Authors: Andrew Hess
Rebecca’s jaw dropped. She remembered hearing on the news about a man that had washed up in Highland by the Mid-Hudson Bridge. “Tell me you didn’t.”
Claire choked back tears. “I-I couldn’t stop myself. I pushed and pulled until he was laying on top of the rail. And then he-he just… fell.” Hearing the story told out loud stirred a sense of nausea in Claire’s stomach, the kind you get when you’ve been out drinking all night or ate enough food to feel like your stomach would explode.
“What the hell possessed you to do something like that?”
Claire thought about it. There was a whole other part of the story that she buried deep down inside of her. The secret she swore she would never tell.
“You’re still my lawyer. You can’t repeat a word of this to anyone.” Rebecca traced the sign of the cross over her chest. Claire’s lips trembled as the words were forced out. “I-I was a victim of date rape.”
Rebecca’s expression quickly turned from horrified bystander who watched a bus crash, to concern as her friend just confessed the worst moment of her life. She rushed to Claire’s side and threw a comforting arm around her. Suddenly it all made sense. She understood why Claire hadn’t gone out to the bars and clubs with her anymore. She knew why there was no man in her friend’s life. She even understood why she attacked and killed Blake Ambrose.
“It’s going to be all right.” It was a lie. Rebecca knew the murder charge would hang over Claire’s head for the rest of her life. She would lose her medical degree and probably spend the rest of her life in jail. The thought of pleading insanity crossed her mind, but that would just buy them some time.
“What are we going to do?”
“Have you told anyone else about this?”
“No,” Claire sobbed.
“What did you do after the incident at the bridge?”
“I came home. I didn’t even remember doing anything until I woke up the next day.” Claire turned her head. Her watery blood shot eyes locked onto her friend. “I took my car in that morning to be cleaned and detailed.”
Rebecca rubbed her forehead roughly. Claire might have destroyed some of the evidence linking her to the murder, but it also added an obstruction of justice charge to the list she would inevitably face.
“You need to make up something and get your story straight. Then you need to find someone that’ll corroborate your story and be your alibi.”
“Aren’t you supposed to tell me to go to the police and turn myself in? Maybe if I tell them what happened we can work out some sort of deal?”
“Are you insane? Do you want to go to jail for the rest of your life?”
“Of course not.”
“Then wake up. Just because you confess doesn’t mean they’ll go easy on you. You’re not walking out with a slap on the wrist. You committed a handful of serious crimes including.” Rebecca paused and refused to say the phrase killed a man. “I have your best interest at heart. As your lawyer and as your friend, I advise you to keep this to yourself for now. The police haven’t named any suspects in the case. Hell, as far as we know they haven’t even identified the body yet.”
The decision belonged to Claire. One moment, one stupid reckless moment caused her to end a man’s life, and her own was hanging by a thread. The only options were to run, to confess, or to rely on Rebecca. “I won’t say anything. But you said I needed to work on my story and get an alibi.”
Rebecca pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed. “I’ll be your alibi.” Claire’s hands gripped the sides of Becky’s arms and hugged her tightly. “Look, the bar is going to have a record of you being there. Do you know if they had any cameras anywhere near the entrance?”
“I-I don’t know. I wasn’t looking for them.”
“Hopefully there weren’t any. Unless they can prove otherwise, your story is that you went to the bar and had a few drinks. You were bored and decided to leave. You showed up on my doorstep and passed out on my couch.”
“Becky, you can’t do that. If they find out we lied, they’ll disbar you and they’ll throw us both in jail.
“No one will know we lied as long as we stick to our story.” She hugged Claire tightly in a sisterly embrace. “I don’t want you worrying about this. Go back to work and pretend this never happened.”
That’s easy for you to say
, Claire thought.
You’re not the one that’d be on trial for murder and locked away in prison for the rest of your life
.
Rebecca broke the embrace first and walked back to the couch, slipping her Louis Vuitton shoes back on her feet and left the house. Claire didn’t know what else to do. But for the first time in her life, she needed a drink.
