“It freaked me out. I broke up with him,” Kim said.
“When?”
“Three days before he got shot. That totally freaked me out.”
CHAPTER 38
ANDREA
The radiator in Chief Malone’s office clanged and squeaked. It sounded like a cable car was battling a deranged mouse. Months ago Andie would have hardly noticed, but since New Year’s Eve her frayed nerves had made her hypersensitive, and the noise put her on edge. She petted Justice, who’d curled up at her feet, though he kept watch on the door lest the Chief come in and bonk him on the head again.
Andie checked her watch. The Chief was sixteen minutes late. She tapped an impatient finger on his desk and studied his photo of Mrs. Malone—a flinty woman, her hair pulled back severely, horizontal creases stamped into her crepey neck. Did she take umbrage at foam in the corners of her husband’s mouth? Did he mind her staring from the picture with steely eyes that could pin a sumo wrestler to the ground? Mrs. Malone seemed like the kind of woman you couldn’t hide your secrets from. Under her penetrating gaze, Andie felt naked.
Since New Year’s Eve, she’d also felt naked on duty because she’d struggled to maintain her tough façade. She’d worried that her colleagues might share Mrs. Malone’s x-ray vision and see straight through her wall to the emotionally wrecked person shivering behind it. Even if they didn’t know about her flashbacks, they might sense she’d fallen apart and deem her unfit for her job. Yep, I knew it. She’s a mess, they might whisper.
Andie reminded herself that the Chief had summoned her for only a “short chat.” There was nothing to get worked up about. But she blinked extra blinks when he came into his office with Ron Hausmann. Both men looked like they might have indigestion and they’d left their smiles in the parking lot. Andie stood and shook their hands as Justice uncurled himself, got to his feet, and frisked Hausmann with his nose. He pointedly hung back from the Chief.
In one arm, Malone was carrying a stack of legal-size envelopes, which he set on his desk next to Mrs. Malone. “Brady, I’ll cut to the chase,” he said as Andie and Hausmann took seats across from him and Justice assumed his library lion position. “These documents were delivered this morning. Here’s the one you need.” He thumbed through the envelopes and handed one to Andie.
She opened the clasps and pulled out a sheaf of papers titled “Petition.” Below it, she read “Vanderwaal vs. Brady,” and her heart did a backflip and landed with a splat on concrete.
“You can read it if you want, but it’ll put you to sleep,” Hausmann told her.
Hardly. The title alone left her one rung away from a panic attack.
“Here’s the deal,” Malone said. “Basically, the Vanderwaals have filed civil suits against you, our department, and the city. They claim you provided insufficient first aid to save Christopher’s life and you violated his Fourth Amendment protection against excessive use of force.”
“I did everything I could for him!” Andie sputtered. “Everyone’s agreed I was justified to shoot.”
“Everyone except the Vanderwaals and their legal team. Want to explain it to her, Hausmann?”
“Sure.” He smoothed his tie as if he were about to step before a jury. “The Vanderwaals claim your department didn’t train you properly. They failed to teach you how to de-escalate a confrontation without killing someone and how to decide when deadly force is truly necessary,” he said. “Your department’s failure supposedly caused an unnecessary crisis that resulted in Christopher’s death, and that’s deprived the Vanderwaals of his companionship. So they’re seeking damages for pain, suffering, and distress.”
“What about my pain, suffering, and distress!? Didn’t they ever stop to consider that?” To get control of her voice, Andie cleared her throat. “What damages are they seeking?”
The Chief ’s glance at Hausmann seemed to ask, Which of us is going to tell her?
“Six million dollars,” Hausmann said.
The number punched Andie in the stomach and made it hard for her to breathe. She felt like Hausmann had thrown her into ice. Justice picked up her distress and got to his feet. He gave her the look that appeared on his face with ever more troubling frequency: Don’t be upset. I will protect you. I’m here.
