A Healing Justice

by Kristin von Kreisler

  “I can’t tell myself to be angry. It doesn’t work like that. I have to feel it.”

  “Fair enough,” Dr. Capoletti said. “But some cops might sit where you are and fume. They’d tell me that they responded in the only way they could, and they’d be gearing up to give Christopher’s parents hell in court.”

  “It wouldn’t do any good.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  “I’d still feel bad.”

  “Depression can be anger turned inward,” Dr. Capoletti said.

  “Maybe I’m angry, but I don’t know it. Is that possible?”

  “Possible, and probable. Denial is a good defense till you’re ready to see what’s going on.” When Dr. Capoletti puffed his pipe again, the tobacco glowed. “You know, we psychologists have a saying. ‘What you resist will persist. What you feel you can heal.’ ”

  Andie didn’t know what to say. She listened to Justice breathe and Dr. Capoletti’s desk clock tick. Finally, feeling obliged to add something to the conversation, Andie admitted, “I guess I’ve had a wall around me.”

  “To hold in your feelings?”

  “Yes, and to keep people from seeing them. I thought it would help me get through the ordeal.”

  “Has it?”

  “At first, I guess. Lately it’s been crumbling around me.”

  “It sounds like the wall got lodged between you and your deeper self. That can happen when people cut themselves off. They lose touch with what’s going on inside them.”

  Andie nodded. He was right. More clock ticks punctuated the silence. She grabbed another tissue and swiped at the tears that continued leaking from the corners of her eyes. “I still worry about Christopher. It wasn’t fair for him to die.”

  “Would it have been more fair for you to die?”

  Andie paused. “No. It was an impossible situation. It’s still impossible. I don’t know how I’m ever going to get out of this mess.”

  “You can get out of it. It won’t be a quick process, but we can work on it. Do you want to come back here and try?”

  Andie would swim across Puget Sound to talk with Dr. Capoletti again. “Yes.”

  “Same time on Friday? How about we meet twice a week for a while?”

  “Okay.” Andie wasn’t sure why she felt lighter, but she did. When she got up to leave, Justice roused himself and stood with her. She picked up her purse and umbrella and said, “It was good to talk about what might have happened if I hadn’t shot Christopher. I see it’s just a possibility. But I still don’t know if I did the right thing.”

  Dr. Capoletti set his pipe into the brass bowl. “Sometimes an answer to a question like that can take a while. One day when you’re least expecting it, it may leap out at you.”

  * * *

  That night Andie wrote her list and dropped it into her basket:

  1. Christopher didn’t kill me. I’m alive!

  2. Dr. Capoletti understands.

  3. Even if I end up an indentured servant for the next 240 years, there’s hope.

  CHAPTER 43

  TOM

  Brady should be on patrol instead of here, but at least it’s a decent place. Tom shoved his hands into his jeans pockets and looked around at the Barkery’s tables, chairs, and seascapes. Though geared to dogs, it was a typical small-time eatery. But if Tom did say so himself, nothing in it could compete with police cars, handcuffs, and badges. In the glass case below the counter, he studied the treats made by Andie’s own hands—a mashed-potato frosted hamburger cake, doggy banana bread, and pumpkin pupcakes iced with cream cheese. She may be a star baker, but she should still be a cop.

  Sammy and Justice had greeted each other with ardent sniffs. She was lapping water from his blue ceramic bowl when Andie hurried around the half wall separating the storefront from the kitchen. She wiped her hands on her apron and left flour streaks. “Long time, no see,” she said.

  “Two and a half weeks.” But who’s counting?

  Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and Tom liked its energetic bounce. But she looked shopworn; she may have started a new job, but her face still showed the wear and tear of recent months. “So it’s true? You really are working in this place?” Tom asked.

  “I am. I like it,” Andie said, a touch defensively. “Who told you I was here?”

  “Stephanie. She and the rest of your department are scheming to get you back.”

  “They can scheme all they want. I’m not leaving. I miss them, though.”

