Chapter Eight #2
“He was always up in my grill, skulking around the pit after hours like he was looking for something he could use against me. He brought me before IAB a couple of times for everything from getting involved with my husband during the O’Connor investigation to failing to invite someone from my squad to my wedding.
He was always on me, like white on rice.
And I won’t deny that I enjoyed antagonizing him, pushing his buttons.
His face turns this glorious shade of purple when he’s pissed. I loved making that happen.”
“Did your difficulties with him continue to escalate?”
Why did he ask her that when he already knew the answer? “We caught him making phone calls to the media from HQ, tipping off the media about ongoing cases. That was the first time he got in serious trouble for the games he liked to play with me.”
“Who caught him?”
“Myself and Lieutenant Archelotta put together the evidence and presented it to the chief. Stahl got arrested for interfering with the investigation, suspended, the whole nine yards. He blamed me for the whole thing, screaming that I’d set him up.
The attack on my doorstep happened shortly after that.
I stepped out to get the paper and he grabbed me by the throat.
I managed to knee him in the balls and kick him in the knee, but not until he’d made me wonder if I was going to die right there on my own doorstep with my son in the house. ”
Her hands still trembled whenever she relived that incident, which she had often in the days that followed his most recent stunt.
“When you think of Stahl from before the two times he attacked you, how would you have described him?”
“I’ve always thought of him as a bully. He liked to throw his weight around, and I don’t mean that as a fat thing.
He never missed a chance to remind junior officers that he outranked them.
Pulling rank was one of his favorite things to do when I reported to him.
If I was on to something in a case, he’d find out and insert himself somehow to derail my progress and then take credit for whatever it was that I’d uncovered. ”
“Were you the only one he had difficulties with?”
“Oh hell no. No one liked him. My dad would tell you that he was never well liked within the department.”
“So he was antisocial?”
“You could say that. Definitely not one to be asked out for a beer after a tour ends.”
“How about mentally? Did you ever suspect he had some form of mental illness?”
“I once heard him described as ‘off.’ Like you couldn’t say what was up with him, but you knew something was up. Does that make sense?”
“It does. Did you get the sense that he took seriously the responsibilities that came with the job and the badge?”
“Not really. It seemed more like he was about advancing his own personal agenda, whatever that might’ve been.”
“Do you know what type of person you’ve described?”
Sam could think of a lot of words to describe Leonard Stahl, but she suspected that none of her words would be the one he was looking for. She shook her head.
“Sociopath.”
The word hung heavy in the air, the implications reaching far beyond this tiny, airless cinderblock room.
“He’s a sociopath, Sam. What he did to you that day in the basement has been years in the making.
You talked about how he’d been escalating, going from verbal jabs to physical altercations.
Inside he was blaming everyone but himself for his problems. You didn’t get him suspended and arrested for making calls to the press.
He did that to himself, but he’s incapable of seeing it that way. ”
“I thought for sure he would kill me that day in Marissa’s basement. Especially after he gut-shot her. But more than anything, I feared that he’d try to rape me. I kept telling myself I could handle anything that came my way if only he didn’t try that.”
“And he didn’t?”
She shook her head. “Apparently the thought of touching me that way was as revolting to him as it was to me.”
“He said as much?”
“Yeah, at one point. It was a relief when he tied my legs to the chair. That’s when I knew rape wasn’t on his to-do list.”
“I read in the report that you were entirely silent through the whole ordeal. Why?”
“Because. I didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of knowing he was getting to me.
I was always mouthy with him, and he expected me to be mouthy that day.
When I wasn’t, I could tell I ruined some of the fun of it for him.
He wanted me to beg and plead for my life, and when I refused to do that, he was so mad. ”
“Do you think he went harder on you because of that?”
“I know he did. He punched me in the face after I refused to engage with him.”
“On a totally personal note, I want you to know that when I read that detail in the report, I was amazed. I can’t begin to imagine the mental fortitude it required to remain totally silent for all those hours while your sworn enemy beat and tortured you.”
“I was screaming on the inside,” Sam said with a weak smile.
“What were you thinking about?”
“Mostly about Nick and Scotty, our son. My family, especially my dad… I thought about what it would be like for them to lose me this way. I wondered if they knew I’d been taken hostage, how they were finding out.
I relived every minute I’d spent with Nick.
If Stahl was going to kill me, I wanted thoughts of Nick to be what I took with me.
I was sad that we might not get any more time together.
We’d already been denied so many years by another sociopath who plotted to keep us apart for seven years.
Mostly, it didn’t seem fair to me. I finally had everything I’d ever wanted—I’m married to the only man I’ve ever truly loved.
We have a son now, and I’m finally a mom after so many disappointments.
The thought of not getting see Scotty grow up or get old and cranky with Nick…
I wondered if my dad would survive losing me. ”
“Any one of those thoughts would be enough to make a sane person crazy.”
“I can’t be certain I was entirely sane during that ordeal.”
“The important thing, at the end of the day, was that you found a way to survive. By going silent on him, you made him work harder and longer to break you. You bought yourself the time needed for your colleagues to realize you were missing and to organize a rescue. You did that, Sam. I hope you give yourself some of the credit for the fact that you survived.”
“I haven’t thought of it that way before.”
“Do you see it now? Really see what I’m saying?”
“I guess…”
“Hear me on this, Sam. If you’d broken and given him the tirade he wanted, he probably would’ve killed you because he’d have gotten what he’d come for.
