“I’m sorry, Sam. Last night felt like one long plane wreck. I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t want to put her at risk.”
“Put her at risk? I’m your friend, I’m her friend. You’ve been treating me like I’m a damn leper. It hurts. I’ve never given you a reason not to trust me. Never.”
Alan looked away. “You’re right, you haven’t. Quite the opposite. You’ve always been there. Always.”
“So why didn’t you ask me for help?”
Alan’s hesitation wasn’t lost on Sam. “I’m…I was afraid that your role would be confused. You know. Yes, you’re her friend, but you’re a cop, too.”
“So this was for my benefit? You wanted to keep me from feeling uncomfortable.” Sam’s Iron Range lilt carried the sarcasm gently, as though floating it on a breeze.
“No, that’s not it.”
“You thought she was guilty?”
“I didn’t know what happened, Sam. The situation with Emma was really fragile. Lauren told me she fired the gun. I feared the worst.”
He said, “Ah,” and seemed to Alan to be considering something. “So, did you get any sleep? I slept all day. Been up only since dinner.”
“I was interviewed by your colleagues for a long time about the last shooting. But I got a nap in. Couple of hours.”
“So maybe you were so tired you weren’t thinking clearly?”
“Last night? Absolutely.”
“No, I was thinking more like today.”
“What do—? I’m not sure what you mean.”
“You never called me. I figured we had things to discuss.”
Alan was wondering if Sam was fishing for some repeated profession of gratitude.
“Miss Emma? Remember her? After Ethan Han was shot and before Casey Sparrow told her to shut the hell up, Miss Emma mumbled a few things in the ambulance on the way over here.”
“Yes?”
“About you and Lauren.”
Alan jerked his eyes toward Sam. “Curious now, aren’t you?”
“What did she say, Sam?”
Purdy stood and walked two steps as though he were going to leave. He pivoted neatly on one foot, like an infantryman. “See, this is what I don’t like. You ask questions and you expect answers. I ask questions and I get bullshit.”
A woman ran past them toward the nurses station leading a small child who was drenched in red blood. The mother’s voice was panicked and adenoidal and impossible to ignore. “It won’t stop bleeding. It won’t stop bleeding. It’s her nose, it won’t stop bleeding.”
The nurse at the nearby ER triage desk took in the scene as though it were as banal as the arrival of the next customer at a convenience store.
Alan watched the drama before he turned back to his friend and said, “What do you want to know, Sam?”
“Just what happened last night. That’s all.”
“Are you going to sit down?”
“Are you going to make it worth my while? If we’re going to continue this silly dance, I’d rather do that standing up.”
“I’m not sure I can be the judge of how helpful I can be.”
“Why don’t we start with the guy with the electronics under his arm? Here, in the ER, this morning? The one who knew your name. Why don’t we start there. I thought I recognized him.”
Alan swallowed. “Okay.”
Sam shrugged out of his coat, sat. “What was he carrying?”
“An optical drive, for a computer. I think it’s called a Bernoulli.”
“And he is…?” Sam was snapping his fingers, pretending his memory needed jump-starting.
“Raoul Estevez. You met him once, a few years ago. His wife is my partner, Diane. She was beat up in her house, remember?”
“Yeah, I thought he looked familiar. He helped us find some missing keys, right? Nice guy. He’s a computer wizard, isn’t he?”
“A very talented man, yes.”
“He knew Han?”
“Had just started working for him.”
“Emma mentioned a missing disc. Could this Bernoulli have been it?”
“It’s possible. I’m not sure what she told you.”
Sam recognized the diversion. “She told us not to blame you or Lauren for anything she did. That was sweet of her, don’t you think?”
Alan didn’t know how to respond.
“Why did your friend have this optical drive?”
“Part of his job, I guess. He told me he was making sure some data was secure.”
“Data?”
“Data.”
“Data it is, then. So he carries it with him to the emergency room after Ethan Han is shot? That keeps it safe?”
Alan shrugged.
