Love and Injustice

by Mary Crawford

  “Don’t forget what happened when Katie was chased across the country by a deranged stalker,” Cody adds.

  “That’s right I heard about that. Didn’t her stalker mess with someone’s wedding?”

  “Yeah, the scumbag sure did. It was Katie’s. I promised her I wouldn’t call the police. But we had to. Katie does nothing in a small way — two ceremonies, two call-outs.”

  I snicker. “Well, when you put it that way I guess my drama fits right in with everyone else.”

  “Like I said, we’ve dealt with all sorts of crazy stuff in our group. We’re used to supporting people through thick and thin. Just let us know what we can do.”

  “Before I can tell you how you can help me, I have to decide how I’m going to move forward. I’ve been stuck for so long. I don’t know what to do next.”

  “I didn’t mean to put pressure on you, whatever you decide, I’ll support your decision.”

  “Really?” I ask skeptically. “You’d really support me if I decide to do nothing?”

  Cody shrugs. “I’ve always said you’re one of the smartest people I know. If you decide the best thing for you is to let the matter drop, I trust your judgment that you’re doing the best thing for you and your family — even if I would’ve made a different decision.”

  For several moments I am too stunned to speak.

  “Is something wrong?” he probes when the silence becomes uncomfortable.

  I take a deep breath. My thoughts are racing in my mind and it’s difficult to verbalize them. Finally, I let out my breath and decide to be brutally honest. “You and I have been doing this dance around each other for years. You’ve told me many times how much you like me. I guess I didn’t realize until this moment how much you meant it.”

  “Of course, I like you. I like you a lot. Did you think I was kidding?”

  “No, not exactly — but what you said to me about respecting my decision even if you disagreed with it is probably the single nicest thing anyone has ever said to me. You’ve given me a lot to think about.”

  Cody looks incredulous. “That’s it? You’re just going to leave me hanging?”

  “Not exactly … I can safely say, I like you too.”

  Things were weird when Cody dropped me off after lunch. He seemed to hope I could give him a definitive statement about what I was planning to do. Although he says he’ll be supportive either way, I think being in limbo is difficult for him.

  To make matters worse, the cases of the missing teens seem to be stuck in neutral as well. Every time there’s a little progress, everything comes to an abrupt stop as he has to wait for the computers to spit out more information for him to act on.

  I can’t say I’m in much better shape. I tossed and turned all night as I tried to come up with a game plan. Finally, I decided I had to have at least one conversation to clarify things. It’s a conversation I should’ve had months and months ago. Instead, I let my circumstances overwhelm me.

  I walk up to Derek’s office and knock on the door. As always, I’m amazed by the opulence. Even when I was officially his assistant district attorney, I never figured out why he felt he needed to be separated from the rest of the prosecutors who work for our county. He’s supposed to be the head of our team. The operative word being team — yet he never made an effort to be part of the team.

  Through the door, I hear a muffled command to come in. I purposefully came at the end of the lunch hour. Derek’s receptionist has a propensity to be late and I fully took advantage to catch him off guard.

  When I open the door, his expression is cartoon worthy. I wish I’d been able to use my Go Pro camera to catch the parade of emotions crossing his face. Unfortunately, Florida is a two-party state and I would’ve needed Derek Zane's permission to record the conversation. The thunderous expression on his face tells me this won’t be a pleasant encounter. “Victoria Clarkson, did you forget you’re no longer the ADA?” he asks snidely.

  “No, actually I didn’t forget. It’s why I’m here,” I declare as I stand my ground in the middle of his office.

  Derek gestures dramatically toward the executive chairs. “Have a seat.”

  Gingerly, I sit on the edge of the chair and keep my back ramrod straight.

  “Coffee?” He asks with a raised eyebrow.

  “No thank you,” I answer as politely as I can. “This isn’t a social call.”

  “Oh great! I can’t wait to hear what you have to say. I suppose you’re going to sue us now. That’s what people do who can’t do their jobs.”

