See Me (11 page)

She kicked at the sand, her footsteps dragging. “I was constantly being put into situations where people expected results that I couldn’t deliver, and I’d end up being the bad guy. In their minds, the suspects had committed a crime and they should be held accountable, which to the victims almost always meant prison time or restitution of some sort, but that just wasn’t possible. Afterwards, the arresting officers weren’t happy, the victims weren’t happy, and I felt like I was letting them down. And in a way, I was. Eventually I realized that I was just a cog in the wheel of this giant, broken machine.”

She slowed, pulling her sweater tighter around her. “There’s just… evil out there. You wouldn’t believe the cases that would reach our office. A mom prostituting her six-year-old daughter to buy drugs, or a man raping a ninety-year-old woman. It’s enough to make you lose faith in humanity. And because there’s this great burden on you to go hard after the really horrible suspects, that means that other perpetrators don’t get the punishment they deserve and end up back on the streets. And sometimes…” She shook her head. “Anyway, by the end of my time there, I was barely sleeping and I started getting these weird panic attacks when I was at work. I walked in one morning and just knew I couldn’t do it anymore. So I went to my boss’s office and resigned. I didn’t even have another job lined up.”

“It sounds to me like your job was draining in a lot of different ways.”

“It was.” She smiled grimly, a spectrum of conflicting emotions playing across her face.

“And?”

“And what?”

“Want to talk about it?”

“Talk about what?”

“The real reason you quit? The part that led to you having panic attacks?”

Startled, she turned toward him. “How would you know about that?”

“I don’t,” he said. “But if you’d been there for a while, something specific must have happened. Something bad. And I’m guessing it concerned a case, right?”

She stopped walking, turning to face the water. The moonlit shadows accentuated her expression – a mixture of sadness and guilt that brought with it a fleeting ache he hadn’t expected.

“You’re very intuitive.” She closed her eyes, holding them that way for a moment. “I can’t believe I’m about to tell you this.”

Colin said nothing. By then, they’d almost reached the spot where they’d entered the beach, a cacophony of music audible now above the sound of the waves. She gestured toward the dune. “Do you mind if we sit?”

“Not at all.”

Slipping off her purse and setting her sandals aside, she lowered herself to the sand. Colin made himself comfortable beside her.

“Cassie Manning,” Maria offered. “That was her name… I hardly ever talk about her. It’s not something that I like reliving.” Her voice was tight and controlled. “The case came to me maybe three or four months after I’d begun working at the DA’s office. On paper, it struck me as a fairly typical case. Cassie is dating a guy and they get into an argument, it escalates, and the guy ends up getting violent. Cassie ends up in the hospital with a black eye and a split lip, bruising, a cracked cheekbone. In other words, it wasn’t just one punch; it was a beating. His name was Gerald Laws.”

“Laws?”

“I’ve tried to find the irony, but I’ve never found any. And nothing about the case ended up being typical in the slightest. It turns out that they’d been dating for six months or so, and in the beginning of the relationship, Cassie found Laws utterly charming. He listened well, opened doors for her – a gentleman – but after a while, she began to notice aspects of his personality that concerned her. The longer they dated, the more jealous and possessive he started to become. Cassie told me that he began to get angry if she didn’t answer immediately when he called her; he started showing up at her office when she was getting off work – she was a nurse at a pediatric office – and once, when she was having lunch with her brother, she spotted Laws on the other side of the restaurant, all by himself, just watching her. She knew that he’d followed her there and it bothered her.