Sam sighed. “It looks like I’m going to have to talk with him. Your friend.”
“Yes.”
“Why do I have this funny feeling that he’s cocooned himself with a lawyer already?”
“Because it’s probably true. You know how it goes.”
“Upstairs,” Sam pointed directly at the ceiling, “we have a comatose ex-Secret Service agent named Quirk. Used to guard Miss Spire for the government. Almost died in front of her house. Shot, then run over a couple times. Talk about your bad nights. You know him, right?”
“Emma had called him for protection. Emma was attacked, almost abducted, last week, in the parking garage on Spruce. She wanted some security help. Lauren and I met Quirk. He’s sharp.”
“In the city garage? And the local police, they couldn’t be trusted with this matter? We know that for a fact, right?” Sam’s sarcasm was no longer gentle.
“Emma’s call, Sam. She’s terrified of the media, not the cops. She was afraid of leaks.”
“I see. So, Emma Spire almost got abducted—that’s the word you used, right? ‘Abducted’?—so she calls for a little backup. Shortly thereafter she gets a visit from Lauren who shoots a gun into the air in a blizzard for some reason nobody has a goddamn clue about—I’m right so far, aren’t I?” Alan shrugged his shoulders. “Then this bodyguard gets himself shot and run over by a car, and while we’re not looking, Emma somehow manages to accidentally dust her boyfriend while she’s trying to protect a cop in the lobby of Han’s building on the Pearl Street Mall? End of story? Nah. There’s more, see. First there’s this disc, this data, that I don’t know shit about.
“Second, we get us an anonymous tip that maybe Emma has a motive to kill Han. Do you know Han was a local organizer for Operation Rescue? Just learned that, myself. Given what happened with her father, I’m thinking that maybe the shooting was a biblical retribution type thing—you know, an eye for an eye. Neat twist, don’t you think?”
Alan shook his head. “I don’t know Emma that well, Sam, but I don’t think that’s her style. I think she was trying to protect the cop on the stairs.”
“She tell you that?”
“That’s the way it looked to me. I was there, remember?”
“Right. You seem to be just about everywhere.” Sam examined his shoes as though they were actually interesting. “You know,” he said, “this Morgan guy claims he didn’t shoot Quirk. Says Quirk ambushed him in the park. Morgan claims that when he tried to run away, he got into a fight with somebody else, some mystery man. Morgan lost his gun. He won’t answer questions about running Quirk over. But says he absolutely didn’t shoot him.
“Let’s say for a minute that I believe him. Still leaves holes in the story. We had way too many gunshots in Boulder last night but so far none of them have been reported in Quirk’s vicinity. Has to be one more. So maybe that was it. The one in the park, with Morgan’s missing gun.”
“Thanks to you, at least we know Lauren didn’t do it.”
Sam was disappointed at Alan’s response. He focused his gaze down the hall. “Yes, thanks to me, we know that.”
“What about the other shooting. The make-my-day thing? In the middle of the night at Han’s flat?”
“We think Han set somebody up. Figured an employee
was stealing from him so he changed his alarm codes. Morgan was caught in the web. When Morgan realized what happened, he tried to cover himself by faking a break-in and firing Han’s gun at an imaginary burglar. That’s how we have it, so far. We’ll get the rest.”
“That’s interesting.”
“Interesting? What’s interesting is that Morgan says he left an item in a suitcase in Eben Fine Park last night. Now we can’t find it. Shoe prints in the snow heading right to where he says he left it, but no suitcase. Don’t know what to make of it.”
“Do you know what it was?”
“You may not believe this coincidence—but he says it was a Bernoulli drive. Something about a meeting with a blackmailer. A business thing. Says that there are billions—that’s billions, with a b—of dollars at stake. I’m wondering if your friend Raoul maybe found his Bernoulli in the park.”
“Don’t think so, no.”
“Morgan also said he saw a big utility vehicle, maybe a Suburban or a Land Cruiser or a Land Rover, in the parking lot at Eben Fine. Wouldn’t have been yours or your friend Raoul’s, would it?”