  “They miss you. You belong there, Brady. You can’t let a bogus lawsuit drive you away.”

  With a damp cloth, Andie wiped imaginary crumbs off the brushed chrome countertop. “Isn’t Lisa with you this weekend?”

  The change of subject let Tom know that he may have pushed his opinions too far . . . again. “Lisa’s at her ballet class till noon. I stopped by because I’ve got big news.”

  “Oh?”

  “I guarantee it’ll interest you.”

  “Why?”

  “Just because,” Tom said. “What do you want first? The big news of the county or the smaller news of a case I’m working on?” Which also happens to be about you.

  “Okay, tell me the county’s.”

  “First we need a trumpet fanfare,” Tom teased.

  “It’s that important?”

  “You bet. And you’ll never guess.” It’s fun to make you curious. “Yesterday an amazing thing happened in Bremerton. Are you ready?”

  Andie’s attention seemed to rise a notch. “Yes.”

  “A couple of our guys were having lunch at the Harrison Diner on Front Street. Eating their burgers and passing the time. Not expecting anything unusual. Guess who walked in.”

  “I have no idea.”

  “Take a guess. The guys were ecstatic about it.”

  “Angelina Jolie?”

  “No, you’re nowhere close.”

  “Come on, please tell me,” Andie said.

  “I love to see you beg,” Tom joked. “The Beast walked in! He’s cooling his heels in the Nisqually County jail as we speak.”

  “Wow!” When Andie clapped her hands, Tom noted her grin was genuine. “Justice! Did you hear that?” Andie left the counter and hugged her dog. While she was at it, she hugged Sammy too. “They got the Beast!” Justice may not have recognized the name, but he wagged his tail.

  “It would have been nice to see his face when they cuffed him,” Andie said on her way back behind the counter.

  Just what I wanted to hear. “You might have seen it if you hadn’t left the force. You’re missing a lot.”

  “All I’m missing is knife attacks and lawsuits.”

  Tom could argue with that, but he let the remark go by unchallenged. “You want to hear the other news?” he asked.

  “Yes.”

  “Christopher had a girlfriend. I interviewed her.” Tom described the garage, the perilous stairs, and the Bowie poster. He mentioned his splinter, which had been a bear to remove, and finally worked his way to prying up the floorboards. “That’s where Christopher hid his laptop and cell.”

  Andie’s eyes were wide. “You mean you’ve found them?!”

  “They’re at the lab. It’s going to take a while to break the passwords, but we should know more in a month or so.”

  “I can’t believe it.” Andie sounded breathless. “It’s a miracle.”

  “According to Kimberly, Christopher’s journal is on the laptop. That could tell us a lot about what was on his mind.”

  The prospect of a journal seemed to surprise Andie even more. As they discussed what might be in it, she shook her head with what Tom hoped was wonder, not worry. “His journal may be better than interrogating him. He’d be more open and honest,” Tom said.

  “Possibly,” Andie said with a nod as a timer buzzed in the kitchen. “Excuse me a minute. I’ve got cookies in the oven. I forgot to ask what I could get for you and Sammy today.”

  “We can wait.” But Tom decided not to wait. As
Justice and Sammy chased each other around the storefront, Tom followed Andie behind the half wall into the kitchen.

  Since the Barkery had no dishwasher, dirty pots, pans, and mixing bowls littered the counters and cups and dessert plates were piled in the sink’s soapy water. Next to it, the few plates Andie had managed to wash this morning were lined up in a dish drainer. Without asking if she needed help, Tom picked up a sponge and went to work.

  “You don’t need to do that.” Andie pulled two sheets of cookies shaped like fire hydrants from the oven.

  “I’m glad to help. Nothing else to do this morning.” Tom had groceries to pick up before Lisa, but for now he’d rather be here.

  As Andie scooped up the fire hydrants with a spatula and placed them on a wire rack, Justice was so busy cavorting with Sammy that he did not charge to the kitchen and remind her that he was a professional taster. She added the cookie sheets to the pile of unwashed pots and pans and started drying cups and plates as Tom set them in the drainer. In a companionable silence, they worked as if they’d been washing and drying dishes together for years.

