Apaches - Lorenzo Carcaterra [92]
“I appreciate your stopping by,” she said, her voice echoing the exhaustion in her eyes.
“I was already in the neighborhood,” Boomer said casually, resisting the temptation to blow a bubble with his gum. “I’m going to meet Jenny’s folks over by the courthouse. Watch that bastard get arraigned.”
“I know,” Dr. Bartlett said. “They told me.”
“When did you talk to them?” Boomer sat up in his chair, his police radar kicking into alert.
“I called them late last night,” she said, pointing a manicured finger toward the brown couch and coffee table next to Boomer. “I don’t usually drink, Mr. Frontieri. But I needed one just to be able to make that phone call.”
“Call me Boomer.” He pulled his hands from his jacket pockets and looked over at the two empty coffee containers, wine glass, and half-empty bottle of warm Chardonnay scattered around the end table. The couch cushions were crumpled and there was a thin brown blanket rolled up in one corner. “It must have been a tough call. Looks like you spent the night here too.”
“I need your help with this,” Carolyn said. “If you go against me, it will only make it rougher for everyone.”
“I don’t know what this is, but I’m not going to like it, am I?”
“No,” she said, shaking her head, her eyes meeting his. “You’re going to hate what’s being done and you’re going to hate me for doing it. But I’m willing to risk all that if I come out of it having saved a little girl’s life.”
“You need a drink before you tell me too?” Boomer asked.
“I’ve asked that the district attorney’s office drop all charges against Malcolm Juniper,” she said in as firm a voice as she could muster.
“Your reason?” Boomer said, staying tight, keeping control of his temper.
“In order to convict, they’ll need to put Jennifer on the witness stand,” Carolyn said. “I can’t allow that to happen.”
“Why not?”
“As it is, it’s going to take years of therapy to get Jennifer to the point where what happened will fade to a distance she can live with. If I let her take the stand, let his lawyers have a shot at her, force her to relive every minor detail, I can almost guarantee you she’ll be nothing more than a vegetable for the rest of her life. I can’t live with that. And I’m hoping you can’t either.”
Boomer stayed outwardly calm but his hands bunched into fists and his eyes betrayed the anger burning inside. “What about Malcolm? Without Jenny taking the stand, he’ll go out on the streets and do the same thing all over again. To some other girl. You ready to live with that, Doc?”
“I’ve lived with it every day I’ve been in this damn job,” Carolyn said, her frustration rising to the surface. “I’ve had to help piece back together too many Jennys. And I’ve had to sit and watch as too many Malcolms walked out of court free men.”
“What is it you want from me?” Boomer asked her.
“Talk to the family,” Carolyn said. “Convince them it’s the right thing to do for their child. If they want me to continue to help her, then this has to be the way.”
Boomer took a deep breath and ran a hand across his face. The image of Jennifer hanging from a pipe, seconds from death, her body a beaten and bloody mess, raced through his mind.
“In all my years on the job, I was pretty lucky,” Boomer said quietly. “I usually got to see only the bad guys. And I went after them like no one ever has because I always knew that behind the face of a bad guy there was one of an innocent victim. So when I brought that bad guy in, it was my own way of helping out the victim.”
“You’re still helping out the victim,” Carolyn said with sympathy. “More than you will ever know.”
“We’re helping out Malcolm too,” Boomer said. “More than you’ll ever know.”
“Would you rather I put Jenny on the stand?” Carolyn asked him. “Would you rather torture her more, all for the sake of a conviction?”
Boomer lowered his head and his voice, staring down at thin, frayed strands of industrial carpet. “No,” he