Compromised (15 page)

He rolled his eyes. “I’m just grateful that we found you in one piece. The doctor is going to release you in the morning. You were lucky as hell that you didn’t do additional damage to your brain when your head hit the table.”

“I’ve logged more hours in an MRI tunnel than I care to admit, but my brain is wired pretty tightly. I’ll be okay.”

“I hope so.” He rapped on the end table that wasn’t made of real wood, but it was hardly the time to split hairs. “You’re lucky the incident took place in New Jersey. If it had happened in one of the five boroughs, executive command would’ve come down on you like a ton of bricks. I called in a favor to keep a copy of the report from going to NYPD. The last thing you need right now is to be brought up on disciplinary charges.”

“You actually know someone in New Jersey?”

He didn’t laugh. “Just say thank you.”

“Thank you,” I said with the utmost sincerity.

“All the thanks in the world won’t get you out of the bind you’re in with me. What you did was unthinkably reckless and selfish. How could you just up and disappear on your family like that, especially with what you’ve been through, what we’ve all been through? Neither Ma nor I have been able to sleep for days, not knowing where you were or what you were doing. We didn’t know if you were dead or alive.”

“Easy, Gus. I get it, I really do, but you know full well that I’m a big girl and that I can take care of myself.”

“Like you did today?” he replied indignantly. “You lost your shit at a piece-of-cake interview while sitting on a sofa. What if you had been in a dangerous situation when the seizure took place? We’d be holding services for you right now. I don’t want to be a widower, damn it, and your son deserves to grow up with his mother. Shit, Stephanie. How could you? Do you know what you put us through?”

“I’m so sorry, Gus, but you wouldn’t let me do
anything
. You wouldn’t let me turn on the goddamn computer, for Christ’s sake, and you know damn well that I can’t live like that. I had to prove to myself that I’m not an invalid.”

“You’re certainly not an invalid, Stephanie, far from it, but you’re not the same as you were before, and you’re going to have to learn to accept the hand life has dealt you. You were shot. Your brain was damaged, and you have a seizure disorder. Under the right circumstances, none of that will have any bearing on your future, but as a headstrong, risk-taking cop . . . I just don’t see how you can expect to go on business as usual. I know that you don’t want to die.” He looked into my eyes. “You don’t, do you?”

“Of course I don’t, but I can’t live like I’m some kind of porcelain doll that’ll crack if you touch it the wrong way. I’d rather live a short life on my own terms than a never-ending one as some kind of inert and fragile woman, and I can’t deal with everyone watching me and waiting for me to come apart at the seams.”

“Looking back, maybe I was a little too tough on you, but the doctors were insistent that you got lots of peace and quiet, and they expressly said to limit your time watching TV and using the computer. I was determined to keep you calm whether you liked it or not.”

“But I wasn’t calm. Maybe my activities were limited, and you controlled my environment, but I wasn’t calm. I was anything
but
calm. I couldn’t remember what happened when Yana and I were shot, and I was forbidden to do anything about tracking down the shooter. You think I wanted to go rogue? Of course I didn’t, but I would’ve exploded if I didn’t get out from under you and Ma.” I looked into his eyes, fighting back tears. “Don’t you understand?”

He sighed and rubbed his eyes. “Yeah,” he muttered. “Unfortunately I do.” He sat down on the bed next to me. “I’ve had a lot of time to think about what I’d do when I found you and . . . look, I want you to live a long life, Steph, but I think it’s more important for you to be happy. No one can guarantee longevity or good health or . . . shit, no one can guarantee anything of real importance. So this is what I’ve decided. We do this together, me as the cop and you in an unofficial capacity. If anyone asks, you’re a department consultant until you’re officially reinstated, and if I get run off the force for misconduct, well then, shit . . . so be it.”

Tears were running down my cheeks. “At least you’ll be able to get some sleep at night.”

“And Ma will get to stuff you with lasagna.” He was pensive for a moment.

“You okay?” I asked.

“No. I’ve got to get something off my chest.”

Uh-oh!

