Sullivan's Law

by Nancy Taylor Rosenberg

  “No,” Daniel said, the spasm in his right arm getting worse. “Did Warden Lackner really say those things?”

  “He said you made up the stuff about your inventions, that you’d never invented anything. I’m trying to help you. I have to know the truth.”

  “I thought the warden liked me,” Daniel said, looking dejected. “I did everything he told me to do.”

  “Did he make you sign a release for your inventions?”

  “Yes,” he told her. “No one ever believes me. They didn’t believe me when I told them those boys attacked me. They didn’t believe me in the jail this morning.”

  “What happened at the jail?”

  “I slipped and fell. One of the other inmates slugged a guard, then everyone got into it. As usual, they blamed me.”

  Carolyn made a sharp left when she saw the Rite Aid sign. “We’re here,” she said, relieved. “Let’s go inside and get your medicine.”

  “I need paper, the large kind.”

  They got out of the car and headed into the store. “You’re not going to school,” Carolyn said, losing her patience. “Get the damn prescription filled so I can go home.”

  “My work,” Daniel said, crestfallen. “I want to try to reproduce my work. I lost things I’ve been working on since I was a teenager.”

  “Be thankful you’re not in jail,” Carolyn told him. “I’ll call you tomorrow morning. You have to promise me you’ll stay in the motel. This is serious, understand?”

  “Is someone still trying to kill me?” Daniel asked as they headed down the aisles toward the pharmacy. “Is that why you’re helping me?”

  “They may be,” she said. “There’s another problem. I’m in danger and so is my family. If you know anything you’re not telling me, you better cough it up right now.”

  “I need books,” Daniel said. “Get me anything you can find on thermodynamics. I was studying thermal electron generators. I also need information on hydrogen power cells.”

  Carolyn glanced down and saw that his shoelaces were untied. “Tie your laces,” she told him. He also needed clean clothing, deodorant, a toothbrush, a razor. Brad’s assigning her a parolee to supervise had ticked her off, but nowhere to the extent of what she felt now. “I’m not your personal shopper. Get what you need while they’re filling your prescription. Then we’re leaving, got it?”

  Carolyn remembered that she also had to watch him give himself the injection. Her children were home alone. She was the one who needed to see a shrink.

  By nine-thirty Wednesday evening, Carolyn felt as if she were about to pass out from exhaustion. She’d spent over an hour helping Rebecca with her homework, then cleaned up the kitchen so her son could complete his studies. Finally she tucked her daughter into bed. As she was heading down the hall, she ran into John.

  “Paul called while you were in Rebecca’s room,” he said, trailing behind his mother as she continued toward the master bedroom. “I wanted to come and get you. He told me not to bother you. Why didn’t you tell me someone broke the windows out in the Infiniti? Paul said he loaned you his other car, that blue BMW I saw in his garage. He called to make certain you didn’t have any problems with it.”

  Not wanting to alarm the children, Carolyn had parked the professor’s car on the opposite side of the street. She also didn’t want to tell her son that it was far more than the windows on the Infiniti that had been damaged. The professor must have seen his BMW and feared she’d had some kind of mechanical problems.

  Sitting down in the blue velvet chair across from her bed, Carolyn draped her arms over the sides and stretched her legs out in front of her. “I didn’t want to scare you,” she said. “I guess I should have told you about the car. After last night, I thought we needed some time to regroup.”

  John’s face twisted in anger. “Some of my friends saw the article in the paper about the explosion. Why didn’t you tell me that man had been convicted of killing a kid?” He pointed an accusing finger at her. “Someone’s messing with you again because of him.”

  “No one hurt me,” Carolyn told him, too tired to argue. “Think about it, honey. I was in the house alone when the damage to the car occurred. If they’d wanted to hurt me, why didn’t they do it then?”

