First Offense (23 page)

With all the legislation over criminals’ rights, Ann thought, the system had become a maze of technicalities and poorly constructed statutes. Prisoners got their sentences reduced for good behavior, received early releases for one reason or another, and all the time evidentiary rules were increasing. The injustice was simple: the system provided more protection to the individuals who perpetrated crime than to the people they victimized.

When she got back to her office, Ann got a call from Tommy Reed asking if she would like to go along when he interviewed Sawyer’s father. With this new attack, they wanted to pick up Sawyer, take him back to court, and attempt to get his bail revoked. The father might be cooperative and provide them with information about his son’s whereabouts.

When they arrived, Ann took out her county ID and flashed it at the receptionist. “We’re here to see Dr. Sawyer.”

“Do you have an appointment?”

“No,” Ann said. “We’re police officers. Can you please tell him we’re here?”

The young woman stared at Ann as if she’d seen a ghost. Then she disappeared. In no time the door opened, and she said the doctor would see them.

Dr. Sawyer was an attractive older man. His skin was smooth and taut, his body as fit as that of any athlete, and he had dark hair and penetrating eyes like his son’s. He looked as if he spent more time on the tennis court than in surgery. Reed introduced himself, then Ann shook his hand. “I’m your son’s probation officer. Dr. Sawyer. Ann Carlisle.”

Her eyes took in the room. The drapes were drawn and only a small lamp on the surgeon’s desk provided light, leaving the rest of the room in shadow. Once they were seated in front of his desk, Jimmy’s father faced them, composed and in no way alarmed. The top of his mahogany desk was covered with a sheet of spotless glass. Other than a few decorative items like a crystal letter opener, a crystal pyramid clock, a framed photograph of Jimmy and another of his wife, the surface was completely clean: no stacks of papers, no messy cups of coffee. Dr. Sawyer was a neat, organized man. He peered out at them with clear, intelligent blue eyes behind wire-rimmed glasses. “I don’t have a great deal of time, officers. What can I do for you?”

They had to find support here, Ann thought, taking in the various diplomas and framed certificates on the walls. The man was a surgeon, a respected member of the community. Right behind his desk Ann saw a large plaque with a picture of Dr. and Mrs. Sawyer standing next to a smiling Ronald Reagan. He might be reluctant to believe his son was involved in any wrongdoing after only hearing Jimmy’s side of the story, Ann told herself, but surely they could obtain his cooperation.

She took control of the conversation, leaning forward in her seat. “Do you know what I saw in the refrigerator at your son’s house? I saw human fingers, Dr. Sawyer. Five human fingers. I saw a thumb and a little finger and three additional fingers. From that, I’m assuming they were from one hand.”

Dr. Sawyer turned his chair sideways so they could only view him in profile. “Yes,” he said flatly, “I’m aware of what you said you found. I’m also aware the police responded and found nothing.” He removed his glasses and wiped them with a tissue retrieved from somewhere inside his desk. Once he had placed them back on his nose, he turned his chair to face Reed and Ann again. “Our attorney has been looking into this situation, Ms. Carlisle. He suggested we hire a private investigator, and we followed his advice. This investigator has arrived at some astonishing conclusions that I believe will support my son’s statements.” Dr. Sawyer leaned back in his chair and stared at Ann. As soon as she looked back, his voice dropped to a monotonous, clinical level. “Ms. Carlisle, isn’t it true that your husband disappeared under very suspicious and troublesome circumstances, that you’ve been quite distraught over the past four years?”

Ann sat perfectly still in her seat, unsure why this had come up. “Yes, he did, but I don’t know what that has to do with your son.”

“Could you please allow me to continue?”

“Certainly,” Ann said, crossing her legs and then a second later uncrossing them again.

“Obviously, having your husband disappear as he did was a very traumatic thing, Ms. Carlisle. Can I call you Ann?”

“That’s fine.”

“All right,” he said, smiling warmly as if he’d known her for years. “I’m no stranger to this type of trauma, Ann. I’ve had both close acquaintances and patients whose husbands or sons have been missing in action. Servicemen, of course. They tell me it’s the waiting, the not knowing, that eventually wears them down. Is that the way it has been for you?”

