowing if he blew up, he’d only make things worse.
“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Oh, I think I do. You see, I hired a private detective, a woman named Lucy Trent. She’s very good at what she does. She found out a lot about you and she found the families of the men you killed.”
“If you think you can scare me off, you don’t have any idea who you’re dealing with.”
“Actually, Detective, I think I do. I think I’m dealing with a fundamentally decent man who did his best under impossibly difficult circumstances and who genuinely regrets taking the lives of those men. If you were anyone else, you wouldn’t drink so much.”
Rossi threw up his hands. “Why do you think coming after me is going to change anything for Alex?”
“Maybe it won’t. But at least you’ll know what it’s like to spend your life defending yourself for having done what you knew was right.”
Rossi set his jaw. “Then have at it.”
He rose and turned to go.
“Before you leave, Detective, come over to the window and look out in my backyard for a minute. There’s something I want you to see.”
Bonnie opened the blinds. Rossi hesitated but joined her. Looking out, he saw four women, three of them black, one Hispanic, along with a dozen others ranging from newborns to young adults. They were on the patio, a few talking in hushed tones, most of them silent.
“Who are they?”
“Those are your widows and their children and their grandchildren. The men you killed were drug dealers and thugs, no better or worse than Dwayne Reed. Maybe their wives and children knew all about them and maybe they didn’t. Either way, they haven’t forgotten that you killed their husbands and fathers and grandfathers. They want justice and peace. Go talk to them. Tell them that they’re wrong. Tell them that you have no regrets. Tell them that the men they loved got what they deserved.”
Rossi stared at them, swallowing hard. He looked at Bonnie.
“I was exonerated.”
“And so was Alex.”
Bonnie waited until Rossi drove away before opening the door to the patio.
“I want to thank you for coming over this afternoon. It’s so nice to get together outside of the hospital and see how all the kids are doing. The pizzas will be here in about twenty minutes. Who wants a soda?”
Chapter Forty-Eight
ALEX DRIFTED TO THE BACK of the courtroom, tuning out Judge Steele’s eulogy for Robin, focusing instead on their brief conversation. He’d been every bit as charming as she had imagined him until she mentioned Joanie Sutherland’s name and the light went out of his eyes. There had to be more behind his reaction than his decision years ago to put Joanie into a diversion program instead of sentencing her for shoplifting. He could have stayed in contact with her, using his position to take advantage of her only for her to turn the tables and blackmail him.
The friendship between Judge West and Judge Steele added another tantalizing element to her speculation. If Steele had killed Joanie, he’d have been ecstatic when Jared Bell was arrested for her murder. He might have talked to West about the case, nudging him to get the right public defender appointed to represent Bell. She discounted that possibility because Robin assigned the cases, not Judge West, leaving her to wonder whether West had somehow pressured Robin to assign Jared’s case to her. She decided that while there were too many moving parts for that to have happened, she had to dig deeper into the relationship between Judge Steele and Joanie.
Alex left the memorial for Robin, brooding about what Bonnie had said, that she didn’t have to go through this alone and that no matter what happened, Bonnie would be there. It was the kind of promise that lovers often made but less often kept because what ended up happening was more awful than either could have imagined. But she wanted to believe that Bonnie was different, that they were different, and that together they were stronger than either could be on her own.
She drove around, aimlessly at first, then purposefully, past the places that had meant so much to them. Where they first met, where they had their first date, where they were when Alex told Bonnie for the first time that she loved her and where they had first made love. Each stop along the way restored her faith in herself and in them until there was no place else to go but home.
She turned onto their street, bright-eyed and singing one of their favorite love songs, the words catching in her throat when she saw Rossi’s car in their driveway. She folded onto the steering wheel as if she’d been kicked in the gut, stopping in the middle of the street, staring at her house, the life gone out of her, body and soul.
At first Alex thought Rossi was there to harass Bonnie once again. She hoped Bonnie would tell Rossi that they’d broken up so that Rossi would leave Bonnie alone. Any chance of that happening would be lost if she walked in on them. And then she realized that it might be something worse. Convinced that Alex was going to destroy herself, Bonnie might have invited Rossi in an attempt to broker a deal to save her. It was just the sort of thing Bonnie would do: diagnose the patient’s condition and do the best she could to treat it, unaware that this time the cure was worse than the disease.
