Conviction of the Heart

by Alana Lorens

  The clock on the wall chimed six o’clock. The afternoon had moved so fast. In the parking lot, Suzanne called home and Hope answered. Suzanne explained she was still downtown. “I’m leaving now, so I should be home in half an hour or so. Is everything okay?”

  “Just fine, Mom.”

  “If you girls are hungry, go ahead and make some mac and cheese or something.”

  “Okay. See you soon.”

  As she turned the key to start the car, Suzanne wondered whether Nick had heard the good news yet. Her adrenaline fading, chunks of reality began to fall into her mind. What was I thinking to go to that neighborhood alone? What if the girl had a pimp there? Or a group of drug dealers? What if Jojo had come while I was still there? She shuddered, thinking of the alternate outcomes. Good thing she hadn’t put too much thought into her decision—too many reasons she could have talked herself out of going to see Cassandra.

  And only one to make herself go.

  She smiled, an inner warmth filling her as she thought about Nick’s future, now rescued from dishonor. She couldn’t wait to see him again.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Nick heard the doorbell and ruefully checked his worn sweats and stocking feet, not exactly dressed for company. He’d been hanging around the house most of that week, except for his regular run to take Suzanne’s girls to school in the morning. After school they had so many different activities, it had proven difficult to catch up with them. So he’d called them as agreed about five p.m., just to make sure they were both home.

  The bell rang again, and he regretted the cluttered end table and other signs of disorderly housekeeping, but he clicked off the mindless talk show. He’d only had it on for noise, so he didn’t feel quite so alone. It was dark out. He picked up his pistol and held it in his hand, ready, just in case, as he pulled the door open.

  On the doorstep under the light, he found Hank Ferguson, his pudgy face split ear to ear with a huge grin, a six-pack of beer in one hand and a white bag from Tony’s in the other. Totally unexpected, the appearance of his friend confused him.

  “What’s up, Hank?” Nick asked.

  “What’s up? You mean you haven’t heard?” Hank pushed past Nick into the house, and Nick caught a whiff of Italian spices. “What the hell happened in here?”

  Nick followed him into the living room, where his former partner was surveying the disaster. Seeing it through someone else’s eyes really demonstrated how much he’d let it slip. “Oh, that. Haven’t had much need to take care of it, I guess.”

  Hank eyed the gun. “Don’t think you need that, pal.”

  “Huh? Oh, probably not.” Nick set the pistol on the counter and went back to the first question. “Heard what?”

  Hank set his packages down and grabbed Nick by both shoulders. “You’re clear, man! Washington set you up, but Reickert shut down the investigation today. You’re back on as of eight a.m. tomorrow!”

  Nick shook his head, wondering if this was another of the dreams he’d been having. It just seemed too miraculous. “Washington? Says who?”

  “The girl came clean with Reickert, told him everything!” Hank was clearly amazed at Nick’s good fortune. “I thought for sure Suzanne would have called you.”

  “Suzanne? Why?”

  Hank froze. “Hey, these beers are getting warm. Want one?” he asked in a clear attempt at diversion.

  No, no, something was up there. “Why Suzanne?” Nick demanded. “What did she do?” He moved around in front of Hank, who had just popped his can open. Foam rose through the hole, then settled back in.

  “Maybe I’d better let her—”

  “Too late. You already said it.” If she went behind my back...

  Hank took a step away. “Now, Nick, there’s no need to blow a gasket here. She asked me for—”

  “You let her get involved in this? What the hell were you thinking? These people aren’t just playing around!” Nick rubbed his face with his hands, trying to keep his temper under control.

  “She was going to try something anyway,” Hank said. “Wasn’t it better that I could help?”

  “What did she ask you for?”

  Hank took another step back.

  “Stop that! I’m not going to hit you. I’m not going to hit her. I just can’t believe you’d do something while there was an investigation going on through Internal Affairs!” He glared at Hank, then took a breath and forced his face into a smile. He wanted Hank to come clean. “Now, what did she ask you for?”

