Friday Edition, The (12 page)

“Sam.”

Wilson stood at the entrance to the newsroom, his hands stuffed deep inside his dark blue overcoat. She looked up and he motioned her to his office. She followed him.

“Close the door,” he said.

He had removed his overcoat and was hanging it on the rack as she closed the door. He was dressed smartly in a crisp gray suit. The stark white of his shirt deepened the gray in his hair.

“Sit down,” he said, extending his hand toward the chairs.

She sat in the chair across the desk from him. He studied her for a moment. She felt his gaze travel the length of her face, so she directed her attention to a pattern in her slacks.

“Are you all right?” he asked.

She nodded, too embarrassed to speak.

“How are you this morning?”

She laughed slightly. “My head feels like I’ve been swimming on the bottom of the ocean, but other than that I’m on top of the world.”

He nodded knowingly, rubbing an index finger over pursed lips. “What happened at Tim’s Place?” he asked calmly.

Sam told him.

“So this Champ guy said Robin had been coming in for a couple of months?” Wilson said when Sam finished telling her story.

“That’s what he said,” she said confirming her facts.

They were silent.

“Now what?” she asked, finally.

“We wait for Rey to call and hope it won’t be long.”

She nodded, not trusting her voice.

“You had a few too many?” Wilson asked.

Sam felt her face flush and her entire body felt intense with heat. “Wilson, I’m so sorry,” she said, wanting to crawl under his desk.

“Want to tell me why?” he asked, ignoring the need she felt to apologize. The gentleness in his voice eased her.

She took a deep breath, wanting to say ‘no,’ but heard herself begin to explain what had happened with April before going to Tim’s Place. There was something satisfying about talking to Wilson. He could draw from her what she had no intention of telling. When Sam finished, she waited for the inevitable lecture. Wilson said nothing.

He considered her for a moment and said, “Let’s just hope it won’t be long before Rey contacts you.”

Turned out, it wasn’t long.

Sam was working against deadline to finish a story when her cell phone vibrated.

It was Rey and she smiled with satisfaction. She returned the call and, within minutes, Anne was buzzing her to pick up a call holding. She punched the line blinking.

“Sam Church,” she said, knowing he would know.

“It’s Rey.”

She closed her eyes, excited and relieved to hear his voice.

“I’m glad you called,” she said.

“I’ll pick you up at the diner on Wadsworth,” Rey said without preamble.

“What time?”

There was silence as he considered an appropriate time.

“Midnight.”

“Got it,” Sam said. “I’ll be there.”

“See you then,” Rey said and Sam heard the click in her ear.

Sam looked toward Wilson’s office, but Nick Weeks was standing at the door. She waited until he left, then went to the office door and poked her head inside.

“Got a moment?” she asked.

“Just working on a column that’s going nowhere,” Wilson said and stopped typing. “Come in.”

“Rey called,” she said.

“And?”

“And he’s picking me up tonight at the all-night diner.”

“What time?”

Just as Sam told him, her cell phone sounded again. She read her incoming message, shaking her head. “No,” she whispered and dropped heavily into the chair. Her face clouded and turned gray.

“Sam, what is it?” Wilson asked leaning forward in his chair. “Are you okay?”

Sam nodded, too overcome to speak. She read the message again.

“Someone … someone … is watching me,” she said and could not help the tremble in her voice.

“What?”

“Someone is goddamn
watching
me, Wilson. They know I’ve been to see Ruth and that I was at Tim’s Place last night.”

Sam reread a portion of the message …

“Champ’s a great guy isn’t he?”

“They saw me talking to Champ,” she said in a perplexed and frightened tone.

Sam handed her cell phone to Wilson. He read the message.

Wilson looked at her hard. “Who else besides me knew you went to see Ruth and were going to Tim’s Place last night?”

She thought a moment, then shook her head.

“No one. I haven’t told anyone where I’ve been going, what I’ve been doing or who I’ve been talking to.”

“Didn’t you tell me you had confided in Rey?”

She thought another moment.

“But you’re wrong about Rey,” she said and leaned over his desk. “Yes, Rey did know I had a conversation with Ruth, but I only saw Champ last night.”

“Didn’t you ask him about Tim’s Place on your ride-along the other night?”

She nodded.

“Didn’t you tell him you were going there?”