  Andie stacked a plate on others in a cabinet. “May I ask you something?”

  “Fire away.” Tom sloshed the sponge inside a cup.

  “Before I went back to work, Dr. Capoletti told me that many law enforcement officers dealt with hardship as kids. They had to grow up too soon,” Andie said. “Did you?”

  What a question. “Why do you ask?”

  “I’ve just been thinking about it.”

  As Tom rinsed off the cup and handed it to Andie, he thought about how to answer, then decided, I have nothing to be ashamed of. “I had a brutal father. Cops should have picked him up for child abuse, but nobody ever did.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t be. I’m fine.”

  “Couldn’t your mother stop him?”

  “She was afraid of him. We all were.”

  “Who’s we?”

  “My mother and my little sister. I had to take care of them,” Tom said. “By ninth grade I got big enough to stand up to my father, and that helped.”

  “Are you still in touch with him?”

  “Not since I left for college. My family’s pretty much fallen apart. We avoid one another now. Too many bad memories.”

  “That’s sad.”

  “I know, but I’m not sure I want to do anything about it.”

  Andie added a dry plate to her stack. “Dr. Capoletti said that after a difficult childhood, some people look for law enforcement jobs because they offer security and control.”

  “That could be true,” Tom said. “I grew up in a house where you never knew what was going to happen from one minute to the next, so I like law and order.”

  Andie picked up a washed cup and handed it back to Tom. “Lipstick on the rim,” she said.

  “You can’t get decent help these days.” Tom rubbed the sponge over it. “What about you, Brady? You grow up too soon?”

  “Age eight. My father died, and my mother had a breakdown. I had to hold our family together.”

  “I heard your father was a cop. Did he get killed on duty?”

  “No. A heart attack out of the blue. I’ve been wondering lately how that’s influenced me. I’ve been trying to figure it out.”

  “And?”

  “Christopher’s attack was a shock like my father’s death. Zero security and control,” Andie admitted. “Both traumatized me.”

  “Understandable.” Tom handed back the cup, minus the lipstick.

  “Good job,” Andie said.

  “We aim to please,” Tom said.

  “It pains me to see you wash dishes on your day off.”

  “I’m actually enjoying it.” Tom had never told anyone, even Mia, about his father. He was surprised that he’d been so open with Andie. But he couldn’t say he hadn’t liked today’s conversation. “What else have you been thinking about besides growing up too soon?” he asked.

  “Oh, a lot of things.” Andie dried the cup and added it to her stack. “After living with your father, you can probably relate to the main one that keeps coming up.”

  “And what’s that?”

  “That life is unfair.”

  “That’s true. But it can still be good,” Tom said.

  When Andie didn’t respond, he looked over at her. She was drying a mixing bowl and staring at the wall. “Did I say something wrong?” he asked.

  “No.” Her eyes went back to him. “I was just wondering if life could be unfair and good at the same time.”

  “Unfairness is an equal-opportunity condition. It’s something everyone on earth needs to learn. Nobody’s immune.”

  “I guess you’re right.”

  “I know I’m right,” Tom said. “Aren’t you divorced?”

  “Yes.”

  “We both learned all about unfairness by the time our spouses’ lawyers chewed us up and spit us out.”

  “I don’t even want to think about it.” Andie smiled.

  “You’re pretty when you smile. You ought to do it more often.” Tom liked that he’d coaxed another one out of her. “See?”

  “See what?”

  “Right now your life is unfair because of the lawsuit, but it’s also good when you smile. They’re not mutually exclusive.”

  “I never expected you to be so wise,” Andie said.

  “Try me.”

  CHAPTER 44

  ANDREA

  After work, Andie turned into Mel’s Groceries’ parking lot to pick up supper items. As usual, she scoured the lot for Jane’s SUV to make sure there was no chance of running into her. One advantage of the Barkery was that the Vanderwaals didn’t have a dog and Jane was unlikely to show up there. Dr. Capoletti said that the day would come when Andie wouldn’t feel so defensive about her.

