Chapter 26

Chrissy

It wasn’t Tony’s fault, what he’d been forced to do, and somehow that realization touched off the same for myself, even though he’d been saying it all of this time, it had still felt like somehow, this was all my fault… but it wasn’t. I could only take responsibility for my own actions, not the actions of crazed sports fans, or even a man who had drunkenly handed the keys to his equally drunken friend.

It wasn’t Tony’s fault that he’d had to shoot Curtis Wetmore, and it wasn’t my fault that Curtis Wetmore had come after me… it was Curtis Wetmore’s fault and it was sad that it had come to this, but I couldn’t take responsibility for it any more than Tony could.

I had held him for a long time, until we had nearly dried and stuck together, and the alarm had gone off, startling us both. We’d showered and dressed together, and he looked so tired. However, before we’d opened the door to the rest of the suite, he’d stood straight, pulled his shoulders back, and took a deep breath, and aside from the dark circles and slightly red rims to his eyes, you’d have never guessed just how exhausted he was.

I picked my own head up, squared my shoulders and we exchanged a look, smiled, and went out into the world as a team. I liked that, and I think, right now, we both needed that so much.

“Ready to roll, little lady?” Driller asked, shrugging into a blazer of his own. I nodded, and Narcos opened up the door into the hall.

“Good luck, y’all,” he said.

“You aren’t coming with us?” I asked.

“Undercover, honey. You’re the biggest thing since sliced bread – we can’t risk having him seen anywhere near you, it’d raise far too many questions,” Driller said.

“And what about you?” I asked.

“You won’t be seen with me either, I got a different kind of date at the courthouse. Come on now, the imminent threat is over and your chariot awaits.”

It all made sense, and I felt more than slightly foolish for having even suggested their visible involvement. I’d lost count of how many times they’d said they were both undercover officers, the protection detail at the hotel, locked in a room with me, had been as low profile as you could honestly get. They’d already been in place, here in the hotel when I’d arrived and we’d not once been seen by anyone else together, other than more police officers.

We took the elevator to the lobby and scurried around to the next one down to the garage. Driller took off first, on one of the upper floors, closer to the surface, while Tony and I continued down, down and further down to one of the bottom floors. The elevator pinged and the doors wooshed open. We stepped out into the glass fishbowl that contained the bank of elevators to a dark SUV waiting, doors open, just outside the milky glass, stained with runoff from the damp concrete walls.

I adjusted my arm in its sling, and nodded towards Tony’s partner, Jaime, who held the door for me.

“Morning,” he said and I smiled.

“Good morning,” I greeted, before I grabbed the ‘oh shit’ handle with my good arm and stepped on the runner. I helped myself into the back of the SUV and carefully slid along the leather seat to the other side so Tony could get in behind me.

“Good morning,” I greeted the driver in kind and he looked in the rearview, eyes sparkling with a sudden and surprised smile.

“Morning, ma’am,” he answered. Tony got in beside me and closed the door, Jaime got in up front and passed back a coffee to his partner, then one to me.

I waived it off, “No thank you, my nerves are buzzing hard as it is,” I told him.

“You’re gonna be fine,” he said.

“Oh, I know,” I replied with surety, “I just hate court days…”

Both Jaime and Tony turned to look at me in unison and I laughed. The driver put the SUV into gear and said, “How does a lawyer not like court?” he asked.

“It’s nerve-wracking as hell, but it’s like anything I guess, part of the job.” I shrugged a shoulder and the conversation stayed true. Questions being asked, laughter being exchanged, and even Tony was smiling again, even if it held an edge of tired.

“So how do you handle it?” he asked and I looked at him.

“I never really thought about it in depth,” I said, “But if I had to have an answer, I suppose I just always come at it from the angle of treating it almost like a performance. I mean, I am in front of all these people. Lawyers, court clerks, judges, bailiff’s, the jury, even the gallery and they’re all there, all eyes on me, and so I… I don’t know, I just sort of fake it until I make it, you know? Like the worst improvisation you’ve ever had to do, but my client is there and they deserve the best defense I can give them, so I’ve got a reason to do my best, and so I do.”

I laughed uneasily and sighed, “That is probably the worst explanation known to man, but it’s all I’ve got,” I said.

“Naw, it actually makes sense when you put it that way,” the driver said and I sort of felt bad that I hadn’t gotten his name yet. He pulled in to drive down into the courthouse’s garage and swiped his badge against the reader. The gate lifted and we pulled smoothly into the dim, subterranean complex.

“Thanks, Jules,” Tony said and I asked, “Is that your name, then?”

He laughed and said, “Naw, it’s actually Jordan Verne, but the guys started calling me Jules, as in the old school author.”

“Ah, well thank you, Detective Verne,” I said and he laughed.

“No problem.”

Tony held out a hand to me and helped me down out of the car. My nerves fizzed like soda pop, threatening to overflow but I patiently waited them out, moving as if nothing were amiss, continuing to mimic the bravery and surety that Tony had put on that morning.

“Okay, let’s do it,” Jaime declared and opened the door into yet another fishbowl, surrounding the elevators, these ones familiar. I went through the door, Tony at my back and pressed the button to go up.

“You’re gonna be okay, precious,” he murmured under his breath and I smiled to myself.

“Of course I am, I’ve got you,” I murmured back.

“Heh, knock it off you two,” Jaime said under his breath and the elevator doors opened and I stepped on.

***

Over two hours later, I was in the proverbial hot seat as Parnell asked me to tell the grand jury what had happened to me. I realized belatedly, that this wasn’t a grand jury to indict the man who had shot me, but rather one convened to see if more serious charged could be brought against the man, Kevin Cohan, that had started the entire sordid mess by publishing my address online.

