“Something went wrong, didn’t it?” Morris Pavlak had to turn away, the woman’s stare was so unnerving. “Your daughter bled to death during the surgery.”
“Yes.”
“Did that anger you?”
Maggie paused, remembering the total betrayal she felt when the doctor told her he failed. One of the best pediatric cardiac surgeons in the state. In the country. And he failed. “Yes,” she whispered.
“You studied the various options for treating this condition, correct?”
“Yes.”
“And you decided to go with the more complex procedure. The procedure replacing two of her valves, rather than just the damaged valve.”
“Yes.” Maggie remembered the conversation. The Ross procedure meant Erin wouldn’t be on blood thinners for the rest of her life. If successful, she would barely be aware she ever had the surgery.
“But there was a complication.”
“Yes.”
“Could you tell us about that?”
Maggie glared at Pavlak. No, she couldn’t tell anyone about it.
“Weren’t there complications with the second valve?”
“Yes.” The surgeon screwed up and no one could stop the bleeding.
“And your daughter died in surgery, didn’t she? Cardiac surgery.”
“Yes.” And Maggie sat in the cold dark room, holding Erin. Holding the little girl who she promised eight hours earlier to see after the doctor finished fixing her heart. Holding the child who would still be alive had Maggie not talked her husband into the more complex Ross procedure. Fighting with the nurses and orderlies and surgeons so she could hold Erin. So she could keep at least one of her promises… seeing her girl after the doctor finished.
“Didn’t you, in fact, physically assault the cardiac surgeon who performed the procedure?”
Maggie looked at Marcus. He knew the surgeon. She saw it. Of course, he knew him. They were in the same line of work. How could she be so stupid?
“Yes.” She looked the lawyer in the eye.
Pavlak paused. This wasn’t the Maggie Quinn he knew. The confession was too effortless. He was expecting Quinn to deny, explain, anything but just agree. Was he missing something? Was she setting a trap?
“You assaulted him?” he asked again, cautiously.
“Yes.”
Nick Dublowski felt the blood drain from his brain. No, it wasn’t possible. This couldn’t be about Quinn’s kid. Marcus Galen was guilty. He had to be.
Morris studied Maggie Quinn’s face, saw the emptiness, and for a moment, his conscience tapped him. What was he doing? This was his friend’s wife. He knew Erin. He was at her funeral. Morris Pavlak’s voice was almost as small as Quinn’s. “You fractured his nose, didn’t you?”
Harley just sat there. He knew there was trouble after Erin’s surgery. He knew Maggie wigged out. He didn’t know exactly what happened because no one talked about it. The cardiac man was in an accident and took a few months off. The accident must’ve been Maggie.
Pavlak swallowed. “Maggie, didn’t you fracture his nose?”
“I don’t recall.” It was the truth. She didn’t remember much about that afternoon. Maggie’s father worked some magic. Money spent in the right places kept the right people quiet. The surgeon was handsomely reimbursed for his pain and suffering. There was a gentleman’s agreement that his mouth would stay shut. Obviously, in addition to not being much of a surgeon, he wasn’t much of a gentleman either.
Morris Pavlak shuffled some papers and read. “According to the medical report, you fractured his nose, broke two ribs, and nearly dislocated his knee.”
The medical report. Someone dug up the medical report. The report her father took pains to bury.
“I don’t recall.” Maggie looked across the courtroom and saw Harley. Tierney. Dublowski. All the people who trusted her. All the people she failed.
The lawyer nodded, looked at Weston, then Richard. After a moment, he continued. “Didn’t you later spend nearly four months hospitalized in a psychiatric ward before serving as consultant to this case.”
“Yes.” That she did remember. Every moment of every day.
“You were obsessed, weren’t you. But you weren’t obsessed with finding the murderer, you were simply obsessed with delivering some personal vendetta against the medical profession… a profession which, in your opinion, failed you and your daughter.”
Maggie looked at Weston, waited for the objection. There was none. The ASA wouldn’t be objecting for the rest of her testimony. She was taking a back seat and enjoying the ride.
“Weren’t you obsessed, Maggie?”
“No,” Maggie said, but no one heard. No one was listening anymore.
There weren’t many more questions after that. Still, Maggie answered them honestly. It didn’t matter. Not anymore. All she could see was Marcus Galen smiling at her from his seat. All she could hear was her heart slamming into her chest.
After she left the stand, Richard was called. He tried to look strong, but drooped like a puppy.
“Sorry, Ace,” he mumbled as she walked past his ex-wife. “Really, I am.”
Maggie glared at the man who she hoped would burn a long time for this one. All the details. The medical report, the play-by-play of Erin’s death. They came from Richard. The coward couldn’t even look at her as he explained what happened when their daughter died. Maggie didn’t listen. She knew the story already. She knew she went over the edge, went to the doctor’s house, screamed at the surgeon, hit him… a lot. To reinforce Maggie’s violent nature, Richard told how he was assaulted by his ex-wife in their house.
My house, Maggie’s brain screamed. Nothing in it is yours anymore.
“In your opinion, is your wife unstable, Mr. Freeman?” Morris asked seriously.
