Authors: Andrew Hess
“You’ve got five minutes and you better make it good.”
Rodney escorted me outside toward his car. He opened the door for me. It was his first nice gesture of the evening. He entered from the driver’s side and gave me a sad puppy dog face.
“I’m sorry for what I said Ali.”
“You’re sorry? You’re sorry; that’s all you have to say?”
“Well, no. I was one of the first ones here. The guy you saw me talking to was the owner. A real piece of work if you ask me. He made a few comments towards the women at his bar when we arrived and another at one of our female officers. I figured he was the type that would talk more if he had someone like him asking the questions.”
“So you thought you would embarrass and humiliate me to get close to him?” My words stung Rodney. He knew I always held him in high regard. Even with my teasing and our constant back and forth bickering, I never treated him like he was inferior.
“Look, I’m sorry Ali. It needed to be done. If you came waltzing up demanding answers, he was going to clam up and we wouldn’t get shit outta him or his staff. At least now we know he was with some blond last night, we got his car, and we’re getting the security tapes.”
I refused to look at him. “You better turn up something from this. I want that car towed back and our forensic team to go over every inch of it.”
“That might be a little hard.”
I sighed heavily. “Why?”
“Because we’re now working with the D.C.P.D. on this case.”
“What? Why?”
“The body washed up in Ulster County, but the crime technically happened in Dutchess. We gotta work together on this.”
Wonderful; just wonderful. It was bad enough that the Lieutenant found out the victim’s name. He was already demanding answers from us. But now we had to tip toe through more B.S. red tape from another department. And that would mean more time spent with Mr. Personality, Detective Thornton.
We spent hours combing through Whiskey J’s and talking to the staff. We didn’t find out much. There wasn’t any signs of struggle in the bar or near the car. No one saw Ambrose leave or who he left with. But there was one thing I had to go one. Ambrose’s car was still in the parking lot which was the only piece of evidence I needed to confirm Blake Ambrose didn’t commit suicide.
I felt nothing but relief when I pulled into my driveway. First day back out in the field and I felt like I’d been running a marathon. The case was definitely weighing heavily on my mind, but the thought of curling up in my nice warm bed with Matthew put me at ease. I turned down the dead end street and crept closer to the driveway. Matthew’s truck sat in its usual spot which was closer to the neighbor’s house than mine. My lips curled into a smile. It was the first genuine one I gave the entire night.
After turning off the car, I noticed the lights were still on in the living room. It was something that struck me as odd. Matthew was never up that late and Amanda was typically out getting drunk, was passed out in her room, or would watch TV with the lights off.
Maybe he forgot to turn the lights off before going to bed,
I thought. My hand gripped the door knob. It was locked. That was a relief.
At least someone was smart enough to lock-up before going to bed.
I entered the house and climbed the few steps to the first floor landing. I hung up my jacket and kicked off my heels letting my blistered feet touch the soft carpet that led the way into the living room. It wasn’t much, but it brought me a sense of peace, a moment of peace that I was sure wouldn’t last long.
I thought about what I would do to wind down for the rest of the night.
I could make myself a plate of whatever food Matthew and Amanda left me. I could draw a nice hot bath and soak in it for a while. I could wake Matthew up to apologize for bailing on him tonight, or maybe I’d apologize in a different way.
As I entered the living room to turn off the lights, I stumbled onto something I wished I never saw. My eyes nearly popped out of my head. The heat in my body rose.
“What the fuck is going on here,” I yelled.
Matthew’s eyes flashed open. He saw the anger raging through my mind as I stood with my hands resting on my hips. He looked down and saw Amanda’s head nestled on his chest. Her body was curled up next to his with her loose fitting shirt hanging off her shoulder.
“Ali, it’s not what it looks like.”
“Really? Cause it looks like you two were nice and comfy curled up on my couch together.”
Matthew tried to slip out from under Amanda. “Nothing happened. We were watching TV and must’ve passed out.”
“Then why was she lying on you?”
There was a look of hurt in Matthew’s eyes. He was being accused of messing around with Amanda behind my back. It was ridiculous I know. But I have seen too much on the streets and had enough betrayal from people, including boyfriends. When I first moved out here, I had a close group of friends. We’d hang out all the time, meet up for drinks at happy hour, or waste an entire night signing or dancing at some club. We were like sisters, but that changed when I caught my boyfriend cheating on me with one of the girls.
