‘He’s competent,’ Julia said to Lat over the phone. She slugged down a long sip of cold coffee, and looked around her desk drawer for a couple of quarters to go get herself another one from the machine downstairs. She only found three.
‘That’s not what I heard on the news at noon,’ Lat replied. ‘Says who?’
‘Tune in again. Says Christian Barakat. He just handed us his report this afternoon. He thinks this zombie act is just that – an act. Says it could be a medication issue, or more likely it’s because David Marquette is, get this,’ she said, hesitating just a bit, ‘a psychopath. He needs to do some more tests to make that official, but the doctor scored high on this “Psychopathy Check list” Barakat referred to.’ She raked the bottom of her pocketbook with her fingers and finally found another quarter, covered in lint and purse dirt.
‘A psychopath, huh? That makes sense. Who the hell else breaks out the kitchen cutlery on their family in the middle of the night?’
She closed her eyes. A monster.
‘Well that should make for an interesting Wednesday morning,’ Lat offered when she hadn’t said anything.
‘You’ll be there, right?’
‘Definitely. I wonder if Levenson will put his client on the stand.’
‘Idoubt it. He’d be crazy to.’ Crazy. The word sounded strange on her tongue. It had such a different meaning now. She rolled the quarters around in her sweaty fist.
‘Will you be handling the hearing?’ he asked.
The idea was so funny that she actually laughed out loud. She had a better chance of winning Powerball before Rick would let her handle an expert witness at a competency hearing. ‘I’ll be sitting at the table,’ she said in a conciliatory voice.
‘Too bad.’
She was n’t sure if he meant that as a compliment to her or a slam against Rick, so she said nothing.
‘Farley sure picked some week,’ Lat said. ‘Four days before Christmas.’
‘He did that on purpose,’ Julia said. ‘He does everything on purpose, and ruining holidays and vacations would be one of the things Iimagine he does best.’
Now it was Lat’s turn to laugh. ‘Did he ruin yours? Family out of town?’
She felt the sudden pain stab her heart. She should’ve prepped herself for that question, but she hadn’t, and she felt as if someone had rushed her from behind, knocking her to the ground and stealing the breath from her lungs. She hated this time of year. Hated it. Starting at Thanksgiving and lasting past New Years, every day was a chore to get through, every night filled with bad memories that just seemed to get worse year after year. She hated seeing everyone happy and together – in every commercial, in every print ad, on every box of cereal and can of Coke. She hated the intrusive questions that people seemed to ask each other without thought. Are you going back home for the holidays? Who are you spending Christmas with? Is Mom making the turkey this year? Does she let you help? Nora and Jimmy and she always went through the motions of having a holiday dinner, complete with turkey and non-stop Christmas music, but Christmas at Aunt Nora’s was like a bad wake with good food – there was nothing joyous about it and everyone couldn’t wait till it was over. This year, Julia knew, would be especially difficult because she’d gone and brought up Andy.
The box was wrapped so pretty, she knew it couldn’t have been Andy who’d wrapped it. It must have been wrapped at the store – a fancy store. The ribbon was thick and tied into a bow that you only saw in department-store Christmas displays, but never under your own tree. A sparkling plastic angel ornament hung from one of its many pretty loops. ‘To Ju-Ju, Hope this makes it merry. Love, A.J.’ read the tag. A.J. was the new nickname Andy had been trying to get everyone to call him. Momma said names that started with initials sounded too much like confidential informants.
She closed the door of the bathroom softly behind her, turned on the lights and took a deep breath. There were only a couple of hours left to wait till Christmas morning, but she just couldn’t help herself. The idea of a present under the tree with her name on it bug ged her like an itch – there could be no relief until she knew what was in it. She moved the ribbon out of the way, slid a bread knife under the tape and then unwrapped one end of the thick paper. She slid out the box, careful to keep the shape of the wrap intact so she could just slide it back in when she was done peeking. No one would be the wiser.
When she saw the box was from Cosby’s Sporting Goods she stopped breathing. She wiped her palms on her robe, then took off the top and pulled back the folds of tissue paper. Shining under the lights of the broken overhead bathroom fixture was the white satin New York Ranger jacket that she’d asked for, first for her birthday and then again for Christmas. It was the only thing she wanted, but it was almost a hundred dollars and her mom had said they couldn’t afford it. Now, here it was, hers.
She couldn’t help herself again. She put the box on the sink and took the jacket out. She slipped off her robe and put the jacket on over her pajamas, running her hands over the smooth satin. It felt soooo amazing …
‘How does it fit?’ came the voice on the other side of the door.
She froze, her arms wrapped around herself.
‘Come on, Ju-Ju,’ Andy whispered. ‘How does it fit?’
‘Julia?’ Lat asked.
‘No,’ she said slowly, pushing the ghosts back once again. ‘I’m just going to my aunt and uncle’s on Christmas Day. They’re down here. And you?’
‘Idon’t know yet. Imight head over with a buddy to the Bahamas. He’s got a fishing boat up in Fort Lauderdale and an ex-wife who gets the holiday with the kids this year.’
‘Christmas on the high seas? That sounds kind of nice,’ she said. She realized just then, like an unsettling epiphany, that Christmas was only a week away and she and Rick hadn’t even discussed the holiday yet. She had no idea what he was doing.
‘You’re welcome anytime,’ Lat replied.
‘Thanks for the invitation. Imight take you up on that one day.’
‘Egg-nog’s overrated. And fattening. I’ll stick a candy cane in your pina colada.’
She was quiet for a moment, thinking about the other reason she’d decided to call Lat when she got back to the office.
‘You still there?’ he asked after a second.
‘I have a favor Ineed to ask you, Lat,’ she said quickly, twisting the phone cord around the fingers of one hand, crunching the quarters in the other. ‘Can you run an NCIC for me?’
It was actually a crime to run a criminal history without a legitimate law-enforcement purpose. And since it was an NCIC she was asking for, it was technically a federal crime. Julia had never asked anyone to do something that was illegal for her before. She’d never done anything illegal herself. She felt guilty making Lat an accomplice, but she couldn’t run one herself, and she didn’t want anyone in her own office doing it.
‘Sure. What’s the name?’ Lat asked without hesitating. If he sensed something was up, he said nothing.
Julia took a deep breath and closed her eyes. ‘Cirto,’ she said. ‘C-I-R-T-O. Andrew Joseph. Date of birth, March fourteen, 1972.’