Reckless

Part 15

Cassy's first instinct was to run. Her mother's voice always elicited that response. Then she felt shame, which was also a familiar reaction.

As much as Cassy dreaded contact with Evelyn, her heart hoped that each new visit would be different than the last, that the next time things would turn out better, that her mother would show some sign of acceptance.

Cassy closed her eyes. Maybe, just maybe, this time would be the magical moment. Perhaps some good could come out of this disaster.

"Dream on," Common Sense shouted at her. "Prepare to be used as a human target. It will never change. She will never change." Cassy sighed and collapsed onto the couch. What could she do? This was her mother.

She wasn't sure how long she had sat there, lost in thought. Her mind flashed on a multitude of images from the past. Her mother telling her that she would be living with her grandmother in Texas, treating her daughter as if she had the plague. Her mother telling her that Tom was not a suitable husband, quelling her daughter's happiness at having found the man that she wanted to marry. Her mother telling her that, once again, if her daughter had listened to her in the beginning, she wouldn't find it necessary to have to file for divorce. Her mother confessing her jealousy over her daughter's independence and success, but never apologizing for her actions.

She pushed herself up from the couch and made her way to the bedroom. She pulled off her clothes and then examined herself in the dresser mirror. Her face was pale and dark shadows outlined her eyes. She looked like hell. "Can't let dear mom see me like this," she muttered. "I'll never hear the end of it."

Glancing at the clock, she sighed. It was almost nine. Debating on whether she had time for a shower, the sound of the doorbell interrupted her thoughts. Her breath hitched and a wave of panic flooded her. She grabbed for a light robe and slowly made her way to the front door, dreading every step. She could see her mother through the glass. She wanted desperately to feel some affection at the sight of the woman. Instead, all she felt was resentment.

Swallowing down the negative emotions, she forced a smile and opened the door. "Hi Mom."

"Damn it, Peterson, they're making Cassy sound like Rambo," Harry said through clenched teeth, barely containing his fury. He threw the newspaper down on the table and shifted the phone receiver to his other ear. "I thought you said the press release contained only the facts."

The voice on the other end of the line remained calm. "Look, Harry, you know as well as I do that we don't control the press. We give them the release. . .what they do with it is beyond our control."

"That's not good enough, Steve. What my officer is going through is bad enough. I don't need idiots from the press corp making it worse. Now I want you to do something about that article." Frannie rested a comforting hand on her husband's shoulder attempting to calm his anger.

"I'll talk to the managing editor at the paper, okay? But don't get your hopes up. They're just reporting a story. That's it."

"Don't give me that crap," Harry shouted. "This article may contain facts, but it contains a lot of creative writing as well. Cassy's a good cop and I don't want anything to make it look any different."

"Harry, you had better remember one important thing." Peterson's voice now matched the Captain's. "I didn't create this situation. This is all because your detective shot her partner. No matter how you slice it, that's a problem. It's a problem for you and it's a problem for her. She'd just better get used to the press doing things like this because if you think this is bad, just wait. If her partner dies, every paper in this state is going to make it look like she's the idiot version of Dirty Harry and there isn't a damn thing I'm going to be able to do about it."

Harry started another retort, but his wife's hand squeezed his shoulder, halting the response. He swallowed the words, closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "Then do what you can, please."

The Captain could hear the man on the other end of the line take a similar calming breath. "I'll do that Harry. But I can't make any promises. You had better prepare your detective for the worst."

Harry hung up the phone without answering. He collapsed onto the couch, leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. Frannie watched him, regret in her eyes. She glanced at the coffee table to read the headline for the umpteenth time that morning. The words turned her stomach. She sat on the couch and wrapped her arm around his shoulders. "This isn't your fault, Hesch."

"I know. But it doesn't make it any easier," Harry mumbled. The couple sat in silence for a few minutes until the sound of the phone ringing broke the moment.

Harry picked up the line. "Lipschitz," he answered.

"It's Larkin." Harry immediately recognized the Chief's gruff voice. "Have you seen the paper?"

