He was paralyzed with fear that the blood test would prove that his one intimate moment with Sandy would turn out to be just what he'd always believed it to be a mindless mistake instead of what he hoped it was now, a chance for a different kind of future. He parked the Taurus in the garage at his Venice house on East Canal Street, walked past his ruptured Acura, and went into his kitchen. Longboard had slipped a note under the door:
Shane, I got some cold beer and steak.
I'm tapping the Source.
You're invited.
Longboard
He put the note on the counter and slowly walked through the house, taking stock of his minimal emotional and physical existence: the furniture remnants from broken love affairs; the bullet-riddled plaster walls in his front room, reminders of his fragile mortality. He picked up a pen and paper, then went outside and sat in one of the old rusting metal chairs.
He looked out at the setting sun just dipping below the horizon, dragging the last vestiges of the day across the shallow channels like a burnt orange memory.
He was in a new place, starting a new chapter in his life. He was not sure where he was going or how long it would take to get there, but for the first time in a long time, he was looking forward to the journey.
Then he uncapped the pen and wrote a long, personal letter to Chooch.
Chapter 50
The news vultures were on the sixth floor of the Bradbury Building, leaning over the rails, blowing white streams of cigarette smoke into the huge glassed atrium. The ancient wrought-iron elevators went up and down, making unhurried stops, measuring each trip with a tailor's precision.
Shane was seated in the witness room on the fifth floor because he didn't want to stand out in the corridor and be pestered by news crews asking about the whole breaking Long Beach story. The NFL had just rescinded the L. A. Spiders' franchise along with the Web, and the Coliseum was now the likely choice to get the nod.
Burl Brewer was awaiting trial in County Jail, and the LAPD had a new chief named Tony Filosian, from New York. A short, round man who wore huge pinkie rings and spoke with a Brooklyn accent, he showed up for work in a shiny suit and was instantly dubbed 'the Day-Glo Dago,' but he seemed like an excellent choice because of his background of turning around troubled departments.
Barbara Molar got off the elevator and walked down the hall. Shane saw her through the window. He hoped she wouldn't come into the witness room, but when she saw him, she smiled and quickly came through the door, her blond hair shining, smile radiant, dancer's calves flexing as she took a chair next to him in the empty room.
'Boy, talk about a cluster fuck,' she said, opening the conversation in typical in-your-face Barbara fashion.
'Yep, it's assholes on parade,' he said, not showing her much.
'I'm here to back you up. I did the IO interview last night. I've been out, so I stopped by and signed it this morning on my way over.'
'That's good. Thanks.'
'So who's your new DR?' she asked. 'I heard you canned DeMarco Saint.'
'I'm gonna try my own board,' he said.
'Is that smart?'
'I've been getting that question a lot, so I'm beginning to wonder.' He smiled at her.
She fished a cigarette out of her purse, lit up, and started smoking in the small room. Shane wished she wouldn't; he'd never completely gotten over his desire for cigarettes.
'I figured I know the case better than anybody,' he went on. 'Since the department didn't want to give me more than a four-day postponement, I figured, what the hell…'
'Right. What the hell,' she said. 'Are we finally at a place where we can talk about the future?' she asked, smiling through the smoke.
Shane thought it'd be bad timing to piss her off just before she was going to testify. On the other hand, the IO had told him that she'd backed his story in her deposition, and he knew she pretty much had to stick to her statement.
He turned and faced her. 'Y'know, Barb, I don't think we're gonna get a chance to see that happen.' He watched her as her expression turned sour. 'I've got some new responsibilities,' he continued. 'I took a blood test to see if I'm Chooch Sandoval's father. I'm expecting the results today. Then I'm picking him up and taking him home for the long weekend. We're gonna talk it out. After that, who knows? I may decide to raise him. I mean, if everything works out.'
'Y'know, Shane, our timing was always pretty damn shitty, but you're not giving this a chance. Now that Ray's gone, it can work. And a kid? You wanna raise a kid?'
'Well, yeah, I sorta do,' he finally said. 'He and I hit it off.'
'Kids are a drag,' she said, stubbing out her cigarette. 'Ray and I never wanted kids. You never said anything about wanting kids… baby-sitters, homework, car pools… You can't be serious?'
'Listen, Barbara, thanks for being there for me.'
'Yeah. Well, I'm gonna see if they've got coffee. See you inside.' She got up and left.
Over and out.
Then Commander Van Sickle arrived, and a uniformed police officer announced the commencement of the Scully Board, in hearing room one.
Shane walked out of the witness room and entered room one. It was the largest of the hearing rooms, and there were news crews in all the available chairs in the back. Internal Affairs Boards were public hearings, so there was no way of keeping the press out. They would have to suffer through his clumsy presentation of the defense.
The room was rectangular, with large arched windows that streamed in sunlight and backlit the three-man judging panel. The two sworn and one civilian panel members were seated in leather swivel chairs at a long table at the head of the room. The American and LAPD flags decorated opposite ends of the stage. A court reporter was in a chair off to the side.
Warren Zell was prosecuting the case for the department, and there were four IOs clustered around him. Shane was alone at the defense table; his one assigned investigating officer was still out, taking statements and collecting last-minute depositions. Hopefully he would be back by noon.
Commander Van Sickle opened the proceedings. 'Sergeant Scully, are you ready to proceed?'
'Yes, sir.'
'To start with, I'm going to read you your rights, from the Police Disciplinary Manual. Okay?'
'Yes, sir.'
'You have the right to appear in person and present a defense to the charges against you. You have the right to be represented by a department defense representative. You may produce witnesses to testify on your behalf, including character witnesses. You may cross-examine witnesses testifying against you. You have the right to testify in your own defense. You have the right to be present when board members examine your personal history and records. You also have the right to have all sworn testimony at this hearing reported and transcribed by a hearing reporter. You shall be entitled to a copy thereof.' He looked up. 'Do you understand your rights?'
'Yes, sir.'
'This board has been convened to determine if unnecessary and escalating force was used in the fatal shooting of Lieutenant Raymond Molar. There are five counts of misconduct, all listed in your letter of transmittal.'
The door in the back of the room opened, and Alexa Hamilton walked into the hearing. Everybody turned to look at her. She was wearing a tailored black suit coat and skirt over a white silk blouse. A red scarf decorated the collar.