Justice seemed to feel that Hausmann and the Chief were the culprits who’d grieved Andie. Facing them, he stationed himself in front of her in his most alert Herr Commandant mode, his ears up, his front legs propping up his chest, on which, were he in the German army, would have hung medals for valor. Justice made clear that he’d be glad to take on the Chief and Hausmann were they to grieve Andie again. You get out of line, you unconscionable churls, and it’s all over. I will not let you hurt her.
“Don’t worry about the claim,” Hausmann told Andie.
“How could I not worry? I could work seven days a week till I die and I’d never make that kind of money.”
“Our insurance might kick in,” the Chief said.
“Might” was an arrow in Andie’s heart.
“You know as well as we do it’s a free country. Anybody can file a suit about anything and ask for any damages they please. That doesn’t mean they can win,” Hausmann said.
“What if the Vanderwaals do?” Andie asked.
“We don’t think they will,” the Chief said.
“Can you be sure?” Andie asked.
“Nobody can be sure of anything,” the Chief said.
Hausmann jingled the coins in his pockets, another noise that sharpened Andie’s edge. He said, “It’s all a bunch of legal posturing and bluster. We’ve been expecting it.”
“I haven’t,” Andie said.
“Don’t look at it as a threat. It’s just one of those irritating things we have to deal with.” The Chief sounded casual, but his scowl couldn’t hide the worry in his eyes, and his foam had reappeared. “We’re here to stand by you.”
“We’ll take it as it comes,” Hausmann said. “Their lawyers will want you for a deposition, but not for a while.”
Andie reached for Justice’s reassuring fur, but it didn’t help. She tried to hide behind her wall, but a six-million-dollar civil suit was like an earthquake that cracked it irreparably—and caused a sudden shift in Andie. At that moment, something inside her forced a decision she never thought she’d make: She could not go on like this, chronically distressed, never knowing what horror might come next. She couldn’t keep coming to a job that was destroying her.
For years, like her father, she’d worked for justice. Every day she’d put her life on the line and done her best to serve. But no good deeds went unpunished. For all the demanding, dangerous work, her reward had been a divorce, a criminal investigation, and now a lawsuit that could lead to garnished wages for the rest of her life. Though she’d given her heart and soul for others’ justice, there was none for her. I have to escape.
As the radiator rattled like it was coughing up something unsavory, Andie said, “I quit.”
“That’s ridiculous,” the Chief said.
“I can’t be a cop anymore.”
“Isn’t that a rash decision?” Hausmann asked.
“I can’t worry that something else I do might make my life even worse.” Andie got up and set her gun and holster on the Chief ’s desk.
“You’re a fine officer. I don’t want to lose you,” he said.
“It’s too late. I’m already lost.” If you only knew how lost.
The Chief closed his eyes as if he were taking time out from a disagreeable task, like washing out a garbage can. He formed a steeple with his fingertips, then set its peak against his lips. When he opened his eyes, he said, “Look, Brady. You’ve had a hard time. It’s understandable. Any of us would be upset at all you’ve gone through, but quitting just because you’re in a rough patch isn’t the answer.”
“It’s way more than a rough patch, and it’s the answer for me,” Andie said.
“I’ll tell you what. I’ll take you off patrol. You can
work here at the station and get away from the stress for a while,” the Chief said. “You’ll come to your senses. Give it a little time.”
“I’ve worked here for seven years. I’m done.”
“Done” seemed like the last nail hammered into her professional coffin. The Chief ’s face got as flinty as Mrs. Malone’s. “Okay, quit if you want, but I’m not accepting your resignation. I’m putting you on unpaid leave, and I’ll hold off hiring anybody else for a while.”
“Take a few weeks. Think about your life. You were made to be a cop,” Hausmann said.
“I’m not coming back.” Andie picked up her purse. She left her patrol car’s keys next to her gun but kept her father’s shield.
Andie saw the Chief glance at Hausmann as if to say, I don’t have any more rabbits to pull out of my hat. Hausmann shook his head and shrugged, like he didn’t have any rabbits, either.
