Second Chances

by Lincoln Cole

  “Thanks,” Richard said. “Sorry about what I said earlier.”

  “It happens,” Jim said. “There are bad seeds everywhere, dragging everyone down.”

  “That’s for sure,” Richard said.

  “I’m sure you’d know all about that,” Jim said, chuckling.

  “Yeah,” Richard laughed. “I guess so.”

  “At least a lot of people still like us cops,” Jim said. “And some of us are going to keep doing our best no matter what happens.”

  “Yeah,” Richard said. “Take care, Jim.”

  “You too,” Jim said.

  Richard hung up the phone and set it down on the desk, trying to wrap his mind around the information. Nichole’s mother had left, but from the sounds of it, her family never knew the reason.

  Had she left to protect them? Out of despair. It was hard to tell. The only thing Richard knew for sure was that she was never coming back.

  He hesitated for a moment and then picked up his phone. He didn’t like to conduct business over the phone, and he certainly didn’t like to bother his staff at night when they were at home, but he didn’t want to wait either.

  Meghan answered on the second ring.

  “Hey boss,” she said.

  “Hi Meghan,” he said. “I’m sorry to bother you at home.”

  “It’s no issue,” she said. “I know how much you miss me.”

  “You aren’t busy, are you?”

  “Just reading. What’s up?”

  “Deborah’s cousin called me a few minutes ago. He’s an officer at the Twenty-Fourth precinct.”

  “I think I met him at one of the parties.”

  “Maybe,” Richard said. “Anyway, Deb asked him to look into Nichole’s Mom.”

  “I thought you weren’t going to get involved.”

  “I didn’t plan to. Deb asked.”

  “So he was checking on Nichole’s Mom? Because she’s been missing, you mean?”

  “You knew?”

  “Of course I knew,” Meghan said. “She told me everything.”

  Richard sighed. “Of course she did.”

  “Don’t get your panties in a bunch,” Meghan said. “Everyone tells me everything. Even you.”

  Richard thought about it. “Yeah, I suppose I do.”

  “It’s because I can keep a secret,” Meghan said. “Anyway, go on. What did he tell you?”

  “Nichole’s Mom is dead,” he said.

  Meghan was silent for a long moment. “Oh.”

  “She had late stage breast cancer and died not long after arrival. It had spread through her entire body. She didn’t have any ID on her when they found her so they never knew who to contact.”

  “Damn.”

  “I know,” Richard said. “It’s terrible.”

  “What now?”

  “We offer our help and condolences,” he said. “If she wants it.”

  “Yeah,” Meghan said.

  “There is one thing we can do.”

  “What?”

  “Nichole can apply to be their guardian now, and with her mother deceased it’ll be as simple as filing the paperwork. The courts will take no time to approve it.”

  “Ah,” Meghan said. “Then she can also file as their guardian for the injunction to transfer to the other school.”

  “Exactly,” Richard said. “Do you think you can draft up the paperwork for guardianship in the morning?”

  “No way,” Meghan said. “We should wait and talk to her about it.”

  “We can help Meghan.”

  “But should we?”

  “Why wouldn’t we?”

  “It isn’t our place,” Meghan said. “We can’t just go around getting in people’s business without asking them.”

  “But this is something we can do to help. She’s been through hell, and we are in a position that we can do something good for her.”

  “Maybe she doesn’t want our help.”

  “Why wouldn’t she?”

  “That’s the problem, Richard, you just don’t get it. It isn’t about whether or not she wants us to get involved, it is her decision. You need to ask her what she wants.”

  “We know she wants this.”

  “Do we?”

  “She came to me and asked for help.”

  “But this changes everything.”

  “Look, Meghan, I’m going to call Nichole really quick and tell her—”

  “Hang on Rick—”

  “—that we’ll file everything in the morning for her.”

  Then he hung up. He wanted to reach Nichole as soon as possible, to offer his condolences and speak to her. He wanted to apologize for everything he’d said earlier and tell her that of course he would help her with anything she needed.

  Chapter 18

  Nichole

  Nichole had barely sat back down on the couch when her phone started ringing.

  “Hello?”

  “Hi,” a man said on the other end. “I’m trying to reach Nichole Blake?”

  “This is her.”

  “This is Sergeant Jim Patton at the twenty-fourth precinct.”

  “Okay,” Nichole said. She felt a tightness in her chest from worry.

  “I was trying to reach your brother, Rico, but he didn’t answer his phone and I saw yours was also on record…”

  “He’s probably busy,” Nichole said.

  “I was calling to inform you…are you in a…quiet location?”

  “Yes,” Nichole said. Tyler was lying asleep on the couch next to her, curled up in a little ball and snoring softly. She stood up and headed to the kitchen. “What do you need?”

  “I am calling to tell you…” the man paused. “We found your mother. She is dead.”

  Nichole was silent, letting the words wash over her.

  “How?” she asked finally. “When?”

  “She was brought in to Creekside Hospital four months ago with late stage breast cancer and died not long after.”