“I was in my kitchen, in my apartment with my best friend, Sami… that would be Samantha Lynn Hayworth. We were discussing the fact that someone unknown to me at that time had published my address on a public forum along with threats against my personal safety.”

Parnell stopped me for a moment and handed me several sheets of paper with highlighted passages and asked, “Were these some of those threats?”

I read over them and took a deep breath, “Yes, I believe so.” I knew what he was going to ask me to do next and I didn’t want to. I really didn’t, but Tony had inspired me, and even though grand jury proceedings were secret, and he couldn’t be in here, I knew he was just outside in the hall and I drew on his strength none the less.

“Pardon my language,” I said, “but it reads, and I quote: ‘Fuck that lawyer bitch, no one should have ever given her bitch ass a law degree in the first place. Women belong barefoot and pregnant in the kitchen, not doing a man’s job. Someone needs to remind that hooker what her place is, and that’s on her knees with my dick in her mouth.’” I put the paper to the back of the sheaf of them in my hands and sniffed, trying not to let the words get to me, but still… this was an emotional thing.

“And the next one please?” Parnell asked quietly, giving me an apologetic look. I stared him in his dark brown eyes and cleared my throat.

“After several responses from other people in the online forum’s thread, he says, ‘Seriously, someone needs to go over to that broad’s place, kick in her front door, and shank that pink ass, I’d bet she’d love it. In fact, here’s her address: two-two-one-six, east fifty-third; apartment two-oh-six. Whoever puts that cunt in her place, you’d be a real American hero.’”

I set the papers down and bit my lips together, taking deep and even breaths in through my nose and out through my mouth to keep from doing two things. One, crying; and two, to keep from being sick.

“And what happened on the night of April 11th, Ms. Franco?”

“A man kicked in my front door, shot my best friend in the head and when I turned to run away, shot me in the back twice.”

“Okay, thank you… you may step down.”

I got up, tears dripping down my face and nodded to Parnell as I tried to hold my head high. A bailiff let me out of the courtroom into the hall and Jaime and Tony both stood up from their seat on a nearby bench.

“You okay?” Tony asked me immediately and I nodded.

“It wasn’t for Silver,” I said, and let out a shuddering breath.

“Yeah, no need, we’ve got him dead to rights, he’s already trying to make a plea,” Jaime said.

“What was it for, then?” Tony asked, and I could tell his tired mind just couldn’t keep up. I sniffed, and Jaime handed me his handkerchief and I wiped my eyes and blew my nose.

“Cohan, trying to indict him on murder charges, for Sami.”

“Ah, yeah, son of a bitch deserves it. Do you want to wait here for the indictment?” Tony asked.

“No, I’m sure Parnell will call. Right now I want to march out that front door and tell the press where to shove it. Then I want to get you home so both of us can take a nap.”

“I can’t say I’m not on board with that plan, but are you sure about the press? Maybe it’s not the best idea right now.”

“I’ve never been surer in my life, and I know you’re the Mick in this relationship, but this Wop girl still knows a thing or two about Irish diplomacy.”

Tony laughed and Jaime frowned, “Never heard of it,” he said and Tony explained.

“It’s the art of telling a motherfucker to go straight to hell in such a way that they look forward to taking the trip.”

“Oh, hell. That’s too nice for them vultures,” Jaime said.

“I don’t disagree, maybe I’ll just tell them to go to hell point blank.”

The men laughed and we went for the front of the courthouse. I could have ducked out the back, or gone out through the garage, but I was tired, so very tired, of ducking and running, and hiding – and for what? Doing my job? Trying to put this horribleness behind me and heal in peace? I had a right to privacy and peaceful living, and these people were trampling all over that right and I was so tired, over it, and done.

We barely got down three of the old regal building’s front steps when we were barraged on all sides by flashing lights, microphones, and shouting figures.

“Ms. Franco! Ms. Franco! Do you have anything to say?”

“Yes. I would very much so like for you all to leave me alone.”

“Don’t you think the public has a right to your story?”

“Don’t you think I have a right to privacy? To not have my every step dogged by one of you?”

Another flurry and another shouted question, “What do you have to say for yourself regarding the Miranda Maguire case?”

“Excuse me? Did you really just ask me that? ‘What do I have to say for myself?’ How about, I did my job and an innocent woman was acquitted- but right back at you, what do you have to say for yourself? Because of the unwanted media attention that I have been receiving, a man is now dead. But I suppose that’s just good business for you all, isn’t it? If it bleeds, it leads, right? So what do you have to say for yourselves? Inquiring minds really want to know.” I snorted derisively and said, “Get. Out. Of. My. Way.”

Reporters, some of them shocked, parted enough for Jaime and Tony to push their way through. I followed in their wake, closely, and we made it to the curb where Jaime hailed a cab. We all three got in and pulled smoothly from the curb and into traffic.

“I just want to go home,” I said tiredly, and Tony gave my hand a quick squeeze.

“We’ll get you there as soon as we get to the precinct,” he said.

I sighed out harshly and swallowed hard. Home… I was loved, and I knew in my heart, that I had a home with Tony if I wanted it. I mean, I think, by the way he just said it, that it was going to be a thing and I found myself asking myself if it was something I wanted. To move in with him after all of this.

My heart said ‘yes’ but my head was coming up with all manner of reasons as to why it may not be the best idea.

I sat in silence the entire ride to the precinct’s garage, where we transferred into Tony’s truck. He started it up, tiredly and I took in his profile and just about every argument my head could come up with went out the window when my heart cried, this is where you are meant to be… with him.