He would’ve broken you. That he didn’t break you is the only reason you’re still alive.
It’s not because of SWAT or the amazing work Sergeant Gonzales did in sounding the alarm and tracking you down.
Those things certainly helped, but you ensured they had the time they needed to get to you. ”
Despite the swell of emotion coming from her chest to her throat and the tears stinging her eyes, she said, “So even after I made the huge mistake of going in there alone and without anyone knowing where I was, I still get credit for the save?”
“You get the credit for staying alive long enough to be rescued.”
Trulo had a reputation for reducing even the sturdiest to tears before he was satisfied he’d done his job. Sam had been so certain she’d be immune to him, but when he gave her credit for saving herself, the dam broke and the tears fell in hot streaks down her face.
He handed her a tissue.
She wiped her face and blew her nose. “I’m not sure I want to come back.” There. She’d said it out loud to someone who mattered, someone who had the power to decide if her career ended here or carried on as planned.
“Why do you say that?”
Dabbing at her eyes with the tissue, she said, “There’s a guy killing people in my city with a hunting knife and I feel strangely detached. As if that’s not my problem.”
“Technically, it’s not your problem. You’re on leave and thus absolved of involvement in this one.”
“But shouldn’t I be at least slightly interested in the case, how it’s progressing, what my squad is doing… You know, the usual stuff?”
“I think you do care or you wouldn’t be asking yourself those questions.”
“Normally, I’d come rushing back to work to help out.”
“Normally. Is there anything normal about what happened in Marissa Springer’s basement?”
“No, but—”
“No buts, Sam. You’re on medical leave for a reason, and that case, as baffling and upsetting as it may be, is not your responsibility.
There’s nothing wrong with taking a step back from your duties to heal from the trauma you experienced.
Maybe you feel uncertain about coming back because you’re not ready to come back. Has that occurred to you?”
“No, not really. How would I know that I’m ready?”
“My guess is that something big will happen that will spur you to action—or it won’t. If it doesn’t, then you’ll have your answer.” He reached for a paper on his desk, wrote something on it and handed it to her.
“What’s this?”
“Clearance to return to full duty whenever you’re ready. You and I will be the only ones who know you’ve got that, and you should use it when you feel ready to. Not one minute before.”
Sam stared down at the paper where Trulo had checked the box that allowed her to return to work. He’d signed his name below it. “So that’s it? No more appointments?”
“Only if you’d like to talk. My door is always open to you. But no more required appointments.”
Why did she feel like she was losing a lifeline when she’d never wanted to be here in the first place?
“How do you feel, Sam?”
“I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel. Relieved, I guess. No offense, but I’m not big on this kind of thing.”
“No, really?”
“Ahh, sarcasm. I do so love sarcasm.”
He smiled. “As do I.”
“I appreciate all the time you gave me, even when I was stonewalling you, but it feels weird to have completed this process or whatever you call it and still be unclear about whether or not I want to go back to work.”
“Only you can decide that. And there would certainly be no shame in deciding the job is no longer for you. In fact, you have the perfect out in light of the oath your husband is about to take this week. Anyone would understand if you chose to focus on your duties as second lady rather than chasing down murderers.”
“Chasing down murderers is more than a job to me. It’s who I am.”
“It’s who you’ve been for some time now. Doesn’t mean it’s the only thing you’re capable of being or doing. The whole world is open to you. I’m sure you’re hearing from your people at the White House about things you could be doing.”
“I am. There’s stuff. Lots of stuff.”
“Perhaps that’s part of the reason you’re rethinking your career. Maybe it has little to do with the attack and more to do with the changes occurring in your personal life.”
“I hadn’t thought of that possibility.” In her mind, the whole thing had been wrapped up in what Stahl had done and the moves she’d made that had given him the perfect opportunity to grab her. But Trulo made a good point about the changes in Nick’s life and how they affected hers.
“There’s no deadline for this decision, Sam.
Take the time you need. Weigh the pros and cons.
Talk to people you trust and respect. When and if you’re ready to come back, you can do it at any time.
Should you choose not to return, that’s fine, too.
One thing I like to tell my clients, both here and in private practice, is that you have one life to live.
You ought to live it the way that best suits you. ”
He had definitely given her plenty to think about. “Thanks again for everything, Doc. Sorry if I was a tough nut to crack.”
“You weren’t so bad.”
“I wasn’t? God, that’s disappointing. I’ll have to try harder if I should have the misfortune of ending up on your case list again.”
“I hope to never see you again in this capacity, but I shall always hope to run into you around the house, and I’ll be watching as you and your husband continue to captivate this country.”
“Aww, shucks. Thanks. He’s the captivating one. I’m along for the ride.”
“Don’t sell yourself short. You make for one heck of an appealing power couple.”
She stood and reached out to shake his hand.
He enfolded her hand in both of his. “Take good care of yourself, Sam, and come see me if there’s ever anything I can do for you.”
“Thanks again, Doc. You’re all right despite the things I’ve said about you.
” She left him laughing and headed downstairs to the morgue.
Lindsey was nowhere to be found, so Sam went out into the cold and hustled to her jazzy new car.
She’d always adored driving Nick’s BMW and loved that it now belonged to her.
It would take the rest of her life and half of the next life to figure out all the gadgets, but fortunately she’d have Freddie to decode it for her if she went back to work.
If she went back to work… For someone who lived and breathed her work, it was bizarre and unsettling to have such thoughts.