“Yeah, okay.”
Maybe he was right. Maybe I was just good entertainment and they’d leave me alone once I stopped playing along.
“Are you hearing me, Simon? Are we on the same page now?” William asked.
“Yes...”
Click.
He’d said what he wanted to say, heard what he wanted to hear, and was gone. I pocketed my phone and headed for the house. When I opened the front door, Mandy attacked me like I’d been gone for a year. She chirped with excitement and jumped around until I got down to her level so she could kiss me. After I was thoroughly coated in dog slobber, I went to greet the rest of the family. Sara had already picked up dinner, and it was unpacked and on the table. Chinese food, my favorite. I gave her a kiss, then went to hug the boys.
We ate wonton soup, moo shu pork, and house special lo mein, and talked about the big day tomorrow. The boys were excited to be heading back to camp. And why wouldn’t they be? They got to play sports all day, every day. For Sara it was work, but she loved it. The weather, the scenery, the food, the kids... It was an amazing place to be.
Jordan and Brock took turns telling us what they were most looking forward to, and I listened and smiled, wishing I was going too.
I couldn’t stop thinking about the run-in with the reporters, but as quickly as the thoughts came, I pushed them out of my mind. I wouldn’t let them spoil our night.
The boys cleared the table, I washed the dishes, and Sara set up the movie and made popcorn. Eddie the Eagle had just come out on DVD and we were all looking forward to seeing it. It was the true story of Eddie “the Eagle” Edwards, the first person from Great Britain to compete in Olympic ski jumping. It was supposed to be inspirational and heartwarming.
Sara lowered the lights and we settled in around the TV. The boys began devouring their popcorn before the opening credits rolled, and Mandy was pacing back and forth between them, waiting for a piece to hit the ground.
Less than ten minutes into the movie, a loud crash from the front of the house startled us all. Mandy barked frantically and hid under the coffee table. I paused the movie and we all listened for a moment.
“Stay here,” I told them and moved swiftly to the bedroom. I went straight to the gun safe, punched in the combination, and extracted my pistol. It was the first time I’d held it since the day of the shooting, and my stomach sunk. I slapped in a magazine, chambered a round, and quietly moved toward the front of the house.
The front window was broken and there was glass all over the floor in the dining room. Amidst the glass sat a gray brick. I moved slowly toward the window from the side, peered around the frame and looked outside. No one was there, and the street was empty. I tucked the pistol inside my back waistband, covered it with my shirt, picked up the brick, and turned it over in my hands.
On one side, written in dark marker was the word “MURDERER.”
I stared at it in disbelief. It had been a month since the shooting, I’d been cleared by the police, the protesters had given up, even the media was getting desperate. Yet, incredibly, someone had thrown a brick through my window calling me a murderer.
“It’s okay,” I shouted to Sara and the kids. “Just some vandals.”
Sara came out to the dining room and walked over to where I stood. She looked at the brick.
“Jesus,” she said.
“Yeah. Tomorrow can’t get here soon enough.”
Chapter 44
As I drove away from the airport, I felt a great sense of relief. In just a few hours, Sara and the boys would be seventeen-hundred miles away, in a remote part of Maine, secluded from the chaos my life had become.
After the brick came crashing through the window, we called the police, knowing full well there was nothing they could do. Still, I wanted it on record that my family and I were being terrorized at home. I was tired of being depicted as the bad guy.
As expected, the officers were not optimistic. There were no witnesses, and fingerprints are nearly impossible to retrieve from porous materials like brick. They took our statements, prepared their reports, and were on their way.
Under Mandy’s watchful eye, Sara cleaned up the glass and I boarded up the window. Jordan and Brock wanted to help, but we insisted they go back to watch the movie. No reason to spoil their night too. I kept my gun on me until everyone was in bed, but the rest of the night was quiet.
When I got home from the airport, I showered, dressed, fed Mandy, ate a quick breakfast, and headed to the office. In the shower, I had come to the conclusion that last night was a random act of stupidity and I wouldn’t let it get to me.
When I got to the office, I was pleased to see my first few patients already filling out paperwork. The newsletter and email blast had been well-received and patients were returning. A number of them had even responded by email saying things like “I would have done the same thing,” or “Good for you.” With a little time and patience, the office would soon be back in full swing, busy as ever. I just hoped nothing else happened to drive them away.
I chatted briefly with Vera and Alexis, put my things down in my office, and reviewed my schedule for the day. It was about sixty percent of our usual number of appointments. Not bad considering I had been out of the office for weeks, battered by the media, harassed by protesters, and recently seen leaving a psychiatrist’s office. It would take some time, but things would eventually return to normal.
I dove into the day with optimism and enthusiasm. I spent a little extra time with each patient, answering their questions about what happened and addressing any concerns. I took Vera and Alexis out to lunch and apologized to them again for the mess I’d made. They’d been with me long enough to know I’d never intentionally cause them grief. We ate and laughed, and each of us was excited to be working, free of distractions, and taking care of patients again.