“The next time he called, Cassie told him that she wanted to take a break for a while. He agreed, but soon thereafter, she realized that he was stalking her. She’d see him at the post office or when she was leaving the doctor’s office or when she was jogging, and she’d get these calls where no one would talk on the other end. Then, one night, Laws showed up at her door saying that he wanted to apologize, and against her better judgment, she let him in. Once inside, he tried to convince her to go out with him again. When she said no, he grabbed her arm and she began to fight back, and she ended up hitting him with a vase. After that, he threw her to the floor and just… went at it. It happened that there was a police officer the next street over, and after the 911 call came in – the neighbors had heard screaming – he was at the house in minutes. Laws had her pinned to the floor and was punching her and there was blood everywhere. It turned out later that it was his blood from a cut over his ear where she’d hit him with the vase. The officer had to use a Taser on him. When they searched his car, they found duct tape, rope, a couple of knives, and videotaping equipment. Scary stuff. When I talked to Cassie, she told me that the guy was crazy and that she was afraid for her life. Her family was, too. Her mom and dad and her younger brother were adamant that Laws be put away for as long as possible.”

She burrowed her toes in the sand. “I thought so, too. In my mind, there was no question that the guy needed to be put away. It was also pretty open-and-shut as far as cases go. In North Carolina, Laws could have been charged with either a Class C felony, which means he had the intent to kill her, or a Class E felony, where he didn’t have the intent to kill her. The family, especially the father, wanted him to be charged with a Class C felony, which could have put him behind bars for anywhere between three and seven years. The arresting officer, too, believed that Laws was dangerous. But unfortunately, the district attorney didn’t think we could prove intent, since there was no proof that any of the things in the car had anything to do with her. Nor were her injuries truly life-threatening. Cassie also had a bit of a credibility problem… while most of what she’d said Laws had done in the past was true, she also said he’d done things that he clearly hadn’t. Then there was Laws: He looked like Mister Rogers, worked as a loan officer at a bank, and had no criminal record. He would have been a prosecutor’s nightmare on the stand. So we ended up allowing Laws to plead guilty to misdemeanor assault, with a year in prison, and that’s where I went wrong. Because Laws was extremely dangerous.”

She paused, willing herself to keep telling the story. “Laws ended up serving nine months, since he’d already served three months pending trial. He wrote Cassie letters every other day, apologizing for his actions and begging for another chance. She never answered them; after a while, she didn’t even open them, but she saved them all because she was still afraid of him. Afterwards, when we examined them more closely, we noticed the shift in tone over time. Laws was becoming more and more angry that she wouldn’t respond. Had she actually read them and brought them to the DA…”

She stared toward the sand. “As soon as he got out, Laws showed up at her door. She slammed the door on him and called the police. She had a restraining order filed against him, and when the police talked to him, he promised that he wouldn’t go anywhere near her again. All that did was make him more careful. He sent her flowers anonymously. Her cat was poisoned. She’d find bouquets of dead roses on her doorstep. Even her tires were slashed.”

Maria swallowed, visibly shaken. When she continued, her voice was hoarse. “And then, one night, while Cassie was heading to her boyfriend’s place – by then, she was dating someone else – Laws was waiting for her. Her boyfriend saw Laws grab her right off the sidewalk and force her into the car, and he wasn’t able to stop it. Two days later, the police found Cassie’s body in an old lakefront cabin the bank had foreclosed on. Laws tied her up and beat her extensively, set the cabin on fire, and then shot himself, but they couldn’t tell whether she’d been alive when the fire…” She closed her eyes. “They had to be identified through dental records.”

Knowing that she was reliving the past and trying to work through it, Colin remained quiet.

“I went to her funeral,” she said, finally going on. “I know I probably shouldn’t have, but I felt like I needed to go. I came in after it started and sat in the back row. The church was full, but I could still see the family. The mom couldn’t stop crying. She was almost hysterical, and the father and the brother were just… white. I was sick to my stomach and I wanted the whole thing to be over. But it wasn’t.”

She turned toward him. “It… destroyed the family. I mean, all of them were a little strange, but it turned into a catastrophe. A few months after the murder, Cassie’s mom committed suicide, then the father had his medical license suspended. I always thought there was something a little weird about the brother… anyway, that’s when these terrible notes started to arrive. They came to my apartment and the office, in different envelopes, usually just a sentence or two. They were awful… calling me names, demanding to know why I hated Cassie or why I wanted to hurt the family. The police talked to the brother and the notes stopped. For a while, anyway, but when they started arriving again, they were… different. More threatening. Way scarier. So the police talked to him again, and I guess he just… snapped. Denied that he was responsible and insisted that I was out to get him, that the police were in cahoots with me. He ended up in a psychiatric hospital. Meanwhile, the father’s threatening to sue me. The police theorized that Cassie’s boyfriend might be responsible for the notes. Of course, when the police talked to him, he denied sending them, too. That’s when the panic attacks started. I had the sense that whoever was sending those notes would never leave me alone and that’s when I knew I had to go home.”

