by Joel Goldman
Alex could judge Bonnie’s mood by how she gardened. The more time she took, the more at peace she was. The faster she moved, the harder she dug, the more riled up she was, and at the moment, she was hitting the soil like a jackhammer.
She needed Bonnie’s help dealing with Robin’s death, but she was struggling with how much to tell her, especially since it looked like Bonnie was fighting her own battle. It was the same tightrope she’d been walking for a year, and she felt like one of the Flying Wallendas teetering on a wire suspended over the Grand Canyon, the wind swirling around her.
Grabbing two beers from the refrigerator, Alex went outside. Their dog, Quincy, had been napping in the late-afternoon sun beneath a black wrought-iron table surrounded by matching chairs. He bolted toward Alex, jumping up and planting his paws on her chest, his tail wagging at warp speed, as if he hadn’t seen her in years. Alex stroked his back from head to tail.
“Hi, baby dog! Did you miss me today?”
“Don’t get excited,” Bonnie said over her shoulder. “He did the same thing to the meter reader a while ago.”
“I know. What can I say? We raised a dog that loves everyone. Where did we go wrong?”
She rested a beer bottle against Bonnie’s neck, condensation running off the bottle and mixing with Bonnie’s sweat. Bonnie sighed, stopped digging, and reached for the bottle. She stood, took a drink, and wiped her mouth.
“You always know what this girl needs,” Bonnie said.
“That’s why you’re my girl. How long have you been out here?”
“I got off at three, so I’ve been out here since about three thirty, a couple of hours.”
“That’s a whole lot of digging. You must have had a lousy day.”
They sat in wrought-iron chairs beneath an oak tree that shaded the patio. Bonnie rubbed her bottle against her cheek, closing her eyes for a moment.
“You could say that. From the hangdog look you’re wearing, I’d say yours wasn’t any better.”
“That’s for sure. I don’t know anything about your day, but mine was awful. When I walked in the office this morning, I found out that Robin Norris was killed in a car accident last night.”
Bonnie covered her mouth with her hand. “Oh, dear God! What happened?”
Alex let out a sigh and shook her head. “She lost control of her car and it went off the road, hit a tree, and she was killed.”
Bonnie reached for Alex, hugging her tight, Alex resting her head on Bonnie’s shoulder. “How awful.”
“And it gets worse,” Alex said, sitting up. “She was leaving me a voice message when it happened but I didn’t hear the call come in because my phone was off.”
“Where were you?”
“At the Zoo.”
“With that asshole Rossi?”
Alex nodded. “And guess who’s investigating the case?”
“Rossi?”
“Yeah. He and another detective came to my office today because they found Robin’s phone at the scene and the call log showed that her last call was to me. They wanted to know what we talked about. I hadn’t even noticed I had a message until they asked me about the call. We listened to the message together.” She paused and gulped, choking on her memory of the recording. “She said she needed to talk to me and then she screamed and I heard the car hit the tree and then . . . nothing.”
Bonnie rubbed Alex’s back. “Oh, my. I can’t imagine how awful that was. Do you have any idea why she was calling you?”
“I don’t know. She kept saying she had to talk to me, but I have no idea what about. That’s what I told Rossi, and I could tell by the look he gave me that he didn’t believe me. It’s bad enough that Robin is dead, but now I’ve got to put up with his bullshit again.”
“That’s not the only bullshit he’s shoveling at us.”
Alex’s stomach clenched. “I don’t think I like the sound of that.”
“Me neither, but it is what it is.”
“What’s what it is? What’s going on?”
“Rossi paid me a visit this morning.”
Alex’s jaw dropped and her heart skipped a beat. “What was that about?”
“What do you think? He won’t let the whole Dwayne Reed thing go.”
“What’s that got to do with you?”
“He pretended that he was concerned about how you looked when he saw you at the Zoo. He thinks you feel so guilty about killing that prick that it’s eating you up, but he didn’t fool me. He doesn’t give a shit about you—or me, for that matter.”
“That’s not exactly news.”
“No, but here’s the headline. He doesn’t think you feel bad about killing that douche bag Dwayne. He thinks you feel guilty because it wasn’t self-defense and he’s hoping that you confessed to me and that I’ll rat you out. The guy is un-fucking-believable!”
Alex twisted in her chair, eyes wide, torn between outrage at Rossi and fear that Bonnie might believe him.
“What did you tell him?”
“What do you think I told him? I told him to go fuck himself.”
Alex took a deep breath. “Thanks. I’m sorry he put you through that. I don’t know why he won’t leave us alone.”
Bonnie leaned forward and put her hand on Alex’s knee. “Because, babe, he thinks you’re a badass, stone-cold killer.”
Alex set her beer on the table, forcing her voice to sound matter-of-fact. “And what do you think?”
“I think you killed that son of a bitch because he threatened you and me. I think if you hadn’t killed him, he would have raped and killed me and then gone after you. I think he was a crazy psychopath who wasn’t going to stop unless somebody stopped him, and I give thanks every day that you did. That’s what I think.”
“So you don’t think I’m a badass, stone-cold killer?”