“I was so goddamn angry with you, Stephanie. I didn’t know how I’d react when I found you. There were times when I was so mad that I wanted to strangle you, and now . . .” His adam’s apple caught in his throat. “I just want to take you home and take care of you. I think I ought to have my head examined.”

I kissed him softly on the cheek. “Sounds like you’re still crazy about me.”

“More like crazy because of you.” He shook his head for a moment before extending his hand for me to take. “We’re partners again,” he said, “for better or for worse.”

I was senior to Gus on the homicide squad by just over a year. I should’ve left well enough alone, but as usual I just couldn’t help myself. “Remember,” I reminded him. “I’m lead.”

The Shinto temple had just opened for the day.

After entering, Aguri Maeda stopped at the fountain to cleanse his hands and rinse his mouth. He bowed twice and clapped his hands twice with the tips of his right fingers just slightly below the fingertips of his left. He bowed once more before approaching the shrine. He’d felt a strong need to pray and to unify himself with Japan’s ancient past. He’d felt unsettled for days before coming to the conclusion that he’d been lax and had not visited the shrine in weeks. He hoped that the growing emptiness he felt would shrink after he communed with the gods.

His father had taught him to ask for only what was needed, so all he asked for was continued good health and to restore the emotional balance he felt had been off-kilter. He’d been friends with Haruki since the age of fifteen and still felt a strong connection with him even though he’d not seen or heard from him in many years. More than that, he felt indebted to him for helping his parents settle a dispute, one they wouldn’t have been able to overcome without his assistance.

Before leaving the temple he purchased an
omikuji
and took a moment to read the fortune and reflect on the sage wisdom of the poem.

If we falter in resolve just because the task is hard, no accomplishment can follow. It is the world’s way. —Emperor Meiji

He thought immediately of Haruki and the request he’d made, a request he was honor-bound to complete. He’d been called upon to assist in finding his brother’s killer, and knew that only by capturing this assassin could balance be restored to Haruki’s life.

“Doki. Doki,”
he whispered, words to emulate the thumping of his heart. He’d been slow to respond to his friend’s request and reengage in a life he’d long ago abandoned. There was no question in his mind as to whom he had to call upon in order to obtain the information Haruki sought, but he had hesitated in taking action. As he stepped out of the shrine into the sunlight he felt dishonored and riddled with guilt for delaying his friend’s act of vengeance. Glancing skyward, he formally apologized to the gods for dishonoring them. “
Makoto ni moushiwake gozaimasen deshita.”

Before proceeding, he typed the current address of the man Haruki sought into his smartphone, and quickly sent him a text message. He sighed deeply with relief for completing his assignment and had barely taken a step when a knife sliced through his neck. He clutched his throat in a feeble attempt to preserve his life, then fell to his knees as his life forces ebbed away. As his surroundings narrowed into a band of light, he heard the screams of onlookers and the rapid yet fading steps of his assailant.

I had just been released from the New Jersey hospital, the rental car company had picked up the SUV I’d been driving, and Gus and I were now on our way back into Manhattan in his cruiser.
We’d just gotten off the George Washington Bridge and were headed south.

“You said that you interviewed Reginald Coffer.”

“So we’re getting right into it, are we?”

“No time like the present.” I checked my watch. “10:00 a.m.”

He took his eyes off the road and glanced at me. “Meaning?”

“You’re back on the clock, ain’t ya?”

“Maybe.”

It felt good to be back with Gus, but I had to admit that I felt strong tension between us, tension that would probably take a long while to dissipate. In the scope of things, I guess that wasn’t too bad. I couldn’t blame him for being pissed, and men had divorced their wives for smaller stunts than the one I had pulled. I couldn’t ignore the uneasiness—I was still expecting the other shoe to drop, a big smelly worn-out shoe, and with it some devastating announcement like,
Steph, when this is over, we’re over. I love you, but living with you is just too hard for me.
It wasn’t a particularly thrilling prospect.

“So what about Coffer?” I asked.

“He recently got a job as a building manager. Never married. Lives alone in a basement apartment.”

“So no red flags?”

“Not even a checkered one.”

“You mean checkered as in the flags they use to start a road race?”