Matthew jumped up from the couch. “I can’t believe you would insinuate something like that.”
I was sure nothing happened, but I kept visualizing a drunk version of my sister stumbling around the house in her tight clothes. I knew Matthew was pissed off when I left and thought there was a chance he might’ve joined her in a few drinks. One thing could’ve led to another and then...
I tried to shake the images from my mind. Neither of them would do something so vile to hurt me. Maybe it was just an innocent misunderstanding, but I wasn’t in the mood to sort out what really happened.
“I think you should go,” I finally said. I was choking back tears of regret as the words spewed from my mouth.
“Ali, you can’t really think something happened here.”
“I just-I don’t know what to think right now.” He reached for my hands, but I pulled away. “It’s been a long day. I really don’t want to argue right now. I just want to go to bed.”
“So let’s go.”
“No, I need to be alone tonight.”
Matthew’s face had a tinge of red in the cheeks. “Fine, you want me gone? Then I’m gone.” He stormed towards the kitchen, ripped his suit jacket off one of the chairs and stormed towards the stairs. “Call me when you finally come to your senses.”
A tidal wave of emotion crashed into me the moment that door slammed shut. I knew he was right. I knew nothing happened.
Then why did I pick a fight with him?
What have I done?
I just drove away the one man that gave a damn enough to put up with my B.S.
The engine of his truck roared to life. I wanted to run after him, to tell him I was sorry, to tell him I was an idiot. But my feet failed to move. I looked down at Amanda. She was still out cold. She slept through all of the arguing. I was convinced she had drowned herself in more alcohol, perhaps struggling with the idea of getting help for her problems or dealing with the death of Shawn.
I grabbed the blanket from the back of the couch and spread it over Amanda’s body. She looked peaceful when she slept. Too bad peace wasn’t on the menu for me. I entered the kitchen and opened up the freezer. A quart of cookies and cream stared back at me.
My hand ripped it from the freezer and pulled out a spoon from the drawer. “Looks like it’s just you and me my friend.”
Claire returned to work the next day, trying her best to keep it together. On the surface, she was calm cool and collected. The façade made it appear like just another day. On the inside, Claire was a basket case. The chipped finger nails were a clear indication of what she felt on the inside.
“Morning Claire,” a nurse said cheerfully. “You feeling better?”
“Yes, much better; thank you.” Claire hoped the woman didn’t probe into the cause of her absence yesterday. She didn’t really have a cover story other than she didn’t feel well. The thought of calling out again crossed her mind, but thought it would look bad on her if she stayed home for a second straight day.
“That’s good. Mrs. Olsen has been asking for you.”
“Thanks, I’ll go check on her in a few minutes.” A bead of sweat crowned the top of her head as she walked down the corridor. Claire hated the thought of being away when her patients needing her. They adored her, relied on her and cherished the intimate one on one time with someone that wasn’t doting over their constant ache, pain or symptom.
Mrs. Olsen was Claire’s first stop. She was a little eighty year old woman that was diagnosed with pneumonia. Her family believed her to be frail and would break a bone if you touched her, especially now that she could hardly breathe. But Mrs. Olsen was a feisty woman with an unfiltered mouth that could make anyone break out in eye watering laughter. She was exactly what Claire needed to start her day.
“Good morning; how are you feeling today Mrs. Olsen?”
“I’m feeling better dear. How are you? I heard you were out sick.”
“I’m fine; just something I ate.”
“Well that’s a relief. And here I thought you just didn’t want to see me anymore.” Mrs. Olsen let out a smile to let Claire know she was only kidding.
“Nope, you can’t get rid of me that easily.” Claire laughed as she flipped open the chart and read the notes from the nurses. “Looks like the new meds are working and are finally clearing up those lungs. Keep this up and you’ll be out of her in no time.”
“Fine, but when I do, how about you and me go on a trip to Vegas and show that town how to party?”
The idea of getting away sounded good, and it would help Claire avoid any questions pertaining to the murder of Blake Ambrose. But the thought of going to Vegas was beyond Claire’s comfort level.
“Sorry Mrs. Olsen, but I don’t think I could keep up with you.” They laughed and carried on for several minutes before Claire excused herself to look in on a few more patients.