  “Wrong!” John said, closing the door to his mother’s room so his sister wouldn’t overhear. “Whoever these people are, they’re warning you. You were with that stupid guy again tonight, weren’t you? That’s why you were late. Jesus, Mother, why are you doing this? I feel like you’re the kid and I’m the parent, like you’ve suddenly decided to hang out with the wrong crowd. Are you in love with this creep or something? Tell me, okay? Because I don’t understand.” He stopped speaking, then a moment later erupted again. “Don’t you know how I feel? You’re going to get us killed.”

  “Don’t raise your voice to me,” Carolyn said. “I’m ethically bound to help this man if I suspect he’s been a victim of injustice. Well, let me tell you something. This isn’t a little mistake someone made. Daniel Metroix has lost most of his adult life. And I know a lot more about life than you do, son.” She paused, letting her last word linger in the air.

  When his mother used a generic reference such as son, John knew it was time to shut up and listen. It was her way of reminding him where he stood in the pecking order.

  “Everything that’s happened over the last two days only confirms my suspicions that Daniel Metroix was framed. What’s going on right now may not be related to the Harrison boy’s death. There’s a possibility that it has something to do with his inventions.”

  John didn’t understand what his mother meant by inventions. All he knew was now was not the time to ask questions. “Fine,” he said, slapping his hands against his thighs. “What do you want us to do?”

  “Be extremely cautious,” Carolyn advised, repositioning herself in the chair. “From now on, I don’t want Rebecca walking on the street alone. Either I’ll drive her or you’ll have to walk her to school and pick her up at the end of the day.” She knew what she was asking of him was an additional inconvenience. Life wasn’t easy. “As to your own protection, try to stay in a group when you’re not here at the house. I’ll buy both you and Rebecca a cell phone tomorrow. That way, you can call either me or the police if you notice anything even slightly suspicious.” She paused, letting her previous statements sink in. “I’m not going back to law school until this problem has been resolved. That way, you won’t be alone as much as you have in the past. You’ll also have more time to concentrate on your schoolwork.”

  “Why would you drop out of law school because of this man?” John asked. “You’ve worked so hard.”

  “I didn’t say I was dropping out for the entire semester,” Carolyn told him. “I may miss a few classes, that’s all. I can catch up. Besides, I’m not giving up my school or anything else for this man, as you keep calling him.”

  She bent down and plucked one of the bandages off her right knee. The stitches would dissolve, the doctor had told her. Too bad problems didn’t dissolve as easily. “When I became a probation officer,” she said, “I took an oath to uphold the law and protect society. Daniel Metroix is every bit as deserving of my time and efforts as Professor Leighton down the street or any other resident of this county. This may sound overly simplistic, John, but bad things happen to good people. Never forget that one of those unfortunate people could one day be you.”

  The wisdom of his mother’s words struck home. John knelt on the floor in front of her and gently removed the bandage from her other knee.

  “I can’t back off now, anyway,” she whispered, knowing whoever was trying to kill Daniel had probably already learned that she’d arranged his release from jail. “I’m in too deep.”

  “Why don’t you take off those jeans,” John told her, gazing into her eyes with respect and tenderness. “I’ll get some hydrogen peroxide and some new Band-Aids. The cuts aren’t that deep. You should keep them covered, though, so they won’t get infect
ed.” He reached over and rolled up her sleeves, removing the bandages and studying the cuts on her elbows. “They didn’t even need to stitch up this one,” he told her, clasping her left forearm as he examined the wound. “Stay here while I get the first-aid kit from the kitchen. Then you have to go straight to bed.”

  Before he got back on his feet, Carolyn tossed her arms around his neck and embraced him. His words had been echoes of her own. Funny, she thought, remembering all the childhood injuries, colds, viruses, and flus she’d nursed over the years. Once children matured, they treated much of the wisdom they’d acquired as if it had magically appeared, seldom giving credit to the parents who’d implanted it.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to become a doctor?” Carolyn asked, letting her arms slide down his muscular shoulders. “You’d make a good one.”

  “Never know,” John said, smiling as he hurried out of the room.

