Close Encounters (32 page)

Jessup sighed. “Look—I believe you when you tell me this Taggart woman is important to you. But until this mess is cleared up, you’re not helping her or yourself by digging in your heels. Besides, if you can make this relationship work without either of you getting tarred and feathered, I want to be a witness.

“I suggest you retain a lawyer,” Jessup continued. “You can get some names from Legal if you don’t know anyone.”

Lee stared at Jessup, then finally rose to his feet and headed for the door. The captain had made as many concessions as he could, and Lee had to accept them. But he also wondered if, when the dust settled, there would be anything left to protect and honor.

“What about my gun and shield?”

“Please don’t give me any reason to have to relieve you of them. You’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Believe me, I’m fully aware of that.”

L
EE SQUINTED AT THE
panorama beyond his terrace, reminded of the evening he’d spent with Carol when they’d huddled together under a blanket in the cold air. He remembered thinking at the time how foolish he felt traipsing around butt naked, but now, in retrospect, the moment seemed not only romantic but also daring and profoundly intimate.

A slight breeze whipping into a gust every now and then felt bracing and good on his body. It was sunny and very springlike, and he wished he was in the mood to enjoy it. Instead, he felt like he was in a prison of his own making. He was being forced to keep such a low profile that he was beginning to feel invisible. His future remained uncertain. He was avoiding all but the most important calls—those from his lawyer, Erica, and his precinct commander, who held the fate of his career in his hands. He hadn’t heard from Carol. And he was fighting the urge to disobey Jessup’s orders and call her.

The very afternoon he was told not to contact her he’d tried to call. She hadn’t answered. Instead the answering machine had kicked in.

“Carol, it’s Lee. If you’re there, please pick up. I need to talk with you.”

There was no response and no way to know if she was home or not. He cursed the machine in his frustration.

“I know you’re upset about Karen showing up like that, but I hope you trust me … us … enough to know that she and I were already through. She’s not important. But there’s something else you need to know. I really need you to listen to me…”

Finally he’d hung up.

His cellular phone rang, bringing Lee out of his reflections. Reluctantly, he answered the unit. He couldn’t take the chance that it wasn’t important.

“Yeah,” he said cautiously.

“It’s me, Barbara.”

Lee sighed. He didn’t have the patience to listen to her complaints. He cut her short.

“Barb, I’m not up to …”

“Okay, I won’t stay on long. I promise.”

“What is it?”

“Well, have you heard anything?”

“Like what?”

“Like… are you going to be cut loose? Am I next?”

Lee rubbed his hand restlessly over the top of his head. “I don’t know.”

“Man, Lee, if they can do you like this, I don’t even want to think about what will happen to me.”

“Barbara, if you were in trouble you would know by now. I told you, this is my problem, and it’s not contagious,” he said dryly.

“I know you’re right, but—it’s like ever since that night everything seems to be going wrong in my life.”

“Like what?” Lee asked absently.

“It’s personal,” Barbara said, her defenses suddenly up.

“That’s what I told Jessup. It didn’t help. Is it so personal you can’t tell me?”

Barbara was silent for a moment. “You’ve got enough of your own problems,” she finally murmured. “I wish you’d come back and take some of the heat off of me.”

“You used to like being on twenty-four seven.”

“It’s not the same anymore. I don’t know if it’s worth putting my life on the line for scum. Nobody appreciates what I do. And God help me if I make one little mistake.”

Lee frowned at the anger and anxiety in her voice. “Barb, are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine … Lee, I hate being in charge. I don’t like being right under the nose of the brass all the time. I feel like they’re just waiting for me to mess up.”

“I thought you’d jump at this chance to be team leader. You’re always talking about being overlooked—”

“What if they’re trying to trap me? You know, because of Mario. Like what happened to you.”

“It’s not the same thing. Unless you’re trying to say you’ve gone over the line. Have you?”

“Everything’s cool,” she said firmly. “But Jesus, Lee. How could you let yourself get caught!”

“What are you talking about?”