I woke up the next morning feeling nauseous. At first I thought it was because of what I walked in on when I came home last night, or at least what I assumed happened. But you know the old saying; assuming just makes an ass out of you and me. Yeah, this time I was the only one looking like an ass. I would love to put the blame on my partner or the detective from the D.C.P.D. that thinks he’s God’s gift to women. They were the ones that put me in a foul mood. It took everything in me not to tear their heads off last night. Unfortunately, all of that hostility was transferred into an attack that was directed at Matthew. I didn’t even try to let him explain. Once he was gone, I regretted everything immediately.
As I tried to sit up in bed, the urge to spill the contents of my stomach came bubbling to the surface.
Why the hell am I so nauseous?
I pulled the covers back and jumped out of bed. A bag of Lays and a bag Tostitos sat by the pillows with jars of salsa and salsa con queso remained next to their chip of choice. The jars were almost empty and so were the bags. Okay, binge eating wasn’t a good idea, but it was the way I coped when I was depressed. I leaned forward to clean up the mess and knocked into the nightstand, tipping over an empty quart of monster cookie ice cream. I couldn’t remember the last time I pigged out on so much junk food.
A morning run was definitely out of the question. The mere thought of walking made me want to hurl, let alone jog. My stomach must have agreed and remembered what it was like to go for a run with all the bouncing and sweating. That was enough to send me over the edge. My left hand covered my mouth as I rushed to the bathroom. My knees scraped the cold tiled floor as I grasped the sides of the toilet.
Ungodly noises erupted from the bathroom. I barely heard one of the bedroom doors open or saw the pair of feet with music note tattoos appear next to me. “You okay,” Amanda asked. Her hands gently stroked my back as she maneuvered her way around me.
Sweat poured down my pale face as it emerged from the toilet. “Just fucking dandy.” I was lucky I could say that before ducking my head under the porcelain rim.
Water spilled from the faucet splashing the sink. Amanda must’ve turned the water on. She waited until the sickening sounds ceased before pulling me back and applied a cool washcloth to my forehead. When I opened my eyes a small paper cup filled with water was placed in my hands.
“And here I thought I was the family drunk,” Amanda laughed.
“You are; I’m the pig.”
Amanda’s hand wrapped around my arm and helped me back to my feet. Once I was steady, she guided me back to my room. The remnants of my anger filled self-hating food binge was on display in plain sight.
“What the hell happened here last night?”
Amanda had been passed out drunk when I found her on the couch. I guess she never heard me arguing with Matthew. “What do you remember from last night?”
She looked at me as if I had two heads. “I ran inside the house when you dropped me off and…” Her eyes were remorseful. “I cracked open a bottle I stashed under my bed.”
“How much did you drink?”
“I-I don’t remember.”
“What else happened?” There was an intensity in my voice that worried Amanda. She knew something bad must have happened while she was passed out.
“I was hungry so I went looking for food. Matthew was sitting in the kitchen eating by himself. He told me you were at some crime scene or something. There was still a lot of food left over and he pushed it my way. So I sat down and ate.”
“And after that?”
“What’s with the twenty questions?”
“Don’t worry about that right now. What happened after dinner?”
“We sat on the couch and watched a movie. Next thing I knew, it was morning and I was still on the couch with a blanket draped over me.” I was relieved to hear nothing happened between them, at least as far as Amanda could remember. “Now you mind telling me why you’re asking me so many questions?”
The color returned to my cheeks. The word, FOOL, felt like it was branded across my forehead, and now it was time to face the music. “When I came home last night, I found you passed out in Matthew’s arms.”
“And you thought what? That something happened between us?”
Hearing Amanda say it out loud made it sound even more ridiculous than when I insinuated it last night. “You’re right; I’m an idiot. I was pissed off because of Rodney and this case we’re working on. I came back here to find you in his arms and overreacted.”
Amanda flashed a smile at me. “So you thought your boyfriend decided to trade up for the younger hotter Ryan sister?”
“You might be younger, but I wouldn’t say hotter.” She shoved me and I shoved her onto the bed. We started play fighting and tickling each other until I pinned Amanda’s arms to where she couldn’t use them to defend herself. Once she said “uncle” I let her up. It was the first time in months either of us genuinely laughed and it felt great.
