by Marie Force
He shrugged with unusual indifference.
“Captain Malone told me that everything will seem very dark for a while after something like that happens. He said it was important not to make any major decisions about anything after a traumatic event. Because one day, the sun comes out again and the first thing you’ll notice is the sun, not the darkness. You’ll want to recognize your life when that day comes, he said. He was right and so was everyone else who told me to focus on getting through today without thinking too much about tomorrow. Tomorrow takes care of itself.”
“How many times have we approached someone on the street, showed our badges, said who we are?”
“Too many to count.”
“He was just doing his job.”
“I know. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“He had a new girlfriend and his whole life ahead of him.” Tyrone swiped at his face. “It’s not fair.”
“No, it certainly isn’t.”
“I can’t believe he’s actually dead. Arnold is dead. I keep saying it to myself but I can’t seem to make it stick. It’s too unreal.”
“It’s apt to be for a while.”
“Will it ever make sense?”
“Probably not. These things seldom do.”
“I don’t want to be a cop anymore, Jeannie. I don’t want to be the next one to get shot or attacked or tortured. I’m not strong like you and Sam and Gonzo.”
“Yes, you are too! You were right there with me through the whole thing when Sanborn attacked me, holding me up and pushing me through to the other side of it. I couldn’t have gotten through that without you. You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”
A sob hiccupped through him and he buried his face in his hands. “I’m not,” he said. “I’m not strong. I was so freaked out the whole time you were missing and then after… When we heard what’d happened… I wasn’t strong when the LT was missing or when Gonzo was shot. I was scared shitless that they were going to die and leave us to do this awful job without them.”
“Why haven’t you ever told me any of this? The department has people who can help you deal with these things. You don’t have to do it alone.”
“I want to be worthy of the gold badge. It means everything to me, but who wants a chickenshit detective on their team or covering their back? You deserve better than me. The squad deserves better.”
“You’re not a chickenshit. I’ve seen you in action. You do what needs to be done. I’ve never once seen you shirk your duty or do anything other than the right thing on the job. You’re selling yourself way short.”
“Maybe on the outside I look good, but inside…”
“The outside is all that matters, Will! You’re doing the job. You’re performing admirably. Anyone would say so.”
“What if I don’t want to do the job anymore? What if I’ve had enough?”
“Only you can know that, but you’d be a total fool to throw away the career you’ve worked so hard to have on the day you lost your friend. Nothing is normal today. It’s not the day for major decisions. If you still feel this way a month or two from now, we’ll have that conversation. But we’re not having it today and that’s final.”
Jeannie rarely pulled rank on her partner. She rarely had to, but she did it today because she got where he was coming from. Who understood better than she did what it was like to lose the desire for the job? To wait months for it to come back? To question every aspect of her life, her work and her safety?
“I want you to know,” she said in a gentler tone, “that I understand where this is coming from. I’ve been there myself. But I care too much about you to let you do something stupid when you’re grief-stricken and shocked and aching over the loss of your friend and colleague.”
Tyrone stared blankly as tears continued to roll down his face.
“Today is an awful day. Tomorrow probably will be too. It’s going to be a tough time for all of us. But we will get through it together because that’s what we do. We stand together and support each other.”
He remained stubbornly silent.
“I want you to talk to Trulo when things settle down. They’ve made people available for us, and we need to take advantage of the help.” When he didn’t say anything, she said, “Ok?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He’d said what she wanted to hear, but his flat tone of voice and the aura of resolve she felt coming from him had left her on edge.
* * *
When Gonzo and Malone returned to HQ, the first thing Gonzo noticed was the department flag had been lowered to half-staff in honor of Detective Arnold.
“I hate to see that,” Malone said. “The only time we lower the flag is when someone in the department dies.”
Gonzo had nothing to say to that. This was the first time in his tenure on the force that an officer had been killed in the line of duty, and it happened to be his partner. The partner he’d sent out to be gunned down because he wanted to shut him up.
“I think you ought to go home, Gonzo.”
That drew him out of his dark thoughts. “I’m not going home. That’s the last place I need to be with the man who killed my partner out there somewhere getting away with it.”
“The Marshals are hunting him down. That’s their job and they’re damned good at it.”
“You can’t ask me to go home and do nothing, Captain. You can make me leave, but I’ll be out there working the case whether I’m on duty or off.”
Malone’s phone rang. He took the call and ended it just as quickly. “We’ve got the warrant for Besozzi’s house.”
“Let’s go.”
“Not without backup and not without CSU,” he said of the Crime Scene Unit detectives who would pore over the place looking for clues that could blow their case wide open.
“Call for backup and CSU then.”
“You giving the orders now?” the captain asked with a small smile that told Gonzo he was joking. But he made the call for backup and turned the car around.
