The Guilty (14 page)

“That
must have made you very proud.”

“Well, only a bit. I actually discouraged her f
rom following in my footsteps.”

“That’s surprising. Were you feeling a bit down o
n your profession at the time?”

Must have been a prelude to this week,
Bratt thought. “No, just thought she could do a lot of different things. She doesn’t really have the temperament to be a lawyer. She’s a lot more like her mother: more artistic. Artsy-fartsy I used to call her.”

“That can’t have been easy for you, r
aising a daughter by yourself.”

“No, I guess not. I could have made it easier if I accepted a little help or advice along the way. But you know how I am; nobody can tell me anything. I’d rather screw things up my way than admit I can’t do something. Unfortunately, that’s one of the few tra
its Jeannie inherited from me.”

“It’s not such a bad trait,” Nancy said, squeezing his hand tighter. “A little stubborn self-assurance can
get you through a lot in life.”

“Oh, it’s all just a sham,” Bratt laughed, without admitting to himself how close to the truth those words were. “I’m just trying to cover
up my insecurities, you know.”

“Of course I know,” she smiled. “But everyone has insecurities. The ones who get anywhere in life are the ones
who cover them up the best.”

“Why, are you covering up any?”

“Why do you think I carry a gun all the time?”

Bratt laughed, but Nancy just smiled a bit nervo
usly, then cleared her throat.

“Do you have any idea what it takes to be a female detective in Montreal?” She paused, gathering her thoughts. “It’s hard enough getting there, but once you’re there everybody’s got seniority on you. They can shunt you around from place to place, filling whatever gaps they have and they never take into account what y
ou might actually be good for.”

“I didn’t realize thi
ngs were still like that here.”

“It’s the same with all police forces. They’re just boys clubs that they
defend from female intruders.”

Bratt squeezed her hand sympathetically. He had never spent much time worrying about how cops treated each other before.
Face it,
he thought.
I never spent much time thinking of cops as people, either. Not until Nancy showed up in my life.

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I hadn’t planned to sta
rt venting my frustrations.”

“No, that’s a
ll right. Sometimes it’s good to do that.”

“Anyway, I’m probably exaggerating. It’s really not so bad,” she said, but Bratt thought that it probably was. “I’d rather hear about how you manage to carry on your practice and be a s
ingle parent at the same time.”

“Well, it’s not always so easy. Sometimes, one role takes up all my time to the detriment of the other. And that can be hard to make your child understand, even when they’re no longer little children.” Bratt reconsidered what he said and decided it needed to be corrected a bit. “
Especially
when they’re not little children, because then they ask all the questions that you have no answers to.”

“Is that wha
t happened with your daughter?”

Bratt sipped from his wineglass, unsure how much detail he should go into about w
hat had happened with Jeannie.

“I was there at court that day she showed up, remember,” Nancy went on. “After you came back from talking to her, you looked…well, you looke
d pretty shook up.”

“Things have gotten a bit screwed up between us.” He sipped again at the wine, then dabbed nervously at his lips with his napkin. He was suddenly aware of how much Jeannie’s departure had hurt him, despite his efforts to pretend th
at it was just a minor tiff.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t know how I messed things up so much.” He paused again, then looked up at Nancy. “
She moved out a few days ago.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. It seems she suddenly realized the terrible thing I do for a living and found she couldn’t be around me anymore.”

Nancy smiled,
then quickly covered her mouth.

“Sorry, Robbie. I know it’s not funny. Bu
t you have to admit it is, um…”

“Ironic?”

“Very ironic. What brought this on?”

“It’s a bit of a long story.” He wondered how he was going to explain things without making himself look like the villain Jeannie claimed he was. “A friend of hers was raped by a man I’d
represented several years ago.”

“Uh-oh.”

“Yeah. Anyway, the girl was really roughed up on the stand, made to look like she went after the guy herself. And, of course, he was acquitted, which didn’t sit too well with my daughter.”

“No, I guess it
wouldn’t. Who was the lawyer?”

“Antoine Perron. Know him?”

“I’ve heard of him. Is he anything like you in court?”

Bratt knew she was teasing him when she asked that, but it struck a nerve because it had been one of Jeannie’s main complaint
s about the way he did his job.

“Actually, I trained him mys
elf, about seven years ago.”

“So he d
oesn’t exactly use kid gloves.”

“
No, he doesn’t. And he’s an arrogant little shit to boot.”

Nancy looked at him closely and asked, “You’re angry at him, aren’t you? He did his job too well, and it all end
ed up on your doorstep.”

“Hey,
you’re pretty smart for a cop.”

“I’ve gotta be. Twice as
good for half the pay, eh?”

They sat quietly for a few minutes, each contemplating where their lives had gotten them. Bratt sipped at his wine. He was making sure he didn’t overdo the drinking tonight, but he longed to be able to forget all his troubles again. He had needed to talk about Jeannie with Nancy, but he had also felt a lot better earlier on, wh
en she hadn’t been on his mind.

Nancy pulled at his hand ligh
tly as if to get his attention.

“Robbie. Do you ever think about your job? You know, about
the things that Jeannie says?”

Lately, that’s all I seem to be thinking about,
he thought.

“Hey, I thought we weren’t supposed to t
alk about our jobs tonight.”

“I know, b
ut this isn’t really shoptalk.”

“It’s close enough. Besides, I don’t know how we got into this whole gloomy discussion anyway. Being with you, I should b
e feeling anything but gloomy.”