“Yes, but I didn’t tell him when I’d planned to go. I didn’t know for sure then.”

Wilson frowned. “I don’t know about him. I don’t know if we can trust him.”

“Robin trusted him,” Sam said. “And my sister always was a good judge of character.”

Wilson looked skeptical. He removed his reading glasses, folded them and slipped them in his shirt pocket. “Maybe not this time, Sam,” he said. “If she was drinking again and under a lot of pressure, who knows what she was thinking?”

“No,” Sam said adamantly and pounded her fist lightly over a pile of papers. “Robin wasn’t drinking. I trust Rey because ...”

Wilson stopped her. “Why?”

She looked at him earnestly. “Because Robin did.”

He sighed and leaned against his chair. After a thoughtful moment, his face softened. “All right,” he said. “No one knows Robin better than you, so maybe she was right about Rey. But from here on out, talk to no one. Got it?”

Sam nodded with a small smile of satisfaction.

Wilson stroked his chin, studying her. “I hate to see you go alone tonight. Where are you going anyway?”

Sam shrugged. “Rey hung up without saying.”

“You don’t even know where you’re going?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t go, Sam.”

“Wilson, I’m going.”

Wilson returned her cell phone. She took it in silence and with a sense of falling clipped it to her waistband. “You know,” she said softly. “I had expected a lecture from you after I told you about last night.”

“Why, Sam? What do you think I could say to you that you haven’t already heard or that you don’t already know?” Wilson considered her a minute. “Besides, I don’t give lectures.”

She smiled and nodded. Her fondness and appreciation for Wilson grew deeper each time they spoke.

“Be careful tonight,” Wilson said.

“I will.”

Sam got up and walked to the door. “Oh,” she said and returned to his desk. “I forgot to tell you what else Rey said.”

They exchanged glances in silence.

“He told me to bring a camera.”

When Sam got into Rey’s police cruiser shortly after midnight, a large stainless steel thermos was positioned between the seats and the shotgun.

“Expecting a long night?” she asked.

“We might be in for one,” Rey said.

“Where are we going?”

“To a warehouse on the east side of town.”

“What’re we going to see?”

“You’ll see soon enough.”

They patrolled the streets for nearly an hour before going to the east side of Grandview. Just before they reached High Pointe Warehouse, Rey cut the headlights and the engine and they coasted to a stop. Amber lights illuminated the back of the building, which allowed Sam to see the loading docks. “Won’t they see us from here?” she asked.

Rey shook his head. “Nah. We checked from every possible angle. There’s no way to spot us. But we won’t be in the car. We’ll go over there.”

Sam looked where Rey pointed. “In that parking garage?”

Rey took note of her bulky sweater and jeans. “You should be fine with your coat,” he said.

She nodded without speaking while studying the garage and questioning Rey’s judgment. They settled in and Rey poured coffee into small Styrofoam cups. The French roast aroma filled the car. “I love the smell of good coffee,” Rey said as he handed the steaming cup to Sam. “My wife brewed this.”

She took it with both hands and settled against the cushioned seat. The aroma drifted through the car and she closed her eyes. “Yes,” she said. “It smells heavenly.”

They sat in silence overlooking the warehouse. It was quiet and empty.

“Robin and I drank coffee here many nights waiting for these guys to show. You can get to know someone pretty well huddled around a cup of coffee.”

“The compartment of a car is a pretty closed space,” Sam said, taking another small sip of coffee. “Perhaps it is being able to look out the window that provides a sense of freedom and the willingness to open up and tell.”

When Sam looked at Rey, he nodded and said, “Robin talked about you all the time.”

She looked alarmed. “Wasn’t there a better way to pass your time?”

“She liked talking about your lives together,” Rey said.

Sam turned to look out the side window, feeling sadness consume her. “We had some good times, but it wasn’t always easy. We both worked hard.”

He looked at her. She was staring straight ahead now, her face expressionless.

“You were very special to her,” he said.

Her lips formed a small fragile smile. Emptiness tugged at her. She felt Robin’s loss surge again.

“I never told Robin that I admired you for taking care of her and you,” Rey said.

She shook her head and looked at him intently. “I didn’t do such a hot job taking care of myself.” Her gaze flickered toward the warehouse.

