The Silent Widow

‘Look. I am grateful,’ she told him.

‘Really?’ he frowned. ‘You’ve got an odd way of showing it.’

‘It was very brave, what you did,’ said Nikki. ‘But it doesn’t erase everything that went before. You’re bigoted. You’re self-righteous.’ She counted his character flaws off on her fingers, like a disappointed schoolteacher. ‘You blatantly lie in court to protect fellow officers.’

‘I’m loyal to my friends!’ Johnson defended himself. ‘So are you, Doc. Look at the way you protected Brandon. Only difference is, my friends are decent guys who’ve devoted their lives to public service, whereas yours are good-for-nothing junkies who cut innocent people to ribbons with butcher’s knives just so they can afford their next hit.’

Nikki winced. She wished with all her heart that this weren’t an accurate description of Brandon Grolsch. But it was. Even if Luis Rodriguez and Valentina Baden had been pulling the strings, Brandon must still be held accountable for the terrible things he’d done.

‘Does the name Jerry Kovak mean anything to you?’ Johnson asked, out of the blue.

Kovak. Something stirred in Nikki’s memory, but she couldn’t quite place it.

‘Detective Jerry Kovak, drug squad. Great officer. Lost his wife. He was involved in an incident with a lowlife drug dealer back in the early 2000s. The judge gave him twenty years.’

‘Kovak …’ Nikki murmured the name out loud. ‘Not the guy who beat the young black boy nearly to death?’

‘That “young black boy” was a ruthless dealer and killer by the name of Kelsey James.’ Johnson spat out his name as if it were poison. ‘Jerry, on the other hand, was a decorated detective, not to mention a great husband and father. He was out of his mind with grief at the time. But you testified against him. You told the judge he was OK mentally, and that bitch put him away for two decades. Totally destroyed the man.’

Nikki could see the anger and resentment etched on Johnson’s face. He genuinely thinks an injustice was done, she thought. Choosing her words carefully, she said, ‘I remember. It was a tragic case.’

‘It didn’t need to be,’ said Johnson. ‘You stuck the knife in, Doc.’

Nikki looked him in the eye. ‘I meant tragic for everyone. For your friend, but also for the murdered man and his family.’

‘’Course you did,’ said Johnson bitterly.

‘Grief is a terrible thing,’ said Nikki. ‘I know that as well as anyone. But you can’t go round beating people half to death.’

‘Kelsey James wasn’t “people”. He was scum. Him and his family and the whole community of bastards who closed ranks around him. You think I’m a racist, Doc? You ever ask yourself why?’

‘No, I don’t ask myself that,’ said Nikki, still defiant but less angry than before. She saw now that Mick Johnson wasn’t an intrinsically bad man. Only a deeply misguided one. ‘Because it doesn’t matter why. Wrong is wrong. What your friend did was wrong. And that’s that.’

‘That’s that,’ Mick repeated, shaking his head in a mixture of amusement and despair. ‘What a cozy, black-and-white world you live in, Dr Roberts. For us cops out on the street – you know, the guys risking our lives to save yours – it ain’t like that. Nothing’s ever black-and-white. Everything’s gray.’

We’re never going to agree, thought Nikki. I’ll never get him to see the world my way, and he’ll never get me to see it his way. But we’re both trying to live by our own conscience.

She felt the last of her own anger melt away and a deep sense of relief sweep in to take its place.

‘Why did you ask me here today, Detective Johnson?’

Johnson eyed her thoughtfully, as if considering how best to solve a complex problem. Which, in a way, he was.

‘To call in a favor,’ he said, clearing his throat. ‘Or perhaps you could say to make a trade? I saved your life. So maybe you might do something for me in return.’

‘If I can,’ said Nikki. ‘What’s the favor?’

‘Jerry Kovak’s got a par

ole hearing next month.’ Johnson looked her square on. ‘I’d like you to speak in his defense.’

Nikki’s face fell. ‘Come on, Detective. Be reasonable. You know I can’t do that.’

‘Sure you can.’

‘He was guilty of that crime,’ said Nikki. ‘He was no more insane than you or I. My opinion hasn’t changed. I’m sorry.’

‘This isn’t about guilt or innocence,’ said Johnson, waving away her objections with an impatient hand. ‘It’s about mercy. About showing compassion for a decent man.’