Briley stops by Kate Barnhill’s desk on her way to her office on Monday morning. “Hey, there.” Kate pulls off her reading glasses and gives Briley a speculative smile. “You look like you had a relaxing weekend.”
“I did.” Briley tosses her head and grins. “Believe it or not, Timothy had the weekend off, so we went to the theater Saturday night and watched old movies all day Sunday.”
“What show did you see?”
“The Lion King.” Briley sighs at the memory of the extravagant production. “If you haven’t seen it, it’s a must. It’s simply spectacular.”
“By the way—” Kate’s eyes light with calculation “—you haven’t told me what your boyfriend does. With the hours he keeps, he must be…what, a hospital resident?”
Briley shakes her head. “Not even close.”
“He can’t be a lawyer. I know you. You’re not that fond of the law.”
“You’re right on that score.” Briley sets her laptop case on Kate’s desk. “I hate being secretive, but his work is sort of confidential.”
“What, his position?”
“His client list.”
“Wait.” Kate lifts a finger. “He’s a personal trainer.”
Briley laughs. “He’s a sober companion. Addicts pay him to stick by them until, you know, they can handle life without drugs.”
Kate’s face goes blank with surprise. “You’re kidding. That’s a job?”
“A pretty good one, too. He earns more than you’d think.”
“As much as a lawyer?”
“About as much as a slow-moving associate. The money’s good, but the hours are awful and the training’s a nightmare.”
“Wow.” Kate drops her glasses to her desk. “How do you train for a job like that? Take counseling classes?”
“You overcome an addiction yourself.” Briley pulls her laptop case from the desk and gestures down the hall. “I’d better get busy.”
“Wait.” Kate digs through some papers on her desk, then hands Briley a note. “I took this off the answering machine. The call came in yesterday morning.”
Briley glances at the name. “The Cook County Sheriff’s Office? They called on a Sunday?”
“The infirmary. Apparently your client ended up there this weekend.”
Briley grimaces. “This case is killing me. I feel so lost, and the clock is ticking. I have a pretrial hearing in three weeks, and I’ve barely begun my investigation. I filed a petition to get money from the court, but that petition’s been held up…. I’m afraid I’m going to have to file for a continuance.”
“You need me?” Kate smiles. “All you have to do is ask.”
“Could you give me a hand? William’s agreed to help, and Franklin said I could use staff members if they were available—”
“I’ll make myself available,” Kate says. “Just tell me what you need, and I’ll get to it. I think it’s awful that they’ve left you alone to handle this case.”
“Thanks.” Briley waves the phone message. “I guess I’d better go see what happened to my client.”
Ten minutes later, she is on the phone with a nurse at the jail. The nurse remembers Erin Tomassi, and assures Briley that her client has returned to her cell.
“Was she badly hurt?”
“A few bruises, that’s all. Nothing unusual. Sometimes the women get into fights. Not as often as the men, but still…”
“Why’d they fight?”
“Like they need a reason. You ever seen a pack of wolves around a baby moose? That’s what it’s like in there. The strong ones circle the new ones, the weak ones. If the newbies don’t toughen up, they go down. Your girl, though—she gave as good as she got. She broke Big Shirley’s arm.”
Briley blinks. “She did what?”
“I didn’t see it, but boy, did I hear about it. Apparently your girl put up with a lot, but when Wilma almost knocked the wind out of her, she came to life and punched Wilma right back. Then she spun around and snapped Shirley’s arm across her knee. Broke it like a twig.”
“You sure you’re talking about Erin Tomassi? Small blonde, probably wears a size four?”
The nurse chuckles. “Yeah, I was surprised, too. But now the others will think twice before picking on her.”
Briley runs her hands through her hair, distressed by the thought of Erin suffering abuse even behind bars. “So you think she’ll be okay from now on?”
“I said they’d think twice. I didn’t say they wouldn’t come after her. Listen—” the nurse lowers her voice “—you could ask the sheriff to place her in isolation, but you’d be doing her no favors. Sooner or later, she’ll have to come out, and then the others will resent her even more. She’s better off toughing it out where she is. Trust me.”
Briley has no choice.
Briley slips out of her office and heads down to the law library. William is working at his desk, but he looks up when she enters the room. “Ms. Lester.” His smile lifts the corners of his mustache. “How goes the war?”
“Slow but sure,” she says, dropping into a nearby chair. “Have you had a chance to look over your copy of the transcript of the conversation between Erin and Dr. Lu?”
“Spent the better part of Saturday morning reading it. Also did a bit of background research on my own.”
Briley makes a face. “I didn’t mean for you to spend personal time working on this.”
“No problem—it was fascinating.” With a flourish, he pulls several pages from a file in his desk drawer and begins to read. “Erin Wilson Tomassi graduated from Chicago State University in 2003. Business major. Honor roll. Pledged no sororities, but in the yearbook she is featured on a page for student government leaders.”
Briley laces her fingers. “Thanks, but I’ve got all that.”
