“I know she’s out there, Officer. I heard the man call you guys.”
“Then can we get this sorted out? We can’t have her disturbing the peace.”
The young woman said, “Tell her to get herself gone.”
“Ma’am,” Boone said, “you’d be advised to stay out of this.”
“Stay out of it? I’m the reason for it.”
“That may be, but we’re here to calm the situation, and that’s what we intend to do.”
“With her out there? Good luck with that.”
Barry said, “If you were me, would you want to go out there?”
Boone fought a smile. “My partner should have her calmed down by now. It’s only fair to this establishment that we take the discussion elsewhere, don’t you think?”
“Can I at least buy my hooch?”
“You probably owe it to this guy.”
Boone noticed that the cash for the alcohol came from the girl’s purse. When the two followed him out, a crowd had gathered, and it was obvious Garrett Fox had had little success mollifying Barbara. As soon as she saw them walking between the cars she spun away from Fox and charged, screaming, “I’ll kill both y’all!”
Boone extended both arms like a safety patrol officer and said, “No, Barbara! Stop!”
With that she punched Boone square in the mouth.
“Barbara! Don’t make me cuff you!”
And she slugged him again. Barbara, two; Boone, zero.
Though he knew he could knock her into the middle of next week, Boone was not inclined to hit a woman—though just then her resemblance to one was not clear.
Fox was rightly trying to control the crowd, and Boone was worried that Barry might suddenly come to Barbara’s aid. That made no sense but happened often in such situations. Boone pulled his cuffs from his belt, hoping to simply get Barbara subdued and into the back of the squad without giving anyone cause to charge police brutality.
Barbara was having none of it. She came right out of her shoes in the snow, attacking Boone as he tried to grab her flailing arms. She scratched his face, gouged an eye, ripped his shirt, and somehow her blouse tore open. Not a pretty sight.
Fox finally decided that the crowd was just there for show and that Barry was not going to be a problem, so he moved in to help. Boone was slipping and about to go down when Garrett grabbed Barbara by her hair, only to have her wig come off in his hands.
Barbara spun like a dervish, ripped Fox’s shirt, and scratched his face as the two cops fought to drag her closer and closer to the squad. Boone had wrestled fifty-five-gallon drums with more success. Fox got the back door open, but now all three were thrashing and slipping.
Boone reached the transmitter at his shoulder and radioed for backup. For several minutes it was all Boone and Garrett could do to just keep Barbara contained. She never quit struggling.
Finally three more squads pulled up and four cops leaped out.
“Throw her in the car,” Boone said.
They did, and as soon as her door was shut, one of the cops said, “Who’s next, Drake?”
“That’s it,” Boone said.
“What?”
“That’s it, thanks.”
The cop looked at the mess Barbara had made of Boone and Garrett. He fell to his knees in the snow, laughing so hard he could hardly breathe. “She did that to you?”
Boone had still not lived that one down.
To cap it off, as they were about to get back into the squad, a tall, mean-looking guy emerged from the crowd pulling off his parka, pointed at Boone, and said, “I’ll take you on right now all by myself.”
Boone squinted at him. “Ronnie, is that you?”
“That’s my name. Ask me again and I’ll tell you the same.”
“You didn’t just say that.”
“Put up or shut up, pig!”
“Ronnie Hibbard, right?”
That stopped him.
“Yeah! What of it?”
“Didn’t I just see a warrant for you yesterday?”
Ronnie’s shoulders slumped. “Yeah, that’s me.” His picked up his parka and put it on as he approached one of the other officers, hands before him and ready to be cuffed. “No sense gettin’ all excited about it.”
2:20 a.m.
Boone decided to give up trying to sleep for a while. He wanted to see Haeley in the morning and meet her mother later in the day, but she would understand if he had to sleep in. He gingerly rolled over and worked his way to a sitting position on the side of the bed.
Garrett. Where was he? He just had to know. Fox was the one guy with a motive.
Boone’s career had almost ended prematurely when he slipped on the ice putting a drunk-and-disorderly into the back of the squad, grabbed the door to keep from falling, and nearly crushed the arrestee to death. Fox claimed to have seen the whole thing, while confiding to Boone that he knew he had lost his cool and done it on purpose. In some act of blind loyalty to a partner, Garrett lied under oath, only to have the truth exposed in the end by the victim himself.
Boone was conflicted. Here the guy had tried to stand up for him, misguided as he was. Boone had certainly not asked Fox to lie. Lying under oath to a police investigative panel had cost Fox his job. And Boone’s acquittal had freed him to take the new role under Jack Keller in the Organized Crime Division.
To Boone’s amazement, he discovered that Jack and the rest of the brass in OCD had been fully prepared to go another route if Boone had been convicted and dismissed from the force. They had another candidate in the wings. None other than Garrett Fox.
It made zero sense. With Fox’s background and reputation, why would anyone think he would fit back into OCD, this time in a leadership role?