“Yes, of course, but—”

He didn’t stop. “I’ll only take a few minutes of your time, and then you can ask me anything you want. My friends say the unanswered questions are the worst. They can’t sleep, can’t rest, can’t find peace because they just don’t know the answers. How did he die? Is he dead at all? Did he suffer? And then they tell me it’s the loneliness, the complete and utter loneliness. It’s entirely different from a natural death. In a natural death, Ann, the circumstances are known, the situation final. A person can recover, go on with life.”

Ann was impressed with his insight—she had felt all of this and more—but why was he talking about this stuff? “Dr. Sawyer—”

He held up a hand imperiously. “These women, women who have been in circumstances similar to yours, say they can’t let go, can’t have normal relationships. They want to date, want to resume normal sexual relationships, but they simply cannot. Not when they don’t know, Ann. Not when their poor husband could still be alive somewhere pitifully suffering, waiting and praying for the day—”

“Please,” Ann said, interrupting him. “What we came to talk about is urgent.”

“I’m quite interested in this type of trauma. I did my internship in the Marines during Vietnam. Sometimes the men would crack under the pressure of waiting, just waiting for the enemy to attack, never knowing when it would happen.”

Was the doc going to keep this up all day? Ann cut her eyes to Reed as if to say. What’s with this guy?

Tommy spoke up. “Dr. Sawyer, we didn’t come here to discuss Ms. Carlisle. We came here to discuss your son.”

“Please allow me to finish my line of thought,” Dr. Sawyer said to Tommy, immediately turning his attention back to Ann. “These people I’ve been speaking of, Ann, these women whose husbands have been missing in action, well, some of these women tell me they seek out physical relationships that don’t demand anything from them emotionally…such as commitment. Have you experienced this phenomenon?”

“Don’t answer that,” Reed said, glancing over at Ann. “Dr. Sawyer, I’m not sure Officer Carlisle understands where you are going with this conversation, but I do.”

“Oh, really?” Dr. Sawyer said, an eyebrow shooting up. “How astute. Detective Reed.”

Reed’s face flushed, and his hands locked on the arms of the chair. This son of a bitch was no better than his lousy son. He was going after Ann’s state of mind, trying to discredit her. “What were you in ‘Nam anyway? A member of the Special Forces?” Reed sneered and then spat out the rest. “What was your specialty? Mind control?”

Reed was only an inch from flying off the handle. Turning to Ann, he said, “Don’t you realize what this prick is saying? What he’s trying to imply? You’re so naive, so incredibly naive. He’s saying that you slept with his son because you can’t handle a relationship. Isn’t that right. Dr. Sawyer?”

“True,” the doctor said, his voice still carefully modulated. “Am I correct in my assessment, Ann? You see, these women I was speaking of a few minutes ago, they tell me they can’t handle rejection, that rejection is similar to their husbands’ failing to return to them following the war.”

Reed jerked his head toward the door. “Let’s get out of here, Ann. You don’t have to listen to this shit. He’s not going to give us any information.”

Dr. Sawyer’s face shifted into hard lines. “Isn’t that why you framed my son, made up this absurd story about fingers in a pickle jar, because you couldn’t handle him rejecting you? My son saved your life. You should be grateful, appreciative, but instead you’re trying to destroy him.” By now Dr. Sawyer was yelling. “Why don’t you just admit that you slept with my son? Why must you lie?”

“I didn’t make up anything,” Ann yelled back, for the first time seeing him for what he was: an angry, devious man who would do anything to protect his flesh and blood, not to mention his reputation in the community. “And I certainly didn’t sleep with your son.” She took a deep breath and pushed ahead. “If your son doesn’t appear in court in three weeks for the preliminary hearing, a bench warrant will be issued for his arrest. In addition to being a suspect in my shooting, there are indications that Jimmy was involved in manufacturing and distributing narcotics.” Ann pinned him with a knowing look. “All of these are serious charges. Your son will be sentenced to prison if he’s convicted. Prison, Dr. Sawyer, is a very different environment from the county jail.”

“Come on,” Tommy said again, “let’s get out of here.”

“No, Tommy,” Ann insisted, “we came for answers and I want answers. Dr. Sawyer, do you know anything about the body parts I saw in your son’s refrigerator?”

He looked away, refusing to answer.

Ann stood and stepped up to his desk, placing her hands purposely on the glass. “Then listen to this. If your son resists arrest or is armed at the time we pick him up, he may die or be seriously injured.”