“Well, good luck.” The Chief ’s swivel chair squawked as he got up. He shook Andie’s hand. “One last thing.” He paused as he stepped back toward his desk. “I don’t think you got over killing that kid. I’m afraid you’re in trouble.”
You don’t have to tell me. I’m well aware. “I know what I’m doing.”
“I don’t think you do,” the Chief said. “You need to work this out. Go see Capoletti.”
I can take care of myself. When Andie started toward the door, Justice followed.
The Chief intercepted and bonked his head right on the star. Justice’s glower informed him, You are a deplorable pissant.
“You watch after her, Justice,” the Chief said.
Andie did not ask Stephanie for a ride because she didn’t want to explain why she’d resigned. Rain or no rain, she would walk the two miles home. From her locker, she got Justice’s yellow slicker, fitted it over his back, and fastened it under his belly. Leaving the rest of her belongings behind—who cared about her utility belt and bicycle helmet?—she buttoned up her jacket and, without a backward glance, walked out of the station.
CHAPTER 39
TOM
Tom was climbing out of his patrol car when Andie and Justice walked through the station’s back door. He’d driven here to tell her in person about Matt Stone and Kimberly Thatcher. Surely the breakup had blindsided Christopher, and it could at least partly explain his attack. Tom might not be Andie’s favorite person right now, but this important news was bound to pique her interest.
He turned up his jacket collar against the rain and hurried across the parking lot toward Andie, who, oddly, had no umbrella. As he got closer, he saw that her face looked gray and hard.
“Brady?” he called out.
When she didn’t stop or turn around, he picked up his pace and caught up with her. “Brady.” He put his hand on her shoulder with gentleness few would expect from an ex-Marine. “Wait a minute. I want to talk with you.”
“I’ve got to get home.” She wriggled out of his grasp and kept going, but Justice stopped and greeted him with an earnest sniff.
“Your car’s over there.” Tom pointed back to her patrol car. “What’s going on?”
“Nothing.”
“If you’ve got to get home, why aren’t you driving?”
“Because we’re walking.”
“Brady, that’s two miles. In case you haven’t noticed, it’s raining.” No way could Tom let her go off down the street till he was sure she was all right. “Won’t your car start? I can drive you home.”
A bus chugging along the street did not drown out Andie’s put-upon sigh. “I need to be alone.”
“And I need to make sure nothing’s wrong.”
“Everything’s fine.”
“You want to swear that on a Bible?” Behind Andie’s concrete face, Tom detected misery. He wouldn’t have minded wrapping his arms around her and holding her till she calmed down, but they weren’t on that kind of terms.
“I don’t mean to pressure you, but I’d really like to know what’s the matter.” He was pressuring her, but so what? “Maybe I can help.”
Tom couldn’t tell if the noise that came out of Andie was a whimper or a scoff. She said, “That’s the problem with law enforcement. We risk our lives helping other people, but nobody helps us. It’s a one-way street.”
What’s brought all this on? “I don’t do my job to get anything from anybody. That’s not the point.”
“What is the point? You tell me. Why bother?”
“We bother because our job is to keep the bad guys from taking over and to make sure people are safe. We’re supposed to stop chaos. We help people.”
“I’m helped out. This job’s used me up. I don’t have any more to give.” Andie twisted the end of Justice’s leash in her hands. At least there was animation in her face again.
“I don’t get it, Brady. You want to tell me why you’re thinking that?”
Her gaze aimed at Justice’s ears, Andie hesitated. She had to know he’d persist till she threw him an explanatory scrap. Finally, she said, “The Vanderwaals have filed a civil suit against me for six million dollars. Christopher may as well take up permanent residence inside my skin. I’ll never be free. Even if the City’s insurance helps pay for damages, I could end up owing millions just because I thought I needed to protect myself.”
“You did need to protect yourself. The evidence proved it. It will stand up in court.”
“They claim the department didn’t train me right. How do you defend yourself from that?” Andie looked exhausted. The rain had flattened her hair so it had lost its puff.