  “When?” I press.

  “When, what?” he parrots.

  “When exactly did you determine I couldn’t do my job?”

  Derek scowls at me as if I am the dumbest life form on the planet. “You know when! Have you been watching the news recently? They play that footage over and over again. It’s as plain as day. If you’re going to play with someone else’s private parts, make sure there’s not a camera around.”

  “You’re right; I didn’t know the building employee had a camera. But even if I did know, I wouldn't change anything I did that day. I helped save somebody’s life. He was having such a severe anxiety attack, I was afraid he might have a stroke or a heart attack.”

  Derek smirks at me. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it these days? It’s all on tape. You can’t dispute the tape,” Derek argues.

  “Actually, I can. The tape has been examined by a forensic expert with credentials issued by the FBI. The tape shows signs of being tampered with. It’s been spliced together to show what you wanted to show. So, why?”

  Derek breaks a pencil he was twirling between his fingers.

  Undaunted by the power move I’d seen him pull countless times in court to impress the jury, I continue, “You can’t argue I wasn’t performing proper legal services for our office. We just had two huge profile wins which made you look spectacularly good.”

  He leans back in his big executive chair and loosens his tie. “I’m not responsible for how your sex tape was presented. Nobody’s arguing you weren’t a good assistant district attorney. Let’s just say your unexpected altruism gave me all the cover I needed.”

  “Cover for what?”

  “I suppose it wouldn’t do me any good to tell you to leave this alone — because the whole time I’ve known you, you've never taken my advice about anything —”

  “I know you don’t believe this about me, but I am capable of making my own decisions,” I assert, trying to hide my indignation.

  Derek blows out a caustic burst of laughter. “Yeah, the view must be pretty good from the cheap seats. You have no idea what it's like to be in my position. It’s impossible to make everyone happy in this job. There are voices in your ear all the time — crazy pressures from everywhere.”

  I stand up and face my former boss down. “So that’s it? That’s your official explanation. You threatened me with releasing the tape, but you aren’t responsible for what’s on the tape and you acknowledge that I’m a good ADA, but you let me go because there are pressures in your job. Did I get that right?”

  “Geez, Clarkson. I forgot how good you are at drilling down an argument. Forget I said anything.”

  “No, I will not forget what you said. I’m not like my replacement.”

  It’s all I could do not to laugh at the look of guilt on Derek’s face.

  “Oh, I’ve heard all about Ms. Hildabrand. Trust me, the reports I’m getting from inside and outside the legal system haven’t been all that flattering. People have not been shy about sharing their opinions about my replacement.”

  Derek shakes his head and sighs. “I really wish you would’ve been more of a team player. If you had been, I could’ve done more to protect your job.”

  I draw myself up to my full height. “We have very different ideas about what it means to be a team player. In case you forgot, we took oaths to serve the people of Florida — not to promote our careers and make our friends and political cronies happy by doin
g the expedient thing.”

  Derek frowns at me as he heaves a deep sigh.

  “Clarkson, you’re a talented woman. Give yourself some time, you could land on your feet. I’m warning you. You don’t want to open this can of worms. It could get ugly.”

  “Uglier than having my whole love-life debated on TV and my reputation dragged through the mud?” I counter with a raised eyebrow.

  Derek points a finger in my face. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you. This isn’t a fight you want to pick.”

  I shrug off his advice. “What are you going to do if I ignore your advice? Fire me?” With that parting remark, I turn on my heel and walk out of his office, feeling lighter than I have in months.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CODY

  SLEEP IS A LUXURY THESE days. Between my caseload and stresses in my personal life, I’m beginning to wonder if I’ll ever make friends with my bed again.

  Just as I’m about to drift off, my cell phone beeps with the ring tone I’ve assigned to Toby Payne. I sit upright in bed as I grab my phone. My hands tremble as I unlock my phone and read the message. “Ready for a road trip? Isaac and the FBI are rounding up the team. Isadora is in Athens, Georgia. Rendezvous point is the parking lot of Identity Bank in two hours. No media notification.”