She entered the hall and stopped outside the next room. Claire had all intention of peeking in on her next patient, Mrs. Larue, but opted to grab a cup of coffee first. The three inch heels clicked against the tiled floor as Claire rounded the nurse’s station with a smile. She greeted the staff while passing them until she saw a uniformed officer. The friendly expression evaporated from her face. The officer turned towards Claire, catching a glimpse of her out of the corner of his eye.
A bead of sweat trickled down the side of Claire’s face. Her heart thumped loudly in her chest. Images of Blake Ambrose dripping clear liquid into a shot glass swarmed her mind followed by her interference. The final memory hit Claire like a ton of bricks. It was the image of Ambrose lying face down in the water as his body sank into the Hudson River.
The officer moved towards the nurse’s station. His eyes were fixed on Claire as he continued at a brisk pace. He headed straight for her. If it wasn’t for her sidestepping at the last second, the officer would have bumped into her. Instead, he rounded the corner and continued down the hall.
He wasn’t there for me
, Claire thought. She hurried down the hall. Her heels clicked rapidly. The mere thought of being questioned or interrogated by the police about Blake Ambrose’s death shook her to her core. She reached the door to her next patient without thinking twice about where she was.
Claire made the visit brief. She liked Mrs. Larue, but the weight of killing a man rested heavily on her mind. Now that the police were walking the halls, her paranoia was at an all-time high.
I need to get out of here
. She was in search of any excuse to get as far away from the hospital as possible. She needed someplace safe where she could collect her thoughts.
Claire returned to the nurse’s desk to find a short heavyset woman with graying blond hair. “Eleanor, thank god I found you. I need a favor.”
“Sure sweetie; what can I do for ya?”
“Can you have some of the nurses keep an eye on my patients for the rest of the day?”
Eleanor had a look of concern on her face. She knew full well Claire never left in the middle of the day. “Is everything okay?”
“I-I don’t know. My-my mother called and said she needed me, and that it was an emergency.” Claire glanced around the corridor as she pleaded with the nurse to help her. Her eyes landed on the officer from earlier. He stood twenty feet away leaning against the wall with his arms folded across his chest. Seeing him sent a surge of nervous energy throughout Claire’s body as if she were hit with a sudden dose of adrenaline. “I know it’s last minute, but I really need to run.”
“Sure thing sweetie.”
Before she could say another word, Claire hugged her and hurried off in the opposite direction bolting for the elevator. She did her best to avoid eye contact with the officer as her finger stabbed the buttons on the elevator repeatedly.
Heads turned as the doors opened on the first floor. Claire’s white starch white coat let everyone in the waiting room know she was a doctor. A small crowd rushed towards her as a family waited to hear about a little girl that was brought into the E.R. after being hit by a driver that was texting while driving. They were hoping for news about their little girl, but Claire had nothing for them. She ducked her head low and continued out the doors. As she reached the curb, she found another officer leaning against his squad car. His deep blue eyes found Claire as she turned towards the parking lot.
They know. They know and they’re coming for me. And if they don’t, it’s just a matter of time before they do.
Claire hurried through the parking lot and located her car.
I need to do something about the car
. Her mind reminisced about the countless TV shows showcasing murderers that attempted to cover up what they did. The car was a crucial piece of evidence that the police would tear apart looking for any sign of the victim.
Claire made it to her car safely and without causing a scene. She was on the verge of having a complete meltdown in the driver’s seat of her car. The tattered chipped nails on her fingers drummed on the steering wheel. Just seeing the police or a security guard had her coming undone. There was no way she could keep this inside. She needed to tell someone, but it wasn’t like she could tell just anyone.
Claire reached into her purse and pulled out her cell. Her fingers nervously twitched over the screen as she contemplated calling the one person she knew she could trust, someone that would do everything in her power to help her. That someone, just happened to be an attorney and a damn good one. That person was none other than her best friend Becky. She dialed her friend and listened to it ring three times before a woman picked up.
“Perfect timing,” Becky said. There was a hint of happiness in the fog of exhaustion in her voice. “I just got out of court. What’s going on?”
“Can we meet up?”
“Yeah, I can do lunch.”
“No, not lunch.” Claire second guessed her decision to call her friend and confess her crime to her. “Oh, nevermind; forget I called.”