“I figured you were screwing that woman so she wouldn’t sue the department, right? That was a pretty cool move. But you got caught.”

Lee began to pace the length of the terrace, his anger and frustration building.

“Look, let’s get something straight. Whatever my personal reasons for getting involved with Carol Taggart, I was
not
trying to manipulate the investigation. And if that’s what you really believe, then this conversation is over.”

“Wait! Lee, please don’t hang up. Everybody thinks that’s what was happening.”

“I don’t care what everybody thinks!” he thundered. “I wouldn’t have done that, especially not to her.”

There was a pause before Barbara said, “Why not?”

Lee stopped pacing and fell silent with disbelief. “Barbara,” he finally said patiently, “if I have to explain it to you, you wouldn’t understand.”

When Carol arrived home from her classes, the red indicator light was blinking on her phone. There were five recorded messages. She took her time putting away her coat, setting down her tote bag, removing her shoes. She realized she was stalling, putting off the moment when she would have to listen to each voice, hoping that one of them would be Lee. She knew that he understood she was annoyed by that awkward scene in his apartment. He’d said so in several messages right afterward, when she’d still been too angry to reply, and then he hadn’t called again, leaving her to imagine the worst.

Carol finally pushed the playback button on the machine and listened to the whirring rewind. The five messages played through. None of them was from Lee. The simple solution, of course, was to call him herself. Put an end to her misery… and set aside her stubborn pride. But she couldn’t.

And yet she’d been sustaining herself for nearly a week on dreams and fantasies. A vivid memory of the first time they’d made love was enough to give her pleasurable sensations in flashback. Hearing his voice had penetrated her emotional blockade and thrown her into confusion. It was obvious that her defenses were not ironclad.

She missed him.

But apparently Lee had taken his signals from her and cut his losses. Just when she realized she might very well be falling in love with him.

When her phone started ringing Carol didn’t move. She waited out the recorded greeting to hear who was calling.

“Why are you making this so difficult…”

She quickly broke in.

“Hi, Wes. It’s me.”

“It’s about time. I was going to give you until tomorrow morning before I called the police and had them break down your door.”

“That’s not funny.”

“Well, I’m serious. How are you doing?” he asked, his voice softening. She’d told him everything about the scene with Karen and how she’d walked out on Lee.

“I’m okay.”

“Right,” he muttered. “I know that tone. Last heard when you were about sixteen and making yourself and everyone else miserable.”

“Wesley, if you’re going to give me a hard time, I’m going to hang up the goddamn phone!”

“That’s my girl,” he crooned. “Them’s fightin’ words.”

“All right, all right. I’m not going to let you bait me. I’m not going to get upset.”

“Good. Now we can talk.” Again his tone changed. “I’m sorry, Carol. This whole thing sucks. I’d like to take the guy and punch out his lights. But I suggest something easier and less likely to land my ass in jail.”

“You want me to sue,” she murmured flatly.

She still felt the same way she always had about the idea. But maybe her brother was right. Why not take the money that no one could dispute was owed her?

Still, what to do with the uneasy sense that it was blood money, a payoff? That it was buying amnesty for the police department and selling her out. That it would not give her peace of mind or make everything all right. It would not make up for the cruel circumstances in which she and Lee had been brought together, or the silly way in which they had parted.

“Of course,” Wes began, “this is an open-and-shut case. The city would rather spend millions to settle suits against the misconduct of law enforcement officers than train and retrain them properly. Unfortunately, not coming down hard on the cops in the first place may have convinced them they’re
entitled
to behave like jerks. Not on my tax dollars, they’re not. Let’s fight to get some of those bucks back.”

“Wes, wait a minute—”

“Look, we haven’t really sat and talked about how to do this, so don’t shoot down the idea yet. Sorry—I shouldn’t have used that particular term.”

“Never mind.”

“Let me come and see you, okay? We can have dinner together. I’ll even pay for it. I bet you could use the company.”

“I don’t want any company.”

“What about Lee Grafton?”

She gnawed her lip and closed her eyes.

“Were you getting it on with the guy?”