“Fine,” she said, with doubt still lingering in her eyes. “We’ll talk
about something else, for now.”

Thank God she’s not pushing the subject too hard. Another time, though, I can see myself lying down, with my head on her lap, unloading all that’s been weighing heavily on me.

Bratt smiled to himself at the warm image, and Nancy reacted to the smile. Pulling his hand toward her and leaning closer to him, she reached out and lightly caressed his cheek.

“
I’m glad to see you smile again. You’re right, there’ll be other times and places, but tonight we’ll keep things happy.”

He brightened up completely at her touch an
d looked around for the waiter.

“What say we go someplace else? Maybe something a
little more noisy and upbeat.”

“Oh, Robbie, I think I’m getting too old to drink and party all night. Mayb
e you could just take me home.”

Bratt was surprised and
disappointed at her suggestion.

“Home? Oh, I thought…”

She put her hand up to his lips to quiet him, and looked softly into his eyes.

“Your home, silly.”

The drive downtown to his apartment took about twenty minutes on the snow-congested streets, but it seemed to fly by. She had tried to hold his right hand as he drove, but had to let go when he shifted gears, so she placed it lightly on his thigh instead. A few minutes after she had gotten into the car she turned the radio dial away from the all-oldies station he kept it on, findi
ng a French soft rock station.

They were soon turning into the indoor garage of his building and pulling into his parking space. Their timing was perfect. The love song she had been humming came to an end, and the hourly news bulletin was taking its place. Bratt turned the key in the ignition, cutting off the radio announcer as he was mentioning that a number of demonstrators had been arrested at
the courthouse that afternoon.

Must have been while we were wrapped up in the Small video,
Bratt thought.
Pete’ll be sorry he missed it.

On the slow elevator ride up to his f
ifteenth floor apartment Nancy lay her head on his shoulder and gazed up at him. Looking down into her eyes, Bratt believed for a moment that all could be made right in the world again. He reached down and gently kissed her lips, forgetting that world for a while at least.

In his apartment, there was no need for words. He thought he should ask her if she wanted a drink first, but kissed her instead. They let their coats fall to the floor where they stood, just inside the door. They were still wearing their shoes. Over his he wore ankle-high winter rubbers. He knew it was going to be awkward taking them off while maintaining their passionate embrace, and wondered how they m
anaged to do it in the movies.

As if she had read his mind, Nancy pushed him back gently, their wet lips holding on until the last second. Once they were apart she reached down and removed her shoes, placing them neatly on a rubber mat beside the door, all th
e while never uttering a word.

Following her cue, he began removing his shoe rubbers. The process was more involved than hers. The zippers on the rubbers were encrusted with street-salt and he struggled to open them. Once these were removed, he hurriedly pulled off his tight leather shoes without untying them, almost losing his balance as he did so. When they were finally off he tossed them aside,
then turned to look for Nancy.

She had gone a few steps deeper into his apartment, toward the living room, and now stood waiting for him in a patch of pale light that shone in through the window. He could just make out that the long object trailing from her hand and onto the floor was her dress. All she wore now was a dark camisole, which made her skin glo
w even whiter in the dim light.

“Robe
rt, which way is your bedroom?”

Wordlessly, he pointed down the darkened hall. Her eyes looked in that direction, but she didn’t make a move. He hesitated at first, confused by her inaction, then stepped toward her. He put an arm around her waist and kissed her again. She let him walk her down the hall to his room, leaving her
dress on the living room floor.

His large bed was still unmade, and his pajamas were strewn across it. Nancy let out a small giggle at the disorder, then stepped forward, picked up the edge of his comforter and pulled all the bed sheets to the floor. She turned, sat on the edge of his bed, and looked back to where he still stood, her hands fold
ed almost demurely in her lap.

Bratt paused briefly to look at her, then, with an abrupt movement he reached up and tried to pull off his tie, almost strangling himself in the process. He laughed self-consciously, but Nancy did not laugh with him this time. He watched as she pushed herself a bit further up on his bed, and then lay
languidly back on his mattress.

The tie finally lost the tug of war and he flung it over-dramatically to the side of the room. He quickly unbuttoned his shirt, and it followed in the tie’s direction. Finally, his pants still on, he moved to the bed and lay down next to Nancy. Her bare left arm was stretched out above her head and he reached down and kissed it just below the shoulder. Her other hand reached up and stroked his hair for a few seconds, then pulled his face toward her. Their lips and tongues found each other again, while her left arm wrapped around h
is neck and held him close.   

As his hand reached up to cup her breast through the silky material of the camisole, her right hand slid down to his pants’ zipper and pulled it down. Working together, their lips never parting, they got his pants and briefs off, until only the thin lingerie was between their bodies. Gently pushing him away, she sat up and slid it over her head,
then dropped it to the floor.

She lay back again, pulling him toward her. He rolled on top of her, feeling her firm muscles underneath him, effortlessly bearing his weight. He could feel her heart beating against his as her breath came short and fast through her parted lips. His own lips caressed her face and, as he entered her, a sudden, involuntary breath escaped from h
er mouth, blowing into his ear.

They slept in each other’s arms, like children huddled together during a thunderstorm. Bratt had tried to remain awake, just to listen to her soft breathing, but his body and mind craved sleep. Soon, his breathing fell into step with the calming rhythm of hers.