Relentless

by Shawn Wilson

  Lily emerged from the bathroom wearing a black bra and panties. Brick was pleased she made no effort to conceal her scars.

  “You’re dressed.” She seemed surprised. “I thought you might have gone back to sleep.”

  “I don’t want to be in the way. You’ve got a lot to do today.”

  “Unfortunately.” Lily wrapped her arms around Brick. “Guess I should start by putting on my court suit with the short skirt.”

  “All right, but let me enjoy looking at you a little longer.” Brick kissed the top of her head. Now was as good a time as any to bring up his dilemma. “I just hope you’ll—”

  “It’s okay, I’m fine. It’s something I’ve had to deal with my whole life. You made it easy for me and I’m looking forward to tomorrow night.” Lily looked up at Brick and smiled. “Kristin is one of my best friends, but I’d much rather go to the Kennedy Center with you.”

  Brick swallowed hard and returned the smile. So much for the words he’d rehearsed. “Tomorrow it is. But I’d better get out of here now before I’m guilty of obstructing justice. Let me know how things go.”

  “I’ll text you as soon as I know something.”

  * * *

  Brick removed his wallet from his pants pocket and set it on the top of his dresser next to the baseball tickets he wouldn’t be using. He was trying to put things in perspective. Mariano was a closer. If either team had a three- or four-run lead, he wouldn’t leave the bullpen. But there was always that chance he would take the mound, and the guy wasn’t going to play forever. This could be the year he decided to retire. And if that were the case, Brick was missing out on his only opportunity short of a trip to Yankee Stadium. A trip to Yankee Stadium—why hadn’t he thought of that before? Probably because, even though he was born in Brooklyn, New York was one of his least favorite places on the planet. But spending a weekend there with Lily could make it tolerable. Even more than tolerable, all the way to amazing if last night was any indication. He stripped off his clothes, threw his dirty underwear and socks in the hamper, and stepped into the shower.

  Aside from writing some checks and answering emails, there was nothing demanding Brick’s attention. A twenty-minute power nap seemed like a good idea. Two hours later, a text message woke him. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed his cellphone.

  “Hearing set for 2. Wish me luck.”

  He typed a quick response. “Irish luck ok?”

  “I’ll take that over Vietnamese any day.”

  Brick smiled at the message on his phone until he noticed the time. He had slept a lot longer than he planned. He threw back his bedspread and got up. He wasn’t tired anymore but he was hungry. Ravenously hungry. The bills and emails could wait. He got dressed and headed off in the direction of Boland’s Mill.

  Even before Brick walked in the door, he knew what he wanted. Traditional Irish breakfast was a staple on the menu along with pub grub favorites like corned beef and cabbage and potato soup. He took a seat at the empty bar and placed his order with Rory.

  “And a tomato juice,” Brick added.

  “Hair of the dog?”

  “Something like that.”

  “How about a Red Bull chaser,” Rory suggested as he popped open a can.

  “Why, you own stock in it?”

  Rory took a swig. “I should. Man, I’m hooked on the stuff.”

  “I’ll stick to tomato juice.”

  “Suit yourself.” Rory filled a tall glass and set it down in front of Brick.

  “Thanks. What do you hear from Eamonn?”

  “Nothing the past two days. And that worries me, but there’s nothing I can do about it.”

  “How’s everything going here?”

  “Better. I got the schedule straight and I’m actually going to be off tomorrow night. First time in a while.”

  “Big plans?”

  Rory shook his head. “No plans.”

  “Kelly likes baseball, doesn’t she?” Brick asked.

  “Yeah, why?”

  “I’ve got two tickets for the Nats game tomorrow night. They’re yours if you want them.”

  “Jaysus—they’re playing the Yankees. Your man Mariano’s in town and you’re giving away the tickets. What happened, somebody die?”

  Brick shook his head. “No, nothing like that. But I can’t use them; somebody should. Hey, if you want to impress Kelly—club-level seats just to the left of home plate, no waiting in line for concessions or the bathrooms.”