Richard didn’t even try to look at Maggie. He knew his eyes would probably burst into flames if he did. “Yes, very unstable.”
“Do you believe she’s dangerous?”
“From my experience, yes.”
“Has she ever forgiven the medical profession? The cardiac surgeon?”
“Maggie doesn’t really forgive. It’s not in her nature.” There was a sadness to his voice that almost made Maggie look up. Almost.
“That’s all. Thank you.”
If Morris Pavlak would’ve stopped there, Harley might have been saved. The ME could’ve walked away. But that wasn’t in Pavlak’s nature... even if he was feeling a twinge of conscience.
“Dr. Harley, on your initial examinations, you found no physical evidence linking the defendant to the murder of Antoine Rayney. Is that correct?” Pavlak said as he looked over his notes.
“No, not on my initial examinations.”
“Yet, recently, almost miraculously…”
“Objection.”
“Sustained.”
“Did you recently come forward with evidence linking my client to Mr. Rayney?”
“Yes. An earring with Dr. Galen’s DNA on it.”
“And what explanation do you have for that?”
There was a long pause. Save yourself, Maggie’s brain screamed.
“Dr. Harley?” Pavlak pushed. “We do have other testimony to get through. Other people in the lab who will be coming forward.”
They may be called, but they sure as hell wouldn’t say anything against the ME. Not his rats. Harley flicked some dirt from his nails.
“Dr. Harley?” Pavlak pushed.
“I put it there,” he said.
Morris Pavlak wasn’t expecting the gift. He thought he’d have to fight for it. “Excuse me?”
“I planted the evidence.” Harley looked over at Maggie. That look was going to stick with her for a long time. The look of a man’s career di
sappearing.
“At Miss Quinn’s urging?”
“No, sir.”
Jesus, Maggie thought, another hero. Why the hell did they need to protect her? If she fell, it wouldn’t matter. Couldn’t they see that?
“Maggie Quinn didn’t ask you to plant the evidence?”
“No. I was convinced Marcus Galen was guilty, but I saw how the case was going. There was no material evidence, so I provided some.”
“And how did you get the DNA from my client?”
“Not hard. Put the earring on a beautiful woman, put the woman in front of Marcus Galen, and just let him do the rest.”
An hour later, Maggie watched her man, the man in the blue nylon jacket step into the light, into the warmth of acceptance and forgiveness. Marcus’ wife embraced him. His lawyer shook his hand. Carefully chosen friends and associates gathered around gushing their apologies for ever doubting. Maggie’s stomach turned as Marcus Galen was swept away with the current of bodies. No one stayed to talk to her. No one hugged her or shook her hand. No one offered words of forgiveness.
“I believed you.” Nick Dublowski’s voice singed the air. “So did the chief. So did Harley. We stood by you. Through everything.”
Not quite everything, Maggie thought.
“You told Harley to plant the evidence, didn’t you? You told him and he covered for you.”
No, she didn’t tell him. She presented the idea and he ran with it. Because he was her friend. Because he believed her.
“He’s going to lose his job because of you.”
Maggie was silent.
Nick stared at the wall, then at his partner. “You could’ve told me about your kid, you know. You could’ve been that honest.”
“And you could’ve done your research, Detective,” Maggie whispered to the floor. Something touched her leg. The dark crept out from beneath the benches, gathered in the corners and waited. Waited to go home.
“Who is this case about, huh, Maggie?” The young man’s voice was bitter. “I guess it was always about you.”
“You know better than that.”
“Do I?”
“Look at the evidence.”
“There is no evidence. That’s the one thing I do know.”
“Bullshit.” Maggie finally looked Nick in the eye. “Bullshit. I fucked up. No question. People got hurt and I hurt them. But don’t stand there and tell me that an innocent man just walked out of this courtroom. Not after what you’ve seen. You know better, Detective. Blood type, hand dominance, the profile of the victims. Look at the whole picture, Detective. Nothing has changed.”
“You changed,” Nick answered. “And I can’t trust you anymore. No one can.”
It hurt more than anything Marcus Galen ever said. The pain slammed across Maggie’s whole being, shattering the last small pieces of light. The dark stirred under the bench, ready to come home. Not today, she told it. Not yet. Not while Marcus Galen still walked. Maggie Quinn pushed the shadows out, gathered up the broken pieces and pulled herself together one more time. She sat straight and motionless.
“Don’t worry, Detective. You’re the hero. You caught the bad guy and saved your partner.” Maggie’s voice was unemotional. “You might trip, but you won’t fall. I’ll make sure of that. I’ll cover your ass, but you have to cover Tierney’s.”
“The chief doesn’t need…”
“The chief is one of two people who needs protection. Walker’s got to spread the blame, clean house. It’s too late for Harley, but not for him.”
Nick stared at the floor.
“It’ll be easy. Just tell Internal Affairs I lied to you, to the chief. To everyone. So I could put an innocent man in jail.”
“Maggie…”
“Shut up and listen and make sure you get it right. The shirts in IA are unrelenting, so you need to keep it straight and stay cool or they will rip you apart and not think twice.”
