"Milk, one sugar, right?" he said, obviously remembering how I took my coffee from when we were in Sweet Seduction. I nodded.
The steaming mug in my hand I took my first sip, just as he pulled a large pad over from beside him and flipped the cover over, revealing a clean sheet of paper beneath.
"OK," he said, all businesslike. "Let's get this out of the way and then you can relax."
A bubble of sarcastic laughter erupted out of my mouth. Pierce ignored my reaction and clicked the top of his pen, ready to write my statement.
"We have to do this," I said. Not a question, but I guess he took it as one.
"Yeah, we do." He scratched his beard. "Listen, I'm not sure if you know how the legal system actually works, but I'll sum it up for you. The more evidence we have against a criminal, the more chance they'll get an appropriate sentence in court. Sure, we can arrest someone for one thing, charge them and get an adequate outcome, but that does not mean they serve the correct time for all of their crimes. Justice is not the law. They are two different things entirely. Now, I'm in the business of justice, but I have to work within the law to achieve it. That means, even though the criminal has been arrested and detained, I don't stop investigating, gathering evidence, adding more charges, until I know justice has been served."
Silence met the end of his statement. I took a sip of my drink. He followed suit.
"Marie," he said softly. "The man who chased you yesterday is part of McLaren's team. You know this. Sure, your statement will help put him away, but it will also, perhaps, lead to something else I can pin on McLaren. And that's not even getting you to press charges for him murdering your husband."
I stiffened. I hadn't agreed to that.
"One day you will have to face it," he added, still talking softly, carefully, gently. "One day you will have tell Daisy what happened to her father. Give her an idea of how he died. Can you do that, knowing you let the man who killed him get away for that particular crime?"
My coffee cup came down onto the surface of the table with a loud thud. So hard, I thought for a moment that it might have cracked.
"You have no right to bring up Daisy," I ground out. "No right to ask me to do this. You weren't there!"
"No, I wasn't," he said quickly. "But you were. And so was Abi."
"What does that mean? So was Abi? Is she offering to be a witness in court for this?"
"She will, if you press charges."
I shook my head. "There's no way I'd get someone else mixed up in this sordid mess."
"Abi's neck deep in it already," Pierce pointed out.
"So, you think a little more shit piled on top of the shit she's already had to endure is nothing at all? Is that how it works for you, Detective?"
Pierce grimaced, sitting back in his chair.
"It's so easy for people like you," I snarled. "You didn't lose someone you love. You didn't watch their life ebb out of them. Didn't think you'd be next. Sitting there with your husband's blood and brains all over your face and think, please God, just make it quick, like it was for Rick. A bullet in the head, not in the stomach. You didn't stare into the eyes of Satan himself and wait for the click of his gun. You have no idea what I went through. What Daisy could still go through. You swoop on in, after the fact, thinking you'll save the day and make everything all right. But you know what, Pierce, nothing will ever be all right again."
A shuddering breath in ended my tirade.
Oh, fuck. I had never talked about it before. I had never voiced what had happened to anyone. Ever. Oh, fuck. And I choose to lose my rag with a cop?
Oh, fuck.
My eyes, feeling too big for their sockets, came up to Pierce's, fearful of what I'd see there. Derision at my breakdown? Sympathy for what I had divulged? Pity?
But I didn't see any of those things. I saw something else. Something unexpected.
I saw understanding. But not just a stranger's understanding of what you have said, but the understanding of someone who had been through something similar. Who did know what you were talking about. Because they had experienced it too.
No judgement. No pity. Just complete and utter understanding.
Oh, fuck.
Chapter 8
And For A Single Moment In Time I Forgot
Pierce cleared his throat, spun the pad around on the table’s surface with the flick of an agitated finger, and then slammed his pen down on top, making the pad stop spinning altogether.
OK, hit a nerve. Well, he'd been hitting mine from the moment he walked into my office.
"You know what?" he said eventually, eyes not on me but staring off into the distance.
"What?" I said with an exaggerated sigh.
He shook his head. Ran a hand over his face and said, "You're right."