  “Afraid it’s going to take more than baseball tickets. She’s pissed at me … big-time.”

  “What happened?”

  “Something stupid.”

  “Wouldn’t be the first time, right?” It was meant as a joke, but Brick realized too late Rory wasn’t amused. He seemed genuinely upset. “Sorry, didn’t mean to make light of your situation.”

  “It was my fault.” Rory chugged his can of Red Bull. “I borrowed her laptop and forgot to erase the history before I returned it.”

  Brick swallowed quickly to avoid spraying Rory with tomato juice. He picked up a napkin and wiped his mouth, trying hard not to laugh. “If it’s any consolation, you’re not the first guy to get caught.”

  “Tell that to Kelly.” Rory glanced toward the kitchen. “I need to go check on your food.” A few minutes later he returned with a large plate of fried eggs, bacon, bangers, potatoes, baked beans, and soda bread. He set it down in front of Brick. “Okay, what I did was wrong, I admit that, but it’s not like it was kiddie porn or anything illegal. I mean, there’s thousands of sites out there and this was just a couple of … well, you know. Do you think Kelly’s overreacting?”

  Brick buttered a piece of soda bread. “You’re asking for my opinion, right?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Okay, start with an apology but do not—under any circumstances—imply that she’s overreacting. Got that?” Rory nodded as Brick continued. “If you’re lucky, she might come to that realization on her own. But you got to remember, a lot of women—I don’t know, maybe most women—find porn offensive and threatening.”

  “Yeah, I know, it’s just—”

  “Hey, what’s more important to you—a relationship with Kelly or spending nights curled up with your laptop?”

  “Well, when you put it that way.” Rory crumpled the Red Bull can and threw it in the recycle bin. “More tomato juice?”

  “Just half a glass.”

  Brick went to work on his second egg. It was almost gone when he felt his phone vibrate. He wiped his hands on his napkin before reaching into his pocket for his phone. The text was from Lily.

  It simply read:

  “my office – 15 minutes”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT

  BRICK HAD A bad feeling as he stood on the corner flagging down cabs. Two passed him by before the third one stopped. He got in and gave the driver the address for Lily’s office. As he adjusted his seat belt, he thought about the text. It didn’t make sense. An earlier message indicated the hearing before Newton was set for two o’clock. It was now just past one. Why would Lily leave the courthouse? Scenarios started running through his head. Had Newton changed his mind about hearing the motion? Not likely. Maybe the judge had gotten sick or had a family emergency. That could mean a postponement. But if that were the case, why hadn’t Lily said so?

  In less than ten minutes, the cab driver turned onto P Street. Just as he pulled over to the curb, Brick spotted Lily climbing the steps to her office. With her back turned toward him, he couldn’t see the expression on her face, but it didn’t matter. He could tell by her lowered head and slumping shoulders something was wrong.

  Brick paid the driver and got out of the cab. He rushed up the stairs two at a time and caught up to Lily.

  “He’s dead,” Lily said. No emotion, just a matter-of-fact statement. She unlocked the door to her office and they both stepped inside.

  “The judge?”

  “No, Guadalupe Cruz killed himself.”

 
; Of all the scenarios Brick had run through his head, this wasn’t one of them. It took a minute for him to wrap his head around what Lily had said.

  “Suicide?”

  Lily shrugged. “At least that’s what we were told.”

  Brick was conflicted. He wanted to embrace Lily and comfort her in the way lovers do. But he couldn’t, not here in her office. It felt as if last night was a long time ago or had never happened. It was why he’d always kept his personal and professional lives separate.

  “Lily, I know this is tough, but I need to know as much as you do.” He pulled out a chair at the conference table and motioned for her to sit down. “Can I get you a glass of water?”

  She nodded as she opened her briefcase and retrieved a file with Cruz’s name printed on it. She dropped it on the table before sitting down. Lily took off her glasses and massaged both sides of her forehead.

  “Are you okay?” Brick set a glass of ice water in front of Lily.