"Yes sir," Harry respectfully answered, even though he could feel his anger surging again.

"What are you going to do about it?"

"Do about what?"

"This article makes us look like our department is out of control."

"I don't think that. . ." Harry started to explain.

"Don't give me that, Harry. It implies that St. John's failure to follow procedure has been condoned, not to mention it hints of a cover up."

"Now wait a damn minute. . ." Harry protested.

The Chief's words cut him off again. "Harry, did you know what really happened at that warehouse?"

"I found out yesterday afternoon, just like everyone else."

"And St. John?"

"'And St. John' what?"

"When did she know she shot Ryan?" the Chief pushed.

"What are you implying?" Harry countered defensively.

"I want to know if this revelation was as big of a shock to your detective as it was to everyone else. We have a powder keg here, Harry, and the fuse is already lit. This article's tone is bad. And that's going to lead to one that's even worse. It's only a matter of time before the press starts asking the tough question. Did St. John cover up the fact that she shot her partner? Did she lie to the investigators at the scene?

"No!" Harry shouted, infuriated at the Chief's words. "I know my detective and she did not lie. She was as shocked as everyone else by the ballistics report."

Larkin was silent for a moment. "Okay," he finally answered. "That's good enough for me. . .for now." There was silence again. Then the gruff voice returned. "I'm going to call IAD and find out when they expect to have their preliminary report done. After that, we may have to make some tough decisions."

"And what do you mean by that?" Harry felt his temper rising again.

"I think you know what I mean, Harry," the Chief responded. "I'll be in touch later." Without waiting for a response from the Captain, Larkin disconnected the line.

"Hello, Cassandra," Evelyn St. John said as she crossed the threshold of the house. She brought her daughter into a demure hug and gave her a quick peck on the cheek. She then pushed her back and looked her up and down. "You look terrible."

Cassy felt the temperature of the room drop. She tried to fight the feeling of impending doom and concentrated on keeping the smile on her face as her mother made contact with her. "I've been up most of the night," she tried to explain. "I haven't had a chance to shower and change." She stepped back to let the woman pass into the room. "You made good time."

"The traffic wasn't nearly as bad as I expected. I'm glad you got my message," her mother replied as she sat her handbag down on the bar. "I wasn't sure you would be home to get it."

Cassy followed the auburn-haired woman into the living room. "I came home a little while ago. I was surprised to hear from you."

"Really?" Evelyn's eyes grew wide, as if shocked by the statement.

"Well, we haven't spoken in quite awhile," Cassy stammered.

"I know how wrapped up you are in your work, so I try not to bother you with my life," Evelyn explained.

Cassy inwardly sighed. The guilt trip was already starting. She shook her head and turned toward the kitchen. "Would you like some coffee."

"That would be nice, Dear." Evelyn followed her daughter into the small dining area. "So how's Tom?"

Cassy didn't respond for a moment. She removed a coffee cup from the shelf and poured a cup for the woman. "He's in critical condition. They have him in CICU."

"Oh my. You must feel just horrible about this." Cassy was somewhat certain that her mother intended the words to by sympathetic, but they came out as patronizing instead.

Cassy shook her head as she poured herself a cup. "I really am not up to talking about this right now," she whispered.

"Oh, I understand. I suppose you have had to spend quite a bit of time explaining what happened."

Cassy closed her eyes and nodded. "Yes, Mother. I have." She walked past the woman and back into the living room. "Look, I need to take a shower."

"That's fine. You go ahead and do what you need to do. I'll bring my bags in."

"Bags?" Cassy felt the knot in her stomach grow.

"Well of course, Dear. I'm going to stay with you for a few days. I know you'll need the support."

Cassy prayed that the shock and dread she felt inside were not displayed on her face. "A few days?"

"Well, yes. Unless you don't want me here."

Cassy opened her mouth, closed it and then opened it again. She fought the instinct to let the truth tumble out and instead forced the lie. "Of course I want you here," she finally answered.

End Part 15

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