Close Encounters (33 page)

Matt took his time approaching her, regarding her with speculation and interest.

“I was in the neighborhood. Went to see a friend and talked to the club manager at Winston’s about doing a few weekend runs. I gave him some dates.”

“And?”

“And I thought I’d stop by and say hello. Looks like I just caught you.”

Carol headed for the closet and removed her coat. “Just. I’m finished for the day.”

“So how are you doing?”

“I’m fine. And yourself?”

Matt shook his head ruefully. “I swear, we sound like we don’t even know each other.”

She shouldered her tote bag and headed for the door, flipping the light switches one at a time. “Maybe we don’t,” she said as she waited patiently for him so she could lock the studio.

He picked up his horn and joined her in the hallway. “Look, maybe it would be better if we could just forget everything that’s happened recently. All right, so it ain’t gonna happen between us anymore. We can still be friends.”

Carol strolled to the stairwell leading to the first floor. “We were friends before this past month, Matt. That hasn’t changed as far as I’m concerned. I was always proud of the fact that despite the divorce there were no hard feelings.” She glanced sideways at him. “At least I didn’t have any. And,” she continued, “I guess I didn’t mind that you seduced me again. It was very nice. I don’t regret it.”

“Yeah.” Matt chuckled proudly. “We were kickin’. Still had the right stuff.”

They descended the stairs and approached the exit. Outside, it had begun to rain. Matt cursed softly in annoyance. Carol turned to wait it out on a long bench against the wall, just inside the entrance. Matt sat next to her.

“So why did you really track me down today?”

“Now you sound like the old Carol. Trying to second-guess everything I say.”

“That’s because the new Carol knows that people still lie to her and try to use her,” she said tightly.

Matt turned toward her. “It’s that cop, right? You should have known you couldn’t trust him, Carol. What did he do? Dump you as soon as he got what he wanted?”

She shook her head. “No. I was the one who walked away.”

“So you’re getting back by filing a suit against the city?”

Carol sighed. “Bad news travels fast.”

“It’s not bad news if you walk away with a few mil. That ain’t chump change, even after the lawyers take their cut. You could do a lot with that kind of money.”

She had not given a single thought to what she would do if she were awarded even a portion of the money Wes was asking for. The money might bring closure. It wasn’t going to buy her happiness.

“I suppose. I haven’t started making a list yet.”

Suddenly she realized something. Her mind cleared as if someone had dashed cold water in her face. She turned sharply to Matt.

“How did you know about the lawsuit? The papers only said I
might
take legal action.”

Matt shifted, crossing an ankle across the opposite knee. “I got a call from the legal counsel of NYPD. They want me to give a deposition in the case.”

“You?”
Carol said in genuine surprise. “Why? You had absolutely nothing to do with it.”

“I haven’t responded yet. I figured I better talk to a lawyer myself. Maybe Wes. Just in case.”

“Just in case, what?” Carol asked, her interest growing. “How did you get involved in this?”

“I guess because I’m your ex-husband. A couple of those cops you spoke to at the hospital interviewed me.”

She frowned. “I didn’t know that. Why didn’t you tell me they contacted you?”

“I figured all the players knew the same thing. Full disclosure and all that. I just hope that white cop gets what he deserves for playing you the way he did. Suspension isn’t good enough.”

“He was suspended?” she asked, stunned.

“That’s what I heard.”

Carol could only stare at Matt. Suddenly he seemed to have more inside information than even her brother.

“Why was he suspended?” she asked. “I guess you know that, too.”

“For shooting you, I guess,” he said.

“But he said … they weren’t a hundred percent sure. Was his partner suspended too? He wasn’t alone when the shooting occurred.”

“I don’t know,” Matt said indifferently. “Probably.”

Carol was confused, and she stared at Matt warily. Everything he was telling her only increased her uneasiness. She shook her head.

“This doesn’t make sense, Matt. Why would the department suspend him? My suit is against the city. I haven’t named or blamed any particular person.”

“So maybe he’s the sacrificial lamb.”