Maybe he was a pet of Fletcher Galloway, the OCD chief. Jack sure knew everything about Fox. Pete Wade had busted him back to uniform. Even Haeley had had her run-ins with him. He was one of many who had come on to her, and she had told Boone that he was the most egregious, the most inappropriate, the one who had made her feel the most uncomfortable.
Boone had seen Fox around the office now and then, and he was largely ignored. He liked to pretend he had just moved on, but when he lost his job, that seemed the end of him. Boone knew he had landed some kind of security gig. But was it possible he was still able to get past personnel on other floors after hours and nose around in OCD?
It didn’t seem likely. But he had to still be upset with Boone for not appreciating that he was willing to lie for him. He had to be devastated at not getting the job that had gone to Boone. And he was humiliated—or should have been—by Haeley’s continual rejections.
If there was a disgruntled former employee with more of a motive for screwing up a major case, Boone had no idea who it would be.
12
Mrs. Lamonica
Friday, February 5
Boone finally drifted off in the wee hours of the morning and slept till noon, rising famished and in need of a shower. He had not thought to ask for a supply of the plastic coverings for his shoulder, so after lunch he fashioned his own. Working one-handed made it slow, and the drape turned into a mess, but he made it work.
His entire routine took him twice as long as usual, and Boone wondered if he had been wise to dismiss his parents. It was way too soon in his relationship with Haeley to even consider involving her in his care. Post–shoulder surgery was bound to be even worse.
Boone turned on his cell phone and found messages from virtually everyone in his life. Pastor Francisco Sosa had called. As had Pascual Candelario, Jack Keller, Fritz Zappolo, his parents, Haeley, and—most intriguing—Dr. Duffey’s office.
Busted.
He returned that call first. The doctor was in surgery, but the receptionist read Boone a strongly worded statement from him, scolding him for leaving the hospital without informing the doctor, listing things to do and not do, symptoms to watch for, and how to get in touch with Dr. Valdez in advance of his surgery. Boone asked the receptionist
to pass on to the doctor his thanks and assurances that he would behave.
And yet one of the instructions from the doctor was to not venture out into the weather. As Boone planned to accompany Haeley to Zappolo’s office, he would not be obeying that one.
Sosa and Boone’s parents and PC had been just checking in on him, though the pastor had spent more than two minutes reading Bible verses into the phone. That made Boone feel guilty. As faithful as God had been to him in the lowest valley of his life, Boone felt he had regressed again spiritually. It was as if he hardly gave God a thought. Sosa added, “Remember the survival of the spiritual life. It needs to be fed. That means Bible reading and prayer.”
Zappolo’s message confirmed his appointment with Haeley and Boone for late that afternoon, after Haeley reported that her mother would arrive from South Carolina to watch Max.
Jack’s message was an invitation to a farewell party for Fletcher Galloway on Monday, the eighth. Boone immediately returned that call.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said. “I don’t suppose Haeley is invited.”
“Hilarious.”
“Just sayin’.”
“Yeah, very funny.”
“You sure you want me there?” Boone said.
“’Course. Fletch loves you.”
“He might not when he finds out I’m all over this case.”
“Just don’t spoil the party by talking about it, huh? There’ll be plenty of time to—”
“You think I’m not going to try to get a minute with Pete?”
“That’s not the time or place.”
“Then when?”
“Boones, I got to think Pete wants to talk to you too, to assure you it’s not personal and to advise you to stay out of it.”
“Fat chance.”
“You want me to arrange a meeting?”
“I’ll let you know.”
“Just promise you won’t complicate the party. That wouldn’t be fair to Fletch.”
“That’s going to be one weird party with one of our own conspicuously absent.”
“Well, it will be a little awkward because significant others are invited. Margaret will be there, and so will Fletch and Pete’s wives.”
“I suppose Haeley’s replacement will be there. I’ll be the odd one out.”
“It’s not going to be a big deal. Cake and stuff and a few words. Fletch just wants to clear out.”
The last thing Boone wanted was a CPD tail when he went to meet Mrs. Lamonica and take Haeley to Zappolo’s office. Though freshly mellow from his meds, he stood by his upstairs window for ninety minutes to get a read on when and how often a squad cruised the block to keep an eye on the place. Seeing them come around only twice in an hour and a half told him when he could slip out late in the afternoon.
He called Haeley. She sounded miserable.
“I thought you’d be perkier today, considering.”
“I’m scared to death this is temporary, Boone. You know the US Attorney wants to make this a federal case. I might wish I’d stayed at County rather than get sent to a federal facility.”
“Zappolo will never let that happen.”
“Is that a guarantee?”
Boone hesitated. The Metropolitan Correctional Center (MCC) at Clark and Van Buren was newer and had to be better than County, but he didn’t want to see her sent there any more than she did. It had been a stupid thing to say. “I mean, Fritz’ll do everything possible to keep you and Max together.”
Haeley did not sound reassured. She told him her mother had left South Carolina at about three that morning, and she expected her at about three in the afternoon. “Come around four so you can get acquainted before we go.”
At about three Boone returned to the upstairs window to watch for the patrolling squad. As soon as it had left the neighborhood, he slipped out the back to his car in the alley. Again the frigid air pierced his damaged lung and slowed him.