************************************************************
Despite the rough night and horrible, disgusting regretful morning, I opted to shower and get ready for work. The thrill of be back in the field didn’t last long. Knowing I had to work with Rodney and that Thornton guy on the Ambrose case had me wanting to give up the case and hand it over to Rodney.
The station had a hot sticky feel to it. Every uniformed officer in the building had a few buttons popped open on their shirts to let some of the heat escape. Me being the only woman there, didn’t have that luxury. I could feel the sweat building on my skin as I walked briskly to my chair. The six foot monster that I typically called partner, sat on the corner of my desk.
“There she is; my favorite partner.” I glared at him but refused to utter a single word. “Don’t tell me you’re still mad about last night.” This time I didn’t even look at him. “Come on; I said I was sorry.”
“Move,” I said coldly. “Move or I’ll break your legs.”
He stood up, towering over me like he usually did, and went back to his desk. “Ali, you gotta understand. It was the only way to get that owner to work with me so we could get something out of him.” I raised my middle finger and stuck it right in his face. “Oh real mature Ali.”
“I thought so,” I finally said with a smile on my face. “You can apologize by telling me you found something we can use to narrow down our suspects list.”
“You-you were just messing with me?” I nodded and laughed at the agitation that was cast on Rodney’s face. He wanted to express his annoyance and frustration, but realized I was just giving him a taste of his own medicine. “I guess I deserved that.”
“Yeah, ya did. Now tell me what you found.”
“We didn’t turn up anything on the car other than it’s been sitting there since the night our victim died.”
“That’s enough to keep the case open for a little while,” I mumbled. The last thing I needed was for the Lieutenant to hear me hint at a possible homicide investigation. That’s why I was letting Rodney take the lead. “What did the staff have to say about Mr. Ambrose?”
“Not much other than him being an asshole.” We laughed knowing how Blake Ambrose was in real life as well as the low life lawyer that put more criminals on the street than the police could arrest. “One of the bartenders said he remembered seeing Ambrose earlier in the night. He ordered two beers and two shots.”
“Seems like someone wasn’t drinking alone.”
“Nope. According to several staff members, Ambrose spent most of the night talking with some blond.” I drummed a finger on my lips. Rodney eyed me up suspiciously. “What’s that look for,” he asked.
“Did any of them mention if Mr. Ambrose paid in cash or credit?”
“That’s a damn good question.”
“Let’s see if your new buddy at the bar can help you with that.”
Rodney knew I was talking about the owner and frowned at the mention of dealing with him again. “I’ll call Detective Thornton. Maybe he can add that to the warrant for the video surveillance.”
If looks could kill, Rodney would be laying in a coffin with flowers surrounding him. “Fine, keep me in the loop. In the meantime, I’ll get the warrant to search Ambrose’s apartment.” I flipped through the files on my desk hoping to find something from Fred about the official cause of death.
“Looking for this,” Rodney asked. He held up a manila envelope addressed in black ink to the Ulster County Police Department; Attention Detective Ali Ryan. “Dr. Woo’s office dropped off a little while ago.”
I snatched it from my partner’s grasp and flipped through the paperwork. “Official time of death was estimated to be around two in the morning. Cause of death was drowning. Alcohol level was one point two.”
“So he was drunk. He could’ve stumbled down Route Nine until he made it to the bridge and fell over.”
“You really think someone like him was going to walk somewhere?” The blank stare on Rodney’s face told me he knew I was right. “I thought so. You need to get those warrants and get his bar tab and the video. We need to know who he was drinking with and who he left with.”
“So I get to spend all day at the courts and hanging out with some jerkoff while you do what, sit here on your ass?”
“No, I’ll be digging up dirt on Ambrose and finding out who wanted him dead.”
“That might be a long list. Half of the suspect list would be filled with police, both active duty officers and retired cops.”
“No, I don’t think it was one of our own.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Everything about this case was sloppy. This was either an accident or something done in the heat of the moment.”