Stalker (40 page)

He choked out, “I guess it just wasn’t her time.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Rina answered. “God has too many plans for her. That much I know. I’m just not sure…exactly what they are. But isn’t that life, Peter? For better or worse, it’s the ultimate mystery!”

She didn’t want
to come, she didn’t want to be here. But Marx had declared that a three-month hiatus had been long enough. And now that Cindy had passed the rookie stage, she needed to confront the devil head on, and get back on the horse, blah, blah, blah. Since Marx seemed to be enjoying the role of mentor, Cindy didn’t want to argue. She knew she owed Hayley, so she subjected herself to this awful ritual. And now, here she was in Bellini’s, trying to ignore the stony silences and hostile stares from her fellow officers as she and Hayley walked through the bar to find an empty table.

At work, it was bad enough—the snarls, snickers, and smirks. But Cindy could turn her back and ignore them, concentrating on the Job—which she did and did well. Since Graham had acted decent from the get-go…even if he hadn’t been overly sensitive—not that she expected him to be her therapist, but some understanding
might
have been nice.

She could get through the day, hiding behind the trials of daily street life. But at Bellini’s there were no shields, no protective barriers, no barbwire fences. She couldn’t bury herself behind paperwork or phone calls or weight machines. Here, everything was open. She wanted to keep her eyes on her beer, but she was paranoid about her safety, constantly looking over her shoulder or into the mirrors to see who was coming in or going out.

Had she been in any other profession, she would have
been long gone, leaving behind her a legacy of pithy statements and phone calls from her lawyers. Instead, out of deference to her father, and Marge Dunn, and Scott Oliver, and Hayley and Graham, and all the others who had
tried
, she hacked it out, day to day, wondering how long she could last.

Hayley was talking. “So the guy starts waving something, we don’t know what it is, but we know it’s not a gun or something hard ’cause it’s like flapping around. So Ray and Raul were there with us…Raul makes his approach—Decker, are you listening?”

Cindy sipped beer. “Raul is making an approach—”

“You’re not interested—”

“Of course, I’m interested. What’s he waving?”

Hayley let out a small laugh. “Wait, wait, there’s a buildup.”

Cindy glanced into the surrounding mirrors. People were staring at her, but no one was coming up to her. That was good. “Go on.”

“Okay, okay.” Again Hayley chuckled. “So Raul approaches with the gun on his hip, tells the perp to drop whatever he’s waving. So the perp, being an asshole like most perps are, throws it at him, hits him smack in the face—”

“God, that’s scary—”

Hayley broke up. “Turns out it was his condom—”

“Oh God—”

“A
used
condom!”

“That’s repulsive!”

“Asshole’s lucky that Raul didn’t shoot him on the spot!”

“It would have been justifiable,” Cindy said.

“Absolute—Decker, what are you looking at? Stop twitching and turning. No one cares about you.”

“You care.” Cindy produced a tarnished smile. “You’re about the only one.”

“Oh, fuck you and your self-pity!”

Cindy raised her glass. “Thanks, as always, for bringing me back to earth!”

“Graham’s coming over,” Hayley said. She looked up and smiled. “How’s it going?”

“Not so bad, Marx.” Beaudry pulled up a chair and sat down.

“Buy you a beer?” Cindy offered.

“Nah, gotta get going. Monday night football.”

“Can’t miss the game,” Cindy said.

“Rick’s coming over,” Beaudry announced.

“Send him my regards,” Cindy answered.

“I don’t think so,” Beaudry said.

Cindy paused, ran her tongue inside her cheeks. “When did he make bail?”

“He’s been out for around a month.”

Cindy raised her brow. “That long?”

“Yeah, that long.”

“Dare I ask how he’s doing?”

“For a former cop about to be indicted for carjacking and assault who’s in the process of a nasty divorce, I’d say he’s doing pretty shitty.” Beaudry shook his head. “I don’t feel sorry for him. It’s his own damn fault. But what can I tell you? The man’s got nothing! I figure he might as well have a nice place to watch the game.”

