Joel Goldman - Chasing The Dead

Alex smiled at the memory, not for the award but for what she saw later that night in the hotel bar. Robin and Judge Steele were huddled together in a dark corner, rubbing shoulders, their faces inches apart, oblivious to anyone else. She had kidded Robin about it the next morning, Robin telling Alex she was being ridiculous not only because Judge Steele was married but because both the judge and his wife, Sonia, were her close friends. But she was blushing nonetheless.

Though Robin never confided in Alex about her personal relationships, Alex knew that she didn’t live a cloistered life. She and Bonnie had seen her around town with different men over the years, none of them Judge Steele and none of them wearing wedding rings.

Looking at the photograph now, Alex could understand if they had hooked up. Judge Steele was silver haired, with sparkling blue eyes and the kind of rugged good looks that improved with age, and Robin, in addition to being attractive, had the serenity, self-confidence, and zest for life that any man would have appreciated. And they were out of town, away from prying eyes, sharing the perfect cocktail for a one-night fling, the hell with marriage and friendship.

Knowing that Robin was dead made Alex wish that Robin did have that fling, even if she couldn’t imagine Robin as a home-wrecking adulterer. She wanted to remember her alive and passionate, not lying dead in the wreckage of her car.

For Alex, Robin was the public defender, one not existing without the other. Robin didn’t hesitate to criticize or praise, doing the former in private and the latter in public, telling complainers to suck it up. The only time Alex asked her when she planned to retire, Robin scoffed, saying she’d die on the job. And now she had. Hand at her throat, Alex shuddered and squelched a sob, hearing Robin’s voice telling her to suck it up.

Meg Adler was waiting for Alex when she got to her office, sitting in a chair on the visitor’s side of the desk, a file in her lap, and thumbing through messages on her iPhone.

“Oh,” Alex said, her voice dropping an octave, her shoulders rounding, Meg’s presence in her office a sharp reminder that Robin really was dead.

Meg looked up. “Oh, sorry. Didn’t mean to camp out, but you’re first on my list.”

Alex nodded, hesitating in the doorway for a moment before walking past Meg and settling into her desk chair.

“Shitty way to start the day, huh?” Meg said.

“Not as shitty as it is for Robin’s kids.”

“Amen to that.”

“Did you know Robin?”

Meg shrugged. “Not well. Saw her at meetings, that kind of thing. She was very well regarded. I do know that.”

Alex knew it wasn’t rational, but she couldn’t help but resent Meg’s presence. Not because Meg had said or done anything wrong but because Robin should have been sitting in the chair, not Meg. So she didn’t respond, letting Meg carry their conversation.

Meg cleared her throat. “Look, I don’t like this any better than you do. No, that’s not right. I can’t possibly hate this as much as you do, so I won’t pretend that I do. I’ve been here for less than an hour and already I’ve gotten the wicked-stepmother look from half a dozen people. I get that, and believe it or not, I don’t take it personally. I’m just doing my job, and it will be better for all of us if you mourn Robin without taking it out on me.”

Alex took a breath and let it out, rubbing her face with her hands. “I’m sorry. You’re right. It’s just that this is all pretty fresh.”

“And raw, both of which I realize are horrible understatements.”

“Yeah. So what can I do for you?”

“You’re the senior attorney in the office, been here longer than anyone else now that Robin is gone. I don’t know how long it will take to find her replacement. All I know is that it won’t be me. In the meantime, I could use your support.”

“Sure. I’ll spread the word that you’re not the wicked stepmother.”

Meg smiled as she rose. “Great. How about we have a drink after work one day this week. Maybe do that bonding thing all the management gurus get so mushy about.”

The tightness in Alex’s belly began to ease. “Yeah, sure.”

Meg pointed to the picture of Bonnie on Alex’s desk. “She your other?”

“Yep.”

“Well, lucky you.” She was halfway out the door when she turned around, tossing the file on Alex’s desk. “I found this on Robin’s desk with a Post-it with your name on it. Guess it’s your case.”

Ice shot through Alex’s gut as she read the caption on the file, State v. Jared Bell . She laced her fingers together, afraid she’d shake if she picked it up.

“Yeah, I guess it is,” she said.

Rossi didn’t have to wait to be buzzed into the ER at Truman Medical Center. He’d been there often enough to interview witnesses, victims, and suspects that whoever was manning the desk hit the button as soon as they saw him, unlocking the door that led to the trauma unit.

He was on a first-name basis with many of the nurses and doctors, though Bonnie Long insisted on calling him Detective Rossi. He figured it was her way of keeping him at arm’s length, which he knew she would do today once she realized why he was there.

Rossi was convinced that Alex Stone had gotten away with murder. It didn’t matter that she’d been acquitted. That was a long way from being innocent. And it wasn’t just that she’d gotten off. It was that she’d skated on one of his cases, and the combination stuck in his craw like a bone splinter even if the world was a better place without Dwayne Reed in it.

He knew plenty of homicide cops who had a case or two they couldn’t let loose, cases they couldn’t solve or that were solved wrong. His clearance rate was high enough that he’d avoided getting hooked. Dwayne Reed’s case changed that, taking more of his time on and off the job than he’d like to admit.

He’d combed through Reed’s case file half a dozen times over the last year, looking for something, anything that would prove he was right, coming up empty each time. He wasn’t certain what he’d do if he found something, since Alex couldn’t be retried for murder. He knew that the Justice Department had prosecuted people acquitted of murder in state court for civil rights violations. Maybe the U.S. attorney would be interested.

When he’d run into Alex last night at the Zoo, he couldn’t resist picking at the scab again, peddling bullshit about not feeling guilty about the men he’d killed, hoping to make her feel worse. He didn’t expect her to confess over a beer, but when he saw what bad shape she was in, he thought it was worth giving her a push. It wasn’t going to happen then and there, but if he kept poking her, it might happen eventually. At least then he’d know for certain. And when he did, he’d figure out what to do about it.

He decided to take a run at Bonnie Long to gauge any fallout from the Zoo. If Alex was going to confess to anyone, it would be her, and he hoped she would be more likely to talk to him than Alex had been. He would reassure Bonnie that Alex couldn’t be prosecuted and that all he was interested in was the truth. She might go for it and she might not, but he didn’t have a better idea.

Watching Bonnie hustle in and out of treatment rooms, he understood why Alex had gone to such lengths to protect her, certain he would have done the same. Bonnie was simply beautiful, even with blood and vomit staining her white coat and her blond hair unraveling around her face. Rossi couldn’t remember bluer eyes. And he’d seen her inner steel firsthand, which was as attractive as any physical feature.

That she loved Alex was a mystery to him but no greater a mystery than any love between two people. He’d chased after love long enough to know what he didn’t know.