“But … whose sacrifice?” Carol murmured. Then, all at once she understood. “You told them, didn’t you?” she blurted out.

“What are you talking about?”

“You told the police,
someone,
about me and Lee.”

“You don’t know that. Why would I do that?”

She jumped up and stared down at him in angry bewilderment. “To get even. That’s always why people try to do other people in. Because they get mad when things don’t go their way.
And they want to get even
!” she almost screamed at him.

He jumped up to face her. “Carol, I didn’t tell them you were seeing him.”

“But, you told them
something.
You told them enough. Oh, my God,” she moaned, trying to figure it all out. “Was it because I wouldn’t give you another chance? Because I was attracted to Lee?”

“How about because he could have killed you!” Matt reminded her.

“Matt, you had no right.”

“I had every right. How could you forget that you’re a black woman who’s had more shit done to you by white people than anybody I know.”

“To damn all white people is to damn my family. To say that because I’m black I’m a victim is just an excuse to give up! You don’t have my permission to make me a victim. Yes, I was the one who got hurt. But if I can forgive what happened, you need to accept it. It’s none of your business after all.”

“The guy is using you.”

“You say that because he’s white,” she scoffed. “My parents taught me—”

She stopped as what her parents had always taught her suddenly occurred to her—that people prove themselves by their actions. That sincerity can’t be disguised. She picked up her tote bag from the bench. “I wish you hadn’t interfered, Matt. You’re wrong about Lee Grafton, but I don’t owe you any explanation as to why. It was my decision to trust him … to forgive him.”

“You’re making a big mistake,” Matt said firmly.

She shook her head. “Why is it everyone thinks they know better than I do what’s good for me?”

Carol left him standing there and walked out into the rain. In a few moments she was so wet that no one would have guessed she was crying.

“Goñyo,”
Barbara whispered in frustration.

She paced the living room, sidestepping her daughter’s toys on the floor. She clasped her hands to her face and swept back her long hair, sighing with pent-up nervous energy. She had never been good at waiting, trying to relax, or having days off. She thought about her job constantly. It was as if, despite her child, and her mother’s constant presence, her only life was with her team.

She stopped in front of the window and gazed out. It was raining lightly. Car tires hissed on wet pavement, and the bleak, mostly deserted streets made her feel confined, isolated. Scared.

Barbara sat in her mother’s recliner and clicked on the TV. Nothing but endless talk shows of people complaining and crying. She surfed rapidly through the channels with no idea of what she was looking for. The images flew by. Finally she clicked the set off, plunging the room back into silence. She felt like she was suffocating. What was she going to do if Mario decided to tell on her? She had no assurance that the department would back her up. She could be tossed out just to ward off press and criticism.

Like Lee.

She took a deep breath. Lee had told her to stay calm. Nothing was going to happen to her. The department wasn’t going to sacrifice her on the altar of public opinion. He had assured her that his suspension had nothing to do with her.

Maybe not. But if they found out about Mario …

So Lee had been getting it on with that woman. She couldn’t see it. He was too smart to get that close to anyone involved in a case. But the reminder that she had been doing exactly the same thing increased her agitation.

“Shit!”

She gnawed on a fingernail and jumped, startled, when the doorbell rang. She frowned, listening. It rang again. She wasn’t expecting anyone.

Barbara looked out the living room window, trying to glimpse whoever was standing on the stoop. It was a bad angle and she could see nothing.

Her inclination was to ignore the bell. But what if it was someone from the department? It might even be Lee. She hurried down the long, dark hallway to the door. Once more she tried to see the figure through the peephole. Two men, standing with their backs to her, were talking quietly. From the department, she thought.

She opened the door. “Yes? What is—”

The two men turned around. One quickly pushed against the door and forced his way across the threshold. She couldn’t react quickly enough to stop him. In Spanish, the other was dismissed, and he instantly disappeared down the front steps.

Barbara’s insides tightened with the immediate knowledge that she was alone and in serious trouble. Her heart pounded, and adrenaline made her senses keen, wired. She reached automatically for her gun, but she hadn’t clipped it on. She was at home, after all.