Colin said nothing. He knew there was nothing he could say that would make her view the events she had just described in a different light.

“I should have listened to the family. And the officer.”

Colin stared out at the waves, their rhythm ceaseless and soothing. When he didn’t respond, she turned toward him.

“Don’t you think?”

He chose his words carefully. “It’s hard to answer that question.”

“What do you mean?”

“By the way you said it, it’s clear that you already think the answer is yes, but if I agree with you, you’ll probably feel worse. If I say no, you’ll dismiss my answer because you’ve already decided that the answer should be yes.”

She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it. “I’m not even sure what to say to that,” she offered.

“You don’t have to say anything.”

She sighed, resting her chin on her knees. “I should have lobbied the DA and insisted that we charge Laws with a felony.”

“Maybe. But even if you had – and even if Laws was in prison longer – the outcome might still have been the same. He was fixated on her. And if you’re curious, if I’d been in your shoes, I probably would have done the same thing.”

“I know, but…”

“Have you talked to anyone about this?”

“Like a therapist? No.”

He nodded. “Okay.”

“You’re not going to tell me that I should?”

“I don’t give advice,” he said.

“Ever?”

He shook his head. “Then again, you don’t need my advice. If you think therapy might help you, try it out. If you don’t think so, don’t. I can only say that in my own experience, it’s been beneficial.”

Maria was quiet, and he couldn’t tell whether she liked his answer. “Thanks,” she finally said.

“For what?”

“For listening,” she said. “And not trying to give advice.”

Colin nodded, studying the horizon. More stars were evident now, and Venus glowed in the southern sky, bright and constant. A handful of people had wandered to the beach, their laughter carrying into the night air. Sitting beside Maria, it seemed like he’d known her far longer than the hour or so they’d spent together. He felt a distinct stab of regret that the evening was about to end.

But he could sense it coming in the way she suddenly sat straighter. He watched as she drew a long breath before finally glancing toward the boardwalk.

“I should probably get going,” she said.

“Me too,” he agreed, trying to hide his reluctance. “I still have to make it to the gym tonight.”

They rose from their spot and he watched as she brushed off the sand before slipping her sandals back on. They started back toward the dunes bordering the commercial strip, the music growing louder with every step. By the time they left the sand and were back on solid ground, the sidewalks were thronged, the crowds already enjoying their Saturday night.

He stayed at her side, weaving between pedestrians until they reached the street, where things were quieter. Surprising him, she stayed close, their shoulders occasionally brushing. The sensation of her touch continued to linger. “What are your plans for tomorrow?” he finally asked.

“On Sundays, I always have brunch with my parents. After that, I’ll probably go paddleboarding.”

“Yeah?”

“It’s fun. Have you ever done it?”

“No,” he said. “I’ve always wanted to try, but I just haven’t gotten around to it yet.”

“Too busy doing real workouts?”

“Too lazy,” he admitted.

She smiled. “How about you? Are you working?”

“No,” he said. “I’ll run, do some yard work, change the alternator on my car. It’s still not starting right.”

“Maybe it’s the battery.”

“Don’t you think I would have checked that first?”

“I don’t know. Would you?” He heard the teasing in her tone. “So after the manly yard and car work, what’s on the rest of your agenda?”

“I’ll hit the gym. There’s a class that meets on Sunday mornings, and I’ll probably do some sparring and ground work, hit the bags, things like that. A guy named Todd Daly runs the gym, and he tends to work us pretty hard. He’s a retired UFC fighter, coaches like a drill sergeant.”