  Adrenaline makes me breathe quickly even though I’m only sitting on the bed when I text Toby, “10-4.”

  I place my phone on my nightstand and change back into my uniform and repack my go bag. I pick up my phone again and dial Tori’s number. When she picks up the phone, the words I mentally rehearsed suddenly leave my brain and I stammer, “Hey, I’m sorry to call so late. The text came in from Toby.”

  The celebratory screech from the other end of the phone is so loud, I have to hold the phone away from my ear.

  “I guess you’re awake now,” I joke.

  “Which one was found?” she asks, with breathless excitement.

  “If I tell you, you have to keep it under your hat. This is not for public consumption yet,” I caution

  “Of course, that’s a given.”

  “Everything indicates we found Isadora. I’m meeting with a team from the FBI. We’re traveling to Georgia. That’s why I called. I was hoping you might be able to watch Calico Jack while I’m out of town. I don’t know how long I’ll be gone, so I hate to use the boarding service.”

  “If it’s all right with you, I’ll stay at your house. I don’t want Calico Jack to have to get used to a new environment,” Tori suggests.

  “That would be perfect. With his eyesight, sometimes he gets nervous when he goes to new places. I just bought groceries too. I’d hate for them to go to waste.”

  “Did Toby say if they were hopeful the other kids might be with her?”

  “I don't know. We haven’t had a chance to talk. One can always hope.”

  “I’ll be right over. Let me pack an overnight bag and leave Bonni Jeanne a note.”

  “I hope you get here before I have to leave. We left things in a weird place and I’d like to see you before I go.”

  “I know, that felt strange to me too. I’ll hurry, I promise.”

  Tori bursts through the front door with a duffel bag hanging off her shoulder and two large cups of coffee in her hands. “Sorry, I took a couple of minutes to go through the drive through. I figured you might appreciate it. You didn’t say whether you were driving to Georgia or flying. A little caffeine never hurts either way. Although, it always sucks if you have to dump out your drink when you go through the security check,” she rambles.

  I take the coffee cups from her hands and place them on my sideboard and take a moment to search her expression. “Oh, Tor, I’ve missed you. Are we good?”

  She smiles up at me and nods. “There was never a time when we weren’t good. I just had to figure out where I was in my own head. So much has changed in my life recently, I had to find my bearings. It had nothing to do with defining ‘us’ really. Well, I guess it did — you scared me a little. Your declaration of support, as wonderful as it was, reminded me what I stood to lose if I didn’t wake up and figure out what was important in my life.”

  I thread my arms around her waist and hold her loosely while we talk. “The last thing I wanted to do was scare you.”

  “I know you didn’t. That was kind of the point. I’ve gotten good at holding people at arm’s length while I pursued my career. Even when my life became chaotic and unmanageable with the crisis involving my mom, I forgot how to reach out and ask for help. I figured I could handle it all on my own. That kind of attitude eventually meant that when things snowballed out of control at work, I was all by myself.”

  “Well, not exactly. You have lots of supporters,” I argue.

  “I know that … now… but part of the reason I know it is because you helped find those people to line up in my corner. Otherwise, I would’ve still been shadowboxing with my enemies and nightmares, feeling isolated and alone.”

  For the first time in a few days, I feel hopeful again. “You don’t feel that way now?” I venture tentatively.

  “No,” she answers. “Now I feel like I have a team behind me. I’m feeling like my old self — invincible and strong.”

  She stands up on her tiptoes and kisses me thoroughly. I’m so lost in the passion of the kiss, I almost miss her last words. “Thanks to you, I have a plan. I’ll tell you all about it when you get back. Have a good trip, I’ll keep the home fires burning.”

  I have to draw in a deep breath to steady myself. “Something tells me those home fires won’t be as hot as my memories of this moment right here. I’m glad we could work out our timing issues this time, Tori.”