They’d be returning to the place where Arnold had been killed. He’d have to see the blood on the sidewalk and remember the horror that was still too fresh in his mind. Gonzo had the time it took to drive across the congested city to prepare himself to be there again. It was nowhere near enough.
“From what I hear, neighbors are going crazy over another cop being shot in their quiet little corner of the city,” Malone said after a long period of silence. “Stuff like this doesn’t happen there.”
“Chris and I looked at a place out there before I was shot.”
“Of course you already knew, despite what happened with Billy Springer and now this, it’s not the kind of neighborhood where shit like this usually happens. You know that because you’ve been on the job for twelve years and you know this city inside out.”
“What’s your point?” Gonzo asked because with the captain, there was always a point.
“Just that if you’d been down in Southeast rather than leafy Northwest, you might not have let your partner take the lead. You probably would’ve thought, in the back of your mind, that he wasn’t really ready to take on the kind of stuff we see down there. But up here… This is the nice part of town, the kind of place you’d want your own family to live.”
Gonzo understood and even appreciated what the captain was trying to do, but it didn’t do a thing to dull the relentless guilt. “He was pissing me off.”
“Arnold?”
“Yeah. Bitching and moaning about the cold and the time and the fact that we were off duty hours ago and still watching Besozzi’s place. So I made him a deal—stop the bitching and he could take the lead. I was irritated and that’s what drove the decision. I wish I could say I did it because of where we were, but it was about shutting him up.”
&n
bsp; “Whatever the reason, you know the area. You know most of the time, someone isn’t going to shoot a police officer in the face when that officer approaches, shows his badge, gives his name. In Manor Park, most of the time, a resident would say, ‘Good evening, Officer. How can I help you?’ Don’t tell me you didn’t know that because you did. That information is so deeply ingrained in you that you couldn’t not know.”
Gonzo tried to wrap his head around what the captain was saying, but all he could see was Arnold lying on that cold sidewalk, blood gurgling in his throat as he struggled to breathe.
“Stop blaming yourself,” Malone said. “The person who killed Arnold was the guy with the gun, not you. Keep telling yourself that over and over and over again until it sinks into your thick skull.”
As Malone turned onto the block where it had all gone down, Gonzo instantly felt sick again. But he forced himself to choke back the bile that surged from his empty stomach so he could focus on the job that needed to be done. The scene was taped off, and someone had washed the blood off the sidewalk. Thank God for small favors, Gonzo thought.
In the short time they waited for CSU and the FBI to join them, exhaustion engulfed him. The night without sleep caught up to him, and the rush of adrenaline that had followed the shooting suddenly wore off.
He rubbed his hands over his face, trying to get it together and find the focus he needed to get through the next few hours.
A knock on the window startled him. Christ, he was jumpy. He recognized the CSU commander and reached for the door handle.
“You don’t have to be part of this, Gonzo,” Malone said. “I can take it from here if you need to step back.”
“I’m fine. Let’s go.” As he ducked under the yellow crime scene tape and walked up the sidewalk to the house, he pretended not to notice that in addition to being exhausted, he was also lightheaded from the lack of food. Though the thought of eating brought back the nausea.
He accepted a pair of latex gloves from Malone and followed the captain into the house. Gonzo wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting, but it wasn’t a well-furnished, comfortable residence with magazines on the coffee table, art on the walls, a big flat-screen TV and plants in the window.
“I wasn’t expecting it to be so lived in,” Malone said.
“Neither was I. Clearly, he’s been here a while, whoever he is.”
The CSU detectives swooped in and began combing through every corner of the townhouse, starting in the basement and working their way up. They dusted for prints on every surface, including the walls.
Gonzo began to see double as he watched them.
Malone signaled for a Patrol officer. “Please take Sergeant Gonzales home. He’s off duty until tomorrow morning.”
“Captain—”
“That’s a direct order, Sergeant. You’re no good to any of us if you keel over.”
“I want to hear any updates the same minute you hear them.”
“You have my word.”
Since that was as good a deal as he could hope to get, Gonzo went with the Patrolman who held open the passenger door of the cruiser for Gonzo, as if he were addled or elderly or something. “Thanks,” he muttered before the door closed.
The Patrolman got into the driver’s seat. “Where am I taking you?”
Gonzo gave him the address.
“I just want to say… I’m really sorry about your partner. Mine threw out his knee late last year, and I miss him like crazy, so I can’t imagine… Well, I’m really sorry.”
“Thanks.” Gonzo leaned back against the head rest and looked out the passenger-side window, hoping the young officer wouldn’t feel the need to fill the silence with idle chatter the way Arnold always had. Tears burned his eyes, and he closed them tight to keep from bawling his head off in front of a junior officer.
The next thing he knew, the Patrolman was gently shaking him awake. “We’re here, Sarge.”
“Thanks a lot for the ride.”
“No problem. You hang in there.”