  “The girl’s name and address.”

  “And you gave it to her?” Nick counted to ten, then changed his mind and took a beer. He drank about half the can, then looked back at his partner. “Did you know what she was going to do with it?”

  Hank nodded, and took another pull from his can. “She said she’d go talk to her, see if she could find out the truth.”

  Nick was torn between astonishment that Hank would jeopardize an ongoing investigation by stealing information from a police file, and awe that Suzanne would go to such an extent to try to rescue him. Were they all crazy? Speechless, he shuffled around the room, trying to make sense of what he’d heard. But it worked, a tiny voice repeated in the back of his mind. He ignored it.

  Hank hung back till Nick relaxed and allowed a small smile. “It might have been crazy, son, but I had to let her try. If there was anything else I could have done to help her, I would have.” He chuckled. “You should have seen her, Nick. She came barreling into my office, all over me for not doing more. She demanded the information so she could take care of things, since we men couldn’t seem to handle the situation.” He shook his head. “She’s a real tiger, and she loves you an awful lot.”

  Nick collapsed into his recliner. His head buzzing with the revelations which confronted him, he suddenly remembered there was a beer in his hand. He stared at it for a minute, then drank it and set the can down.

  “So she got the girl to confess?”

  “Reickert said you’d been completely cleared and that Washington, along with Malron and Vasquez, had been implicated in fabricating her original testimony. They’re gone.” Hank came closer and sat in the chair next to Nick’s. “Have you had anything to eat today? Man, if you’re going to drink beer like that, you’d better eat something.” He took sandwiches out of the bag and set one in Nick’s hand.

  Gone? The Three Amigos, removed from his squad room? A ripple of pure relief ran through him. He absentmindedly took a bite from the sandwich, then set it down on the table. He couldn’t believe it.

  “Suzanne went, herself, to talk to this girl? What did she say?”

  “How should I know? Whatever it was, it worked!” He bit happily into the other sandwich.

  Nick knew the general area where the girl lived, since he’d filled out the papers when he first booked her for soliciting him. It was not the kind of place a female professional ought to be, even by daylight. How could Suzanne take such a risk? Then heard Hank’s words: “She loves you an awful lot.”

  All along, Nick had felt he was fighting an uphill battle with Suzanne. Every time he got close, she always managed to set him apart again. He knew she was only protecting herself. No matter what he’d tried, he couldn’t seem to convince her he was not John Taylor and had no intention of hurting her. But this crazy stunt showed she had real feelings for him. The impact of this revelation overshadowed even the news of his miraculous exoneration.

  “She loves me,” he said to Hank.

  “No kidding.” He chuckled and went on with his dinner.

  “I should call her.” As Nick stood up, he swayed a little, partly because he’d had a beer on an empty stomach, partly because he’d been presented with too much earth-shattering information at once. Hank immediately set him back down in the chair.

  “Eat.” Hank gave him back the sandwich. “You can call her later. First, get hold of yourself.”

  “But—”

  “No buts. Eat.”

  Nick compli
ed without further argument, realizing it wouldn’t be of much use anyway. He went on with his thoughts about Suzanne and the wonder of his new understanding. What would he say to her? How did you thank someone for restoring your dream, your life?

  Hank finished eating and drank some more of his beer. “So you want to go out and celebrate?”

  “Yes, I think I do.”

  “You want I should call some of the guys?”

  Nick smiled. “No, I think I’ll call Suzanne and take the opportunity to thank her for what she’s done.”

  “What? You’re going out with the girls instead of us?” Hank half-whined, all-teasing.

  “Just one girl,” Nick said. “One very special girl.” He punched Hank playfully on the shoulder. “But thanks for the sandwiches, and the help. It was good to hear the news from you.”

  “My pleasure,” Hank said. “I’ve been pretty worried about you with all that claptrap going on. Glad it’s over.” He stood up and stretched. “Guess I’ll go home and spend the night with my wife.”