“You may not have this—in the transcript, your client mentions something about trouble with the school, so I did some checking. Turns out that in September 2000, a Douglas Haddock filed a complaint with student security against sophomore Erin Wilson, claiming she injured him in an assault. The next day he dropped the charges, so school officials never notified the police.”
“What sort of injury was it?”
“No record of the details. When Haddock dropped the charges, the school didn’t pursue the investigation.”
Briley makes a note on her legal pad. “Any current leads on Doug Haddock?”
“I searched him on the Internet. Haddock graduated in 2001 and is living in Kankakee with his wife and two kids. He runs a printing company down there.” He hands Briley another sheet of paper. “Everything you need, even his current address and a map.”
“Thanks, William.” She gives him a grateful smile. “You’ve saved me a ton of work.”
“No problem.” He slips his hands into his cardigan pockets. “So, chief—what’s next on our agenda?”
Briley picks up the map and turns it sideways, trying to get her bearings. “I think I need to visit Kankakee.”
Keenly aware of the passing hours, Briley clears her desk after lunch and heads toward the parking lot. Kankakee lies about an hour south of Chicago, and once the traffic thins on the interstate she finds herself relaxing behind the wheel. She hasn’t made an appointment with Mr. Haddock, but she did call the Quick Print Company to confirm that he’d be in town and at work this afternoon.
The young woman who answered the phone assured her that Doug Haddock hadn’t missed a day of work in three years. “He’s a great guy,” the woman said after Briley introduced herself. “So if you’re thinking about suing him—”
“I don’t sue people,” Briley interrupted, keeping her voice light. “I’m a defense attorney, and no, your boss isn’t in trouble. I just need a few minutes of his time.”
“Then come on in,” the woman chirped. “I’m sure Doug would be happy to help.”
The man sounds like a real salt-of-the-earth type. Why, then, did his encounter with Erin Wilson result in a complaint to student security?
After entering Kankakee, Briley finds the Quick Print Company in a strip mall at the edge of town. She enters the building and smiles at the girl behind the counter, a pretty young woman wearing an apron over jeans and a polo shirt. “Can you help me? I’m looking for Doug Haddock.”
The young woman glances over her shoulder, then grabs a pad and pencil. “If this is about an order, I can help you.”
“It’s not about an order. I need to see Mr. Haddock.”
The girl’s face screws up into a question mark, then clears. “You’re the lawyer.”
“Yes.”
“Just a minute, I’ll get Doug.”
While she waits at the counter, Briley breathes in the scents of ink and oil and freshly cut paper. Somewhere in the distance, a printer clacks with rhythmic regularity, while a humming copy machine against the wall spits copies into a multilevel tray.
A moment later, the girl returns, followed by a shaggy-haired man who appears to be in his early thirties. His brows are knotted in a frown, but his face clears as he gives Briley a polite smile. “I’m Doug Haddock. Something I can do for you?”
“I hope so.” Briley slides her business card over the counter and waits while he reads it.
“You’re an attorney?”
“From Chicago. I’m representing Erin Tomassi on a murder charge.”
He tosses her card back over the counter. “I don’t know anyone by that name.”
“I believe you knew her as Erin Wilson. You were in college together at Chicago State University.”
Briley watches as memory hardens his eyes. “I didn’t know her well.”
“You filed a complaint against her with the school authorities.”
“I dropped that complaint.”
“Please, Mr. Haddock.” Briley sets her purse on the counter and leans toward him. “I’m not here to make trouble for you. But I need some honest answers.”
“I don’t want to get involved in any trial, and I don’t have time to go up to Chicago.”
“If you don’t have knowledge of the present case, you won’t have to. But I need to understand a few things about my client’s history, and I believe you can help me.”
Haddock turns to the young woman who’s pretending not to listen from a few feet away. “Nona, I’ll be in my office.”
“Okay, Doug.”
Briley feels the prick of the young woman’s eyes as she steps behind the counter and follows Haddock to a small office at the back of the building. He lifts a stack of real estate brochures from the only guest chair and offers her a seat.
“Thanks.”
He settles himself behind the desk and picks up a pencil. “What can I tell you? I really didn’t know Erin Wilson. I met her at a party one night, she came back to my dorm. Next thing I know, she’s breaking a lamp over my head. I had to get stitches—cost me ninety bucks to get sewn up at the emergency room.” He lifts an uneven section of hair and points to his forehead. “See that scar? Three stitches to close up the gash she left me with. That’s thirty bucks a stitch.”
Briley peers at the faint red line. “Why did she hit you?”
“How should I know? The girl was crazy. She came on all sweet and clingy at the party, but she sure changed once she got back to my room. It was like she was a different person.”
“Did you ever date her again?”
“Why should I date a wildcat?”
“I assume that’s a no.” Briley pulls her notebook from her purse. “Did you have a roommate?”
His eyes narrow. “Why?”