“Tell me something about yourself,” Rey said.

“There’s nothing to tell.”

“I don’t believe that.”

“I know your parents both had drinking problems and they ignored you a lot early on, didn’t they?” Rey queried gently.

She looked at him. “You and Robin must’ve talked a lot.”

“We did. Nights were long sometimes.”

Sam shrugged. “Yes, they did. Especially my father. He never had time for either one of us. He’d work all day and would be drunk already when he got home. I always wondered why he had to be that way and if things would ever change.”

“Things did change, didn’t they? When Robin was born?” Rey asked.

Sam smiled warmly. She remembered the first time she saw her baby sister. Sam had loved her instantly, dearly and deeply. “Seeing Robin was the first time I became aware of being alive. I was almost six. The first time I tried to hold her, my mother was so nervous that I was going to drop her.” The memory lifted Sam’s spirits. “She was such a little munchkin, much too small and too light to drop.”

Her thoughts shifted. “That first night I saw you standing in the lobby in that circle with the other officers,” she said.

“When we were praying?”

“Yes.”

His smile was soft and inviting. It made Sam continue talking. “When I was ten, Robin and I woke up one Saturday and our mother was gone. She’d gone out the night before, but never came back home, and she didn’t come home for two weeks. But every day of those two weeks went by before I allowed myself to believe she wasn’t coming back.”

“What’s my praying in the lobby have to do with that?”

“I used to pray a lot when I was little, but I stopped.”

“Why?”

“No one was listening.”

He laughed. It was as sincere as the smile he cast in her direction.

“We used to live next to a Catholic Church,” she continued. “And every day during those two weeks I went there to pray that my mother would come back.”

“Did you go to church regularly?”

She shook her head.

“Why not?”

“It just wasn’t something we did,” she said and shrugged.

“You should go back to church now as an adult.”

She glared at him. “What for?”

“With the perspective of a life lived.”

She laughed harshly and shook her head. “I was in church for Robin’s funeral.”

“Yes, I know I saw you.”

“I’m glad you did because I have no intention of going into another one again any time soon,” she said.

The car was quiet as they stared at the warehouse. Above, a quarter moon slipped from behind thin clouds. She stared at the moon until clouds covered it again.

“Your mother came back, but not for long, didn’t she?” Rey said, pulling Sam from her thoughts. She kept her attention fixed on the sky, hoping the moon would return.

“Yes, but she killed herself in the bathroom on Christmas morning.”

“I know and I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. That was so long ago.”

She looked from Rey to the sky and saw that a sliver of moon had reappeared.

“I’ve always been sorry that Robin had to see her end up like that.”

“Want to know what Robin said?” Rey asked.

Sam felt his eyes on her. She was on the verge of tears and didn’t want to speak for fear they would take command. To keep control, she only nodded.

“She said your love became a mother’s love.”

Sam couldn’t help herself and a tear struggled free and rolled down her cheek. She didn’t move to clear it away.

“Robin said it wasn’t until she was sober that she realized how much you had protected her in those early years.”

“I was only protecting her from one thing,” Sam said in a small voice. For a time they didn’t speak then she said, “Do you ever wish that sometimes the only problem you ever had in life was trying to parallel park?”

Rey shook his head slightly and chuckled. “If that could only be that easy.” He glanced at her. “But it wasn’t easy for you, was it, Sam.”

“Just shy of my thirteenth birthday, my life went in a new and dismal direction and I have my father to thank for that,” she said to Rey. “He came into my bedroom one night after I had put Robin to bed. He came to my bed and I could smell the alcohol on his breath. I thought he had stumbled into the wrong room by mistake.”

But Sam learned quickly that it wasn’t a mistake. He came knowing exactly what he wanted to do. “When he was there I could do nothing but wait until it was over. I might be on my bed, the floor, or wherever he’d trap me. Then I’d stare at the ceiling and wait.”

Wait. Wait. Wait.

She waited with desperation and fear. With hope and with prayer that he’d finish quickly and leave.

“It was in that darkness, as I waited for the connection to be broken, that my faith faded to gray and then to … nothingness. I used to always pray he would stop coming in my room, but he always came. I prayed he wouldn’t hurt me, but I always felt the pain. I prayed it wouldn’t last long. But when he entered my room, time had a way of stretching out like taffy.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Rey said. “Robin never said.”