  I wish I could say that, Nick thought. Maybe someday soon... “Good night, old man. See you at the office tomorrow.” He laughed. “Hey, that sounds real good. See you at the office tomorrow!”

  “Thank her for me, too.” Hank picked up his jacket and ambled out the door, tipping his hat.

  Nick waited until he drove away before he picked up the phone. Conscience stinging him, he called his buddy Charley. He should have heard back about the computer trace by now. After what Suzanne had done, he owed her an answer about those emails.

  He got his friend on the second ring. “Hey, Charley, it’s Nick Sansone. Checking up on the—”

  “Oh, man, your friend definitely has stepped in something,” Charley said without any introduction. “Yesterday afternoon, we finally deciphered the last piece. You’re not gonna believe this.”

  “Try me.”

  “The emails came from a cell phone that belongs to Councilman Morgan’s kid. What the hell’s going on?”

  Nick gave him the briefest of explanations, all the while his nerves burned hot at the thought of Morgan putting his boy up to these tactics. The man just didn’t learn. Bad enough to send paid goons out to deliver his messages. Suborning his own son should be a crime in itself.

  After he got Charley off the phone, he dialed Suzanne’s number. One of the girls answered, Riviera maybe. “Is your mom home?”

  “Sure, just a minute.”

  In the background, he heard the girl calling for Suzanne, who picked up an extension, probably in her office. The original connection cut off as Suzanne answered. “Hello?”

  “What have you been up to?” Nick said, trying to sound angry. He would never have asked her to put herself at such risk, especially not on his account. He didn’t intend to let her off the hook easy.

  “Up to? Now what’s happened? More trouble?”

  “Where you’re concerned, there’s always trouble.”

  “Funny, that’s what I always say about cops,” she said. He heard the smile in her voice.

  “Don’t even try to put me off, Suzanne. I can’t believe you’d…” He sighed. She obviously knew why he’d called. “Hank was just here. He told me everything.”

  “Oh.” An awkward silence followed.

  “Can you get away tonight for awhile? We can go out somewhere to talk. You can explain what the hell you thought you were doing, you crazy woman!”

  “You’re the second or third person to call me crazy today,” Suzanne said. “I’m going to start believing it pretty soon.”

  “Well, can you?”

  “Of course. Let me make sure the girls have everything they need, then I’ll meet you...at Frederick’s?”

  “Sounds good. See you in an hour?”

  “Fine.”

  Nick hurriedly showered and dressed, wearing what he knew was her favorite aftershave, and debated stopping by the grocery store to buy some roses. Nah. He’d leave that for later. Right now, he just wanted to get his hands on her. In every possible way. She’d managed to redeem him, single-handedly.

  The conversation they’d had with that Pittsburgh Press reporter must have ignited something in her. He’d seen the fire in her eyes when he insisted on waiting until the investigation had run its course. He’d assumed everything would turn out fine. Maybe it would have. But maybe it wouldn’t.

  She’d changed it all.

  He arrived at Frederick’s before she did and chose an isolated corner booth, so they’d have a chance to talk without interruption. The place was a neighborhood bar along Route 19, quiet and casual, mostly inhabited by regular patrons who liked the simple red vinyl booths and the bartender’s pretty wife Beverly, who waitressed most nights. Bev came over as soon as he was seated. “What can I get you, handsome?”

  “A beer. No. Make that an orange juice,” he said. Better keep my head clear.

  “Straight?” As he nodded, Beverly made little clucking sounds and went over to pass Fred the order. She was back with a tall, icy glass of orange juice almost immediately.

  Several minutes later, Suzanne came in the door, wearing dark narrow pants and a black turtleneck, wrapped in a large puffy knitted shawl of multicolored earth tones. Nick slid out of the booth and came across the room to take her in his arms. She returned his embrace, pressing up against him. He could tell she didn’t want to let go any more than he did.