His eyes misted over and his face contorted with anguish. “You mean, the police will shoot him?”

So, Ann thought, the man was human.

“Exactly,” she said. “Can you help us?”

“Police officers like this man?”

Ann looked over at Tommy. “Yes, Dr. Sawyer, police officers like this man. And let me tell you something else. If we apprehend Jimmy actually distributing drugs, he’ll be charged with each and every instance. Then he will be tried on each one of these instances as a separate and distinct crime. In a courtroom, they refer to these as counts. Do you understand?”

At the very comer of Dr. Sawyer’s right eye, a drop of moisture escaped and slowly made its way down the side of his face. But his jaw remained rigid, and he made no move to wipe the solitary tear away. It was actually quite sad, Ann thought. He was a father, just a parent concerned for his child.

“I’m very…cognizant of the law,” Dr. Sawyer said, his voice straining with emotion.

In the next instant the doctor completely lost his composure. Ann had never seen a man shift gears so quickly. One moment he’d been crying and the next his eyes were bulging, his face flushed. As she was about to remove her hands from the glass, he leaped to his feet and tried to slap her in the face, but Ann quickly stepped back before he made contact.

“My son is a decent young man.” He fixed Ann with a hot stare of contempt. “And you…you’re a conniving tramp, a cheap slut. You sicken me. I bet your husband left you because he didn’t want to be married to a whore. How many young boys have you seduced?”

Ann gasped, seizing Reed’s arm. “Let’s get out of here, Tommy. You were right. Come on, let’s go.”

It all happened in a flash. Reed sprang out of his seat and almost leaped over the doctor’s desk. He grabbed the man’s shirt and yanked him forward, pulling back his fist and belting him. Dr. Sawyer didn’t even struggle or attempt to fight back. Ann jumped on Tommy’s back and tried to pull him off, get him to stop. “Please, Tommy, don’t—”

Reed climbed right over the desk, sending the letter opener and paperweight flying through the air, stepping on and smashing the glass in one of the picture frames. Once he was over the desk, he started shouting, “You fucking prick. After all this woman has been through, you have the gall to say that filth.” His fist went back again, poised and ready. “You want to slap someone,” he said, growling, “slap me. I’ll bust you for assaulting a police officer.”

“Tommy, no,” Ann said, trying to grab his arms. “He didn’t hurt me. Please, stop, it isn’t worth it.”

Dr. Sawyer was sitting on the floor behind his desk, a thin stream of blood running from his nose and dripping onto his white dress shirt. When Tommy stepped back, panting and out of breath, the doctor took off his broken glasses and calmly put them into the pocket of his shirt. Holding onto the edge of the desk, he pulled himself to a standing position. Once he was on his feet, he reached for the heavy crystal clock.

“The clock. Tommy,” Ann yelled, certain the doctor was going to smash Tommy over the head with it.

In a movement so fast it blurred before Ann’s eyes. Reed made a fist with both hands and slammed it down on the doctor’s hand before his fingers closed on the clock. Something cracked. Just then the young nurse opened the door.

“Is something wrong, Doctor? I heard…”

Dr. Sawyer brought his hand up to his chest. Two fingers were bent at odd angles and covered with blood. “No, Sheila,” he said flatly. “These people are just leaving. You can show them to the door.” He looked away from the woman and sat back down behind his desk, his face flushed and gleaming with perspiration. But he didn’t grimace and he didn’t cry out in pain.

“But, Doctor,” the woman said, “your hand. My God, your hand…and your nose is bleeding too.”

“That will be all. Sheila,” he said, removing a starched white handkerchief and dabbing his bloody nose. He turned to Reed. “You’ll be hearing from my attorney.”

“Fuck you,” Reed said, ready to jump the man again and beat him to a bloody pulp. “Fuck you…fuck your son and fuck your attorney.”

They were all crowded at the door, trying to walk through at the same time, Ann pulling Reed by an arm. Finally the nurse gingerly stepped past them and Ann placed her hand on the detective’s back, trying to push him forward before they ended up in a fistfight.

“Before you go, I have one more question,” Dr. Sawyer said. “Do you have any idea what a surgeon’s hand is worth in a court of law?”

What a fiasco, Ann thought as she rushed to Department 17, where the Delvecchio trial was in progress. Glen had said the state would conclude its case today, and Ann wanted to hear his closing statement.