  An alarm goes off on my phone. “Crap. I could spend all night telling you how much you mean to me, but I gotta go.”

  “Go find those kids. You know where I’ll be when you get back,” Tori says as she gives me one last kiss and hugs me tight.

  When I pull into the parking lot at Identity Bank, Isaac greets me and knocks on my car window. “Hey, what took you so long? You aren’t generally the last person to arrive.” He steps aside to allow me to get out of my car. After I walk to the back of the car to get my bags, he takes the flashlight on his phone and looks closer at my face. “Oh, I see. You were otherwise occupied. Lucky for you Tristan’s pilot decided to do a second maintenance check. If he hadn’t, you might have missed the plane completely.”

  Reflexively, I wipe my lips with my thumb. Much to my chagrin, there is a smear of Tori’s lipstick. “Why are we flying? Wouldn’t it be just as fast to drive?”

  Isaac throws his head back and laughs. “Obviously, you don’t know my son-in-law very well. If he can take his private plane out for a spin, you know he will. Besides, flying there only takes about an hour and ten minutes. If we drove, it would take almost six hours by the time we stopped for breaks and gas.”

  “I’ve been on his private jet several times. I won’t knock it,” Toby adds.

  As we stack the luggage in the back of Tristan’s SUV, I turn back toward Toby. “Will you be okay with this? It’ll probably hit close to home.”

  “I guess we'll find out,” he responds with a shoulder roll meant to look casual — but under the dim glow cast by the dome light, I can see the tension in his body.

  “You sure that’s a good plan?”

  “I’m not as green as I sound. I’ve been helping Jameson and Katie on rescues. It’s just that this is the first time I’ve done it face-to-face. Usually, I am behind-the-scenes, on the computer. It’s like first mission jitters. I’m good.”

  “Okay, but if you need to bail, let me know. I understand. No judgment here. I know my first few missions after I was shot were a little shaky.”

  “Thanks, I appreciate knowing you got my back in more ways than one.”

  Toby and I wait in our nondescript uniforms as the tactical team moves out of sight of the door. Toby’s hands shake a little as he holds the clipboard. I knock on the door. There is no answer, so
I announce, “We’re here to fix your Internet access.”

  After several seconds of complete silence, I gingerly open the door. My hand is on my weapon as I enter the cramped studio apartment. The stench of cigarette smoke is overwhelming.

  My attention is captured by the woman curled up in a fetal position at the head of the bed. She appears to be clutching something in her hand. I have a split second to determine whether it’s a gun. At that moment, Toby announces in an urgent tone, “Careful, there are kids here.”

  My gaze flicks over to him and I follow his line of sight down to the floor. Sure enough, there are two sets of feet peeking out from under the bed.

  “Don’t shoot!” The woman says as she flips her hair back away from her face. It is then I realize she is not a woman at all. She is a young girl — probably a teenager. “Please don’t hurt us.”

  “Are you Isadora?” I ask, as I pull the reference picture out of my pocket and compare it to her. It is difficult to match this timid, disheveled and emaciated teenager to the bright, active athlete from the photograph.

  “Why are you here?” she asks in a voice barely above a whisper.

  “Are you alone?” I ask as I clear the rooms.

  She holds stock still. “Who are you? Why do you want to know?”

  Tristan squats down so he’s eye to eye with Isadora. “I know you’re scared. We’re here to help you.”

  “For real?” she breathes.

  I nod and flash my badge.

  “Oh thank God! Hurry! He just went out for smokes. He’ll be back.”

  “Anyone else here?” I ask.

  “Just the kids.” She looks toward the floor. “It’s safe now, you can come out. These guys are the good guys.”

  As the kids are scrambling out from under the bed, I ask, “Any weapons?”

  She tosses down the remote control, revealing her wrists under her long-sleeved shirt. It’s then I notice she’s handcuffed to the headboard with a bicycle chain. “Get real! If I had a weapon, do you think I would be stuck like this?”