Alan bowed his head. He scratched behind his ear. He knew the next words from his lips would be either a lie or a confession. He was tired. He knew that Cozy would tell him to keep his mouth shut. But he felt the corrosive drip of his actions over the last twenty-four hours as though acid were leaking into his heart. His continued silence threatened to poison his marriage and would certainly destroy this friendship.
He decided to come clean. He said, “How about this, Sam? Lauren will be getting treatment for another hour or so. There are some things I need to discuss with her, alone. When she’s done, can you clear the way for Lauren and me to visit with Emma at the jail—tonight?”
“What’s in it for me?”
“You agree to that, and I’ll tell you what’s happened the last few days. There are some topics I’ve promised other people I wouldn’t talk about so I’m going to be vague about those. But I’ll tell you the rest. Everything I can. Maybe when I’m done with my story you’ll feel that you have to take some action. Maybe you won’t.”
Sam’s lips thinned, disappearing under his mustache.
“It’s a deal then, assuming Casey agrees to make her client available. What kind of action are we discussing that I’m going to be taking?”
Alan shrugged “Police action.”
“Police action?”
“You know, like arresting me.”
“Arresting you?” Sam weighed the density of the concession Alan was making. He said, “But you’re willing to trust me with that decision?”
“I don’t think there’s anyone more deserving.”
Sam waited impatiently while Alan visited Lauren. After Alan returned, he kept his half of the bargain. Sam didn’t ask a single question during Alan’s rendition of events.
“So, are you going to arrest me, Sam?”
Sam looked out the window. “What, for giving a false statement to a peace officer?”
“What I’m telling you is true, Sam.”
“Yeah? Let’s see. You’re offering me a ghost story, a scuffle in the park, and the accidental discharge of a firearm to explain away a train wreck. And I’m supposed to jump at it like I’m grateful? And even if I do believe you, what do I charge you with? Being a moron?”
Sam looked disappointed, maybe even hurt. Alan wasn’t sure which. “The truth is the truth,” he said.
“Is it? The evidence doesn’t support your version.”
“I have the gun, Sam. The one that landed in my lap in the park.”
“You have a gun. How the hell do I prove that it was the one that shot Quirk? We don’t have the slug.”
“I’m telling you I did it. That should be enough. Quirk will tell you the same thing, too.”
“Quirk’s story doesn’t jibe with yours, buddy. Sorry. He says you never got out of the car.”
“Quirk’s awake?”
“Was, briefly. We got a statement before the docs helped him go back to sleep.”
“What else does he say?”
“That’s my business.”
Alan shook his head slowly. “Cozy Maitlin warned me that you wouldn’t believe me.”
“Maitlin’s a damn good lawyer. Maybe you should listen to him. I’m sure you’re paying him enough.”
Alan felt his heart grow still. Finally, he understood what was going on.
“You know what, Sam? You do believe me. You know damn well I’m telling the truth. If you thought I was lying to you, you would nail me to the wall.”
Sam snorted. “I can’t do anything about what you believe, Alan. You’re a damn shrink. You read tea leaves. I prefer evidence.”
Alan sat way back on his chair. He said, “Thanks, Sam. Once more, I’m glad I trusted you.”
Sam stared hard into Alan’s eyes. “I’m glad you trust me, too. Now, let’s go find your wife and get over to the jail. I have my end of a bargain to keep.”
They met in the deserted courtroom at the jail.
Since the media were camped out in the jail parking lot, Alan and Lauren were chauffeured in a police department van that snuck inside through the same garage entrance through which Lauren had been delivered to the jail a day earlier. Emma’s lawyers were already waiting in the courtroom. Casey was leaning against the bar, her red mane the brightest thing in the room. Cozy was on the judge’s chair behind the bench, acting imperial.
Lauren said, “Oh good, I can see some red over there. Hi Casey, is that you?”
“Hello, Lauren. How you doing?”