The afternoon began as smoothly as the morning had gone. Patients were showing up, the phone had been ringing, and the office felt alive again. I smiled and breathed a long sigh of relief. Things were going to be okay.
I grabbed the next chart from the front desk and headed into the exam room. Mrs. Linda Harrington had been a patient of mine for more than a decade. A sweet woman who had begun to develop cataracts over the last few years, here for her annual checkup. She was pleased to hear how well she was doing. Her prescription had only changed slightly, and her cataracts were still mild.
We sat for a few minutes chatting about her husband, her kids, and her grandkids. She had just begun telling me about her husband’s knee replacement when I heard shouting coming from the front of the office.
“Excuse me, Mrs. Harrington,” I said.
I opened the exam room door slightly and peeked out to see what the commotion was all about. There was a man I didn’t recognize arguing with Vera. He was trying get around her, but she held her ground and wouldn’t let him by.
“I’m telling you for the last time, he’s with patients and he’s not to be disturbed! You’ll just have to come back another time!”
“And I’m telling you this can’t wait!”
I turned over my shoulder to Mrs. Harrington and said, “I’ll be right back,” and walked to the front.
“What seems to be the problem?” I asked.
Vera moved aside and, as the man took a step toward me, my first thought was that he worked for Christina.
“Simon Spero?” he asked.
“Yes…” I said.
He reached inside his jacket and I nervously took a half step backward. Then I spotted the badge on his belt. When his hand emerged, he was holding a piece of paper.
“Dr. Spero, I’m Detective Chambers. I’m afraid I have a warrant for your arrest. Now please put your hands behind your back, you’re coming with me.”
“What?!” Vera said, before I could.
“Is this a joke? For what?” I as
ked.
“For the shooting death of Carlos Escalante.”
“No, no, no,” I said, waving a hand. “I was cleared by both the police and the FBI. You can’t arrest me.”
“I’m afraid things have changed, Dr. Spero. This is an arrest warrant issued by the Attorney General for the State of Florida. I am here to enforce the warrant. If you believe it’s some sort of mistake, I’m sure your attorney will be able to clear it up. But for now, I’m afraid you’re going to have to come with me.”
“I don’t believe this,” I said. “Can I see that?”
He handed it over and I scanned it. Sure enough, it was an arrest warrant with my name on it signed by Peter Blunt, Attorney General for the State of Florida. I was being charged with involuntary manslaughter in the death of Carlos Escalante. I returned the warrant to the detective, shaking my head in disbelief. He folded it up and returned it to his jacket pocket.
“Now, put your hands behind your back, please.” He removed a pair of handcuffs from his pocket.
“Is that really necessary?” Vera asked.
“It’s protocol, ma’am. I’m sorry.”
I did as he said. My eyes glazed over in shock. I couldn’t believe what was happening. All sound faded away. This must be a dream. There’s no way I’m being arrested right now. I wanted to cry.
The feel of the cold handcuffs being locked around my wrists snapped me back from my trance. They were tight and constricting, more so than I would have imagined. The detective did a quick search and emptied my pockets onto the front desk. Vera watched in disbelief, her hands over her mouth. The patients in the waiting room were all on their feet, stunned. It’s not every day you see your eye doctor being arrested. A few even held up their cell phones, recording the whole thing.
I hung my head and fought back the emotions that welled up as I was led out of my office in handcuffs.
Chapter 45
“Thank you for calling the law offices of William Alter, this is Elena speaking, how may I help you?”
The phone on William’s desk buzzed.
“What?” he spat into the speaker. His day had already been chock full of annoying clients and incompetent attorneys, and the last thing he needed was one more.
“Client on line one. Sounds urgent.”
Of course it does, William thought. It’s always urgent.
He pushed the button for line one and the call connected.
“William Alter… Oh, hey doc, why didn’t you call my cell phone?.... Say that again?.... You’ve been what?!.... Don’t move, I’ll be right there!”
He jumped up from behind his desk, attempted to replace the receiver, but missed badly, grabbed his jacket and ran out of the office.
Chapter 46
The holding cell was a twelve-by-twelve square with bars on two sides and gray painted cinder blocks on the other two. I sat on the end of a long metal bench and I could feel the cold of it through the red jumpsuit I now wore. There was a stainless steel toilet sitting open in the corner of the cell, and around me were nine other men waiting to be processed. Were they murderers? Drunk drivers? Or were they in the same situation as me? That seemed unlikely, but I really had no idea, and no intention of finding out.
After being arrested, I was placed in the back of an unmarked police car, my hands cuffed behind me. The seat was more of a hard plastic bench that stretched the length of the car than an actual seat. I later learned this was because of all the puking and pissing that took place in the back of police cars. A quick pass with a hose and it was good as new.
There were bars on the windows and in front of me was an impact-resistant window with more bars separating the cop from the convict. With my knees pressed against the metal divider and my hands pinned behind me, it was the most uncomfortable twenty minutes I’d ever spent in a car.