Crying, feeling like she’d been cut open from the inside out, Alex drove back to the Residence Inn and crawled into bed. She woke up at nine o’clock, not remembering falling asleep. She was groggy, her limbs felt rubbery, and though she wasn’t hungr
y, she knew she needed to eat, but first she needed to move, get her body working again, and that meant going for a run. Putting in five miles would perk her up. She changed into her running gear, laced up her shoes, tucked her cell phone and room key into a fanny pack, and went out into the night.
The temperature was perfect, in the low fifties. Standing on Main Street, she looked across at Penn Valley Park. Bonnie was right. The park was one of her favorite places, 176 acres of rolling hills with an off-leash dog park, baseball diamonds and tennis courts, the World War I Liberty Memorial, and, her favorite, the Scout, a ten-foot-tall statue of a Sioux Indian on horseback mounted on a limestone base and overlooking downtown Kansas City. She loved the simple majesty and power of the sculpture and the amazing view.
Alex didn’t share Bonnie’s concerns about running in Penn Valley Park at night but, nonetheless, stuck to Main, trotting north and taking advantage of the long descent down to Pershing Road to loosen up. She turned west onto Pershing, staying with it until she reached West Pennway, where she turned again, heading back south, the uphill grade payback for her downhill start on Main.
She was running easily as she started the climb, her arms and legs working together in a steady, fluid motion, her head upright, her chin level, her core holding everything together. There had been a lot of traffic on Main and on Pershing, but only a few cars passed her on West Pennway. South of Twenty-Sixth, the name of the street changed to Penn Valley Drive, signaling the beginning of its route through the park. She told herself that she wasn’t breaking her promise to Bonnie because, technically, she was running through the park, not in the park. The thought made her smile until she realized it would be a while before they’d have that conversation, if they ever had it.
Passing a small lake on her right, Alex forgot her promise and left the road, cutting across a wide grassy expanse enveloped in darkness, strong, sure strides carrying her up the gradual slope leading to the Scout. Her lungs swelled with each breath in, contracting with each breath out, in perfect rhythm with the beat of her heart. Sweat poured off her, cooled by the crisp night, her body in perfect harmony with earth and air, joyful at their union.
Alex could see the Scout a hundred yards ahead. It was illuminated at its base, the lights making the bronze shine in the dark. She sprinted as she got closer, the horse and rider looming larger and larger, her breath coming in deeper gulps, her heart pounding. An arm’s length away, she reached out to touch the limestone pedestal like she was breaking the tape at the finish line of a race, at once aware of furious footsteps behind her, coming out of nowhere, gaining on her, another runner’s labored breathing causing her to turn her head, but she was too late. She caught a glimpse of a black runner’s face mask, gasping at a flurry of quick, sharp pains in her back and something warm running down her legs, which had somehow given out on her. She dropped to her knees, collapsing facedown at the base of the statue, bewildered and bleeding.
She tried to cry out, but the sound died in her throat as her assailant pressed a knee into the base of her spine, tugging at her fanny pack and unzipping it. From the corner of her eye, she saw an object sail through the air, knowing it was her cell phone, feeling as helpless and untethered as if she’d been cast adrift in outer space. And then she was alone.
One hand braced against the stone base of the statue, she pulled herself up to her knees, clawing with both hands to get to her feet. Gingerly, she reached behind her, wincing as she found two wounds, uncertain whether there were more. Wiping blood on her leg, she staggered away from the statue, aiming herself toward where she thought her phone had landed, knowing she had little chance of finding it and even less chance of not bleeding to death if she didn’t.
She counted her steps as a way of maintaining her focus, telling herself that it was only a little farther, just another step, anyone can take one more step. Anyone. And then she couldn’t, her legs crumbling beneath her, the cool wet grass coming up to meet her. She lay still for a moment, eyes closed, opening them when she heard her phone ringing. Lifting her head, she saw it glowing ten feet away. She dragged herself to her knees, crawling to the phone, throwing herself the final distance and pulling it toward her. She rolled onto her back, fumbling with the touch screen until it opened.
“Alex? Alex? Are you there?” Bonnie asked.
Staring at the starlit sky, she said, “I’m sorry,” and then the world went black.
When she woke up, she was on a gurney surrounded by people wearing hospital scrubs as they rolled her into the emergency room at Truman Medical Center. She smiled when she heard Bonnie shout orders and closed her eyes again.
Four hours later, she was sitting up in bed, Bonnie at her side.
“How did you find me?”
“I called 911 and they traced your cell phone.”
She ran her tongue around the inside of her mouth and Bonnie gave her glass of water. She took a sip, marveling at how good it tasted.
