Under a Raging Moon (16 page)

“Sounds unfair,” Katie said calmly.

Steve looked at her, as if gauging her sincerity. Then he nodded. “Yeah. It was. I did six years as a model prisoner and made parole. Jules stuck by me the whole time. Or so I thought.”

“What’s that mean?”

Steve shrugged. “Lately, she’s been hounding me about everything. I don’t make enough money. She might have to go to work, says she’s tired of working after six years. She complains about the time I spend at the gym, too.”

“You spend a lot of time there?”

“Yeah,” Steve admitted. “Two hours a day, after work. But that is all I do. I work and I go work out at the gym, then I come home. I don’t go out drinking, nothing.”

“So why is she upset?”

“She’s not. I am.”

“Why?”

Steve let out another huge sigh. “I found out tonight she’s been sleeping with my best friend since I went away to prison. I pretty much caught them today.”

“You caught them in the act?”

He shook his head. “Not exactly. I wasn’t feeling too good today, so I skipped my workout. When I pulled up, my buddy was driving away from the house. When I came inside, she was still in the bed.” He looked down at his feet. “Plus, I could…the smell...it was in the air.”

Katie didn’t know what to say. She waited for him to co
n
tinue.

After a moment, he said, “We avoided each other for about an hour, but eventually we started arguing. She blamed it on me. I told her she was a whore.” He looked up at Katie. “I didn’t mean it. Or maybe I did. I don’t know. She flew off the handle and started kicking me and hitting me. Then she called me a faggot. She said I probably liked it in the pen because I could have all the guys I wanted. Stuff like that.”

“She hit you?”

Steve nodded.

“Did she leave any marks?”

Steve gave her a look. “She’s five-foot, ninety pounds. What do you think?”

“I have to ask.”

“No. No marks.”

“All right. Then what happened?”

“I got mad. I have a bad temper. It takes me a while to get mad, but when I finally get there, I just e
x
plode. When she started saying that stuff about being a faggot, I just lost control, you know? I mean, I fought guys off for six years. I never got broke.” He pointed to the tattoo on his forearm. “See that? BSC. It stands for Brot
h
erhood of the Southern Cross. I had to hook up with the asshole, Aryan bikers to stay alive in there. You think it’s easy being around those racist bastards?”

Katie shook her head. “I doubt it.”

“It ain’t easy at all,” he told her, “but it kept me from having to deal with a lot worse shit. I never punked out to anyone, not in six years.” He shook his head again. “After all that, then she goes and calls me a faggot?”

“I can understand that making you mad. Did you hit her then?”

Steve nodded. “Yeah, I did. I slapped her.”

“Once?”

“Yes. Just once. I even used my left hand.”

“Did anything else physical happen?”

“No. She ran into the bedroom, and I sat down in the chair. Then you guys showed up.” Steve’s shoulders slumped and he looked at the floor.

“Katie?” Chisolm was at her elbow.

There was nowhere else to move so they could confer pr
i
vately, so they had to speak in codes.

“What do you have, Tom?”

Chisolm glanced at Steve, who was still staring at his shoes. He then tapped his cheek and motioned to Julie. “One-Edward,” he said quietly, using the radio clearance code for an arrest and booking. He nodded toward Steve.

Katie nodded. “Same here.”

Steve looked up at them. His calm demeanor was slipping. “Look, man. I know the law. You’re going to a
r
rest me. But I told you, if I go to jail, my parole is revoked. I am not going back to the walls. No way.”

“Steve,” Katie soothed, “maybe your parole officer will give you a break.”

“That prick? Not a chance.”

Katie noted the intensity of Steve’s words. She considered requesting further backup, but didn’t want to tip him over. She sensed Chisolm’s pre
s
ence behind her.

“You belong in prison!” Julie piped up from the bedroom doorway. “Fa
g
got woman-beater.”

“Be quiet!” Katie told her.

“Don’t tell me what to do in my own house, you dyke!” J
u
lie shot back.

Katie turned away from her. “Steve, listen. I know you’re not a crim
i
nal. Don’t be one now.”

“I’m not. I’m not a criminal,” Steve said, his voice tight. He stood up straight, his arms rigid.

Oh, Jesus,
Katie thought.
He’s getting ready to fight.

“I know you’re not,” she kept trying. “You were only defending yourself six years ago. And tonight, you just lost your temper for a minute.”

“I can’t go back,” Steve said, not listening to her. He swayed slightly with adrenaline. Katie could sense Chisolm moving forward slowly. She dropped her hand to her side, wrapping her fingers around her baton.

“Steve, listen to me. You can’t win—”

“You can never win!” Julie yelled. “You’re a goddamn loser, and you belong in prison, faggot!”

Katie shifted her legs as casually as she could, assuming a defensive stance and hoping it wasn’t obvious. She didn’t take her eyes off of Steve. His jaw clenched and his eyes darted from Julie to Chisolm to Katie and back to Julie again. His hands balled into fists. His breath came in ragged, whistling gasps. Katie wondered briefly if they would have to kill him.

“You.” Chisolm’s deep voice was deadly as he spoke to Julie. “Be quiet.”

Katie blinked, surprised when Julie obeyed. She didn’t have time to marvel at that, though. “Steve,” she said, trying to keep her voice even, “you can’t win here if you fight. We have a dozen cops on the way. We have mace, nightsticks, and guns. One way or another, you will be arrested. Then your parole officer will get a report that you resisted arrest, maybe even assaulted an officer, and he will definitely revoke you.”

Katie swallowed. If he planned to fight, she only had a few seconds left to talk him out of it. Chisolm stood beside her, silent. She pushed ahead, keeping her voice reasonable and soothing.

