Chapter Sixteen
Detective Jeannie McBride found Barry Scanlon in a private room at the George Washington University Hospital. An MPD Patrol officer stood watch outside the door and required Jeannie to show her badge even though she knew him.
“Thanks, Detective,” he said. “Just following orders.”
“Totally understand,” Jeannie said.
“I’m sorry about Arnold. He was a straight-up guy.”
“Yes, he was. Thank you. What’s the situation in Scanlon’s room?”
“The doctors were in with him, so he should be awake.”
“Great, thanks.” Jeannie knocked on the door and opened it enough to peek inside. The man in the bed gestured for her to come in. “Mr. Scanlon, I’m Detective McBride, MPD.” She showed her badge and gave him a moment to inspect it.
“I’ve already given a statement,” he said in a weak voice that didn’t match up with his broad shoulders or muscular build.
“I have some new information I was hoping to speak to you about, but only if you feel up to it.”
“Sure, whatever I can do to help.”
Jeannie held up her phone with the photo of Besozzi that had been emailed to her. “Do you know this man?”
He took a long look at the photo. “I can’t say I do.”
“Does the name Giuseppe Besozzi mean anything to you?”
“Not that I recall, and it seems like I’d remember that name.”
“Yes,” Jeannie said, “I imagine you would. You’re a bartender, correct?”
“I am.”
“Is it possible Besozzi was a patron, perhaps?”
“I suppose that’s possible, but I can’t remember ever meeting him at the bar or anywhere else for that matter.”
“We appreciate your time and we hope you make a speedy recovery,” Jeannie said.
“Sure, no problem. I’m happy to do anything I can to help catch the guy who put me here.”
“One other thing,” Jeannie said. “Did your attacker say anything to you?”
“Not a word.”
“Thank you again for talking to me, and we’ll be in touch if anything else comes up.”
“You know where I’ll be for the next week or so,” he said with a grimace. “Out of work and out of money. I don’t have health insurance. I was stupid enough to think I wouldn’t need it at my age. My bar is doing a fundraiser for me, but I have no idea how I’ll ever pay for all of this.”
Jeannie handed him her business card. “Please let us know how we can contribute.”
“That’s nice of you. Thanks.”
She patted his arm. “Hang in there. We’re working hard to get the person who did this to you.”
“How’s he doing?” the Patrol officer asked when she walked out of the room.
“As well as can be expected it seems,” Jeannie replied. “Let us know if anything changes here.”
“I will.”
Jeannie walked through the hallways of the hospital, trying not to think of the brutal days she’d spent there after she was attacked last year, before exiting through the main doors.
She took deep breaths of the cold air to clear her senses of the antiseptic smells that brought back the horror every time she stepped foot in the place.
Jeannie placed a call to Sam. “Nothing new from Barry Scanlon, the bartender who was attacked. He didn’t recognize Besozzi’s name or picture.”
“Okay, thanks for closing that loop.”
“What else can I do?”
“Check in back at HQ. Hill and Best are there, and may have something else they want you to do. We’re on the way to Arnold’s parents’ house.”
“God, I don’t envy you that task.”
“And they say rank has its privileges.”
“No kidding. Please let me know what I can do. Anything.”
“Just keep working the case and pulling the threads. You know how something small can break this whole thing wide open. Hopefully we’ll have the warrant soon to search his place. The Marshals need prints to figure out who this guy is.”
“I guess I’ll see you when you get back to HQ. Good luck with the Arnolds.”
“Thanks. Talk to you later.”
As she got in the car, she thought about the conversation she’d had earlier with her partner, who was now standing watch over their deceased friend and colleague.
“You okay?” she’d asked.
Will shook his head. “This thing with Arnold…”
“I know. It’s awful and tragic and senseless, but we have to go on. We have to keep doing the job.”
“Do we though? Do we have to?”
“What do you mean?”
“When does it get to be too much? The lieutenant is attacked and tortured by one of our own. Cruz got shot, Gonzo got shot, you got kidnapped, assaulted. And now this with Arnold. I can’t take it anymore, Jeannie. I can’t take it.”
Her partner was young, only a few months older than Arnold had been, and the two men had been close friends outside of work. “Can I tell you something I was told after my attack?”
He shrugged with unusual indifference.
“Captain Malone told me that everything will seem very dark for a while after something like that happens. He said it was important not to make any major decisions about anything after a traumatic event. Because one day, the sun comes out again and the first thing you’ll notice is the sun, not the darkness.
