Frank Zafiro: Heroes Often Fail

Kathy pushed the notepad and pen back to Browning. “Because she’s crazy,” Kathy said. “She’s crazy and she’s a drunk.”

Browning let that lie for the moment. “What about your father?”

She shook her head. “He left her as soon as I graduated high school.”

“Where’s he now?”

A touch of sadness dimmed Kathy’s eyes. “Passed on,” she said.

“I’m sorry,” Browning said.

Kathy wiped away the beginnings of a tear. “You didn’t know.”

“Does your mother live alone?”

“No. She lives with her new husband.”

“Who’s he?”

“Fred Henderson,” she told him. “They got married about ten years ago.”

“What do you know about him?”

“Next to nothing. Anyone who can deal with my mother, I’d prefer not to know.”

Browning leaned forward and fixed Kathy with a careful gaze. “Now, Mrs. Dugger, I have to ask you a question. Do you think there’s any way your mother could be involved in this situation?”

Kathy Dugger took a deep breath and gave the question careful consideration. Kopriva watched her eyes as they digested the question and calculated the odds.

“No,” Kathy said. “She’s nuts, but not like this.”

1106 hours

After the interview, they gathered in the front yard on the walkway. Kopriva was sure that they looked like a football team, huddling up to call a play.

“What do you think?” Crawford asked Browning.

Browning stroked his gray-speckled goatee for a moment, then answered, “I think she’s telling the truth.”

Crawford snorted. “I know that . Even hero-boy over here-” he motioned toward Kopriva-“can tell she’s telling the truth. Jesus, Ray, I’m asking you where you wanna go on this one.”

Browning wasn’t fazed by Crawford’s diatribe. “I say we let Tower finish his interview of the little girl. Bring that info to every patrol roll call after that. We should also get a description of the suspect and a picture of the little girl out to the media, once Tower is finished. And we need to keep a patrol guy here with the mother, in case a ransom call comes in.”

Crawford sighed. “Like I said, I know all that. I’m asking what you want to do.”

“I think this grandmother deserves a look-see, even if she is a whack job.”

“You want to go talk to the crazy lady?”

“Yeah. Just in case. Then I’ll hit Crime Analysis with the info Tower gets. He and I can start looking at area sex offenders and then-“

“L-143,” crackled Crawford’s radio.

Crawford held up a finger toward Browning while he raised the portable radio to his mouth and depressed the button to transmit. “L-143, go ahead.”

“South side units have detained a vehicle matching your suspect vehicle in East Central near Medgar Evers Elementary.”

Crawford’s eyes lit up. “Suspects?” he asked.

“Officers on scene report a match.”

“Hot damn,” whispered Crawford and copied the transmission. Then he looked directly at Browning. “Still want to check out the kook mother?”

“No, I want to go see what patrol has.” Browning glanced over at Kopriva. “Stef, you feel like going over and checking out this grandmother? Just to be sure?”

“Sure,” Kopriva said. “Only I didn’t drive.”

“He shouldn’t be doing active field investigations while on light duty,” Crawford said, unwrapping a short, fat cigar.

“He shouldn’t be out here,” Browning said, eyeing the cigar, “but since when are you a stickler for bullshit rules, El-tee?”

Crawford scowled at Browning and lit the cigar.

“Besides,” Browning said, “it’s probably nothing. I just want to be sure.”

A plume of blue cigar smoke rose in front of Crawford’s face. He spit a small piece of tobacco from the tip of his tongue, then turned to Kopriva. “Call a uniform. And don’t fuck it up.”

1109 hours

Gio watched through the kitchen window as Browning drove away. Lt. Crawford stood with Kopriva and smoked his cigar. Even from a distance, Gio could read the lieutenant’s contempt for Kopriva. He struggled to feel bad for the guy, but couldn’t anymore.

At first, back in August of last year, he’d felt sorry for Kopriva. He had to watch Officer Karl Winter die, the victim of a robber’s bullet. He even felt a touch of admiration for the way the three-year officer handled himself during the shootout at the Circle K that followed a few days later, though he noted that it took Officer Thomas Chisolm to finish the job. As time passed, though, and he learned more about what had happened, his admiration faded and in its place grew anger and resentment. Jack Stone had told him that Kopriva could have saved Winter if he had applied some basic first aid. Instead, he stood there like he was helpless and let the veteran officer bleed out on the street.

Some members of the department thought Stefan Kopriva was a hero, but there were others, like himself, who felt the kid was lucky to be alive and that he was the reason Karl Winter was dead.

And as far as the shootout goes…

“What’s going on?” Kathy Dugger asked.

Gio turned and looked at her. She was a tiny woman with jet black hair. Even with mascara smeared beneath her eyes and the tip of her nose red, she was pretty. At first, he thought the chaplain might answer, but the clergyman deferred to Gio.

“The lieutenant is…,” Gio said, “Well, he’s sending folks where they need to go.”

“Do you guys have a plan?” she asked him.

“I’m sure Crawford does,” Gio said. “He’s the Major Crimes lieutenant. He’s used to dealing with incidents like this.”

Kathy nodded absently and wiped her eyes.

Gio turned back to the window in time to see a patrol car pull up. A moment later, Kopriva got into the passenger’s seat and the car pulled away from the curb. Lieutenant Crawford clipped the ember off the end of his cigar, crushed it under his heel and strode back into the house. He entered without knocking.

“Giovanni!” he bellowed and Kathy Dugger winced.

“In here,” Gio answered, several decibels lower than Crawford.

The Lieutenant stomped into the kitchen. He looked at Gio and then at Kathy Dugger, then back at Gio. He heaved a sigh and turned to Kathy again.

“Ma’am, when is your husband due back?”

Kathy cleared her throat and spoke. “He’s in a small town outside of Atlanta on business. There’s a manufacturing plant there. He’s supposed to inspect them. That’s his job, an inspector.”

“Yes, you told me that,” Crawford said and Gio cringed at his bluntness. “But when will he back?”

“I’m not sure. He said he had to drive to Atlanta, then fly to New York. Then Minneapolis to Seattle to River City. There are a couple of layovers.” She shrugged. “Sometime tomorrow, I guess.”

Crawford looked over at Gio, then back at Kathy again. “Are you comfortable with Officer Giovanni here?” he asked.

She looked up at him, then over at Gio. “Yes,” she nodded.

Crawford grunted. “And the chaplain?”

“Of course. Why do you ask?” Kathy asked him.

“Because, Mrs. Dugger, I’d like to leave an officer here full time until this is resolved.”

“What for?”

“In case there’s a ransom call.”

Kathy’s lip quivered and she lowered her forehead to her palm and cried softly. The chaplain put his hand on her shoulder.

“Is that all right?” Crawford asked.

She nodded silently.

Crawford grunted again, then caught Gio’s eye. He waved for the officer to follow him, then turned and strode out of house.

Gio reached out and patted Kathy’s shoulder. “I’ll be right back, ma’am.”