“I don’t know either of those names, either, I’m afraid.”
“I thought we were speaking man-to-man,” Coughlin said.
Savarese took a bite of his eggs Benedict, chewed them, and then dabbed delicately at his mouth with his napkin.
“Has it occurred to you, Inspector,” Savarese said, “that if you—the police department—had not been so efficient—more efficient, frankly, than I would have believed—the problem would have been solved?”
“Mr. Savarese, I know that you take pride in your reputation as a man of honor,” Coughlin said.
Savarese raised his eyebrows questioningly.
“I also like to think of myself as an honorable man,” Coughlin said.
“And you are so regarded by me.”
“I have taken an oath—a vow before God—to uphold and defend the law.”
“Someone once said, ‘The law is an ass.’ ”
“I think that’s often true,” Coughlin said. “But when that is true, what we should do is change the law, not ignore it.”
“Man-to-man, you said,” Savarese said. “Man-to-man, taking into account what it says in the Bible about an eye for an eye and a tooth for tooth, what do you think should happen to an animal who did what this animal did to my granddaughter? Who took from her her innocence, her dignity, her sanity . . .”
“When I consider that question I have to remind myself that in the Bible it also says, ‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Lord.’ ”
“That’s avoiding the question,” Savarese said.
“I can’t let myself think about things like that,” Coughlin said.
“Is there justice, would you say,” Savarese asked, “in permitting an animal like this one to escape any punishment at all for the terrible things he did, because to punish him according to the law would mean bringing even greater pain and humiliation to the innocent person he violated?”
“Man-to-man, no, Mr. Savarese,” Coughlin said.
Savarese held up both hands, palms upward.
“Thank you for your honesty,” he said.
“I was hoping, Mr. Savarese, that you would decide, perhaps to save your granddaughter the risk of any further pain, that my assurance that this animal will be behind bars for a very long time would be enough punishment.”
He looked into Savarese’s eyes and was surprised at the cold hate he saw in them, and even more that he felt frightened by it.
And then the hate in Savarese’s eyes seemed to diminish.
“Forgive me,” Savarese said.
“Pardon me?”
“For a moment, I thought I heard a threat,” Savarese said. “And for a moment, I forgot that you are an honorable man, incapable of even thinking of using my granddaughter as a pawn.”
“One of my concerns, as a man, and a police officer, is to spare your granddaughter any further pain,” Coughlin said.
“Yes, I believe that, and you have my gratitude,” Savarese said. “It seems to me that what this amounts to is the dichotomy between your belief that ‘Vengeance is mine, saith the Commonwealth of Pennsylvania,’ and my belief that that vengeance, as limited as we both know it will be, is not nearly enough.”
Coughlin shrugged.
“I will do, Mr. Coughlin, what I believe is both my right and my duty to do, and I’m sure you will do the same.”
“Mr. Savar—”