  Nichole had considered the possibility that her mother might be dead, considering she never came back. It wasn’t like her at all to go missing without any word. But, to actually hear it said out loud was a lot more difficult than she was expecting.

  While her mother was only missing, Nichole held out hope that maybe she would come back, or they would hear something about her. Maybe she was kidnapped, or maybe she was just overwhelmed and needed some time to herself.

  But, to hear that she was dead…

  “Thank you,” she said. “For telling me.”

  “She was listed as a Jane Doe—”

  Nichole didn’t care. “Can we see the body?”

  “She’s already been buried,” the officer said. “By the state.”

  “Okay.”

  “Do you want the location?”

  “No,” she said, and hung up.

  She stood there, in the kitchen, sucking in short breaths of air and willing herself to not cry. She felt numb with the information, finding it difficult to grasp.

  The finality of it rocked her to the core. Her mother was dead and no one had been with her. No one helped her through it, eased her suffering, mourned for her. It had been months, and no one had even figured out who she was.

  Why had her mother left? Was it because she was afraid of the cancer and didn’t want to drag them into it? Had she even known she had cancer, or was something else going on? Nichole didn’t know, would probably never know; the only thing she did know was that her mother died alone.

  With a cry, Nichole shoved the plates off the counter, shattering them on the floor. She collapsed into a chair, gasping for air and crying. All of the tears, the anger and frustration, came pouring out of her. Everything she kept bottled deep inside rushed forth.

  “Why didn’t they tell us earlier?” she asked no one in particular. “Why would it take this long?”

  Tyler came into the kitchen, alert and with a worried look on his face. He didn’t say anything, just stepped close to Nichole and gave he
r a hug. A few seconds later, Kenni appeared as well.

  “What’s wrong?” she asked, standing in the doorway.

  “Nothing,” Nichole said.

  “Something is wrong. Is it about Mom?”

  Nichole didn’t reply, only continued crying.

  Kenni frowned. “Why won’t you tell us?”

  Nichole hugged her brother close and sighed. “Mom’s dead.”

  Kenni didn’t say anything, just turned and disappeared back upstairs. Tyler looked up at her.

  “Dead?”

  “She had cancer,” Nichole explained. Part of her felt like she should lie to Tyler, to protect him from the truth, but she wasn’t capable of it right now. She simply couldn’t lie to him about this.

  “So she isn’t coming home?”

  “No,” Nichole said. “She isn’t coming home.”

  Tyler sniveled and a tear ran down his cheek. He squeezed Nichole tighter, burying his face in her blouse, and she held him close.

  Her phone started ringing. She glanced at it and saw Richard’s name. She almost didn’t answer, but after several rings she clicked the call on.

  “Hello,” she said.

  “Hi,” Richard asked awkwardly. “How are you doing?”

  Nichole sniffled. “I’m fine.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes, Richard. I’m sure. What do you need?”

  “I heard what happened with your mother and—”

  “Before we did?” she said. “You heard that my mother was dead before we heard about it?”

  “That was my wife’s cousin that called—”

  “And he called you first?” she asked, incredulous. “What the hell? Why would he call you first?”

  “Deborah asked him to check into it—”

  “So you’re telling me we’ve been asking about this for months, months, and the police don’t make any progress, but the very second a white woman gets involved they solve the case in three seconds?” Nichole said.

  “Nichole…”

  “No, I get it. It makes perfect sense. They can’t help us, but you throw a little weight around and suddenly every cop in the city is looking to help. And why not? You are Richard-Goddamn-Greenwood, friends with everyone in the city.”

  “It isn’t like that.”

  “It isn’t?” she asked, feigning shock. “Well, then what’s it like?”

  Richard was silent.

  “It is exactly like that, and you know it,” she said. “They assume my Mom is poor, not worth their time, doesn’t have family who loves her or cares about her. It’s just easier to mark her down as a Jane Doe or a missing person and not worry about it. It’s just easier to not deal with it, not get involved.

  “Tell me honestly, Richard,” she continued. “Tell me if it had been a white woman in that hospital four months ago that they wouldn’t have tried harder to figure out who she was.”

  He remained silent.

  “That’s what I thought,” she said.

  “I’m sorry…”

  “You should be sorry,” she said. “Everyone should be sorry, because this is not how the world is supposed to work.”

  “I can help you file for guardianship—”

  “You think I want your help?” she asked in disbelief. “That I want your charity, or a handout, from you?”

  “It isn’t a handout.”

  “That’s exactly what it is. You want to do something for me so you can sleep easier at night, but deep down you don’t really give a shit, do you? I came to you for help, and it was too much for you to get involved. Too risky for your career, never mind what I was dealing with. Never mind what I was going through. What changed? Now you feel bad for me? My Mom’s dead, and now you want to help me out?”

  The other end was quiet.

  “I don’t need your help, Richard,” she said. “And I sure as hell don’t need your pity.”

  Then she hung up the phone.

  Chapter 19

  Richard

  Richard hung up the phone after listening to the dial tone for a few seconds. He wasn’t quite sure what to think and felt more than a little disheartened. He knew Nichole would take the news badly, but he hadn’t expected such a reaction from her.