“Better than my last visit here. Let’s leave it at that. Are Cozy and Emma here, too?”
“I’m up on the bench, where I belong. We’re waiting for Emma. What’s this all about? How did you get Purdy to let you see her?”
Alan helped Lauren to a chair and said, “That was my doing, Cozy. Sam has a lot of what happened figured already, so I offered him a deal. If he lets Lauren and me see Emma, I would tell him what’s been going on.”
“Even…?”
“Yes, even the shooting in the park.”
Lauren said, “Alan told me all about it, Cozy. I agreed he had to tell Sam.”
“Well, I think that may be ill advised at this time. As your attorney—”
“Too late, Cozy. It’s done But, as a consolation, you’ll be happy to know that you were right: Sam didn’t believe me.”
Cozy swallowed his next question as the door opened and a female deputy escorted Emma into the courtroom. Emma was wearing jail blues and canvas sneakers and her arm was in a sling. Her hair was stringy and her skin had such pallor that her eyes stood out like wounds on her face.
The deputy said, “I’ll be right outside. You have as much time as you need. I’ve been instructed to cut you all some slack.”
The instant the deputy was out the door, Emma glanced up, recognized who her visitors were and squealed, “Lauren, oh God, it’s so good to see you,” and ran over and hugged her. “How are your eyes?”
“The pain is better, thanks, Emma.”
“How did you talk them into letting you see me? I haven’t even been arraigned yet.”
Alan said, “It’s a long story. Too long for now. We wanted to see you so we made some arrangements with the police. Are they treating you okay?”
“I’m in a holding cell, by myself. Casey said to be grateful, that I’m receiving special treatment. So I’m trying to be grateful. I’d rather be home.”
Lauren said, “Emma, we’re here tonight because of something that concerns Alan. Last night he was helping Kevin Quirk locate the missing disc, and there was a fight, and Alan ended up with a gun and a shot was fired accidentally. It looks like it may have been the shot that wounded Kevin. Alan just now told the police about it and we wanted to tell you in person. It implicates you and Kevin.”
“Alan shot Kevin? But you were arrested for that, Lauren. Alan, did you let Lauren spend a whole night in jail while…?”
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Lauren defended her husband. “Alan didn’t know Kevin had been injured. He didn’t know anybody had been hit. He and I both thought I was the one who shot Kevin.”
Emma said, “How does this implicate me? I wasn’t even there.”
“I had to tell the police about the missing disc, Emma,” Alan said. “There’s no other way the story makes sense.”
“Oh.” She looked even paler than before.
Casey said, “Morgan probably already told them, anyway, Emma. It’s okay. We’ll deal with it.”
“How?”
Alan explained, “My friend Raoul took the entire drive from Ethan’s lab that night, right after…you know, the data was recorded. Raoul erased it himself. There are no copies. I told the police that the disc was a ‘digital recording of a personal nature’ or something like that. They don’t need to know what was really on it; they just need to know that it was something that could have humiliated you. The press may pick up on it for a while, but they’ll let it go eventually. You’re just going to have to ride it out by reminding yourself that there’s no data out there.”
“There are no copies?”
“No. There are no copies.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely.”
“Then I don’t care. I don’t think it makes much difference to me now.” She picked at her jail togs. “I’m not going to have to fend off the paparazzi for a while anyway. But I feel terrible that you’re involved now, too, Alan. I’m so sorry.”
Emma stood, the color back in her face. She took a hesitant step forward toward Alan, turned away, then back toward him again. “In the lobby, this morning, when you knocked the gun out of my hand, whom did you think I was going to shoot?”
Alan glanced at Casey, then back at Emma. “I already told the police I thought you were trying to protect the cop on the stairs.”
“No, no. I appreciate that, but, right now, I don’t want to know what you concluded I was doing. I want to know what you thought I was doing when you lunged for the gun.”
“I wasn’t sure, Emma. Things happened too fast. I saw the gun and I thought you might shoot yourself. I guess I even thought you might be distraught enough to kill Ethan.”
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