“You can go ahead and doubt yourself, but you’ve been trained just fine,” Tom said. “None of us wants a civil suit, but you’ll be all right. Hausmann will watch after you.”
“I’m not counting on it.”
“You may think that today, but you’ll see. They won’t hang you out to dry.” Tom pulled a handkerchief from his back pocket and handed it to her to mop rain off her face. When she didn’t take the handkerchief, he mopped his own. “So why are you walking home?”
“Because I just quit. I gave the Chief my car keys. I’m not a cop anymore.”
Had Tom heard right? “Are you nuts? You’re not thinking straight.” When Andie’s beautiful cheeks turned red, he knew he’d crossed a line and stirred her up again.
“Do you judge everybody or is it always just me?” she asked.
“Look.” Tom tamped down his frustration so as not to raise her hackles more. “In the investigation I had to judge. It was my job. But I’m not judging you now. You can be sure of that.”
“I have a right to quit if I want to.”
“Of course you do, but that doesn’t mean it’s a smart decision.”
Andie set her jaw and turned away. As she started down the street, she made clear that the encounter was over—and she and Justice wanted to be alone. Let her stew in her own juice, Tom thought as he walked back to the parking lot.
By the time he got into his car, however, he realized that shooting Christopher had been harder on Andie than anyone had understood. Including him. Nobody would guess that someone with her strength could be so vulnerable, but he supposed there was a limit to how much even a tough cop could take. A lawsuit and a potential six-million-dollar judgment would take the starch out of any officer. He should cut her some slack.
Tom drove back to Andie as she stormed down the street with Justice, who looked like he didn’t understand her storm any better than Tom had. He rolled down his window and inched along beside them as they sloshed through puddles along the sidewalk. The rain was coming down harder, and Tom’s windshield wipers were slinging it onto the hood. “I’m in a helping profession, lady, and I don’t want you and that wet dog walking two miles in this weather. You’ll catch colds.”
“A little rain never hurt anybody,” Andie said.
“Come on. Get in the car,” Tom ordered.
“No.”
“I don’t want to arrest you for being stubborn, but I will.”
And
ie stopped. He pulled his car over in front of her, helped Justice into the backseat, and opened the front passenger door. “Get in, lady.”
Andie did.
CHAPTER 40
TOM
Searching for the dirt driveway that Kimberly had mentioned was starting to feel like a game of Dupe the Cop. On Tom’s third pass down Valley Road, he wondered if she’d lied about hanging out in a garage with Christopher, but he didn’t relish going back to her house to confront her.
As usual for January, the afternoon was overcast. The rural neighborhood looked dreary. Though Andie and Mildred Hawthorne kept up their properties, few others did, and plenty of greenery along the road had grown out of control. Blackberry thickets were rampant, and ivy vines were choking trees into untimely deaths. The vegetation seemed aggressive; if you stopped too long, it might wrap itself around you and swallow you, boa-constrictor style. Tom passed the Vanderwaals’ house and was glad his days of questioning them were over.
When he approached Andie’s, he slowed and craned his neck to look down her driveway, but for the third time today its curve through the woods blocked any glimpse of her. He wasn’t sure what he hoped to see unless maybe she was outside raking debris blown from the trees in last night’s storm. He could get out of the car and offer to help. Any other bright ideas, Wolski? As he’d told her when he’d dropped her off at home last week, if she needed anything she knew where to find him.
He was worried about her—not so much because of the emotional wear and tear of Christopher’s attack and the Vanderwaals’ lawsuit, which he believed they would lose. His main concern was Andie’s decision to resign from the force. That reaction, it seemed to him, showed how badly Christopher and his parents had messed with her mind. It would take more than a civil suit to make him leave his job. Brady’s choice made little sense when she had the department behind her.
Better to leave her alone, give her space to process the whole damned ball of wax, he thought. But then he asked himself, Why should you care about Brady? And he answered, Well, because. Sorry not to see her, Tom took off down the road again.
A Healing Justice Page 18