  She was right about everything, and it ate at him inside.

  A glance at his phone showed he had several missed calls and two voicemails, all from Meghan. With a long sigh, he called her back.

  “Rick?” she said as soon as she picked up. “You there?”

  “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m here.”

  “You called her, didn’t you?”

  “Yep,” he said. “You were right.”

  “Of course I was,” she said. “And she didn’t take it well, did she?”

  “Nope.”

  Meghan sighed.

  “I don’t understand,” he said. “I was only trying to help.”

  “Why were you in such a hurry to do this? Do you feel guilty or something?”

  Richard hesitated. “When I first looked through the list of interns after the other two left, she wasn’t even on it. I looked at her resume and just pushed it aside. The only reason I hired her was because of Deborah.”

  “I know.”

  “You know?”

  “Richard, we’ve had five interns since I started working here, and all of them were white before Nichole.”

  “It’s not like I was intentionally…” he trailed off.

  “I know,” Meghan said softly. “It’s unintentional bias. You are a man, so it’s easier for you to trust men, and you are white, so it’s easier for you to trust people who are also white.”

  Richard blew out a deep breath. “Yeah,” he said. “But I don’t think of myself that way.”

  “The point isn’t to not be that way, it’s to recognize that it happens. These are flaws, behavioral or genetic. It doesn’t really matter which, the point is to see them for what they are, and deal with them accordingly.”

  “So then what am I supposed to do?”

  “Offer to help,” Meghan said, “but only offer. Let her decide what she wants and doesn’t want. You are a person who thinks he knows what is right at all times. You know what people should do, so you’re always offering advice.”

  “So, you’re saying I’m wrong about what she should do?”

  “No,” she said. “But you’re wrong for trying to tell her what to do. It makes you look like a white-savior-asshole, someone who just shows up and tells people what to do with their lives to make them better. It isn’t your job to tell her how to fix her life. She’s a smart girl, so she can figure out what she wants.”

  “Yeah,” Richard said, rubbing his face. “Yeah, you’re right.”

  “But, Richard, it isn’t the end of the world. Things happen and you just have to deal with them. You can still offer to help her.”

  “That isn’t going to work now,” Richard said. “I screwed things up pretty bad.”

  “She just found out her Mom died,” Meghan said. “You need to give her some time. The things she has to deal with aren’t the same things you have to deal with, so let her figure it out at her own pace.”

  “Okay,” Richard said.

  “I’ll draft up all of the papers as soon as I get into work tomorrow, but we can’t do anything unless she wants us to.”

  “Okay,” he repeated. “Thanks, Meghan.”

  “You’re welcome,” she said. “How is the AA Meeting going?”

  “Well enough,” Richard said. “I wasn’t expecting too much, and it hasn’t let me down.”

  “Do they have donuts and coffee?”

  “Of course,” Richard said. “And someone ate my bear claw!”

  “No! The monsters!” Meghan replied, aghast. She laughed. “Don’t worry, boss, I’ll get you a bear claw in the morning.”

  “I’ll hold you to that, Meghan.”

  “Don’t worry, Richard, I know you will.”

  They said goodbye and Richard hung up, lost in
his own thoughts. He absently tapped the phone against his chin, trying to process everything that had happened.

  He didn’t think he’d ever made decisions about Nichole, either to help or not to help because of her race. But he honestly didn’t know for sure. So much was subconscious, decisions made on how he felt about people. Looking at the evidence of his friends and the people he worked with, he knew there was some truth in what Meghan had said.

  Nichole was a student to him, a brilliant young woman and an asset to his practice. There was no way he could look at her as inferior to anyone else he’d ever met, and he genuinely wanted to help her in any way he could.

  Things were harder for her than for a lot of the people he knew, but he didn’t really understand what she was dealing with. For him, it was easy to get where he was. Getting new jobs, finding new clients, everything was just simple and fell into place.

  Which was a lot because he was a white man. Sure, he worked hard, and sure he had his own obstacles to overcome. There were things in his life that had been bad, but how would he have dealt with the sort of things Nichole was being asked to deal with?

  Not well, he knew.

  He let out a deep sigh and slid the phone back into his pocket.

  “Screwed this one up.”

  This was turning into one hell of a crappy day.

  He heard clapping from outside the office. It sounded like Jason was speaking, but he couldn’t make the words out. He heard chairs sliding across the floor as people stood. The AA meeting must be nearing the end.

  Richard wandered to the door and leaned against the frame. It was Jason speaking, and he was wrapping up for the night and giving his final words of encouragement. Another round of clapping when he was done and then people began droning back into their private conversations.

  Richard wished he’d driven over separately so he could head out now. He didn’t want to stick around, not after everything else going on with his day. He was in a bad mood, frustrated and exhausted, and now he would have to wait until everyone else had left and it was cleaned up.

  He glanced at his watch. It was a little before nine. Not terrible, but not great either. He just wanted to get home.

  He wandered further down the hallway, absently checking out the side rooms and willing time to pass. He went in and glanced around the storage room where the coffee pots were kept. He didn’t bother flicking the switch on.