Chapter 89

"MILK AND SUGAR OKAY?" Trooper Harrington said as she came toward me across the UConn Health Center ER waiting room.

Ever since she and the other statie, Trooper Walker, had seen my badge, they had gone above and beyond. Instead of waiting for an ambulance, they laid Paul down in the back of Harrington's cruiser and only asked questions as we headed for the nearest hospital at about 110. Trooper Harrington even loaned me a pair of sneakers from her workout bag in the trunk to put on over my bare and cut-up feet.

"How's your baby and your husband?" she wanted to know.

"The ultrasound showed everything was fine," I said. "But Paul has a concussion and needed stitches. They want to keep him overnight for observation. The doctor thinks he's going to be okay, thank God. Thanks to you and your partner."

"Can't say the same about that Ordonez fella," the female trooper said with a shake of her head. "I radioed back to the scene. They found him in the weeds a couple of hundred feet up the road. It was a car carrier that hit him. They said he looks like one of those pennies after you leave it on a railroad track. That's the downside of looking for trouble, isn't it? Sometimes you manage to find a little more than you bargained for.

"Hey, important thing is, you came out on top. You and your husband and your baby. Your family is safe. What else is there?"

I looked into the state trooper's caring face. Her pulled-back blonde hair, her scrubbed cheeks, her alert blue-gray eyes brimming with competence. She was maybe one or two years out of the academy. Had I been that earnest once upon a time? I guess I had been. A million years ago, it felt like. And on another planet. I envied her, admired her, too.

"So, what's NYC Homicide like?" she said. There was a starstruck glow in her eyes. "What's it really like? Not like Law and Order, I hope."

"Don't listen to a word she says" came a booming voice from behind us. "She lies like a rug."

I turned around toward a smiling face I hadn't seen in a while. In way too long, I decided.

It was my partner, Mike.

"What are you doing here?" I said.

"One of these Connecticut Chip wannabes called Keane, and he called me," Mike said as he squeezed my hand. "I came straightaway. The brother came for you, huh? Unbelievable. What a trip. Guess he shoulda stuck to the friendly skies instead of our nation's highways, huh? They pulled him out from underneath a semi or something like that? Nice work, Lauren. That's the best news I've heard all day."

I nodded my head. Then I finally started crying. I had treated Mike like the enemy, and now here he was, holding my hand, supporting me as always.

"I'm sorry, Mike," I said. "I'm…"

"Going to buy me a late dinner?" Mike said, linking our elbows as he stood me up. "Okay, if you insist."

We found an all-night diner just up the street from the hospital.

"So, what's new, Lauren?" Mike said as we sat. He was back on with the cop humor.

I sipped my coffee in the awkward silence between us. The joe was scalding and bitter. A lot like what I now had to admit.

Mike winked at me.

"C'mon, Lauren. I killed an Ordonez," he said in a low voice. "Now you've killed an Ordonez. If you can't talk to me, who else is there?"

I told him everything. Staring into my coffee cup, I recited the whole story. What I knew. When I knew it. Every sordid twist and every tawdry turn.

Mike took a last, loud sip of his Diet Coke and looked out at the passing headlights.

"You know what, Lauren?" he said after a while.

I shook my head.

"Call me screwed up, but even after hearing all that, I'm pretty much glad about what's happened. Maybe they didn't kill Scott, but let's face it, those two Ordonez brethren were an ugly strain of bacteria. And if what brother Mark said was true about Scott being involved with them, then, hell, maybe even he had it coming. The Lord," Mike said, "He sure do work in mysterious ways."

Chapter 90

I LISTENED TO THE clattering plates in the diner. Something was sizzling on a grill. On the TV behind the register, a reporter was cackling like an idiot as he was buffeted by the high winds of a Florida storm.

"That's why I'm quitting," my partner suddenly said. "My little brother owns a bar in San Juan. He invited me down. I already put my papers in. I'm cashing in all the vacation I've been saving, so today was my last day. I'm out."

"But…"

"But what, Lauren?" Mike said. "I've put my time in, and you know what? It didn't work out, so screw it. If you make a mistake at a factory and someone gets hurt, what's the worst thing that can happen? You'll lose your job? In our job, you make a mistake, chances are you're losing your job and going to jail. For what? Fifty grand a year? We're not even allowed to go on strike. Please. You know how many dead people I've dealt with? How many grieving mothers? Not worth it. I'm over. What's that song, Lauren? 'Even walls fall down.' "

I started weeping again then, really crying my eyes out.

"Yeah," I managed to say. "And I'm the one holding the sledgehammer."

Mike wiped the tears off my cheek with his thumb.

"Bullshit," he said. "Me pulling that trigger had nothing to do with you."

I stared at him.

"Nothing?" I said.

"Well," he said, pinching his thumb and first finger together. "Maybe a teensy-weensy bit."

I punched him in his arm.

"But I forgive you, Lauren," he said. "We're partners. But when it comes down to doing the right thing for your family, well, things get hairy quick, don't they? Who am I to judge? No one. Not anymore. That's why I'm out. Though I do regret one thing."

"What's that?" I said.

"Not being there to see the million-megawatt grin slide off that slick Jeff Buslik's face when you blackmailed him. I always knew you were an ass kicker, but Christ. You go right for the jugular when you have to."

"Or lower," I said, wiping at my red eyes. "Whatever the situation calls for."

Mike lifted the ketchup bottle and made the sign of the cross at me with it.

"You are now forgiven for your sins, my child. Go forth unto the Earth and sin no more," he said, standing. "I mean it, Lauren. You're a good person. Don't ever forget that."

"I'll try not to, Mike."

He gave me a kiss on my forehead before he stood.

"And if you ever make your way down to San Juan, you look me up. Ex-partners, even ones involved in super-crazy shit like you, get hooked up with margaritas all night long."

Chapter 91

I WAS COMING OUT of the shower Monday morning of the following week when I found Paul waiting for me. He held my morning coffee in one hand and my fluffy bathrobe in the other. "What service," I said, beaming a smile at him. "I almost can't stand it. Almost."

"Least I could do, considering what a big day this is," he said, planting a kiss on my dripping nose.

It was a big day, I thought as I was royally assisted into my robe. I took a sip of the coffee and wiped the steam off the mirror with my sleeve and looked at myself.

My first day back to work.

And the last of my career.

I'd decided to take my partner Mike's lead. I was going to hand in my resignation today, finally get out. It would be a change for me, I knew. It was going to be incredibly hard to get used to not being a cop.

But given what had happened over the past several weeks, I had to admit that it was high time for me to make the move.

Twenty minutes later, my face and badge polished, Paul gave me another kiss at the garage door.

He was dressed for work as well, looking great, handsome as ever. His concussion, like the doctors had thought, had only been minor, thank God. Except for twenty or so stitches at the back of his head, he was as good as new.