  Carolyn drove both Rebecca and John to school Thursday morning, then headed to the government center complex. The night before, she’d made a list of the various people she needed to contact regarding Daniel and the events surrounding Tim Harrison’s death. The situation with the warden might have to wait until she obtained more specific information about his inventions. She couldn’t tell if someone held or had applied for a patent until she knew precisely what had been invented.

  Brad was probably right. If Warden Lackner was corrupt, he would have been sophisticated enough not to register the patents under his own name.

  Modern technology had provided many benefits to criminal investigators, yet it had also placed barriers around those they needed to contact. Due to constant soliciting, hardly anyone had a listed phone number, even in a town the size of Ventura. In reality, there was no such thing as a small town anymore. The entire universe was electronically connected. Being in law enforcement, Carolyn could obtain an unlisted number without a problem, but she couldn’t prevent a person from blocking a call or not picking up the phone unless they knew the caller. Probation and parole officers now spent untold hours trying to perform what had once been one of the most simplistic aspects of their job—calling and checking up on their offenders. Months could pass before an officer could confirm that a probationer had actually absconded or was merely hidden behind a wall of security, either on their jobs or in the homes where they resided. Some measure of proof was necessary to file the appropriate court documents, and although surprise visits sounded good on paper, appearing at a probationer’s door without notice could either be a waste of already overburdened officers’ time, or place them in grave danger.

  Carolyn ran into Veronica in the hallway. “You look terrible,” the woman exclaimed. “I thought you were going to become famous defending criminals, not getting yourself blown to pieces.” When Carolyn glared at her, she quickly added, “I’m joking, okay? Can’t you smile every now and then? Seriously, are you okay? Everyone’s been talking about you and this Metroix fellow.”

  Veronica took Carolyn’s hand and pulled her into one of the interview rooms. “You’re not carrying on with him, are you? I mean, the newspapers said you were in his motel room.”

  “Please,” Carolyn said, too pressed for time to listen to her habitual jabbering. “How could you even think such a thing? I wasn’t able to collect all the information I needed from him at the office. Metroix is a supervision case. It’s required that we check their living environment. Right now, his home is a motel.”

  The woman pointed at her chest. “Don’t blame me, honey. I’m your friend. People talk, that’s all. Preston is looking for you, by the way, and he doesn’t look very happy.”

  Carolyn poured herself a cup of coffee from the break room, then carried it back to her desk. The first thing she did was call the records division to see if they could furnish her with the phone numbers and addresses for Liam Armstrong and Nolan Houston. As soon as she hung up the phone, Brad strode into her cubicle, red-faced and furious.

  “The least you could have done was check in with me this morning,” he yelled at her. “You weren’t able to come to work yesterday, but you felt good enough to get Metroix out of jail. Hank Sawyer went ballistic a few minutes ago. He demanded that I force you to tell me where you stashed him.”

  Carolyn continued making notes to herself on a yellow pad, not so much as raising her head. Finally she tossed her pen aside, mad that she had to fight her own agency as well as the police to do what she felt was her job. Brad had never questioned her judgment before, nor had any of the district attorneys or judges. The only people who ever complained about her were defense attorneys. Did Brad really believe she would protect a man who posed a threat to the community, or more specifically, someone who was out to harm her or her family? “Hank Sawyer has no right to know Daniel Metroix’s whereabouts. No criminal charges were filed. I’m the officer you assigned to supervise this man. The only person he’s required by law to keep apprised of his whereabouts is me.”

  “Sometimes I forget how hardheaded you are,” Brad said, yanking a chair from the other desk and straddling it backwards. “Look, why go to war over this? We’re supposed to work in concert with the PD. Hank has a right to interrogate a witness to a crime. And what happened at that motel wasn’t a minor incident. Not only that, he says someone left you a threatening note and smashed your car up yesterday. Why didn’t you tell me?”

