somewhere along the lines of twenty-five years day-for-day might not be out of the question. But it’s up to you, Lee. I remember standing at the scene where the Becks were killed and you said no deals.”
He leaned forward and folded his hands on his desk in front of him. He looked at Alexander for a long moment, then turned to me.
“I hired you because I trust your judgment,” he said. “I want you to handle this case your way. If you think making a deal with Boyer will help you get another murderer off the street, and if making a deal is the only way, then do what you have to do. I’m going to leave it all up to you.”
I stood up. “Thank you, Lee,” I said. “I appreciate your confidence. I trust everything that was said in this room today will stay in this room.” I glanced sideways at Alexander, who immediately turned and looked at the wall.
“Absolutely,” Mooney said.
I walked out of his office and back down the hall knowing that I’d just been set up. I’d seen it before with other prosecutors and their assistants. Lee’s decision to let me have free rein on the case had nothing to do with his having confidence in me. It had everything to do with accountability. He’d turned the case over to his trusty assistant, an experienced trial lawyer who he believed was perfectly capable of handling anything that came his way, and he’d instructed him to handle the case “your way.” He even had a witness.
If something went wrong, he was off the hook.
I, on the other hand, would be left twisting in the wind, like an outlaw at the end of the hangman’s noose.
Saturday, November 1
Saturday evening reminded me of why I enjoyed being away from the cruelty and ugliness that made up the criminal justice system. Lilly had come home for the weekend, and Jack called just to check in around six o’clock. Caroline felt well enough to cook steaks on the grill. After the three of us ate supper and cleaned up, I grabbed a couple of beers and sat on the back deck and watched the stars twinkle in the vast black sky. Around eight, Caroline, Lilly, and I curled up on the couch and watched Monty Python and the Holy Grail. It was so good to hear Caroline laugh, and Lilly even provided a bit of vaudeville when she tripped over Rio and tossed a bag of popcorn all over the den.
Just as I was starting to think the world wasn’t such a bad place after all, the phone rang. It was Sarah.
“I just wanted you to know that I’m going back to Crossville tomorrow,” she said. “Robert and I are going to give it another try.”
I was dumbfounded. Sarah had always been unpredictable and headstrong, but I couldn’t imagine that she would put herself back into an abusive situation.
“Are you crazy?” I said. “Are you ill? Are you back on the sauce?”
“Don’t start on me, Joe. I’m a grown-up. I can handle it.”
“He beat the hell out of you, Sarah!”
“Don’t yell at me!”
I knew from years of experience that shouting wouldn’t work. The more I shouted, the more she’d shout, and the chances of reasoning with her would steadily melt away. I tried to think of a way to convince her that she was making a terrible mistake, but in the back of my mind, I knew it was futile.
“Sarah, please. It hasn’t even been a week. You haven’t even healed yet, for God’s sake.”
“We talked on the phone for a long time yesterday,” she said. “He’s sorry, Joe. He’s really sorry. He broke down and cried like a baby.”
“I can’t believe I’m hearing this. Why don’t you at least give it a month or so? Let yourself try to get past this.”
“I don’t want to give it a month. I want to go back and try to make it work. We’re going to go to counseling.”
“Counseling? What kind of counseling? A karate class?”
“Stop being so cynical,” she said. “He’s really a good man.”
“No, he isn’t. Good men do not beat on women. Period.”
“He just has some problems. Surely you, of all people, can sympathize with that.”
“No, I can’t sympathize with it. He’s a bully. He takes his rage out on people who can’t defend themselves.”
“The pot calling the kettle black,” she said.
Here we go. The classic warped Sarah logic. She’s worse than a goddamn judge.
“What do you mean? I did what I did because he deserved it. And he’s bigger than I am.”
“He said you didn’t give him a chance.”
“And what about you? Did he give you a chance?”
“He’s willing to give me another chance, in spite of what you did.”
“So now you’re blaming me? This is absolutely unbelievable.”
“I didn’t ask you to come down there. I could have handled it just fine myself.”
“What were you going to do, Sarah? Bleed on him?”
“I’m not going to argue with you anymore,” she said. “I just called because I felt like I owed you the courtesy of telling you I’m moving back.”
“Sarah, he’s going to do it again. When he does, don’t call me.”
I hung up on her, frustrated and angry. Caroline, who’d heard the shouting, walked up behind me and started rubbing my neck.
“She’s going back,” I said quietly.
“I know,” Caroline said. “I heard.”
“What’s wrong with her? I just don’t understand how she could do something so foolish.”
“She still hasn’t gotten over the rape. She thinks she deserves abuse. If she’s not doing it herself, she finds someone to do it for her.”
“Something bad’s going to happen,” I said.
I turned to her and she kissed me on the cheek. “And if it does, you’ll be right there for her, just like you’ve always been. C’mon, let’s get some sleep.”
I opened my eyes Sunday morning to streaks of silver light shining in from behind the blinds in our bedroom. I threw my legs over the side of the bed, reached up, and pulled back the blinds. Massive gray clouds that looked like buffalo humps were receding to the west, replaced by an azure sky brightened by the sun in the east. As I sat there looking out the window, I suddenly felt like something wasn’t quite right, but then I realized what it was: Rio greeted me every morning as soon as my feet hit the floor. He’d lay his snout across my thighs, look up at me with those expressive brown eyes, and wait for me to scratch his ears. He’d spent the night at the veterinarian’s after being neutered the day before. I hated to do it to him, but as he grew older, he was becoming more aggressive. We kept him in the house most of the time, but anyone who came to the door was greeted by a snarling, ninety-pound missile just itching to launch itself. He calmed quickly and had never bitten anyone, but I’d also received a couple of complaints from people who happened to walk or jog by the house when he was outside. He apparently guarded the edge of the property with the same zeal that he guarded the house. I hoped the neutering would calm him down.
I stood and looked at Caroline, who was sleeping peacefully. She’d lost all of her hair-even her eyebrows were gone-but I’d already grown used to it. As the sunlight illuminated her face, I thought to myself again how beautiful she was. I’d tried to tell her, but she scoffed at the compliments, referring to herself as “onion head.”
She’d done amazingly well. By scheduling her chemotherapy treatments on Fridays, she was able to endure the sickness she experienced immediately afterwards on the weekends and get back to her beloved dancing classes on Mondays. She wore a wig to the dancing school that almost, but not quite, matched the color of her hair. I’d suggested that she didn’t need to wear the wig, but she said she was afraid her baldness would frighten the younger students, and I knew she was right. When she was around the house, she usually wore a knitted cap of some kind. She complained of pain in her bones, slept late most days, and had to take a nap in the afternoons, but she’d managed to keep her sense of humor and a positive outlook.