When we arrived at the station, the booking process began. They took all of my clothes and personal items and gave me a red, one-piece jumpsuit with a pair of red canvas slip-on shoes. I was in and out of the holding cell as they led me to different stages of the booking process. They took my fingerprints, photographed me, and filled out form after form. It was easily the most humbling and humiliating thing I’d ever experienced.
The whole process took nearly four hours before I was officially booked and allowed to make a phone call. I’d had plenty of time to decide who I should call. The choice was obvious, and it wasn’t Sara. What could she do from Maine? It’s not like she could run right over and bail me out. Besides, I didn’t want her to worry about me any more than she already was.
No, I was in a bit of a pickle and I needed someone who could get me out of it. William would handle it and I’d be back home in my own bed before the night was over. After the phone call, I was returned to the holding cell where I’d been waiting for over an hour since talking to William. “Don’t move,” he’d said.
Where was I gonna go?
I sat on the end of the bench as close to the wall as I could get, with my body angled toward the others, but making eye contact with no one. I was starving and had to pee desperately, but I wasn’t about to use that open toilet in front of my cellmates. I’d seen too many prison movies for that.
It was early afternoon when I was taken into custody, so I figured it was somewhere between seven and eight o’clock now. I worried about Mandy. I should have been home by now to walk her and feed her. I was wondering how long it would take William to get me out of here when I finally heard the words I’d been waiting for.
“Spero. Your lawyer is here.”
I popped up and made my way to the cell door. With any luck, I’d be changing out of my red jumpsuit within the hour and I could put this whole experience behind me. Maybe I would tell Sara, maybe not.
They led me to a private room and closed the door behind me. Along the way, they actually let me stop and pee in a normal restroom.
“William, thank God! What took so long?” He stood on the opposite side of a wide metal table looking down at an open folder with his finger gliding across the page. He didn’t look up, even after I spoke.
“You have to get me out of here! This has to be a mistake!”
“Oh, it’s no mistake, Simon.” His eyes met mine and I didn’t like the look on his face.
“What do you mean?”
“Take a seat,” he said, gesturing to the lone metal chair on my side of the table.
I pulled out the chair and sat. William, still standing, held up a piece of paper and waved it in the air.
“This is an arrest warrant signed by the Attorney General.”
“I’ve seen it,” I said.
He gave me a look that said shut up and listen, so I did. He put it down and picked up another piece of paper.
“This is a report filed by our friend Detective Lawton, stating that Carlos’s gun was, in fact, empty when you fired at him three times.”
“What? That’s bullshit!”
“Are you sure? Did he fire back?”
“Yes! I told you he did!”
“Really? Because according to this,” he said, still waving Lawton’s report in the air, “his gun was empty before you fired your first shot.”
“I’m telling you, that’s bullshit!”
He put down the paper and lifted another.
“Agent Stamper’s report confirms this.”
“How would they know?!” I shouted. “They weren’t there! He probably emptied it shooting at me! They only saw his gun on the floor after it was over!”
“True,” William said calmly. “But then there’s the bank video.”
He slid two different still photographs across the table. They were taken from the video surveillance at the bank. Both zoomed in on Carlos. A quick look and it was easy to see the slide was back on his gun. How could that be? I stared at the pictures trying to wrap my mind around what I
was seeing.
“And this,” he went on, “is your bank statement.”
I took my eyes off the pictures and looked up at William, who was holding another paper out.
“What? Why?”
“That’s a good question, Simon. According to this, you received a wire transfer of fifty thousand dollars the day before the shooting, and another in the same amount the day after. You wanna explain this?”
“What?! I don’t know anything about that! It has to be some kind of mistake!”
“Another mistake. Mistakes seem to keep happening around you, Simon.”
“What is that supposed to mean?! What are you implying?!”
“I’m not implying anything, Simon. But I’ll tell you what the prosecution will imply. That you were paid to kill Carlos Escalante.”
Chapter 47
“What?! That’s ridiculous! I’d never even heard the name Carlos Escalante until after he was dead! Why would anyone ever believe I was paid to kill him?!”
William did not answer. He just stood there with his arms folded, staring at me.
“You don’t believe any of this, do you?” I asked, waving a hand over the papers spread across the table.
“I don’t know, Simon. You’re either very smart or very stupid. I haven’t decided yet.”
“Are you kidding me?” I stood up, not sure I was hearing him right.
“They have a strong case here, Simon. And the money is pretty damning.”
“I’m telling you, William, I don’t know anything about that! I don’t know where it came from or who put it there.”
“That’s not going to hold up in court, Simon.”
“What kind of idiot would have money deposited into his personal bank account that he was paid to kill someone?!”
“‘Idiot’ would be the right word,” he said.
I ran my hands through my hair and took a deep breath. Prison suddenly felt like a very real possibility and I was starting to lose my grip on reality.
Shot Down Page 12