Rebecca took note of the urgency and panic in Claire’s voice. She should’ve known something was wrong when Claire called her so early in the day. “Where are you?”
“I’m-I’m at work.”
“Okay, I’ll stop by in a little while. We can talk there.”
“No, meet me at my house. I should be there in fifteen minutes.”
“Your house? You playing hookie or something today?”
“Yeah, something like that.”
“Okay, give me like twenty minutes.”
That was more than enough time for Claire to get back to her house, but that didn’t stop her from rushing to get back. The sole of her shoe pressed the gas pedal to the floor. The car jolted and picked up speed as she cruised through the three lanes until she reached her exit. Her hands spun the wheel and her tires screeched as she made a wide left turn. She couldn’t help herself. The speed and adrenaline felt exhilarating. She felt more alive in those few minutes of reckless driving than she did in her whole life.
Her speeding shaved seven minutes off of her typical drive home allowing her a few moments of peace before Rebecca arrived minutes later. She was dressed in a tight black skirt that dropped to her knees and a dark purple silk blouse buttoned up to her collar bone. Claire was not used to seeing Rebecca like that. She always thought of her as Becky, the girl with the low cut tops that show off her boobs and the short skirt that barely made it to the middle of her thighs.
Rebecca kicked off her Loius Vuittons and walked bare foot across the wooden floor. “So what was so important that I had to rush here from court?”
Claire reached into her purse and pulled out her wallet. She flipped through the money and pulled out a twenty dollar bill. “I need to you to be my attorney.”
“What?”
Claire inched towards Rebecca, grasping her hands and forcing the money into Rebecca’s palm. “Is this enough to keep you on retainer? You know, get that whole attorney client privilege.”
Rebecca stopped short of sitting on the couch. Her fingers pinched the money and curiously accepted it. “What the hell is going on with you?”
“I’m in trouble.”
“What’d you do; sleep with a guy that turned out to be a clinger or something?” Claire kept her mouth shut. Her eyes were filled with guilt. “You did. You slept with someone.”
“No, I didn’t sleep with anyone.” Claire bit her lip. If she didn’t talk now, she might not get another chance before the police figured out she killed Blake Ambrose. “I-I killed someone.”
“I thought that’s a risk you doctors and surgeons take. Besides, don’t you have insurance and a lawyer that handle these kinds of cases?”
“I’m not talking about a patient you idiot.” Claire blurted it out without thinking. Her hands rose to her lips and cupped her mouth. “I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to…”
Rebecca’s eyes opened wide. “No friggin way.” Claire looked away, ashamed of what she had done. “You’re not messing around. You really killed someone?”
Claire nodded and instantly regretted telling Rebecca. “I don’t know what happened. Something came over me the other night and…” She didn’t know what else to say. She hated what she did, but believed her actions were more or less justified. She saved countless women from being drugged and raped.
“Who-who was it?” Claire turned her back to Rebecca and moved to put her wallet back in her purse. “Who was it Claire?” Rebecca’s voice was getting louder. Someone was bound to hear her and Claire couldn’t let that happen.
“Okay fine, I’ll tell you.” Claire turned to face her best friend. “It was, it was that lawyer, Blake Ambrose.”
Rebecca’s horrified gaze was all the confirmation Claire needed to know, she was in deep trouble. “Tell me you didn’t. Tell me you’re joking.” Claire’s expression remained ghostly white. “How? How did this happen?”
Claire sat down and walked Rebecca through the events that led up to her attacking Blake Ambrose. She told her about him slipping something into the girl’s drink and how she casually intervened by swapping the drinks.
“When he was passing out at the bar, I- I had to do something. So I threw him in the backseat of my car and drove off.”
“All you told me so far is how you drugged him and that you kidnapped him. Those charges could be reduced to nothing. I can say that you saved a woman from being drugged and inadvertently gave the drink to Mr. Ambrose. Then you felt bad and wanted to make sure he got home okay. So you took him in your car. Where’d you take him?”
Rebecca’s game plan was something she knew she could pull off in court. But Claire’s next admission threw a wrench into that plan.
“I stopped on the Mid-Hudson Bridge.” Claire pictured Blake Ambrose passed out on the backseat of her car. “I didn’t want that low life to take advantage of another woman. I wanted to stop him for good. So I dragged him out of my car and to the walkway.”