“What do you mean, nearly got killed?”
“She told me she handled a hostage situation all by herself. Resolved it successfully. I have a feeling she was breaking a few rules-not to mention risking her neck.”
Walsh hadn’t heard about this. “You don’t seem too surprised by her heroics.”
“Why would I be? That’s C.J. I guess that’s why they gave her that nickname.”
“What nickname?”
“You don’t know? Killer. That’s what the other cops call her.”
“Killer? Why? Any special reason?”
“Oh, it’s quite a story.” Walsh heard a note of pride in Nolan’s voice. “Happened when she was new to the street-back when she was a rookie working Harbor Division. One night, on only her third week on the job, she and her training officer get a report of loud music coming from an apartment. Doesn’t seem like anything serious, so the training officer lets C.J. handle it. They go up to the apartment, and there’s rap music blasting from inside. C.J. bangs on the door, yells, ‘Police!’ And guess what happens?”
“Tell me.”
“The guy inside the apartment starts firing through the door. If he’d been using a shotgun, C.J. and her partner would’ve been killed. But it’s a handgun, and the shots miss.”
“Christ,” Walsh said. It was rare for any cop to be fired on, and rarer still for a boot fresh out of the Academy.
“The training officer pulls C.J. to cover and calls for backup, but then they hear somebody screaming for help. C.J. says they’ve got to go in. Her partner doesn’t want to. She goes in anyway-and he follows. She shamed him into it, I guess.
“They kick down the door and enter, and the guy with the gun starts firing from the bedroom, and they’re returning fire. It’s a real shootout. C.J. told me she emptied one clip and put in another. Her partner did the same. That’s, what, thirty rounds?”
“Something like that.”
“Finally the guy stops shooting. They got him. He’s been hit twice in the abdomen, and he’s lost consciousness. C.J. goes past him into the bedroom and finds another guy in there, next to the stereo, which is still booming out the rap music. This guy is tied to a chair. He was being tortured-tortured to death. The music was turned up loud to cover his screams.”
Walsh shook his head. “Why was the victim being tortured?”
“Drug dealer thing. The one guy decided to eliminate his competition.”
“Did the gunman die?”
“No, he pulled through. So C.J.’s not really a killer. But they started calling her by that name anyway. Because she had the killer instinct.”
Walsh took this in. “What’s it like, being married to a woman with a killer instinct?”
“She didn’t display it with me. I think the other cops misinterpreted it anyway. It’s not that she wants to be Dirty Harry. It’s just-well, something happened to her when she was a kid.”
“What?”
“I don’t know, exactly. She never talks about it much. But something scared her. I think she became a cop to deal with that fear. I think she went into that apartment for the same reason. She’s lived with fear for a long time, and I think this is her way of dealing with it.” Nolan shifted in his chair. “I’m not sure how helpful any of this is.”
“Let me just clear up a few more little things. You said you left C.J. between four-fifteen and four-thirty this afternoon?”
“Yes.”
“And went back to your office?”
“Yes.”
“When did you get there?”
“Maybe quarter of five.”
“People saw you return?”
“Sure. The receptionist, Anna. Some of my colleagues. A client
…” His words trailed off. He seemed bewildered by this line of questioning.
Walsh pressed on, aware that his Columbo act was about to run out of steam. “What kind of vehicle do you drive?”
“BMW 325 coupe.”
“Is that it? No other car?” Or a white van, he added wordlessly.
“I’m one person. How many cars do I need?”
“Did you have any further contact with C.J. today?”
“No.”
“Didn’t call her this evening?”
“No. I worked at the office until six, then went home.”
“Home is where?”
“Brentwood.”
“Anyone see you arrive home?”
Nolan stiffened. “What’s this about?”
“I’m just asking-”
“You’re trying to verify my movements-is that it?”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Nolan,” Walsh said in his best Peter Falk voice. “It’s routine, that’s all.”
“Routine. Right.” Nolan seethed for a moment, then said reluctantly, “Hell, I don’t know if any of my neighbors saw me get in. Probably not. I didn’t see any of them.”
“And then?”
“Made dinner, turned on the TV-want to know what I watched?” he asked with sarcasm.
“Okay,” Walsh said.
“The news. The local news. Channel Four. Then a movie on HBO. Field of Dreams, the baseball thing. Around eight o’clock I got a phone call from Detective Boyle. Now I’m here.” He lifted his arms and let them fall limply in his lap. “That’s it.”
“All right, Mr. Nolan.”
“You through asking questions? Can I talk now?”
“Go ahead.”
“Good. Because I’ve got something to say.” There was no expression on his face, only a deadly stillness. “This is bullshit. You start this interview by telling me you need some background information, and you end up treating me like a goddamned suspect.”
“I’m sorry,” Walsh began, but Nolan wouldn’t let him be Columbo anymore.
“I don’t want to hear it. You drag me in here and waste my time, and what’s more important, you waste your time. Are you running this investigation?”
“As a matter of fact, I am.”
“Then what the hell are you doing here with me? How does this help you to get C.J. back?”
“It’s impossible at this stage of the investigation to say what will be helpful-”
“Cut the crap. You’re here so you can say you followed procedure, so you can make a check-off mark in your notebook. ‘Talked to ex-husband,’ check. And meanwhile somebody’s got C.J., and for all we know she could be dying right now.”
“Mr. Nolan-”
“Quit talking to me, and get off your ass and find her, God damn it! Just find her… find…” Abruptly he slumped forward in his chair, all the anger hissing out of him. “Oh, shit.”
He cradled his head in his hands, rocking back and forth.
“We’re doing everything we can,” Walsh said.
Nolan just shook his head.
Walsh was almost sure this wasn’t the guy. But he reminded himself that Adam Nolan was a lawyer, and every lawyer he’d ever met had been skilled at deception. He’d better ask for the names of those witnesses who