“Does he know we’re still together?” Cindy said.

“Yeah, he knows. Sometimes he asks about you. I don’t say anything. It’s none of his business. I knew what I was doing when I left him. I also know what I’m doing by staying with you. This time I’m gonna back a winner.”

Cindy let out a surprised chuckle. “You think so?”

“I know so. Sure you’re in the toilet now. But check you out in a year after all this has died down because some other shit has grabbed the headlines. You’ll be in like Flynn for taking the gold, and you’ll think about this discussion, and you won’t forget your old pal Graham Beaudry.”

“No, indeed, I won’t forget my old pal Graham.”

Beaudry stood up. “See you tomorrow, then?”

“As always.”

Beaudry turned and left.

Neither Hayley nor Cindy spoke right away. Then Marx said, “You trust him?”

“Yes, I do. It may be a mistake, but you have to trust someone.”

“True. I think if he was going to fuck you up, he would have done it by now.”

Cindy glanced over her shoulder. “The guy has integrity…to stay with me—”

“Why the hell shouldn’t he stay with you?” Hayley said. “You do most of the shitty fieldwork and almost all his work.”

“I must cause him some heat.”

“I don’t think so,” Hayley replied. “Graham’s a duck. Things just roll off his back. Look at him. He’s still friends with Rick…are you listening?”

“Someone just walked through the door. She looks like she’s coming over,” Cindy replied. “Medium height, short dark hair, beanpole thin…kind of pretty…I don’t know her.”

Hayley turned around, raised her eyebrow. “Petra Conner. Homicide.”

“The Cart Ramsey case?”

“That’s the one. Talk about getting heat. Man, her ass was on the burner for a long, long time.”

Cindy said, “So what the hell does she want with me?”

Hayley shook her head, but a smile was lurking on her lips.

“What?” Cindy whispered.

“Shhhh,” Hayley said.

Petra took up Graham’s empty chair, sitting down without being asked to do so. She looked much younger from afar, but up close Cindy could see the lines and furrows. At first, Cindy thought she was dressed entirely in black. But upon further inspection, the blouse was dark, dark navy. She signaled the waitress, held up a single, slender index finger, and nodded. Then she turned to Hayley. “Did you tell her?”

“No, I didn’t—”

Petra dismissed her with a wave. “I’m Petra Conner.”

“Hayley just told me.” Cindy held out her hand, and Petra took it. “Nice shirt. What is it? Kind of a jaquard print?”

“Yeah, it’s got some texture to it.”

“It’s nice,” Cindy repeated.

“Thanks.”

Jasmine, the waitress, came over with a single glass of white wine. Petra said, “Refills, anyone?”

“I’m fine,” Cindy said. “Last time I drank too much, it got me into trouble.”

“Isn’t that the way it always is?” Petra answered.

Cindy laughed. “I suppose you’re right.” The table fell into an awkward silence. Awkward for Cindy, but maybe not for Conner. She watched Petra sip her wine, somehow pulling off being delicate and earthy. The woman had it together—one of the lucky ones.

Petra said, “I’m here as one of the good guys.”

Cindy gave her a barely perceptible nod. She didn’t trust anyone, especially someone who said she was one of the good guys.

She leaned in closely. “Tropper was no big deal. He was a jerk from day one. No one misses him except maybe his kids. But Bederman was on the force for over ten years. He made a lot of friends, did a lot of favors. You know cops and loyalty: the blue code of silence and all that stuff. It’s really out. I’m sure this isn’t news to you. But it’s always a good idea to state things out in the open. This is something you need to be aware of.”

“That I’ve made enemies.”

“Quite a lot of them,” Petra said casually. “The
other
thing you need to know is that while you have some nutty guys wanting you out, there are a selective, important few who are watching you, Officer. You crack up mentally, you’re out. You weather the mess, you’ll go somewhere.”