  “I feel a migraine coming on.”

  “Stress will do that.” Brick sat down across from Lily. He waited while she washed down an Excedrin, then two more.

  Lily leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table, her fingers intertwined. “As soon as I got to court, I went to the Clerk’s Office to check the docket. The hearing was set for two with an Assistant U.S. Attorney by the name of Brooks. I knew Cruz wouldn’t be on the early prisoner bus so I spent a couple of hours in the library. Around eleven, I went down to the cellblock to see if he had been brought in but the deputy told me Cruz’s name wasn’t on the list. I was a little concerned, but he said another bus was scheduled. He tried to check for Cruz’s name, but the computer was down. Typical, right?” Before continuing, Lily reached for the Excedrin bottle again.

  “Haven’t you taken enough for a while?” Brick asked.

  “What? Oh yeah, I guess I have.”

  It bothered Brick to see Lily in pain. “Did you take time to have some lunch?”

  “No and that’s probably part of the reason I have this splitting headache.”

  “I can go get you a sandwich.”

  Lily managed a half smile. “Thanks, maybe later. Anyway, I decided to go up to the lawyer’s lounge rather than hang out in the cellblock. I was there about twenty minutes when a deputy marshal, a different guy than the one in the cellblock, approached and asked if I was Lily Nguyen. Then he told me Judge Newton needed to see me in his chambers immediately.”

  “I bet the deputy’s delivered that message a few times to attractive attorneys.” Brick realized too late that this wasn’t the time or place for his comment, but Lily didn’t seem offended.

  “Attractive, unattractive—Newton doesn’t discriminate. Well, the last place I wanted to be was behind closed doors with him.” Lily took a drink of water. She rubbed her eyes before continuing. “As it turns out, my concerns were unfounded. It was standing room only. His law clerk and bailiff were there along with Brooks and his boss. And the U.S. Marshal, not one of his deputies. That’s when I knew something serious had happened, but I still wasn’t prepared for what the marshal had to say.”

  “How could you be?” Again, Brick wanted to reach out to comfort Lily.

  Lily’s voice was flat and emotionless. “He didn’t have a lot of details but from what he was told it appeared Cruz had ripped the sleeve of his jumpsuit into strips, tied them together, and used it as a ligature around his neck. By the time the guards found him, he was dead.” Lily leaned back in her chair. “I don’t get it. I spoke to him yesterday; he didn’t seem agitated or depressed much less suicidal.”

  Brick recalled his last encounter with Cruz. He hadn’t picked up on any signs that he was suicidal either, but then not everyone who is announces their intentions. “What was the reaction from the others in the room?” Brick asked.

  “Shock. The prosecutors offered their condolences, and Newton told the marshal he wanted to be kept informed as to the autopsy findings and any other pertinent information. But let’s face it, that’s just lip service. Nothing is going to happen. It’s over.”

  “Not as far as I’m concerned.”

  “Oh, come on, Brick, it’s time to be realistic.”

  “What’s more realistic than the fact Cruz didn’t kill Jose or Maria.”

  “But you can’t prove that, especially now that Cruz is dead.”

  “So what are you suggesting—I just forget it, walk away?”

  “Do whatever you want. Here, be my guest.” Lily flung Cruz’s file across the table. It landed in front of Brick. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be snarky but I feel like such a hypocrite.”

  “Why?”

  “I have to teach a class tonight at American. Bright-eyed first-year law students, and you know what I feel like telling them? Quit … just quit right now. Do something else with your life. Anything has to be better.” Lily looked at her watch. “I’ve got a couple of hours before the class; I’m going home and taking a nap.”

  Brick was tempted to ask if she wanted company but thought better of it. “We’re still on for tomorrow, aren’t we?”

  For a minute, Lily looked confused. “Oh, that’s right, the ballet.” Lily nodded.

  “Good.” Brick smiled. “I’ll stop by your place around six.”

  * * *

  “It’s go time.”

