While sitting through the funeral, I take a very exhausting self-deprecating journey. During the several hours of reflection and mourning that every officer around me is no doubt experiencing, I instead sit and beat myself up for my fucking stupidity. This dumb-as-fuck philosophy that I’m better off alone is nonsensical. I can no longer come up with an acceptable reason to deprive myself of having her.
Yet, I also can’t bring myself to drag her into my crappy existence. The years and years of mental anguish I’ve endured have damaged me beyond help. They’ve made me angry, bitter, and most importantly selfish.
Between the full State Funeral, formal procession to the cemetery and interment, it’s practically nightfall by the time it’s over. Farley catches up to us on our way to Rob’s car.
“I’m flying out with the team to Chicago. You need to bring Smyth in tonight. Sergeant Lawrence will assist in questioning in my absence. He’s been briefed and is expecting your call. Smyth is at the Gramercy Park location. You’re to enter officially as investigating officers.”
That’s Ella’s gym.
It takes me a few seconds to focus on what Farley is saying. Thankfully, Rob nods and responds appropriately for both of us.
On the trudge back to my apartment to get back into street clothes and all the way to the gym, my thoughts bounce between questioning Smyth and seeing Ella. If Rob notices my distraction, he doesn’t mention it.
Outside the gym, he stops before opening the door. “You ready? Or should I ask if the hard-ass ruthless cop Ben Stone is ready?”
“I’m ready.”
“No snide comment? No fuck off?” He shakes his head and adds, “I need you here, bud. One hundred percent.”
“I am here.”
He narrows his eyes in doubt but opens the door regardless.
The gym is busy. Most of the machines are being used. I don’t see Ella after a quick perusal of the first floor. We walk toward the reception desk. Nole is animatedly explaining the gym amenities to two men. They eagerly scan the crowd, foaming at the mouth to get into the hottest workout spot in town.
After a few minutes, I impatiently move around them to stand next to Nole.
“Sir, I’ll be with you in a minute.”
Flashing my badge, I announce, “We need to speak to Todd Smyth.”
“Wait, you’re a cop?” Nole fails miserably at hiding his unease. “Um…he’s in the back. Past the free weights, the door on the right.”
Rob and I walk to the back office. I bang on the door calling out, “Todd Smyth.” Several of the patrons stop their workout to watch nosily. Smyth appears at the door, holding himself in a very intimidating stance. I meet his eyes and he asks, “Can I help you?”
Rob flashes his badge, and I wait a few seconds before I flash mine. “NYPD. We’d like to ask you a few questions regarding the disappearance of Frank Politto.”
Smyth’s facial expression remains unaffected and indifferent. He stands aside, motioning for us to enter his office. We follow him in and I simply state, “Downtown.”
My command causes him to lose his composure. “Why the fuck do I have to go downtown?”
“We’ve been trailing Frank Politto for weeks and were close to an arrest for drug trafficking. We are formally detaining you as a person of intereston the disappearance of Frank Politto.” Rob pulls out two photos from his pocket. “Is this you entering The Pole on the second of May with Politto?”
“Yeah.”
A second photo is thrust in Smyth’s face. “Same night, is this you leaving The Pole alone?”
“Yeah, so?”
“We have eyewitnesses who accounted for the fact that you and Politto went into the back office at half past eleven. A scuffle was heard, and you exited the club an hour later. Politto never surfaced again.”
Smyth clenches his jaw, but otherwise says nothing.
“This is an interview under caution placing you at The Pole and last to see Frank Politto before his disappearance was reported. We have audio recordings of Frank Politto detailing a change in a heroin drop at your midtown Social Workout location to an apartment in Astoria, Queens. In those recordings, he specifically mentions your name as facilitator of that drop.”
“What if I refuse to go?”
“We’ll be back with a warrant for your arrest.”
Smyth folds his arms defiantly. “I want an attorney present.”
“By all means.” I move toward him. “Are you carrying a concealed weapon?”
“I have a permit.”
“You need to remove it now.”
Rob and I stand shoulder to shoulder, each with a hand on our holsters. Smyth removes his gun, locks it in a desk drawer, and pockets the key.
Wordlessly, I motion toward the door. Smyth grabs his cell off his desk and leads us out of the office. All eyes in the gym are on us. Smyth keeps his gaze straight ahead. The only indications of his anger are his red ears and his clenched fists.
To our right, I see Ella on the sparring mat. She stops in place, gaping at us as we walk past. Smyth turns his head and makes eye contact with her.
The instant their eyes meet, Ella clutches her chest and starts to pant. Her eyes are wild with fear. Her mouth hangs open. She bends at the waist, holding her knees as she continues to breathe heavily. She briefly looks my way before her eyes dart back to Smyth. The instructor she was sparring with walks over to her, concerned. Ella shakes her head, never breaking eye contact with him. The whole thing takes five seconds from start to finish, yet it feels like an eternity.