“I was stabbed. Twice, I think.”
“Three times. You were very lucky. The wounds weren’t deep. Just soft tissue and some muscle damage. You’ve got enough stitches for some very lovely scars, and you’re going to be pretty sore for a while, but that’s it.”
Neither said anything, the silence awkward until Alex broke it.
“I was going to come home today.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I got as far as our street and I saw Rossi’s car in the driveway. I didn’t know what to think.”
“So now you know. We’re having an affair and he was fucking my brains out.”
Alex laughed, flinching at the pain. “Don’t do that. It hurts. What was I supposed to think?”
“What did you think?”
Alex looked away, her face flushed. “That either he was harassing you or that you were giving me up.”
“You know I would never do that. And he wasn’t harassing me. If anything, it was the other way around.”
Bonnie explained the scam she’d run on Rossi, threatening him with a lawsuit.
“I don’t think a lawsuit is going to scare Rossi. You think it will work?”
“We’ll see, but it wasn’t so much about the lawsuit. I gave him credit for being human and feeling guiltier about the men he’d killed than he’d like to admit. I wanted him to walk in your shoes and think about spending the next five years having people call him a murderer.”
Alex nodded, studying her, feeling badly that she’d so underestimated Bonnie, whose face was drawn and lined with worry. Her scrubs were splattered with bloodstains. Alex reached out, touching one.
“Mine?”
Bonnie took her hand, pressing it against her. “Yeah.”
They sniffled in unison until a nurse came in the room.
“There’s a Detective Rossi wanting to speak to your patient.”
Bonnie said to Alex, “Maybe we’re about to find out if he bought it.” Then to the nurse, “Send him in.”
Rossi stood in the doorway. “I hear you had a close call.”
Alex shrugged. “Yeah, but I’m okay.”
“That right, Dr. Long?”
“Yes. She’ll be fine as long as she’s left alone.”
Rossi eyed Bonnie, ducking his chin for an instant, not taking the bait. “Alex, I need to ask you a few questions.”
“I’ll make it easy on both of us. I left my room at the Residence Inn a little after nine and went for a run. I did a loop down Main, onto Pershing, and back south on West Pennway. I cut across the park heading toward the Scout, and just as I got there, I heard someone coming up behind me. I don’t know if he followed me or was just hiding in the dark waiting for someone to come by. I turned to look behind me, saw someone wearing a runner’s mask, and the next thing I knew I’d been stabbed and was on the ground. It had to have been some random asshole.”
Rossi nodded. “Or not.”
Bonnie stood, squeezing Alex’s hand, looking back and forth at the two of them. She guessed Rossi’s meaning.
/>
“Oh my God! This is about Robin’s phone call.”
Rossi looked at Alex. “You told her about that?”
“I told her everything.”
“And you still think it was some random asshole who just happened to follow you into the park, stab you, and throw your cell phone away so you’d bleed to death before anyone could find you?”
“Until you can prove it wasn’t.”
“Who knew about the phone call?”
Alex thought for a moment. “I mentioned it to Judge West last week. And yesterday, at the memorial for Robin, he said something about it to Judge Steele and his wife. But I didn’t tell any of them what was on the message.”
Rossi shook his head and sighed. “Perfect. I’ll arrest all three of them and see which one flips first. When can she go home, Doc?”
“You know hospitals these days. No one stays overnight unless they’re never leaving. I’ll take her home.”
“There’ll be a patrol car outside your house the rest of the night just in case the random asshole shows up again.”
“Thank you, Detective.”
Rossi turned to go, stopping for a moment. “One last thing, Alex. You said you left your room at the Residence Inn a little after nine to go for a run. What were you doing staying at a hotel fifteen minutes from your house?”
Alex looked at Bonnie. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”
Chapter Forty-Nine
LATE WEDNESDAY MORNING, Alex sat in bed, thinking about Meg Adler’s proposal that she take over the Kansas City public defender’s office. Though she loved being in the courtroom, she felt tainted by everything that had happened. Running the office might be a welcome change. She’d never managed people before, never run anything that wasn’t a race, but she thought she could learn. She wouldn’t decide without talking to Bonnie.
Her cell phone rang, the sound jangling her frayed nerves. Between the pain from her wounds and worrying about whether the attack had been random or intentional, she’d hardly slept. She’d put on a brave face for Bonnie, insisting that she was fine and that there was no cause for concern, empty assurances that didn’t make either of them feel any better.