Gonzo nodded to him and got out of the car, eager to get inside the safety of the home he shared with Christina and Alex. As he approached the door, he remembered that his keys were locked in his desk at HQ, so he pressed the buzzer to their apartment.
“Yes?” Christina asked over the intercom, her tone cautious and guarded.
“It’s me.”
“Oh thank goodness.” The buzzer sounded to admit him.
Gonzo trudged up the stairs, the overwhelming exhaustion a reminder that he wasn’t yet back to full stamina after his own shooting. Christina waited for him at the door to their apartment and threw herself into his arms. He wrapped an arm around her and lifted her to walk them inside, kicking the door shut behind him.
“Tommy, God, I can’t stop crying. I’m so, so sorry.”
Wrapped up in the arms of the woman he loved, Gonzo stopped trying to fight the tears that had been threatening all day. The grief, exhaustion, disbelief, rage and despair combined to reduce him to a sniveling wreck of a man. He wasn’t proud of the way he broke down, but there wasn’t a damned thing he could do to stop it.
Christina led him into the bathroom, helped him remove his clothes and joined him in the shower where she washed his hair and body while he stood numbly under the water. It could’ve been freezing cold for all he knew. Then she toweled him dry and tucked him into bed.
“Need you,” he whispered.
“I’m here.”
He reached for her and she got in bed and snuggled up to him.
“I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Alex.”
“I called your parents and they came to get him for a few days. I wanted to be able to focus on you. I hope it was the right thing to do.”
“It was. I don’t want him to see me like this.”
“Tell me how I can help.”
“You’re helping more than you know just by being here.”
“You saw his parents?”
“Yeah. His mom was so happy to see me until she realized Malone was with me.” He shuddered. “It was horrible.”
She wiped tears from his face.
“Should’ve been me, Chris.”
Christina propped herself up on an elbow. “What do you mean?”
“I let him take the lead because he was pissing me off. I told him if he shut up about the cold and the late hour and everything that I’d let him take the lead.”
“Oh, Tommy. It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known.”
“That’s what everyone has said, but still. I never let him take the lead, and the one time I do…”
“It was his time to go, baby. It’s as simple as that.”
Gonzo knew she was right. He knew everyone was right. He hadn’t shot Arnold, so it wasn’t technically his fault. But it would be a very long time, if ever, before he would stop blaming himself for his partner’s death.
Chapter Seventeen
It had taken hours to arrange the security for Nick to join her in New Carrollton, and since she didn’t want to go without him, she’d waited, which is why they were setting out at seven p.m. Since the traffic was, as Nick had hoped, unusually beastly for a Sunday night, Sam took advantage of the time in the car to place a call to Lilia.
She answered on the second ring. “This is Lilia.”
“It’s Sam. Sam Cappuano.” Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Nick smile at the rare use of her married name.
“I know,” Lilia said. “I’ve got you programmed into my phone.”
“Oh, well, okay then. I’m sorry to bother you after hours and on a weekend.”
“No such thing as after hours or weekends in my line of work.”
“Mine either.”
“So
we have that in common.”
“Apparently we do.”
“What can I do for you tonight, Mrs. Cappuano?”
“Will you please call me Sam when it’s just us and no one else is listening?”
“I will try to remember to do that. And I want to just say that I saw your press conference, and I’m so sorry for the loss of your colleague and friend. If there’s anything I can do to be of assistance to you or the vice president during this terrible tragedy, please don’t hesitate to ask.”
“Thank you. That’s very kind of you. And that’s why I’m calling. Nick and I have been talking about Tuesday and how I should navigate the more celebratory aspects in light of the loss of Detective Arnold. While I’m heartbroken over his senseless death and wish to convey that in all my public interactions, I’m also obligated to my husband. I guess you could say I’m torn over what to do about the balls and whatnot.”
“I can totally understand your dilemma. If you’re asking my opinion—”
“I am. What should I do?”
“Attend the inauguration ceremony and one ball. Do a ceremonial twirl around the dance floor with your husband and we’ll put out a statement from your office that Vice President and Mrs. Cappuano have left to spend time with her colleagues and friends on the Metropolitan Police Department as they mourn the loss of one of their own.”
“Wow, you’re good.”
“Why thank you,” she said with a laugh. “So you’d be comfortable with that?”
“Yes, I think I would be. Hang on just a second.” Sam put her hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “Would you be okay with one dance at one ball before we return to our friends on the MPD to mourn the loss of Detective Arnold?”
“As always, my love, I want to be wherever you are, so if we’re one dance and out, that’s fine with me.”
Sam leaned in to kiss him. “Have I told you yet today that you’re the best husband I’ve ever had?”
Nick snorted with laughter. “The bar was set awfully low.”
“Indeed it was.” She returned the phone to her ear. “Lilia, it’s a plan. Nick is fully on board.”