Several minutes later, when he pulled to within a few blocks of Haeley’s apartment, he parked on a side street in a long line of cars. Someone would have to be specifically checking every license plate to find him.
Boone covered his mouth for the walk to Haeley’s, longing for the day when breathing would be second nature again. Seeing Mrs. Lamonica’s car with its South Carolina license plate gave him an idea. That was the car they should take downtown.
Haeley’s mother was pleasant looking with short dark hair and medium build, plain compared to her striking daughter. She greeted him politely and seemed shy, but that soon proved a mistaken impression. As soon as Haeley excused herself to get ready, Mrs. Lamonica said, “Max will be up from his nap soon, but we have time to talk.”
“Good,” Boone said, but her tone had been such that he wasn’t so sure.
“Haeley tells me you’re a Christian man.”
“I am.”
“That’s good. And what does that mean?”
“Mean, ma’am? I thought she told me you and your husband were believers too.”
“That’s true.”
“So you just want to be sure I know what it really means to be a Christian?”
“Tell you the truth, Mr. Drake, I want to know it means you’re not sleeping with my daughter.”
“Wow.”
“Is that an answer?”
“No, sorry—you deserve an answer. I appreciate someone who gets to the point. You know Haeley and I have just begun to get serious.”
She sat gazing at him with raised eyebrows, as if to say she still hadn’t heard an answer.
“Rest assured I respect her too much to be sleeping with her. I believe that’s wrong for a Christian outside of marriage.”
“I wish she’d always felt that way,” Haeley’s mother said, “though I do love what came of that sin.”
Boone flinched.
“That’s what it was, you know.”
He nodded. “She has said as much herself.”
“Her father and I raised her right. ’Least we tried to. Maybe we were a little too strict; I don’t know. She knew better is all I can say.”
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, she seems to be a whole different person now, but of course I didn’t know her back then.”
“Then how do you know?”
“She tells me she was away from God, away from church. Rebelling.”
“Against God or against us?”
“I don’t think she was ever that specific.”
“Well, I took it personally.”
“She knows that.”
“I guess I should be more forgiving.”
“You haven’t forgiven her?”
Mrs. Lamonica pressed her lips together. “Sometimes I think I have. Maybe I haven’t forgiven myself. If we were too hard on her, too strict, you know . . .”
“She was an adult. And like you both say, she knew better.”
“It’s just such a heartache. And that young man . . .”
“Did you meet him?”
She shook her head. “Just what she said about him, and him leaving before he even saw his own son. I just hope she never sees him again.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Well, with people like that you never know. Families keep secrets and have histories, and sure enough someday, sometime, somebody comes out of the woodwork.”
“From what she tells me, he has no interest.”
Mrs. Lamonica sighed and looked away. “Sure, now. But when it suits him . . .”
“Let me pledge to you, ma’am, that if I’m in the picture and he shows up again, he’s going to wish he hadn’t.”
Suddenly the woman who had appeared weary from her long drive seemed to sit straighter and life came to her eyes. “I might come to like you after all.”
“I hope so!”
She offered a weak smile. “I know you’ve had your share of tragedy.”
Boone hadn’t been sure how much Haeley had said about him. “Yes, ma’am.”
“If it means any
thing coming from me, I approve of you and Haeley—and Max—getting to know each other better.”
“It means everything. And excuse me if I’m out of bounds, but I do think Haeley really wants and needs your forgiveness and approval.”
“I know. I’ll try.”
They both stood when Haeley emerged. “There was one other thing I was going to ask you,” Boone said. “Might we be able to borrow your car? No one will be looking for us in that model car with an out-of-state plate.”
Haeley said, “Good idea. And my car’s here, Mom, if you have an emergency.”
“I’d feel better if the one of you with two good arms did the driving,” Mrs. Lamonica said.
“Me too,” Boone said.
On their way downtown Haeley said, “So how did you two get on?”
“Okay, I think. She liked that I promised to take care of your ex if he ever shows up again.”
“Don’t call him that.”
“Sorry. Anything else I call him you might not want to hear.”
“I can’t believe you got that far with her already.”
“She brought it up. The woman speaks her mind.”
“Daddy’s even worse. And they wonder why I was so eager to get out on my own.”
“I’m sure they mean well.”
Haeley squinted at Boone. “That’s easy to say from a distance. I still feel judged.”
“She loves you is all I know.”
“Conditional love is painful.”
“Believe me,” he said, “I know. Our mothers have completely different looks and styles, but I’m overparented too.”
Haeley parked in the garage in Zappolo’s building, but before she got out she reached across Boone to take his good hand. She was shaking. “I need you,” she said.
“I know. I’m here.”
“Mr. Zappolo said to be prepared for a long session and lots of questions.”
“You’ll do fine.”
“I hope I can remember everything. I don’t even know what he wants to know.”
“Don’t worry until he asks.”
“I have a feeling he knows stuff I don’t even know yet.”
“We’ll find out soon enough.”
“Will you pray for me, Boone?”
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