The man grabbed her around the throat, his thumb pressing to restrict her breathing, cutting off all chance of escape. She spread her arms in surrender.

“Mario—” Barbara choked out. For a mere second she thought of reasoning with him, but she knew that would be futile.

“Mija,”
he drawled in a hard voice.

Mario reached behind him with the other hand and locked the door. He jerked Barbara away from the wall, controlling her with the pressure of his thumb on her throat. He quickly maneuvered her in front of him and twisted her right hand—her gun hand—using a police technique against her.

He led her back into the living room. Once there, he released her with a strong push. Barbara stumbled forward, caught her balance, and whirled to face him. There was no gun in his hand, but she knew he had one.

Barbara watched as a malevolent smile twisted his handsome mouth. Inexplicably, she felt real regret that there was no chance of redemption for Mario.

Calmly, as if he was reaching for loose change, Mario withdrew a Glock automatic from a coat pocket. Barbara didn’t let a muscle on her face move, although her heart was racing. He got off on other people’s fear. She wasn’t going to give him a chance to use hers against her.

“The kid’s at school. Mom’s at her cashier job at the market downtown. It’s you and me, babe.” He laughed. “While the folks are away, the mice will play, eh,
mija
?”

She boldly faced him. “Even you aren’t this dumb, Mario. I’m being watched.”

“Bullshit.” He pointed his gun at her right leg. “Let me have it. Use your left hand. You don’t want to make me nervous.”

Keeping her eyes on him, Barbara slowly bent down. Her hair fell forward, almost obscuring her view of him, and she shook it back. Just under the hem of her jeans she wiggled her fingers and pulled out a small-caliber handgun. She calculated her chances of getting a clean shot at him, but he was prepared for her. The safety was off his gun. Holding her pistol by the handle between thumb and index finger, she passed it to Mario.

“What are you going to do?”

His eyes were hard and cold. “I’m here to make you feel good. Seems you think I’m a lousy fuck. That’s what you said, right? You hurt my feelings. No Latino wants to hear he can’t satisfy his woman. I got to do something about that.” He shrugged out of his coat and put it on a chair.

Already Barbara was preparing herself. She thought about all the things she might do to prevent what was going to happen, but not one of them would work. He had the gun. He was closest to the door.

“This is not going to change my mind,” she said scathingly.

“I don’t give a shit about changing your mind,” Mario snarled. “I deserve a second chance to fuck you, that’s all.
Quiero chucha
… I want to make sure
I
got it right.”

He beckoned with his fingers. “Come on, give ’em up. The handcuffs.”

Barbara shook her head. “I don’t have them on me.”

“Turn around,” he ordered.

She did so and felt his approach. Mario patted down her sides and waist. He deliberately put his hands between her legs and squeezed her crotch.

“Okay. Let’s go find them.”

Barbara led him into her bedroom. There was another gun in her top bureau drawer. She was trying to figure out how she could go for it, but again Mario was taking no chances with her. He made her put her arms behind her back, and he grabbed her wrists. It was awkward, and Barbara knew that too much time would be lost in getting her balance, rushing forward, opening the drawer for the gun, turning and aiming. In less than half that time Mario could get off several rounds.

“Where?” he asked again.

“On my belt, inside the closet door.”

Mario pushed her down on the side of the bed. He deftly opened the closet door, gave a brief glance around, and grabbed the handcuffs. He looked around the room. There was no place for him to secure the cuffs.

“Get up.”

“Where… where are you taking me?”

“To the kid’s room. She’s got the bed with the posts.”

“How… how do you know that?”

He grinned. “Come on. Get up.”

“No,
hijo de la gran puta
!” she spat. “You want to rape me, you do it right here.”

Mario’s face flushed with rage. His eyes narrowed, and he bared his teeth as he took two strides toward her. He raised his arm and swiftly backhanded her across her left cheek. The blow nearly knocked her over. Her hands clenched into fists and she gritted her teeth. She was not going to scream. She was
not
going to give him the satisfaction. She thought only,
Thank God my daughter and mother aren’t here.
And she thought of what she would do to Mario if she had the chance.