Justice(45)

A few seconds later, he reappears on the screen with the widow. She does not seem happy to see him. She rubs her right temple as if she has a headache. As Mirabelle sits, I reach into the desk and retrieve two aspirin, putting them in my pocket.

“Thank you for coming in, Mrs. Moore,” Mirabelle says.

“Didn’t have much of a choice,” she says, still rubbing.

“This is Det. Lawrence Mirabelle with Kelly Moore. It is Friday, May eighteenth, at approximately nine AM.” He opens the file. “You were married to C.O. Stuart Moore, is that right?”

“Yes.”

“Did you have a happy marriage?”

“As much as anyone else does, I guess.”

“Guess it’s easy when your husband keeps secrets from you.”

“I’m sorry?” she asks.

“Your husband. Did he keep a lot of secrets from you?”

“I don’t know what you’re asking me.”

Mirabelle scoffs. “Okay, I got an easier one for you lady. A yes or no. Was your husband a good man? Law abiding?”

“Of course!” she says, looking bewildered. “What is this about?”

“I’m just trying to understand what kind of man your husband was. You know, was he an asshole? The second coming? Someone who cheats on his wife and taxes?”

“Why are you asking me these things?” she asks, now as hostile as he is. “Why am I here?”

“Oh. He getting a hero’s burial? They going to give that traitor a twenty-one gun salute?”

I take that as my cue. I walk out of the control room with a bottle of water, take a moment to get into character, and then “barge in.” Mirabelle is sneering and Mrs. Moore is on the verge of tears. “Det. Mirabelle, why don’t you go get a cup of coffee?”

“What? How dare—”

“Now, please,” I say, my voice hard. As he walks past me, he glares hard. I just shake my head and shut the door behind him. I smile sympathetically at Moore, handing her the water and aspirin. “You looked like you could use this. It’s just aspirin.”

She looks at the offering, no doubt wondering what the catch is, but takes it anyway. “Thank you.”

I smile again and sit where Mirabelle was, and he is now where I was. She swallows the pills and sips the water. “I’m sorry, about him. We’re just all under a lot of pressure to find Alkaline. We’ve barely slept in days. He shouldn’t have taken it out on you.”

“It’s fine,” she whispers.

“No, it’s not,” I insist. “It’s not. You’re the victim in this just as much as Logan Dodd, Grace Pickering, or anyone that monster has touched. Your husband was just trying to keep us safe from him. It cost him his life. And that’s seriously fucking unfair.”

The widow looks down from my gaze. I think it’s the first time a person has vocalized something she’s thought a hundred times. “I guess.”

“How are your children doing?”

“They’re fighting. A lot. With me, their grandparents, each other,” she says, exhausted even from the memories.

“It’s tough losing a parent at such a young age. I was only twelve when my Pop died. I hated everything and everyone that reminded me of him. It was too much having to deal with the unjustness of it all, let alone the realization that he’ll never hug me again, talk about my day, stupid stuff like that.”

“How did you get over it?”

I shake my head. “I didn’t. Not really. It’s always there. But time and people who loved me helped. They didn’t give up on me. That’s about as good as it gets.”

“I don’t know what to say to them. Everything just becomes a battle,” Kelly says.

“They’re angry, and rightly so. They’re mad at Alkaline, they’re mad at you, they’re even mad at your husband. It’s not fair, but it is what it is.”

Kelly contemplates this, saddened even more. My heart goes out to this woman, it really does. Her husband has been murdered, her kids are a wreck, the press is hounding her, and now she’s stuck in a police station. Just one of those things could send a person over the edge. And it’s not her fault. She’s not the one who took a bribe from a convicted murderer. She’s not the one who killed him either, but she’s the one who has to clean up the mess. I more than know how that is. “I think I’m just still in shock. I’ve been going through the motions. With everything. My mom’s helping out.”

“That’s good.” I smile sympathetically. I pause. “So, you’re probably wondering why you’re here.”