Bonnie cupped Alex’s face with her hands and kissed her deeply. “I’ve known you were a badass since the day we met. And I’ve seen what you’ve gone through since that day, and if you were a stone-cold killer, you wouldn’t have had one nightmare. You’d have just added a notch to your belt. You did what you had to do and you’ve paid the price.”
They cried, hugged, and kissed, coming up for air when Quincy nosed between them, making them laugh.
“What a dog!” Alex said. “He doesn’t want to be left out.” She wrapped her hand in Quincy’s fur. “Is it because you’re an only child?” she asked the dog.
“We can always fix that,” Bonnie said.
“You want another dog?”
“No. I want a child.”
Alex was speechless. Of all the things she expected Bonnie to say, that wasn’t one of them. When they decided to move in together, they talked about having kids one day, Bonnie saying she wanted to carry the baby, but it had never been more than casual conversation.
“You sound serious.”
“Honey, I am serious. I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I was going to bring it up a year ago, but then everything happened, and our lives have been so crazy, there was never a good time. Remember asking me if there was something bothering me? Well, that was it. I didn’t know if it was the right time to bring it up.”
“And after everything that happened today, you think this is a good time?”
“I know. At first I didn’t think it made sense, but the more I thought about it, the more sense it made. We love each other. We’re going to be together forever, right?”
Alex grinned. “You know it.”
“Well, I’m thirty-six and the clock is ticking. And I’m sick and tired of assholes like Dwayne Reed and Hank Rossi screwing with our lives. If we wait until the rest of the world leaves us alone, we’ll die barren old ladies with drool cups strapped under our chins. It’s our lives and it’s time we started living them. And, besides, I’ll look fabulous pregnant.”
It was the kind of crazy logic that did make sense. More than that, it was a commitment to their future and a powerful statement by Bonnie that she’d stand
by Alex no matter what. Alex had never loved her more than at that moment.
“Well, I guess we better buy a turkey baster.”
That night as they lay in bed, Alex propped herself up on one elbow and studied Bonnie as she slept, grateful for the gift of her love and scared to death that she would squander it. She fell back on her pillow, closed her eyes, and prayed for sleep.
Chapter Nineteen
FRIDAY MORNING, GRACE CANFIELD met Alex outside the courtroom of Associate Circuit Court Judge Noah Upton, who would preside over Jared Bell’s initial appearance. Grace gave her an up-and-down appraisal, nodding her head and pursing her lips.
“Uh-huh,” she said.
“Uh-huh, what?” Alex asked.
“Since when do you wear your fancy black pantsuit and white ruffled blouse to an initial appearance? That’s what. And am I wrong or are you wearing blush?”
“What on earth are you talking about? I wear black pantsuits all the time,” Alex answered, ignoring the question about her makeup.
“Not the one with the fancy stitched pattern on the jacket lapels that Bonnie gave you for your last birthday, and you were the one who told me that makeup violated your official lesbian dress code.”
Alex folded her arms across her chest, not wanting to admit that Grace was right. When she woke up this morning, she felt something she hadn’t felt in a long time—happy. Bonnie loved her and wanted to start a family. Last night’s anxiety about whether she would ruin all of that had given way to a morning filled with images of the two of them pushing a baby stroller down the sidewalk on a warm summer day. She didn’t know how long the feeling would last before harsh reality set in again, but she would ride the wave as long as she could. Getting ready for work had felt more like getting ready for a date, so she dressed up and put on a little blush for Bonnie, who giggled and groped her, nearly making both of them late.
“Do we really have to talk about this now?”
“No, but you start coming to work like this all the time and we’re gonna talk about it, because I’m gonna want some of whatever’s put a skip in your step.”
Alex laughed. “Fair enough. What did you find out about our client?”
Grace shook her head. “Nothing that’ll do you any good this morning. I talked to his mother, Diane. She still lives in Goodland, Kansas. She was so glad to hear he was alive that she couldn’t stop crying. When she finally did, she told me they hadn’t heard from him in a couple of years. Said he came home from the war a mess and they woke up one day and he was gone.”
“Did she know anything about someone named Ali?”
“Only that she heard him calling out her name in his sleep, but when she asked him who that was he said he didn’t know what she was talking about.”
“Anything else?”
“We can find out if Jared’s been treated at the VA hospital if he signs this release.” Grace opened a thin manila folder and handed the form to Alex, who slid it into her case file. “I can request his service records, but that takes a while.”
“Not if we can cut through the red tape.”
“Girl, if you got a pair of them scissors, let me have ’em.”
“I don’t, but I met someone yesterday who might. His name is Mathew Woodrell. He’s a Vietnam vet who helps other vets with their problems.”
“Where do I find him?”
“I don’t know. Check with Veterans Affairs. He was in the Eighty-Second Airborne.”
“You don’t have a phone number or e-mail address?”
“Sorry. I only talked to him for a minute. He said he’d just come from the probate clerk’s office. He was trying to help another vet with something. Maybe they’ve got contact information.”
“Description?”
“He’s a little guy, not more than five-seven, short gray hair, has to be in his early seventies at least, and he was wearing a military pin for having served in Vietnam.”
