“The judge saw you, saw the kind of person you are. It’s too bad she felt she had to do what she did.”
“Cops are watching me, Joe, cops who work for me and who expect me to do the right thing. I’m supposed to keep their respect after this?”
“Lindsay, the right-minded people in this city are rooting for you. You’re a good person, damn it, and a fine cop.”
Joe’s words got to me in a way that Mason Broyles’s vicious barbs had not. I put my head on his nice blue shirt and let the pent-up tears come as he h
eld and comforted me.
“I’m okay,” I said at last. I mopped up with the hankie he offered me. “It’s my hay fever. A high pollen count always makes me weep.”
Molinari laughed and gave me a good hug as the car climbed homeward. We crossed Twentieth Street, and the staggered rows of pastel Victorian houses came into view.
“I’d quit my job right now,” I said, “but that would only make it look like I’m guilty.”
“Those murdering kids, Lindsay. No jury’s going to find in their favor. There’s just no way.”
“Promise?”
Joe squeezed me again, but he didn’t answer. I knew that he believed in me completely, but he wouldn’t make a promise that he couldn’t keep.
“You going back right now?” I asked at last.
“I wish I didn’t have to. But yeah, I have to go.”
Joe’s work for the government rarely allowed him to break away to be with me.
“Someday I’ll have a life,” he said tenderly.
“Yeah. Me, too.”
True? Or a dumb fantasy? I put my head back on Joe’s shoulder. We held hands and savored what could have been our last moments together for weeks, not speaking again until we kissed and murmured good-byes at my doorstep.
Upstairs in the quiet of my apartment, I realized how emotionally depleted I was. My muscles ached from holding myself together, and there was no relief in sight. Instead of freeing me from this assault on my reputation and my belief in myself, the hearing had only been a dress rehearsal for another trial.
I felt like a tiring swimmer way out past the breakers. I got into my big soft bed with Martha, pulled the blankets up to my chin, and let sleep roll over me like a thick fog.
Chapter 23
A SHAFT OF EARLY-MORNING sunlight split the clouds as I tossed a last suitcase into the back of the car, strapped in, and backed the Explorer out of my driveway. I was hot to get out of town and so was Martha, who had her head out the passenger-side window and was already creating quite a breeze with her wagging tail.
The stop-and-go rush hour traffic was typical for a weekday, so I pointed the Explorer in a southerly direction and used the time to replay my last brief talk with Chief Tracchio.
“If it were me, I’d get the hell out of here, Boxer,” he’d told me. “You’re on restricted duty, so call it vacation time and get some rest.”
I understood what he wasn’t saying. While my case was pending, I was an embarrassment to the department.
Get lost?
Yes, sir, Chief. No problem, sir.
Agitated thoughts bounced around inside my skull about the preliminary hearing and my fears concerning the upcoming trial.
Then I thought about my sister, Cat, putting out the welcome mat and how lucky that was for me.
Within twenty minutes I was heading southbound on Highway 1, the open road cutting through thirty-foot-tall boulders. The waves of the Pacific pounded the rocky incline to my right, and great green mountains rose high on my left.
“Hey, Boo,” I said, calling my dog by her pet name. “This is what’s called a vacation. Can you say va-ca-tion?”