  Carolyn stared out the window, her anger dissipating as she fell deep in thought. Like a jigsaw puzzle, the case seemed to be scattered in pieces. The time element was a major problem. Somehow she had to find a way to resurrect the events of the past, then successfully connect them to the crimes of the present. She also had to consider that this might be a puzzle that could never be solved.

  Carolyn recalled awakening at four in the morning when she was a teenager. She’d gone to the kitchen for a glass of milk and found her father working at the kitchen table, stacks of papers in front of him, all covered with complex equations. He used to concentrate so intently that Carolyn and Neil had placed bets as to who could distract him. They’d rattle pots and pans, blast their radios, even stand in front of him and scream that someone was breaking into the house. Carolyn had been shocked when her father had stopped working that morning and talked to her. He’d explained that he was attempting to solve the Riemann hypnosis, the Holy Grail of mathematics. After his death, her mother told Carolyn and Neil that their father’s obsession with this unsolved problem was the reason he’d been unemployed for so many years. As she grew older, Carolyn had become more like her father. She now realized how hard it must have been for him to let go and take a teaching position so he could support his family.

  Pulling herself back to the present, Carolyn asked, “Did Hank know if the crime lab found any fingerprints or other evidence on the note left on my car?”

  “Since you’re convinced Charles Harrison is behind this, did you really expect them to find any incriminating evidence?” Brad stood, shoving the chair aside. “The least you could do is look at me when I talk to you.”

  “I refuse to respond when you yell at me,” Carolyn said calmly. She swivelled her chair around to face him. “I’m not only smarter than you, Brad, I’m more professional.”

  “I’m not sleeping with Amy McFarland.”

  “Right,” she said. “Don’t try to bluff at poker. Is she good in bed?”

  “Not since you told her I’m engaged.”

  Carolyn locked eyes with him. “Guess you’ll have to buy her a ring.”

  It took a while before Brad realized she was teasing. They’d bantered back and forth for years, making an otherwise unpleasant job more bearable. A person who overheard some of their conversations would assume they despised each other. Nothing could be further from the truth.

  “You’re beginning to sound like yourself again,” he said. “I’m not sleeping with Amy McFarland, okay? The girl wants to get married and have babies. I don’t have it in me to change dirty diapers.”

  “I was afraid they wo
uldn’t find anything worthwhile on the note,” Carolyn said, returning to the business at hand. “It was written on cardboard. You know, the kind of heavy, coarse paper they put inside men’s shirts at the dry cleaners.” She fiddled with a strand of hair. “At least we know something about this person.”

  “What’s that?”

  “They’re not poor,” she said. “Poor people don’t send their shirts out to be washed and ironed. Maybe Charles Harrison wrote the note himself.”

  “And showed up in your driveway with a crowbar?” Brad argued. “That’s absurd, Carolyn. I called around. Harrison’s on his last leg. The booze got to him. His liver is shot and he’s waiting for a transplant.”

  Carolyn gave him a coy smile. “So he hires classy thugs.”

  Brad laughed. “Yesterday you were ready to go after a prison warden. Now Harrison’s back in the hot seat.”

  “I haven’t had a chance to check out the patent situation,” she explained. “Lackner would have to work awfully fast to trash my car only a short time after I got off the phone with him.” She stared at the center of his chest. “That’s the most hideous tie I’ve ever seen, Brad. Are those headless naked ladies?”

  “You’re losing your eyesight,” he said, laughing. “They’re bowling pins.” After all the trouble she’d encountered, Carolyn Sullivan was gutsy enough to keep her sense of humor, one of the reasons he generally catered to her demands. As much as they squabbled, he not only cared for her, he respected her.

  “We have to cooperate with the police,” he said, serious again. “Be reasonable, Carolyn.”

  “I’ll cooperate,” she told him, holding her ground. “I’m not willing to cooperate right now.”

  “What do you want me to do?” Brad asked. “Can you afford to be suspended without pay? Maybe you should give your children some thought before you answer. Don’t forget, I have to report to Robert Wilson. He knows you dropped the ball on Downly.”