“If you go willingly, Steve, I can write in my report that you were not only honest, but entirely cooper
a
tive. When your P.O. reads that and you explain the rest of the circumstances, he might not revoke you.”

“He will. He hates me.”

“He might not.”

“He will.” Steve’s voice sounded flat and dead now. “I’m not going back.”

“Steve, I will even call him and explain things on your behalf. That might sway him, right?”

Steve studied her, his eyes softening slightly.

Katie continued. “Look at the situation. You’re working hard, you work out, you don’t drink, right? She is the one who is treating you like hell. She cheated on you. Anyone would get mad. It’s understandable. It wasn’t right to hit her. You know that and so do I, but it isn’t something that you should go back to prison for. If you fight us, though, that is definitely where you will go. If you cooperate here, I can put all that in my report. I can call your P.O. We can work things out.”

She watched him carefully.

“It’s your only chance, Steve.”

Steve stared at her intently throughout her entire speech. A long, tense moment of silence followed.

It didn’t work. He’s going to fight and someone is going to die here tonight.

When he spoke, he spoke carefully, the edge out of his voice. “You’d really call him and explain?”

Katie let out an inward sigh. “Yes. Absolutely.”

Steve sighed, then nodded slowly. “Okay. What do you want me to do?”

Katie directed him to turn around and quickly handcuffed him. It required two pairs of handcuffs linked together because of his size and broad back. The small, silver cuffs looked frail on his large wrists. Katie ima
g
ined that he could snap them if he wished.

“Steve, you made the right decision,” she told him.

“I hope so.”

“Is that how it works?” Julie chirped at Katie. “You are all willing to go to bat for a woman-beater?”

“Did you ever hit her before tonight, Steve?” Katie asked him quietly.

“No. Never.”

Katie turned to Julie. “He said you hit him tonight, too, J
u
lie.”

“I did not. He’s a lying ex-con.”

“Has he ever hit you before, Julie?”

“Yes. All the time. I’m a battered woman.”

“What you are is a cheater who got caught,” Katie told her stiffly.

“We’re not married!”

Katie stared at her, disbelieving.

Steve spoke up, his voice neutral again. “Officer, can we go? I’d like to leave and never come back here again.”

“Sure.” Katie led him toward the door.

“YOU FAGGOT!” Julie screamed.

Steve stopped, turned his head slightly and said in the same even voice, “My mother was right about you, Julie. You’re just a little bitch.”

Julie gave a shocked sound.

“I agree,” Katie said, and led Steve out the door.

“I heard that, you dyke!” Julie screamed after her. “I am going to file a complaint! What’s your badge number?” She tried to follow them, but Chisolm stopped her.

“Ma’am,” he said in the same flat voice he had used b
e
fore. “You might want to shut that sewer of yours, or I will take his word for it and arrest you for assault. Then you can make that complaint from jail. You unde
r
stand me?”

Katie grinned at Julie’s silence.

“Good,” Chisolm said. “Now go back inside and close your door.”

Katie heard a moment of silence, the scuffle of feet, then a loud slam.

“I’m glad someone can shut her up,” Steve muttered.

Katie struggled not to laugh. Not only was the situation perversely funny to her, but the relief of stress from a few moments ago made her giddy. She barely managed to hold her laughter inside.

She reached her patrol car, searched Steve and put him in the back seat. When she closed the door, Ch
i
solm appeared beside her again.

“Jesus, Tom, will you stop sneaking up on me?” she joked.

Chisolm grinned for a moment, then turned serious. “Well done,” he said with a nod. “Very well done.” Then he turned and walked toward his car.

“Thanks,” Katie said. She watched him go and felt a flush of pride. Chisolm was one of the most respec
t
ed street officers on the department, if not
the
most. He didn’t throw compliments around lightly.

Katie slid into the driver’s seat of her patrol car. She felt good.

“Officer?”

Katie glanced at Steve in the rear-view mirror. “Yes?”

“Thanks.”

Katie nodded. “Okay, Steve. We’ll work it out.”

Steve nodded, then stared out the window.

Katie started the car and headed toward the jail. She felt a pang of guilt, because she knew that even with her phone call to Steve’s probation officer, he was almost certainly going to be revoked. She hadn’t lied to him exactly, but she’d sold him a false bill of goods. Was that all right? Did her half-lie serve a greater good, protec
t
ing her and Chisolm, not to me
n
tion Steve himself, from a dangerous confrontation?

She knew the answer was yes, but she couldn’t shake that small sense of guilt. Despite her elation at the success of the call and Chisolm’s compliment, it ranked as quite possibly the longest trip to jail she’d ever made.

2210 hours

Kopriva waited restlessly for the data channel to return his driver’s check. The car in front of him wasn’t a maggot car, but the woman blew through the light at Division and Indiana right in front of him, so he stopped her. Usually, he would have let her go with a warning.

Usually.

But tonight he was grumpy.

Katie had not even looked his way all through roll call. He watched for her down in the sally-port as he waited for a car, hoping to make a plan to get coffee at two or three in the morning, once things slowed down, but she didn’t show up before he had to leave.

“Baker-123.”

Kopriva clicked the mike, an informal response that most dispatchers frowned upon. But, Janice manned the data channel tonight, and she didn’t mind.

“Wilson is not in locally. DOL is clear through 1998 with lenses.”

Kopriva clicked the mike again. He’d already written the ticket for failing to stop for a steady red light. He exited his vehicle and approached Wilson. The date on her driver’s license put her at forty-three, but she looked ten years younger, dressed in slacks and a business-like blouse. He hadn’t smelled any alcohol on her breath and figured she just worked really late.