The Snow White Christmas Cookie

Though she saw no need to tell them that.

A second EMT van arrived now from Old Saybrook and took charge of transporting Kylie to the nearest emergency hospital, which was Lawrence and Memorial in New London. Highway I-95 was closed right now to all but emergency vehicles. If the plows were keeping up they might get her there in a half hour. On a normal day it would take ten minutes.

Des watched the EMT van take off, knowing she would have to prepare a detailed incident report for her troop commander. And this whole stupid mess would have to be reviewed by Internal Affairs. With the benefit of twenty-twenty hindsight they would demand to know why she hadn’t just put out a BOLO and let Kylie go. But Des stood by what she’d done.

In the back of their van, The Jewett sisters tended to Casey’s head wound and Josie’s eye. While they did that Des called Tina Champlain to notify her that her daughter had just been injured in a one-vehicle accident while fleeing the scene of a crime. Tina took the news surprisingly calmly. She even thanked Des for calling before she rang off.

By now Josie was standing there in the snow with a cold pack pressed to her swollen eye.

Des showed her a smile. “How are you feeling?”

“Fine,” she answered shortly. “But I need my files.”

“I know you do. But you can’t go back inside until we know it’s safe. Sit with me for a minute, okay?”

They got into the front seat of her Crown Vic. Des cranked up the heater.

“Not my best morning ever,” Josie said with a rueful shake of her blond head. “First my boyfriend kills himself. Now my office is toast. Who was that behind the wheel of the car?”

“Kylie Champlain.”

“Is she going to be okay?”

“I’d rather talk about you, Josie. Want to tell me what was going on in there?”

“It … wasn’t what it looked like,” she responded quietly.

“Does that mean you don’t want to swear out a criminal complaint?”

Josie looked at her, mystified. “A criminal complaint for what?”

“When I walked in that door your left eye was swollen and your underwear was in shreds on the floor. Was Casey sexually assaulting you?”

Josie let out a laugh. “No! Casey’s been a client of mine for the past two months. No sexual assault of any kind was taking place.”

“So what was?”

“A role-playing exercise.”

“Does this type of exercise usually result in you getting a black eye?”

“He didn’t mean to do it. He just got carried away.”

“By what?”

“Casey lacks confidence when it comes to women. I’m doing what I can to empower him.”

“So the sex was consensual.”

“It was an exercise.”

“Josie, are you romantically involved with Casey?”

She heaved an exasperated sigh. “I just told you-he’s a client.”

“I’m old-school when it comes to this life-coaching thing, so please forgive me if I come off as a bit dense. Are you telling me that consensual sex-consensual rough sex-is some kind of a teaching tool?”

“That’s exactly right,” Josie affirmed. “Sometimes the healing process calls for an unconventional approach on my part. But I’m willing to go there for my clients.”

“I see. Just out of curiosity, how many other men with confidence issues count on you to ‘go there’ for them?”

Josie lowered the cold pack from her swollen eye, glaring at her. “I can’t believe you’d ask me that.”

“You’d believe it if you saw what I just saw. How many, Josie?”

Josie gazed out of her window at the snow coming down. “Any information regarding my clients is strictly confidential.”

“Girl, you’re not a medical practitioner. You aren’t shielded by doctor-patient confidentiality.”

“Look, what you walked in on was something that you can’t comprehend,” she said, her cheeks mottling with anger. “And you-you immediately jumped to the wrong conclusion because that’s how your mind works. You make judgments about people. You sit there in your uniform and you decide who’s good and who’s bad.”

“This isn’t about me, Josie.”

“Yes, it is. You’re trying to make me out to be some kind of a hooker!”

“I’m trying to understand you.”

“Nothing bad was going on in there! I’m trying to help that poor slob, okay? He needs to feel better about himself if he’s ever going to have a productive, rewarding life.”

“Did Bryce know about these role-playing exercises of yours?”

“I never discussed my clients with him,” she answered quietly.

“Bryce had been a client himself. Were exercises part of his treatment?”

“I have nothing more to say to you,” Josie replied. “We’re done.”

“Okay. Please stay here. I’ll be back in a minute.”

Des got out of her cruiser and hopped into the back of the EMT van, where the Jewett girls were bandaging the wound on Casey’s forehead.

“How are you feeling, Casey?”

“I’m fine,” he grunted.

“It’s just a superficial wound,” Madge informed her. “His pupils are normal and responsive to light. He has no dizziness or nausea.”

“I’m fine,” he repeated, this time with a whiny, hostile edge to his voice.

Casey Zander happened to be a whiny, hostile guy. Also an immature one. He was twenty-eight going on fourteen, a petulant, overgrown fat boy with a jowly face, a weak chin and a sulky, almost girlish rosebud mouth. He dyed his hair a garish henna color and wore it in a peculiarly retro Meet the Beatles mop top, complete with bangs that he combed down almost to his close-set eyes. The dye job contrasted starkly with his dark brown sideburns. He was dressed in a he-guy plaid wool shirt and corduroy pants. The shirt didn’t flatter him. Fat boys should never do plaid. It also didn’t go along with his transgendery do. Des really, really didn’t know what was up with that hair.

“Would you like me to notify your next of kin for you?” Des asked him. “That would be your mom, right?”

Casey tensed visibly. “Why do you need to call her?”

“You’ve suffered a head wound. Maybe you shouldn’t be driving home.”

“I’m not a kid.…”

“Didn’t say you were.”

“And I don’t want you calling my mom, bitch.”

Des raised an eyebrow at Madge and Mary. “What did he just call me?”

“I believe he called you a bitch,” Mary replied tartly.

“He is one fierce customer,” Madge chimed in. “Better watch out.”

“Would you ladies excuse us for a sec?” Des asked them.

The sisters left them alone in the back of the ambulance.

“Want to tell me what was going on in there, Casey?”

“What did Josie say?” he demanded, fingering his bandaged forehead.

“I’m more interested in what you have to say.”

He shrugged, his girlish mouth tightening. “We were having our regular weekly session. She’s been trying to help me with-with…”

“With what, Casey?”

“I don’t want to talk about it!”

“Has anybody ever told you that whiny never scores cool points? Women don’t like to be around whiners- unless you’re paying them to be with you.”