“Don’t be vulgar and rude, Wesley.”

“If I’m going to represent you, you have to tell me the truth. I’ll take your hostile response to mean yes. I’m sorry, Carol.”

“What are you sorry for?”

“You’re my sister. I know you can take care of yourself, but it sounds like you got blindsided on this one. And if I can put in another two cents’ worth of observation, it seems to me that he mattered more to you than you’re willing to admit.”

“Can we talk about something else?” she asked quietly, furious that she was about to cry at her brother’s peculiar but endearing way of sympathizing with her. Tears weren’t going to do her one bit of good.

“Sure, if you like,” he said. “Have you heard from him?”

“I don’t want to hear from him,” she said forcefully.

“Yeah, right. I don’t believe you, but okay, we’ll drop that line of questioning. I reserve the right to recall the witness at a later time. What are you going to do?”

“Lick my wounds for a few days. Get back to my life. I’ll get over it.”

“How much damage has been done?” Wesley asked in a surprisingly gentle tone.

“Enough.” Carol’s voice quavered softly. “A lot. I miss him.”

“Tell you what. I’ll give you one more day to feel sorry for yourself, then I’m driving in, I’m taking you out to dinner, and I’m going to let you cry on my shoulder. If you plan on getting violent, I refuse to be the fall guy. Otherwise I’m there for you. Are we clear?”

“We’re clear. Wesley?”

“Yeah?”

“I don’t know why I ever thought you were a pain in the ass.

He howled with laughter. “The feeling’s mutual—even though you take a lot of explaining and a ton of work.”

Carol sighed as she put down the newspaper. At first she’d thrown it into the garbage, ignoring the temptation to scan for any further news on her case. She’d straightened the studio, gotten her things together in preparation to leave work for the day, and finally given in. She found what she was looking for—a page two story in the local news section that revealed that Carol Taggart, innocent shooting victim, was considering filing a lawsuit against the NYPD and the City of New York.

She didn’t know whether to be relieved or horrified. She’d already allowed Wes to prepare preliminary documents for presentation and file for a settlement in a wrongful injury and negligence suit. Wes’s attempts to explain that the suit was not personal but a mere formality in a pro forma settlement had not made a difference to her. She was still plagued by a disturbing sense of betrayal—of herself… and of Lee.

Her stomach positively cramped with anxiety at the thought of how this latest indictment would play out now that the press had broken the story. What would Lee think?

She wasn’t going to go there. There was already plenty of room for doubt. What if Lee wasn’t as guilty or as insincere or as hypocritical as he’d been portrayed? What if, like her, he was a victim of circumstance and other people’s manipulations?

Carol resumed packing her tote bag, already dreading the trip home, and wondering how long this incessant mooning was going to continue before she got over Lee Grafton. She told herself it was just as well that she had walked away from a relationship with trouble written all over it—but she didn’t convince herself for a moment. Someday she would wake up and realize she no longer felt anything for him, she told herself. But she didn’t believe that either.

Wishful thinking.

As Carol picked up her two sketch pads, several loose sheets fell out from between the pages and fluttered to the floor. She bent to retrieve them and stood transfixed as one of the images caught her attention.

It was the quick sketch she’d done of Lee posing for her class. It managed to capture the essence of the man she’d come to know. Broken lines indicated his hair. The side of his face, seen from behind his right shoulder, revealed his cheekbone, nose, chin, and jaw. The long line of his back was interrupted by his arm and elbow. And underneath his arm, solid dark lines depicted the holster containing his automatic.

She stared long and hard at the picture. It was accurate. It was good. It exactly captured the way she saw Lee. Which was confusing, because it didn’t fit the image of him that Wesley and Karen had tried to paint. Briefly, Carol was tempted to crush the delicate drawing. Instead she slipped it protectively between the pages of the pad and placed it in her bag.

“Hi.”

She jumped at the sound of the voice and turned to find Matt standing in the studio doorway. He was wearing a sports jacket with a scarf draped around his neck and carrying his saxophone case.

“What are you doing here?” Carol asked.