You’ll want to recognize your life when that day comes, he said.
He was right and so was everyone else who told me to focus on getting through today without thinking too much about tomorrow. Tomorrow takes care of itself.”
“How many times have we approached someone on the street, showed our badges, said who we are?”
“Too many to count.”
“He was doing his job.”
“I know. He was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“He had a new girlfriend and his whole life ahead of him.” Tyrone swiped at his face. “It’s not fair.”
“No, it certainly isn’t.”
“I can’t believe he’s dead. Arnold is dead. I keep saying it to myself but I can’t seem to make it stick. It’s too unreal.”
“It’s apt to be for a while.”
“Will it ever make sense?”
“Probably not. These things seldom do.”
“I don’t want to be a cop anymore, Jeannie. I don’t want to be the next one to get shot or attacked or tortured. I’m not strong like you and Sam and Gonzo.”
“Yes, you are, too! You were right there with me through the whole thing when Sanborn attacked me, holding me up and pushing me through to the other side of it. I couldn’t have gotten through that without you. You’re so much stronger than you think you are.”
A sob hiccupped through him and he buried his face in his hands.
“I’m not,” he said. “I’m not strong. I was so freaked out the whole time you were missing and then after…
When we heard what’d happened… I wasn’t strong when the LT was missing or when Gonzo was shot.
I was scared shitless that they were going to die and leave us to do this awful job without them. ”
“Why haven’t you ever told me any of this? The department has people who can help you deal with these things. You don’t have to do it alone.”
“I want to be worthy of the gold badge. It means everything to me, but who wants a chickenshit detective on their team or covering their back? You deserve better than me. The squad deserves better.”
“You’re not a chickenshit. I’ve seen you in action. You do what needs to be done. I’ve never once seen you shirk your duty or do anything other than the right thing on the job. You’re selling yourself way short.”
“Maybe on the outside I look good, but inside…”
“The outside is all that matters, Will! You’re doing the job. You’re performing admirably. Anyone would say so.”
“What if I don’t want to do the job anymore? What if I’ve had enough?”
“Only you can know that, but you’d be a total fool to throw away the career you’ve worked so hard to have on the day you lost your friend.
Nothing is normal today. It’s not the day for major decisions.
If you still feel this way a month or two from now, we’ll have that conversation.
But we’re not having it today and that’s final. ”
Jeannie rarely pulled rank on her partner.
She rarely had to, but she did it today because she got where he was coming from.
Who understood better than she did what it was like to lose the desire for the job?
To wait months for it to come back? To question every aspect of her life, her work and her safety?
“I want you to know,” she said in a gentler tone, “that I understand where this is coming from. I’ve been there myself. But I care too much about you to let you do something stupid when you’re grief-stricken and shocked and aching over the loss of your friend and colleague.”
Tyrone stared blankly as tears continued to roll down his face.
“Today is an awful day. Tomorrow probably will be, too. It’s going to be a tough time for all of us. But we will get through it together because that’s what we do. We stand together and support each other.”
He remained stubbornly silent.
“I want you to talk to Trulo when things settle down. They’ve made people available for us, and we need to take advantage of the help.” When he didn’t say anything, she said, “Ok?”
“Yeah, I guess.”
He’d said what she wanted to hear, but his flat tone of voice and the aura of resolve she felt coming from him had left her on edge.
When Gonzo and Malone returned to HQ, the first thing Gonzo noticed was the department flag had been lowered to half-staff in honor of Detective Arnold.
“I hate to see that,” Malone said. “The only time we lower the flag is when someone in the department dies.”
Gonzo had nothing to say to that. This was the first time in his tenure on the force that an officer had been killed in the line of duty, and it happened to be his partner. The partner he’d sent out to be gunned down because he wanted to shut him up.
“I think you ought to go home, Gonzo.”
That drew him out of his dark thoughts. “I’m not going home. That’s the last place I need to be with the man who killed my partner out there somewhere getting away with it.”
“The Marshals are hunting him down. That’s their job and they’re damned good at it.”
“You can’t ask me to go home and do nothing, Captain. You can make me leave, but I’ll be out there working the case whether I’m on duty or off.”
Malone’s phone rang. He took the call and ended it as quickly. “We’ve got the warrant for Besozzi’s house.”
“Let’s go.”