“I thought maybe your roommate drove you to the emergency room. You must have been in quite a bit of pain. And head wounds bleed like nobody’s business.”
“Tell me about it.” He grunts. “After I got stitched up, I filed the complaint, because I wanted my ninety bucks reimbursed. But a few hours later, I was ready to let it go. Considering all the other shenanigans that went on in my dorm, three stitches was really no big deal.”
“You were willing to forget about ninety bucks after only a couple of hours?” She whistles. “Your college budget must have been a lot more flexible than mine.”
“Uh…I must have figured my insurance would cover it.”
Briley searches the man’s eyes. He may be telling the truth, but it’s not likely that a man who can still remember the cost per stitch would easily forgive a debt.
Briley hesitates, pen poised over the paper. “Your roommate’s name?”
Haddock frowns. “He wouldn’t remember any of this.”
“Maybe not. But Erin remembers the incident—just not quite the way you do. Mostly she remembers that a young man made trouble for her in her sophomore year.”
Haddock shakes his head. “You know, I’m not sure I remember that guy’s name. I moved off campus the next year.”
“That’s fine, then.” Briley closes her notebook. “I’m sure the college will have a record of dorm residents. They should be able to find your roommate’s name and address in only a couple of minutes.”
“John Savage.” Haddock lifts his head. “I just remembered. I think he was from Elgin.”
“Thank you, Mr. Haddock.” Briley stands and offers her hand. “I appreciate your cooperation.”
On the drive back to Chicago, Briley calls William, who uses the Internet to track down two John Savages in Elgin, Illinois. Only one is the right age, so Briley recites his number into the car’s hands-free system and hopes she’s found the right man.
Unbelievably, Mr. Savage picks up on the first ring. “Yeah?”
“I’m looking for the John Savage who used to room with Doug Haddock at Chicago State,” Briley explains. “Do I have the right number?”
The man laughs. “Sure do. Are you his wife or his girlfriend?”
“Neither, I’m a defense attorney. A few minutes ago I was talking to Doug about the night Erin Wilson hit him over the head with a lamp. He said you drove him to the emergency room.”
“Oh, man.” Savage groans. “Has she finally pressed charges against him?”
“Actually, I’m defending Erin in another matter. I’m trying to gather a few details about significant events in her history.”
“I really didn’t know her.” The man hesitates. “Actually, I’ve always felt bad about that night. It’s been preying on my conscience.”
“Oh?” Briley reaches for the digital recorder in the passenger seat and clicks it on. “You want to tell me about it? I’m recording this, by the way.”
“This isn’t—I’m not going to get Doug in trouble, am I?”
“That’s not likely. Erin is too busy dealing with her current problems to worry about something that happened in college.”
When Savage hesitates, Briley wonders for a moment if she’s lost the connection.
“We were all at this bar,” Savage finally says, “and Doug spies Erin, who was just his type, a real hottie. We talk to her awhile, and when she’s not looking, Doug slips her a roofie.”
Briley tightens her grip on the steering wheel. “He didn’t.”
“Yeah, he did. The girl gets as high as a kite, then we all go back to the dorm and the girl—Erin—passes out. Doug puts her on the bed and goes into the bathroom. I don’t want anything to do with what he’s planning, so I’m in the corner, rummaging in the minifridge for a beer and planning to leave. But the next thing I know, Doug’s stepped out of the bathroom and the girl is awake, up, and swinging a lamp like it’s the bottom of the ninth and bases are loaded.”
Briley turns on her blinker and slants toward the exit lane. “I’m sure Doug was surprised.”
Savage grunts in affirmation. “That’s the understatement of the year. The girl runs out the door while Doug writhes on the bed, carrying on like she’s killed him. He’s bleeding like a stuck boar, but when we get to the E.R. they clean up the blood and we see that the wound is really just a slice. I think it only took three or four stitches to sew him up.”
“And…what happened to Erin?”
“We never saw her again. Doug was so ticked about the money he went down to file charges with campus security, but later I told him that she must have seen him slip the drug into her drink. She couldn’t have swallowed it, or she’d have been out cold for hours. So he dropped the charges and we tried to forget the whole thing.”
A moment of silence spills over the line, then Savage clears his throat. “I know it was a lousy thing he did.”
“It was a lousy thing you both did,” Briley says. “Because you helped him carry her to your room, you could have been charged as an accessory to attempted rape.”
Another interval of silence, then Savage adds, “Whoever said confession was good for the soul…was wrong.”
“It’s not the confession that makes you feel better.” Briley stops at an intersection and stares at the traffic ahead. “It’s forgiveness…and for that, you need to talk to Erin Wilson.”
She thanks him for his time, then disconnects the call and turns toward the office. Dr. Lu may not believe Erin is capable of violence, but Doug Haddock and John Savage have witnessed a display of her temper, and so have several inmates at the Cook County Jail. Hard to believe that violence could reside in a woman so retiring and shy, but deep character often comes out when people are under pressure.
How deeply buried is Erin’s violent streak?