I want to stop to comfort her, but I can’t stop.
Rob raises his eyebrows at me as we lead Smyth out of the gym. He knows exactly what I’m feeling and thinking.
Once Smyth is in the backseat, I pull out my phone and immediately text Ella.
Please text me you’re okay. I need to know that you’re okay.
Rob watches with a sideways glance as I call Sarge to alert him we are on our way with Smyth in custody.
I’m about to question one of the most important players in this fucking case, and all I can think about is Ella Parker.
“Answer the fucking question,” I ask for the hundredth time between clenched teeth.
Rob subtly nudges my leg with his foot. He’s right. I need to calm down. This motherfucker is getting on my last nerve. He sits beside his lawyer, refusing to answer any question we ask. Of course, it’s his right. But his refusal is earning him an arrest, which suits the case just fine. That’s not enough to extinguish my escalated level of anger. I want to fuck this asshole up, for no other reason but he caused Ella stress, and I don’t know why.
Hours have passed. I have no idea if she’s okay.
Homicide detectives join us to take over the questioning. By the end of the legally accepted allotment of time to hold Smyth, I’m fit to kill.
Smyth is detained for probable cause of drug trafficking and for suspicion of the murder of Frank Politto. His involvement with us has now made him a marked man. Once a mob member is questioned formally, he can no longer be trusted. His detainment is guaranteeing his safety until an arrest can be made.
Something in the way Ella looked at him has me thankful his detainment is also keeping him away from her.
“I’m going to see Ella,” I tell Rob the minute our feet leave the interrogation room.
“Andrea said she’s okay, now.”
“I’m going!” I bark.
“Then, I’m coming with you.”
“No. You go to my place. I want to talk to her alone.”
Its midnight by the time I pound on her door. She doesn’t respond. I pound again and call out, “Ella, it’s me. Open up.”
A few seconds later, I hear shuffling in the apartment. Andrea opens the door with concern etched on her face. “She’s in bed.”
“I need to talk to her.”
“Ben, let her be. You can talk to her tomorrow.”
“It’s okay, Andrea,” Ella says from the doorway of her bedroom.
Andrea nods and says, “Please go easy. She’s had a rough night.”
Ella walks back into her room, leaving the door open. I hesitate before I follow. Briefly meeting Andrea’s concerned gaze, I close the door behind me. Ella sits facing away on the edge of her bed.
“I’m fine,” she says before being asked.
“Ella.”
“I’m fine, Ben.” She turns enough to see me. “I sometimes have panic attacks. They just come on without explanation. That’s what happened at the gym.”
I walk over to sit beside her. “The man we were escorting out, have you seen him before?”
“No,” she immediately says. “No.”
“Ella, you looked terrified when you saw him. Does he remind you of someone?”
“No. I honestly have never seen him before in my entire life. It was his tattoo.”
“The one around his neck?”
“Yes.” She stands and paces nervously. “I know it’s a common tattoo. Barbed wire. I’m sure thousands of men decide on barbed wire. Right?” she turns to me, pleadingly.
As she stands before me, she morphs into the scared, terrified Ella that I saw at the gym earlier today. Her eyes widen in panic. Her breathing becomes labored. Tears fill her eyes. In an instant, I have her wrapped in my arms.
“Ella, breathe.”
She clutches my shirt between her fingers as she clings to me in desperation. Her entire body trembles against me.
“Shh, I’m here. I got you.”
Her whimpering turns to sobs. I hold her tighter, stroking her hair as she continues to sob in my arms. My heart clenches painfully at the obvious pain she’s carrying with her. My thoughts drift to what she must have seen, what she must have felt that horrible night.
I wait patiently until she calms. Although her breathing evens and her sobs end, she continues to cling to me, never loosening her grip until she finally looks up embarrassed.
“I’m sorry.” She tries to step out of my arms. I relax my hold, but keep her encircled in my arms.
“You have nothing to be sorry about.”
“Yes I do. For using you.”
With my pointer, I lift her chin slightly until we are staring into each other’s eyes. “Ella, you haven’t used me. I can’t be used if I willingly want to be here, holding you, soothing you.”
“You say that out of pity.”
“I don’t feel sorry for you, Ella. I’m the one you should feel sorry for.”
“Why,” she pauses before adding, “why you?”
“You’ve fucked me up, and I don’t know how to handle it.”
This is where I would predictably kiss her again. The way she swipes her bottom lip quickly with her tongue, the way her eyes widen, hints that she expects me to. But instead, I tuck her face into the crook of my neck and hug her as tightly as I did before.