  “It’s good to see you,” she whispered near his ear. Her warm breath stirred him in a way he knew they couldn’t act on in public.

  He reluctantly released her, but left his arm around her shoulder while they walked over to the booth. “Zinfandel?” he asked.

  “What’s that?” She peered at his glass. “Orange juice?” She shrugged. “That sounds good.”

  “Bev, another?” Nick called, and the woman nodded in reply. He slid close to Suzanne, leaving his arm where it was. “So.”

  She smiled mysteriously. He waited, just enjoying the feel of her next to him, until the server brought the second glass of juice. “So.”

  “I heard today we were right. Charley traced those emails to Morgan’s son’s cell. So either the kid sent them, or his dad used the phone. Either way, I’ll pass on that information to the local department. They’ll be pressing charges against him.”

  Suzanne’s smile faded into shadows. “Morgan is an idiot. I can’t believe he’d set his kid up like this. Maddie’s brokenhearted about him.”

  “I agree. But he’s not the only idiot I know.” He studied her, thinking he’d never seen anything so beautiful. “Hank tells me the Three Amigos are history, because you went out to East Liberty to find this girl. That could have had very bad consequences.”

  “Why can’t you just say thanks without nagging me about taking risks? Just once, Sansone, it would be awfully refreshing.”

  His fingers squeezed her shoulder. “No, babe, I meant to say that I’m just amazed. You never fail to surprise me, counselor.”

  The way her face lit up showed him that pleased her. “I hope not, Detective. I don’t want to be boring.”

  “I don’t think you’ll bore me for some time to come, dear Suzanne.” He kissed her, then held her tightly. “I will never be able to thank you enough.”

  When he released her, she wiped a tear from her cheek. “I’m the one who should thank you, for all you’ve done for my girls, and for me.”

  “You all mean the world to me.”

  She smiled. “Back at you.” Her eyes sparkled, and he cut off her next words in the most pleasant way he could think of. That kiss led to another, and soon they left Frederick’s and retired to Suzanne’s house to hold each other close through the night.

  ****

  The next morning, Nick marched into the stationhouse, his head held high. He personally watched with satisfaction as Washington, Malron and Vasquez emptied their personal belongings into boxes, then were escorted from the police headquarters building. Still uneasy that the matter was really over and done
with, he felt out of place in his office, worried he’d somehow changed in the weeks he’d been away.

  Chief Reickert had been so guilty about his lack of support that he’d offered Nick an upcoming plum assignment: escorting an extradited prisoner to California. The trip would take a week, and all his airfare and hotels would be paid by the city. “You deserve to get away,” Reickert had said.

  Nick was looking forward to the trip. It would be a good chance to wipe the slate clean, get all the lingering depression and frustration out of his system, and start fresh with Suzanne when he returned. Too bad she couldn’t go with him, but this was business. From now on, he intended to keep business and his private life separate.

  ****

  The girls had gone to a Saturday afternoon basketball game, and Suzanne paced through the empty house restlessly. She’d run laundry, shaken the rugs, and even emptied the clogged trap under the bathroom sink. The only office work she was interested in was a pending call from Greg Morgan’s attorney approving the settlement she’d proposed. Under the gun with the criminal charges for stalking and threatening her, as well as the harassment by communication charges, she guessed he’d have to accept. But she didn’t think any news would come through until Monday, when the corporate attorney-types returned to work.

  In quiet desperation, she broke her own resolve to leave the dishes for the girls to do when they returned, and washed them, setting them in a wooden rack to dry. She looked out the window across the yard as she worked, the snow piled a foot deep waiting for next week’s January thaw. She couldn’t wait until the tulips she and Nick had planted in the fall would stick up their bright, cheery heads.

  How long ago that was! The winter had been shot through with drama, thanks to Nick’s personnel problem and her own dealings with the Morgans. But both those matters were concluded, and it was time to face the future.