  Brick reread the three-word text from Ron. At least there was some good news today. He smiled as he pictured his former partner sweating bullets but trying to look calm, reassuring Jasmine everything would be okay. And Jasmine was probably hurtling some less than appreciative comments Ron’s way. But they’d bounce off him. Ron was a good man and he’d be a good father, of that Brick had no doubts. He was happy for them, but from a purely selfish point of view, he wished it wasn’t happening right now. So much had changed now that Cruz was dead, and he could use Ron’s help. Since he’d handed over his gun and badge, Brick had fleeting second thoughts about his impulsive decision, but this was different. Would this mean Jose and Maria’s killer got away with it? This case, more than any other he’d ever worked, needed to be solved. Brick hated to think he’d join the ranks of retired detectives haunted by the unsolved mystery of a case gone cold.

  Brick considered walking home, but the wind had picked up and dark clouds to the west threatened rain. He checked the weather radar on his phone. Storms were approaching, and according to the weather alert, some could be severe. For the second time in less than an hour, he flagged down a cab.

  * * *

  A deafening clap of thunder greeted Brick as he unlocked his door. He stepped inside, thankful he made it home just in time. Sheets of rain beat against the windows with a force reminiscent of driving through a car wash. Even though it was still midafternoon, the room was dark. Brick flipped the light switch, but nothing happened.

  “Great, the power is out.” Was he talking to himself more lately? Probably. Was it just a normal by-product of spending more time alone or should he be concerned? Either way, he had more important things to worry about than his sanity.

  Brick kicked off his shoes and changed into a pair of sweatpants and a Nats t-shirt. He needed to do laundry, but it would have to wait until the power was restored. And no telling when that might be. He pulled his table and a chair over by the window to take advantage of any natural light. A lot of questions regarding Cruz swirled around in his head. It was probably unrealistic to hope Cruz left a suicide note naming names, but going through whatever personal property the jail was holding might be enlightening. He’d talk to Lily about that, but in the meantime, he needed to get started. Brick picked up Cruz’s file and flipped through it. Learning everything he could about the man wouldn’t be easy. Without the authority he had as a cop, he felt he had both hands tied behind his back.

  The rain was letting up, but Brick noticed pellets of hail collected on the windowsill. Others may doubt it, but he believed all the talk of climate change. Violent storms seemed to be happening more frequently. He could remember a time
when thunderstorms were common in August but rare in April. This was the second bad one this month. Thinking about the previous storm conjured up memories of nearly decking Travis Allen. Brick was still embarrassed by his behavior, but were it not for that, he wouldn’t have met Eric Monroe. And if anyone might have some insight into Cruz’s world, it was Eric. Brick reached for his phone. He scrolled through his contacts until Eric’s name appeared. The phone rang three times before Brick heard Eric’s voice directing him to leave a message.

  Brick set his phone aside. Hopefully, Eric would call him back soon but there was no guarantee. Again, he picked up Cruz’s file. This time he did more than flip through it. He read every word looking for anything that might be relevant. He booted up his computer only to be advised that the battery was low. There wasn’t much he could accomplish in ten minutes. Instead, he jotted down notes about Cruz’s previous arrests that he would later enter into a spreadsheet.

  Two hours of reading in less-than-ideal lighting was taking its toll. Brick pushed back from the table. He stood up and stretched. It was still raining, but the wind had subsided. He grabbed a beer out of the fridge along with a wedge of cheddar cheese and a jar of olives. Searching the kitchen cabinets for crackers, he saw an unopened box of Triscuits. According to the use-by date, he’d found it with three days to spare. He headed back to the table just as his cellphone rang. With his free hand, he held the phone up to his ear.

  “Hey, Brick, it’s Eric. What’s up?”

  As far as Brick was concerned, there was no reason to waste time with small talk. “Have you heard about Guadalupe Cruz?”

  “Yeah, about an hour ago when I got off a surveillance. General consensus around here—that’s the second time he did something right.”

  “Taking a plea was the first?” Brick asked.