  Andie pulled into a parking space and told Justice, “I’m going to get you a chicken breast!” She boomed “chicken” so he couldn’t miss that he was about to get a treat. It was her best way to thank him for loyally hanging out at work with her. It was starting to become clear that he was not pleased with the arrangement.

  When she reached over to the passenger seat to ruffle his forehead star, she wondered if he’d not heard her mention chicken. With a laser beam’s intensity, he was staring out the window at two men standing between cars. One, in his forties, looked like the disheveled sort who might camp under freeways. The other, wearing an expensive suit and Hermès tie, was reaching for his wallet.

  Andie knew the signs of a drug deal. Justice did too. He sniffed at the window’s open crack and whimpered staccato sounds of urgency. He marched his front legs on the seat and panted and whined, desperate to spring out the door. Foul miscreants! Let’s get ’em! Come on!

  “Justice, I’m not a cop anymore.”

  Last week Andie had said that very thing to him when he’d tried to tell her in every way he could that he missed his K-9 job. All morning he’d followed her around the Barkery and plopped down on her toes to make her stop what she was doing and pay attention to him. He pined, sighed, paced, and stared out the windows, on the lookout for druggies.

  When a teenage boy about Christopher’s age came in to buy Peanut Butter Wonders for his sheltie, Justice jumped up from his morning glory bed and gave him a fervent sniff. Then he sat like a soldier at attention, his sign that somewhere on the kid were drugs.

  Andie ignored the alert, but Justice was determined. He hurried behind the counter, clamped his teeth gently around her wrist, and tugged her toward the boy. In no uncertain terms, Justice announced, Cocaine! A user in our midst! Don’t let him get away! When the teen sauntered out without being arrested, Justice, despondent, flopped on his bed and resumed his morning mope.

  That was when Andie had reminded him that she was no longer on the force. The disappointment on his face had replied emphatically, The Barkery is a colossal drag. I am shriveling from boredom. I want to go back to work. He stared at the ceiling as if he were counting the w
ays he was bored: no dope, no peddlers, no searches, not even a trip to the Laser Lady’s house. Lying around, purposeless, all day was a monumental bummer, unbefitting a German shepherd, who had so much to give.

  Andie climbed out of the car and locked the doors—not that any thief would dare break in and wrangle with Justice’s teeth. She called to him, “I’ll be back in a minute.”

  On her way into the store, she glanced at the men, and a pang for the old days sneaked up and pinched her. As much as she didn’t want to admit she missed being a cop, she wouldn’t have minded rounding up the men and reminding them of the error of their ways. But she shoved that thought out of her mind. You are a doggy baker, a perfectly respectable job. You are safe from teenage stabbers and money-hungry plaintiffs.

  Inside the store, Andie pushed her basket along the aisles and dodged other after-work shoppers who wanted to get home as badly as she did. She picked up lettuce, tomatoes, a package of chicken breasts, and Sweet Potato Maple Walnut ice cream, for which Justice would gladly join the French Foreign Legion and march across the Sahara. She headed to the checkout stand.

  In Mel’s and just about everywhere else on the island, Andie used to worry about running into hostile people she’d arrested or given traffic tickets to, but now, out of uniform, she blended in with everybody else. Anonymity was a relief. Or was it? She used to be proud to wear her uniform. She hadn’t minded standing out.

  As the checker itemized Andie’s purchases, her glitter-tipped nails clicked against the cash register keys. Andie paid with a credit card and stuffed her groceries into a canvas tote. When she reached the car, she expected Justice to stand and swish his tail, excited to see her, as usual. But he remained seated. Though the two men who’d captured his attention were gone, he turned his face resolutely toward the window.

  Undaunted, Andie addressed the back of his head. “Ready for your chicken!?” She lilted her voice at “chicken” to underscore the ecstasy.

  Justice’s silence boomed his disapproval of being a kept and unemployed dog.

  “Come on, Big Guy. I know you love chicken.”