“And he’s white,” Grace said.
“Yeah. How did you know?”
“Because white is the default race for white people. If he’d been black, you would have said so.”
Alex raised her eyebrows, blushing. “I . . . I . . .”
“Never thought about it. I know. Most white folks don’t. Well, that’s a start.” Grace glanced at her watch. “It’s go time.”
“Then let’s go,” Alex said, leading the way into the courtroom and taking her place at the defendant’s counsel table.
Kalena Greene was already seated at the prosecution’s counsel table. She and Alex exchanged good mornings as two deputies escorted Jared into the courtroom, shuffling, his wrists and ankles shackled. He gave her a shy smile. Alex smiled in return, pleased that she’d made a connection, putting her arm around his shoulder for a moment.
“Hi, Jared. Say hello to Grace Canfield. She’s an investigator in my office.”
“Hey,” he said to Grace.
“Hey, yourself,” Grace said. “Alex is the best. She’s gonna take real good care of you.”
“Hope so,” he said.
Alex was struck again by how soft and quiet Jared was, as if he was afraid to raise his voice. She had difficulty imagining him as a killer. Even though he may have killed while serving in combat, he didn’t strike her as the kind of civilian who had slid down that slope all the way to murder.
“How are they treating you, Jared?” Alex asked.
He shrugged. “Okay. Everyone’s pretty much leaving me alone.”
“I hear that. Like I told you yesterday, we won’t be here long. This hearing is mostly a formality.”
“Like the army, huh. Rules for everything.”
“Yeah. Like the army. A couple of quick things before the judge comes in. Have you been treated at the VA hospital here?”
“A few times, mostly when the PTSD got crazy. They gave me some meds and told me to go to group therapy.”
“How’d that work out?”
He looked at the floor. “I sold the meds and skipped the group.”
Alex saw no reason to chide him. He’d have plenty of time for treatment in prison if she didn’t get him out, and if she did win his freedom, that would be the time to talk about getting well.
“I need you to sign this release,” she said, sliding the form toward him and handing him a pen, “so we can get your medical records. We may need the doctor who saw you to testify about your PTSD.”
“Are you sayin’ I could get off because of that?” he asked after signing the release, his signature more of a scrawl because of the handcuffs he was wearing.
“One second,” Alex said, handing the form to Grace. “Hand deliver it and tell them we need the records right away.”
“Sure thing. You know how excited bureaucrats get when someone tells them that.”
Alex raised her eyebrows at Grace.
“I’m on my way,” she said. “I’m on my way.”
Alex turned back to Jared. “Sorry. We may be able to use your PTSD as a defense, but if we’re going to do that, I have to find out everything about you, including whatever happened in Afghanistan that caused your condition.”
He hung his head, closing his eyes as a tremor rippled through his torso, then opening them and shaking his head. He didn’t say anything and Alex didn’t push.
Chapter Twenty
EVERYONE STOOD FOR THE JUDGE, sitting when he did. He was in his early forties, with blond hair, great cheekbones, and blazing white teeth, making him well suited for the televised courtroom he’d never see as an associate circuit court judge.
“The court calls case number F458-2013. Counsel, state your appearances.”
“Kalena Greene for the people.”
“Alex Stone for the defendant, Jared Bell, who is also present. We’ll waive reading of the charges.”
“Very well. Bail?”
“My client is indigent, Your Honor. Short of releasing him on his own recognizance, he can’t make any bail you’re likely to set. But, for the record, the
defendant requests bail be set at ten thousand dollars.”
Kalena sprang to her feet. “For a vicious rape and murder by a homeless man with no ties to the community? I don’t think so, and I don’t care if he can’t make a ten-dollar bail. The court should send a message that people who commit violent crimes won’t be allowed back on the street before trial. Bail should be denied.”
“He’s also a decorated war veteran who’s been charged, not convicted,” Alex said.
“I agree with both of you,” Judge Upton said. “Mr. Bell is innocent until proven guilty, but given his current circumstances, notwithstanding his military service, for which we are all grateful, and the nature of the charges, bail is set at one million dollars. Anything else?” Both lawyers shook their heads. “Hearing nothing, we are adjourned.”
“Here,” Kalena said, handing a file to Alex after the judge and Jared left. “It’s the investigating officer’s report and the complaint.”
Alex had been waiting for this moment to find out whether someone in the prosecutor’s office had given an advance copy of the file to Robin Norris.
“Thanks, but I’ve already got a copy.”
Kalena squinted at her. “What do you mean you’ve already got a copy? From who?”
“You heard about Robin Norris, right?”
Kalena’s face fell as she let out a breath. “Yes, and I’m so sorry. I didn’t know her well, but I never heard a bad thing about her. What a blow.”
Alex was struck by her sincerity, reminded again of one of the things she cherished about the practice of law. She and many of the lawyers in the Prosecutor’s Office were friends, and no matter how hard they fought over a case, they could still kick back over a beer. She and Kalena hadn’t gotten to that point yet, but this felt like a first step.
“Robin had five kids, and I can’t stop thinking about them.”
“How are they doing?”