Cindy stared at her, then looked at her beer. “Okay. Thanks.”

Petra waited a few moments, then said, “It’s not easy. Guys can be jerks, cops can be jerks. Together—cops and
guys—you get premium-quality jerks. But that’s just the way it is.”

Cindy nodded.

“Decker, we have an infinite capacity for guilt,” Petra said. “I still feel like it was my fault that my ex left me, making excuses for his rotten behavior. But, in reality, he screwed up. And that’s the way it is for you.
Rick Bederman
screwed up.
You
didn’t. Get it straight, okay?”

“Okay,” Cindy answered.

“That’s what I’ve been telling her,” Hayley remarked.

“Yeah, but it means more coming from me.” Petra laughed. “Okay, that’s that! Secondly, the actual
reason
that I’m here is our bowling league—”

“What?” Cindy asked, laughing.

“The Women’s Law Enforcement Bowling League. Hollywood took third last year. The captain has recruited me and demands that this year we do better.” Petra was straight-faced. “Bowling is a very tactical sport, not to mention all the hand/eye coordination. Bowling’s great for the gross motor skills in the same way that painting is good for the fine motor. Hayley was supposed to tell you all this, but she didn’t want to
impose
because she thought you were still
fragile
—”

“That’s so sweet,” Cindy said.

“It’s stupid!” Petra announced. “You have strong forearms, Decker. And I’ve seen you at the range. I know you’re a good shot. Do you bowl?”

“Only like a recreational thing,” Cindy said. “I’ve never been in a league.”

“Well, you’re in one now!” Petra told her. “Practice is Tuesdays/Saturdays at Mar Vista. Seven o’clock.” She stood. “See you then.”

Cindy said, “I broke my arm three months ago.”

“It was your left arm,” Petra said. “You’re right-handed.” She turned to Hayley. “You make sure she gets there.”

“All of a sudden she’s my responsibility?” Hayley said.

“Yes,” Petra answered. “That’s it exactly.”

Petra left as bluntly as she came. Cindy figured it was a
good time to take her leave as well. She got up from the table. “I’m tired, Hayley. I need my beauty sleep.”

“I’ll walk you out.”

“I can make it to the car by myself.” But Cindy’s voice lacked conviction.

Hayley saved face. “I’m tired, too. Let’s go.”

Again, they endured the rough sea of angry stares and comments. Cindy walked with her head held high. Her head never felt so heavy. Once in the parking lot, she unlocked her Saturn and slid inside. She turned on the motor. “It starts. Go home!”

Hayley slammed the door shut, but Cindy didn’t take off right away. Instead, she waited, watching Hayley walk to her car, listening for the motor to kick in and her headlights to go on. When it was clear that Marx’s car was in working order, Cindy took off.

Heading straight for home. It took her about twenty minutes to reach Robertson and Venice. Home was five minutes away. She should have turned on National. Instead, she went west on Venice. If she kept going west, she’d eventually hit the ocean. She stopped when she reached the gaudy orange sign announcing Mar Vista Bowl. She pulled into the parking lot and killed the engine. What the hell! Worse comes to worst, she’d bleed off some anger and frustration in a constructive manner.

She sat at the wheel for a moment. She felt like crying, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. It had been so long since she had shown real emotion that she had somehow forgotten how.

She had always wondered what had made her father tick.

Now she knew.

FAYE KELLERMAN
With millions of books in print, FAYE KELLERMAN is the author of the
New York Times
bestselling Peter Decker/Rina Lazarus novels, as well as a thriller,
Moon Music
,
The Quality of Mercy
, and an historical novel,
Straight into Darkness
. She has also written numerous short stories anthologized in
Garden of Eden and Other Criminal Delights
. She lives in Los Angeles and Santa Fe with her husband,
New York Times
bestselling author Jonathan Kellerman.

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