Dick is concerned as well as impressed that somehow the cogs of justice came together to allow Steve to make the connection between Otis’s death in California and Shea’s arrest in Utah. He sits at his desk, staring at the bouncing balls, his eyes seeing nothing as his mind mulls over his visit to Independence and his introduction to Agent Steve Patterson.
A million morons get away with ill-conceived, poorly executed crimes every day, and yet Dick somehow managed to implicate himself in both offenses. Dick’s not sure what bothers him more, that he was outsmarted or that Steve knows the truth. While he feels justified in what he’s done, there’s a distinct sense of shame along with a low burning compulsion to defend it.
Explaining Otis is easy. He was protecting Dee and Jesse. But what about Shea? How do you explain stalking a total stranger and then following him to Utah?
In retrospect, Dick realizes how reckless and stupid that was and how easily things could have gone sideways. Yet, even with sober hindsight, each time he thinks of those boys in that freezer, the alternative is unthinkable—Shea still out in the world with the next Willy or Germaine at his mercy.
Fortunately, at the moment, he doesn’t need to worry about it. Thanks to what he learned at the conference, he now has the green light to move full steam ahead on Freeway, and between that and the Little League playoffs, for the first time in a long time, his life is so full he doesn’t have time for anything else.
“Big game tomorrow?”
He looks up to see Graham. “Yep. If we win, we stay in it.”
The playoffs are double elimination, and so far, his Cubs have won one and lost one. If they make it through this next game, they secure third place and move on to the finals. Jim called three times today to discuss the lineup.
Graham attempts a smile, but his lips don’t quite curl.
“Something up?” Dick asks.
Graham shakes his head but says, “What if I don’t figure it out?”
Dick’s first instinct is to appease him with, What are you talking about? Of course you’ll figure it out. How many people said similar things to him right before his own professional life imploded?
Instead, he levels his eyes on his friend’s and tells him the truth. “It will be bad. Worse than you imagine. You’ll get depressed. Your life will fall apart. You’ll struggle like hell to make peace with it and tell yourself you’re over it and that you don’t care and want nothing more to do with it. But no matter how many times you tell yourself that or how much time passes, it will continue to eat at you, churning in your brain and gnawing at your insides, until finally you go back to it, knowing the second time will be the end, and there will be no recovering if you fail again.”
A thin smile crosses Graham’s face. “That’s what I thought. Good luck tonight.”