Lisa Scottoline: Devil's corner

"You backed yourself into it, Chief. I know about you and so does Reheema. Dan will know, too, when he finds out Montgomery shot Reheema. Nobody's gonna let it go, Chief. It's over."

"I thought we were friends! We got along pretty good, didn't we? I didn't fire you when I could have, I knew you would never let go then. Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?" Bale's eyes looked suddenly wet, and Vicki felt a twinge of sympathy.

"I'm not your enemy, Chief." "Sure you are, you're gonna turn me in!" "I have to turn you in, if you don't turn yourself in." "You and Malloy! You're gonna ruin my career, my life!"

Bale's voice went higher and he grew panicky, desperate. "You want to ruin my life? My kids' lives? That what you want?" "No, but-" "I'm not goin' in, Vick. I can't. I know I did wrong, but I can't go in. Sorry." Suddenly Bale slipped his hand into his jacket and pulled out a dark Beretta. His pained eyes locked with Vicki's over the gun, and she knew from his tears what he was going to do. She had faced a loaded gun before, and this bullet wasn't meant for her.

"Chief, no!" Vicki shouted. She lunged for Bale's wrist just as he started to turn the gun on himself.

Crak! the Beretta fired, and Bale fell backward, knocked off balance. They both tumbled back and fell hard on the snowy sidewalk, the gun flying from Bale's open palm.

"CHIEF!" Vicki screamed, terrified that Bale had been hit, but behind her, the glass window of the jewelry store shattered. A security alarm went off in the next minute, earsplitting in the quiet night.

"No!" Bale moaned, lying still and beginning to sob, and Vicki held him close as a shout came from the entrance of Angelo's.

"VICK! VICK!" It was Dan. Then there was another shout from someone else, then another, closer. The cops and AUSAs were coming, running to them. They would arrest Bale, who was wracked with sobs, and take him away.

Vicki felt like crying, too, but she couldn't give in to emotion just yet.

Reheema .

Vicki and Dan sat together in the waiting room of the hospi-tal's emergency department, which was empty except for a couple waiting to see an ER doctor about a flu. Fluorescent lights shone harshly in the allegedly comforting room, with its pastel-blue walls, hotel watercolors, and pink pamphlets about wellness and the importance of dietary fiber. Newspapers and magazines, their covers curled, made a periodical pile on the wooden coffee table, and the place smelled vaguely of McDonald's French fries from a bag left in the waste can. An old TV mounted in the corner was on low volume, but Vicki couldn't bear to watch again the footage of her Cabrio with Reheema's blood on the door. She had left her parents a phone message, so they didn't freak when they saw the TV.

She rested her head on Dan's shoulder, but she couldn't stop thinking about Reheema, who was still in surgery after three hours. Vicki was going crazy without an update on her condition; the doctors were working on her, and the nurses and other emergency staff were busy. She had cried all the tears she could cry and sat in the chair, still in her down coat, feeling exhausted, tense, and guilty.

"I should've been with her, Dan."

"No, you couldn't. You did everything you could."

Vicki didn't reply, but she would never believe that. She could never have predicted where this long road would lead her. Now that she'd reached the end, she didn't want to be here. Not if it cost Reheema her life.

She couldn't stop the mental images of what else was to come. The indictment against Bale. His wife and kids heartbroken. Her office and ATF disgraced. Strauss and Saxon before microphones, reminding the public of the overwhelming majority of hardworking, dedicated AUSAs and agents. Lawsuits by those wrongly imprisoned, costing the federal government millions of dollars. Every penny won would be deserved, and even so, couldn't make anyone whole. And some of those released would surely have been found guilty, if the government had been given the chance to prove its case; now they'd be freed, even well-compensated. So they could buy more guns for resale.

"If justice is good, why does it feel so bad?" Vicki asked.

"Lot of things that are good feel genuinely lousy."

"Like what?"

"Apologies, for example. I owed you a major apology and I gave it to you. I was wrong, down the line, and you were right." Dan smiled, tired and still wearing his North Face coat, too. "You know, I love you."

"I love you, too." Vicki liked the new tone in his voice, but neither of them felt like kissing. "So when you gonna dump me?"

"After I sleep with you a few more times."

"Hey!" Vicki shoved him, and Dan laughed softly, defending himself with his hands.

"Stop. I'm not dumping you."

"What about work?"

"We can handle it."

"What about what people will say?"

"They don't like it, they can kiss my Irish ass." Dan smiled.

"I'm sorry I said you had to choose. I was being stupid."

"I'm sorry I said you were political."

"I am. At least, I was."

"I can't believe Morty," Vicki said, disgusted. "He turned out to be such a fraud. A liar. His whole life was phony."

"You're just angry."

"Damn right I am. Look what he did."

"You and me, we don't see Morty the same way."

Vicki frowned. "Since when did you start talking like Dr. Phil?"

"Since about an hour ago, when my girlfriend almost got killed, again , and my professional life turned upside down. It makes you think."

"How do you see him?"

"I'll tell you, if you can listen with an open mind." Dan's smile vanished, and his eyes looked dead-level at Vicki. "It's something I learned from my father, and from Zoe."

"The cat?" Vicki smiled. "Okay."

"As you know, Miss Zoe is loving, smart, and loyal. She has many wonderful qualities. Plus, she loves you."

"I'm her landlord."

"That's beside the point. She hated my evil ex-wife."

"So did I."

Dan smiled. "But to my point. She's wonderful but she's not perfect. She has a heart murmur."

"Yeah, so?"

"I love her anyway."

"So?"

"Think about Morty. He was smart and dedicated and able, but he had something wrong with his heart. And so did Bale. You're angry because you think you can't love them anymore, especially Morty. But you can." Dan nodded. "My father is in the same category, but I love him anyway, too."

"You forgive him?"

"No, I mean I love him. It's a direct line."

"Is that possible?" Vicki didn't get it.

"Yes. Listen to me. I'm older, I'm taller, and I know." Dan reached over and moved a stray tendril from Vicki's face. "You're looking for the perfect man, babe, and all there is is me, and your father."

Vicki blinked, and suddenly there was a rustling at the threshold to the waiting room. They both turned. Reheema's surgeon, an older man in wrinkled blue scrubs and a puffy patterned hat, came bustling in, his face drawn with concern.

"Doc?" Vicki said, alarmed, sitting up.

By early morning, the snow had finally stopped falling outside the hospital room window, leaving the sky a pure sapphire-blue that appeared only in the coldest winters, as heaven's own reward. Vicki sat in the high-backed chair while Reheema slept, a transparent green oxygen tube looped under her nose, and her hair black and fuzzy on the thin white pillow. A thermal blanket was pulled up to her neck, covering the bandages from her surgery. The doctor had said that she was going to live, but her recovery was going to be slow, so Vicki had sent Dan home.

In time Reheema stirred and her large eyes fluttered open, and Vicki got up and crossed to the bed, feeling a rush of relief. It was one thing to have a doctor say she was going to live, and another to see her finally wake up. Vicki eased onto the edge of the bed, near Reheema. A splint had been taped to the top of her hand where the IV went into the vein, and her long, dark fingers bent slightly, with the residuum of dried blood under her fingernails.