Sam nodded knowingly and told him, “She wouldn’t. It was our secret. We promised each other to never reveal it.”

“Did your father abuse Robin, too?” he asked.

Sam was quiet for a time, thinking. “No,” she said simply. “I didn’t want Robin to go through what I had to, so I did the only thing I knew would keep him away from her.”

Sam told Rey she had everything in just the right places. His face clouded in confusion, then flushed when she said, “I began to prostitute myself. I felt as trashy and cheap as I was certain a prostitute did. My father got right into the act, though. He bought clothes for me that showed every contour of my young shapely body. I hated myself for putting them on, but I did, every night, even if he didn’t come into my room that night, I had them on just in case he did. But I only wore them in front of him,” Sam said to Rey and then directed her attention to the pattern in the fabric of the car seat.

She felt odd, almost ashamed at her revelation. Even after all these years, it seemed Sam spoke in a tone to Rey that suggested she had to defend what she had done so many years ago.

“But it worked,” Sam said, feeling somewhat proud. “My father never had the same desire or interest in Robin.” Sam put a hand on her chest and emphasized the pronoun as she spoke. “
I
made it too easy for him.”

Rey shook his head when Sam told him that she was fourteen when she took her first drink. And the older she got, the more she drank. She felt so small against the car seat, diminished by their conversation.

“It’s therapeutic to talk, you know,” he told her.

Sam scoffed at his remark, then nodded. Her chin protruded slightly, the way it does sometimes that she can’t seem to help, as though she knew someone was talking nonsense to her.

It seemed to take all Sam’s strength when she told him, “I’m just grateful to have someone to talk to. It’s been such a long time.”

Rey put his hand lightly on her shoulder.

“When my father started coming into my room, I promised myself to get us out of there as soon as I could. I wanted to be as far away from him as I possibly could.”

“He made it easy for you, didn’t he,” Rey said.

“That he died one night after he drank himself into a stupor? It was the best thing that ever happened to Robin and me.” Sam stopped talking and looked at him. “I sound horrible talking like that, don’t I?”

He shook his head. Sam saw that his eyes were soft and sympathetic. Sam couldn’t help wondering if that look would also be one he’d give his own daughters someday, when they were old enough for heart to heart talks. “No, you don’t. I doubt I could’ve survived half as long,” he said.

Sam didn’t say anything for what seemed a long time, but only wondered silently if she really did survive and the person walking around inside of her wasn’t really someone else.

“I don’t know who I am half the time,” she said.

“It’s not your fault.”

She nodded and said, “I know it wasn’t, and I keep telling myself that. Maybe that’s why I drink sometimes to take the edge off. You know, blur things a bit. But sometimes seems to be a lot lately and it’s hurting me.”

Rey whispered that his faith had never been tested like hers.

Sam laughed and said, “I’ve been tested, then I’ve failed miserably.”

“You haven’t failed, Sam, you’re still learning, just like the rest of us.”

She looked out the window, shrugging off his words. Though their conversation had drained Sam, she found it odd that it had also left her feeling reflective and relieved. The intimate, private details of her life played out before Rey like a home movie.

“No one is entirely certain what causes a person to become an alcoholic. In fact, alcoholism is a complex addiction that has only recently come under study as an illness not a moral dilemma.” Sam was still looking out the car window when she heard herself say that to him. “I’ve lost track of the times I’ve said that to myself standing in front of my own bathroom mirror.”

He nodded. “They say there are many factors that could cause a person to become an alcoholic.”

Sam said, “Some scientists believe that alcoholism is primarily a biochemical phenomenon, set off by a bodily trigger that might be anything from a genetically caused nutritional deficiency, to a dysfunctional endocrine system, to the presence of alcohol-vulnerable genes.”

He looked at her as if he knew she had read that in some textbook.

He was right. But Sam didn’t feel the need to offer that she had researched alcoholism on many, many occasions, but still didn’t know a thing. She looked over at him, her right eyebrow slightly arched and said, “I may not know much when it comes to addictions and I’ve certainly made my share of mistakes, but at least I know one thing is true.”

“What’s that?”

“I can parallel park.”

It was late now and the thermos of coffee they shared was empty.

Sam looked at her watch. “Are they coming?”