“
No.
I mean checkered as a metaphor for a checkered past, bullet brain,” he snickered.

Well, wasn’t that a sweet thing to say? My road-race comment was a joke and he knew it.
It was becoming obvious that he harbored lots of animosity over my disappearing act.
You brought this on yourself, kid. Take your lumps and deal with it.
“So he’s clean?”

“He appears to be. He came across as a humble guy. Said he’d been homeless for a while and was thankful he’d recently landed the superintendent’s gig because the job came with a rent-free apartment.”

“You obviously found Coffer because of the childhood connection he had with Jack Burns.”

“And your dad.”

“Yeah,” I reflected. “I couldn’t believe that one either.”

“When did you pull his file?”

“It was one of the first things I did after hitting the streets. I’ve started to get flashes of memory from the day of the shooting, and one of the things that came back first was the interview Yana and I had with Burns. I just remembered him being very odd. That and his having known my dad . . .”

“Can you blame him for being strange, I mean, after all he’s been through? He was molested as a child and then his adopted daughter was . . .” He shook his head. “Is it any wonder he’s strung out?”

“No. Not really. That kind of trauma can damage you for life. I caught up with him the other night. He’d just come from doing a job, and I guess he needed to blow off some steam. He knocked down three scotches and a tall beer after I saw him enter the corner bar. He seems like a man with a lot of worries on his mind.”

“I don’t see Burns as a murderer, though. You?”

“Not in a million years, but he knows something. It’s bothering him, and I can’t help feeling that it’s something that might help us with the case.”

“Yeah. I’m with you on that one. I paid him a call and he gave me the bum’s rush when I asked if revenge could’ve been the motive for Serafina’s murder.”

“Yeah. He’s touchy that way. So, Coffer didn’t have any insights for you?”

“Nothing we didn’t already know.”

We had the police radio turned down low. Partially because we were too far away to respond to any calls and partially because Gus was afraid that too much loud radio chatter might fry my delicate corpus callosum and send me into apoplexy> while we were crossing the Hudson River. However, something came over the radio that caught my attention. A man believed to be Asian had been attacked in front of a Japanese temple on the Upper East Side and was dead at the scene. “We need to take that,” I said with urgency.

Gus frowned. “Why? You don’t have enough on your plate already? You want to grab someone else’s case too? Let the up detective run with it.”

“No. You don’t understand. We have to go.”

“I need a reason,” he insisted.

“Harry’s in town, and he’s been helping me track down the shooter.”

“I know a lot of Harrys. Which Harry are we talking about?” he asked in a sharp tone.

“Yana’s brother. He took leave from his job in Japan and came over to help find his brother’s killer.”

“Oh, fuck. Really, Stephanie? It’s not bad enough that you’ve gone all Rambo on us? Do we need a Japanese cop running outside the law as well? When were you going to tell me?”

“As soon as you calmed down a little,” I said. “Listen, Gus, can you lay off me long enough for us to do some righteous investigating? I know you’re pissed and you have every right to be, but the angry-husband thing just isn’t helping us get the job done. You can lay into me as soon as the shooter is behind bars.”

He glared at me and then finally acquiesced. “
Fine.
What’s the address? We’ll go have a look.”

“It’s not him?” Gus asked.

“No. Thank God. It’s not Harry.” The victim was Asian, but looked nothing like Haruki. Gus had called the house, informed the watch commander that he was in the vicinity, and asked to be assigned to the case.

The crime scene unit was called and arrived shortly afterward. They got busy snapping pictures and assessing blood spatter.

The temple was in our jurisdiction and I recognized the cop on duty. “Steigler,” I hollered. “You causing trouble?”

“Hey, Chalice,” he began with a grin. “How’s the noggin?” He walked over with his arms spread for a hug.

“
Fantastic.
You haven’t lived until you’ve had your head ventilated by a small-caliber slug.”

“I didn’t realize you were back in action already. I mean, it hasn’t been that long. I’d have milked the bejesus out of it if I were you.”

“I’m just helping out unofficially. What happened here anyway?”

“I didn’t see it go down, Chalice. I was around the corner, paying the rent, when I heard people screaming.”