Lisa Scottoline - Mistaken Identity

“Your lawyers are here, Rosato,” the detective said, and Bennie looked up.

Judy and Mary stood in the doorway behind Grady, their expressions strained with fear. Grady rushed forward and gathered Bennie in his arms, lifting her almost bodily out of the chair. Pain arced through her ribs. “I’m all right,” she said, but Grady turned to the detective.

“Leave us alone, please. We need five minutes.”

“Five minutes, counselor,” the detective said. He had a runner’s build and a trim haircut. He opened the door and left.

“Grady, wait,” Bennie said, holding up a palm. “There’s something I have to do. DiNunzio, Carrier, sit down.” Grady stepped aside as the associates, in jackets over their street clothes, sank into chairs. Judy looked worried, and Mary positively stricken, the three wrinkles across her young forehead now permanent as the earth’s strata. “Are you okay?” Bennie asked her.

“Are you okay?” Mary answered, her voice hushed. “Your lip is all bloody.”

“I’m fine.” Bennie ran her tongue over a sore bottom lip. “But listen, what happened tonight is no joke. You guys are off this case. No more court appearances, no more signing any papers that get filed.”

“Bennie, no,” Judy protested, but Mary remained silent, which Bennie noted.

“Carrier, you have no choice. First thing tomorrow, you file a withdrawal of your and Mary’s appearance. I want it as high-profile as possible. Tell Marshall to send a press release about it, too. I want you two off this case and I want everybody to know it.”

“How’s that gonna look?” Judy raked her tousled hair with her hand. She was wearing jeans and a football jersey that stuck out under a short Patagonia jacket. “It’ll look like we quit, like we got scared.”

“You can’t worry about what people think. Your safety is more important.”

“Than my reputation as a lawyer? Than my responsibility to you?” Judy shook her head and her hair swung around her ears. “I’m not quitting. I’m showing up tomorrow in court. That’s my choice.”

“No, it isn’t. It’s my law firm, I make the case assignments. We need an associate on the Burkett case. You’re it. Both of you.”

“I won’t do it,” Judy insisted, and Bennie rubbed her forehead. Her head throbbed from the bump she’d taken in the back. Her cheek had stopped bleeding but her jaw ached, and all this arguing didn’t help.

“Carrier, just once, could you do what I say? Just once, could you listen?”

“I’m listening, I’m just not obeying. What would my getting off the case solve? What about you? You’re the one they’re after. This cop tried to kill-”

“Yes, what about you, Bennie?” Grady chimed in, and Bennie looked up from her chair to see the fear on his face. His skin, fair to start with, was an unhappy shade of pale, and his eyes red from work and worry. Blond nubs dotted his chin and his old DUKE T-shirt was on inside out, tugged on in a hurry. “I know you won’t quit, but you can’t go on without some security. Either I’m in that courtroom or you hire protection.”

“Protection? You mean a bodyguard?”

“I mean three bodyguards.”

“We can’t afford three.”

“I’ll settle for two, but that’s my final offer.” Grady turned to the associates and managed a smile. “Is that agreeable to you, counsel? Two bodyguards?”

“Yep,” Judy said. “That means I’m still in. Okay, boss?”

“No, not okay.”

Grady touched Bennie’s shoulder. “It should be her choice. Look at all the stupid choices you make, and nobody stops you.”

Bennie smiled. “Stop. It hurts to laugh.”

Judy laughed. “It’s a settlement, then. I’m still on the case.”

Bennie sighed, too shaken to fight. “All right, I’ll settle for Carrier, but, DiNunzio, you’re on Burkett starting tomorrow. File your withdrawal of appearance in the morning, then take the rest of the day off. Got it?”

Three heads suddenly turned, and all of a sudden Mary felt as if she were the one in the chair for prime suspects. “I don’t know,” she said.

“It’s not up to you,” Bennie told her. “You did wonderful work on this case, with the neighbors, and now it’s over.”

“But the neighbors haven’t been called yet, as witnesses. How will you cross them? I haven’t prepared you.”

“I’ll be fine. I have your notes. I know what to do.”

There was a sharp rap on the door and Bennie stiffened, wincing as her ribs protested the change in posture.

“Rosato?” said a man’s voice, and the door to the interview room opened.

But it wasn’t one of the detectives. Standing at the threshold, his grizzled face lined with regret, his familiar khaki pants and navy blazer a wrinkled mess, stood Lou Jacobs.

It had gone as Bennie had expected at the Roundhouse, with Grady acting as her attorney, though he was barely needed. The detectives listened to Bennie’s account of Lenihan’s death with civility and professionalism, and credited it almost immediately. They had no alternative, given the supporting evidence. DiNunzio and Carrier perched on folding chairs and managed to keep their tears in check, but it was Lou who surprised Bennie.

He hovered at her shoulder opposite Grady during the entire questioning, taking her side against the police without having to say a word. When she was finished, he rested a warm hand on her shoulder, which she found more comforting than she could rightly account for. Bennie hardly knew the man, but she sensed something benevolent in him. A goodness not found in the young; a tenderness that came only with years. Lou would be her bodyguard. In a way, he already was.

Bennie remained quiet in the car ride home with Grady, who was as kind and as solicitous as he could be. At the house, he made her fresh coffee, understanding that Bennie didn’t feel like talking. He put an ice pack on her head, which remained sore in the back, and gave her a tablespoon of honey to make her throat feel better. It helped, even though it was less than scientific. Her lip had swelled where she’d cut it and her jaw was shaky from being bounced around, and for that Grady prescribed a night’s rest. Beside him.

Bennie was grateful to him, but oddly found herself unable to say so. She lay sleepless, awake until dawn. She couldn’t think, but could only feel. If she had met death firsthand with her mother’s passing, Bennie was on an intimate basis with it now. She couldn’t help but feel partly responsible for Lenihan’s death. She kept replaying the fight on the wall in her mind. If she had just closed her fingers around the windbreaker a second earlier.

Bennie closed her eyes in the dark bedroom. Her thoughts wandered to the prison murders. Connolly had driven a screwdriver into Leonia Page’s throat, almost the same spot where Bennie had stabbed Lenihan with the pen. Was there such a thing as the killer instinct? Did Bennie have it, too? Tears slipped from beneath her eyes, one after the other, coming as uncontrollably as her questions. Was her heart as dark as Connolly’s? Did she have that level of hate in her nature, subsisting deep in her bone and fiber, residing within her very cells?

The bedroom remained still. The night was deep and silent. The only sound was the low electrical hum of the alarm clock, its squared-off face glowing a fraudulent orange. Grady’s breathing came soft and even. The dog snored from a curl on the plywood subfloor at the foot of the bed. This room, this man, and even this animal used to make Bennie feel safe, used to fill her with love. She used to think of her mother, sleeping as peacefully as she could, in the hospital, watched over by the best doctors money could buy. The thought would comfort her, complete her somehow. Bennie’s life was full then, and sweet. She was happy.