“I can…”
“You were overworked,” she said firmly. “You questioned your ability. You had no support from your partner. Your marriage was a mess. Your life sucked and I had all the answers.”
“Maggie…”
“So you listened to me and did everything I told you and we kept the chief out of the loop. You did it because I told you it would be better that way and you trusted me.” Maggie paused. “But then I changed.”
And she had. Maggie snapped her gum.
“I paid a prisoner to threaten a witness… who was killed because of my mistakes. I went behind your back and Tierney’s back. I harassed a suspect. I got a friend to plant evidence. And I confessed it all to you… right after the hearing.”
The two sat in silence. Nick could remember the story because it was mostly true. Except the last part. Maggie didn’t need to confess because Nick had seen it all play out right in front of his face. And he did nothing to stop it. But why?
“Because you trusted me,” Maggie said softly, answering the question he couldn’t ask. “Tell IA that. You trusted me. And so did the chief. And so did Harley. Until it was too late.”
Maggie stood and turned to leave. There was nothing left to say to Nick Dublowski. Nothing that he would believe anyway.
“Russo confessed,” Nick said suddenly. “He confessed to killing them all.”
Maggie looked at the floor. “Did he really?”
A witness’ memory has a half-life of thirty seconds, Nick thought. And he knew Maggie Quinn was thinking the same thing.
“There were half a dozen other people who confirm,” Nick added, “so don’t give me…”
“Timothy Russo’s brother-in-law is a real estate agent,” Maggie said quietly. “Handles commercial properties on the South side. That’s how he knew about the warehouse. Russo watched the autopsy tapes of the other women, but he didn’t kill them. He was degrading. He probably couldn’t do much but watch those tapes and talk to his dead mother.”
The mother he wanted to go see. Shit, Nick never checked up on Russo. The man was dead, the case was closed. There was no point. Obviously, Quinn didn’t agree.
Chapter Sixty-Five
F for Failure.
For Fuck-up.
Friendless.
Maggie stared out the window, into the darkness. She didn’t move. Didn’t do anything. Just sat and stared into the backyard. When the sun came up, she took three sleeping pills and dreamed of the man in the blue nylon jacket. Galen’s face was gone, replaced by emptiness and a smile. And now everyone disappeared with him… Erin, Rayney, Tierney, Dublowski and Ed Harley. Everyone went with the man in the blue nylon jacket and she was left as the dark ripped the meat from her bones.
She washed away the sweat left by the dream, threw on some clothes and was ready to go out the door when the phone rang.
“How are you doing?” Paddy Quinn asked.
“Can you save him?”
The old man knew what his child wanted, but he didn’t know how to tell her that his hands were tied. He wasn’t ready to let her down yet. “I saw that Galen man on the news. An interview.” Paddy Quinn paused. “He’s dangerous.”
“No shit,” Maggie said.
“You need to stay clear of him, Maggie. I mean that.”
“You didn’t answer. Can you do anything for the chief? Walker’s going to crucify him.”
There was an uncomfortable silence.
“I’m sorry,” her father finally said.
“So am I.”
“I’ve talked to John. He understands. He doesn’t blame you.”
“He should.”
After lunch, Jerome Walker had a meeting to discuss a replacement for John Tierney. He had a number of men in mind, but the mayor thought a female deputy chief would make for better press before the election. The pol
ls showed sagging numbers with African Americans and women. Both groups could get a boost with the right appointment. He had a short stack of applicants to review before he talked to the mayor, so, for now, he could enjoy his California roll and bowl of steamed edamame.
“Superintendent Walker.”
Jerome Walker almost choked on a soybean. “Miss Quinn…”
“Do you have a few minutes to spare?”
“Well…” He didn’t relish spending any time alone with the former detective. “Well, I have a meeting to get to.”
“The meeting to replace John Tierney.”
“Yes.” Walker bit into the roll.
“But you still need to finish your lunch.” Maggie smiled and sat across from Walker. “That gives us a few minutes to talk.”
“We really have nothing to talk about.”
“We really do,” Maggie said. She watched the man chew for a moment. “Let the chief keep his job.”
Walker shook his head. “The decision has been made. John Tierney will be facing some serious consequences. He was in a position of leadership and, ultimately, responsible for those under him. That included you. Because of your actions, my officers went on a wild goose chase, wasting time and money to pursue a respected member of this community…”
“Cut the bullshit.” Maggie leaned forward. “Let him keep his job. Throw me on the fire.”
Walker bit the end off the edamame pod, sucked the beans out and tossed the empty shell in the bowl. “That’s really very noble. Really. You made us all look like a bunch of idiots, so believe me, there’s nothing I’d love more than to see you pay.” He picked up another pod and bit it. “But I have my orders and those orders say I can’t touch you.”
Maggie’s teeth clenched. Her father.
“Convenient, isn’t it. For you at least.” Walker tossed down another empty pod.
“It doesn’t have to be Tierney.”
“But it does have to be someone, Miss Quinn. Mistakes were made and someone needs to answer for them. Especially in an election year. That’s how things work. You should know that.” The superintendent popped a piece of rolled rice and crab in his mouth. “So who? Who pays? Not your young detective. He saved an officer and brought down a killer.”
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