I spoke softly, gently. “He has a responsibility to his daughter.”
“He hates me so much for leaving him he’ll do anything to hurt me, even hurt her.”
“You could force him, in court.”
She shook her head and smiled, though it had a sad quality to it. “It would only make him angry. He’d take it out on me and Daniela, and lawyers cost money, Dr. Hill. So do hospitals and funeral parlors. I don’t want to bury my daughter or have her watch him bury me. I don’t want to leave her to him. He’s a monster.”
7
I knew that once I set the wheels in motion, I could not stop or back out. But I wanted to give David Bateman a chance, and Trina ultimately gave me her blessing to talk to him. I still had a difficult time believing there did not exist some spark of decency in the man, that the boy who had terrorized me had done so because his father had terrorized him, that his bullying wasn’t all his own doing.
The following week I chose Moon McShane’s for a meeting because it felt like home turf, and I knew there would be people inside who knew me. Even still, sitting at a table near the plate-glass windows that looked out at peaceful downtown Burlingame, I couldn’t dismiss my nerves, which I’m sure were Pavlovian.
Bateman parked his patrol car in a red zone, and those nerves intensified. I took several deep breaths as I watched him step out of his car and insert his billy club into his holster. He strode to the door in his uniform, the bulletproof vest beneath his shirt making him look even bigger. When he entered he nearly filled the door frame. He rested his hands on the black utility belt, gun prominently displayed. The night he’d assaulted me in the Presbyterian church parking lot, I had been too startled and intimidated to fully register the size of the man. With nub-short hair, he had become his father.
I stood from my seat as he approached the table, garnering looks from nearly everyone in the bar. He wore a shit-eating grin.
“Thanks for coming,” I said over the sound of a football game. I offered my hand.
He ignored it and sat. “I see you’re still wearing the contacts.”
“Can I buy you a cup of coffee?” Bateman turned his head to the window, ignoring my offer. I got to the point. “Your daughter needs surgery.”
He glanced at me. “So?”
“She has a detached retina. If she doesn’t have it fixed soon, it will degenerate. She could go blind in that eye.”
He shrugged. “How is this my problem?”
“She’s your daughter,” I said, somewhat disbelieving.
“She lives with my ex-wife. Take it up with her.”
“I already have.”
Bateman’s eyes narrowed. “Yeah? What did she tell you?”
“She lost her job. She doesn’t have health insurance.” He smirked. “Your insurance would cover the cost of her surgery.”
“She wants me to pay?”
“It would be the insurance company’s money,” I said.
“I earned the benefits. What if my rates or my deductible go up?”
I shook my head, not completely believing what I was hearing. It reminded me of when Father Brogan had confronted Bateman in the rectory, and Bateman had expressed no guilt. David Bateman was not just a man who’d suffered as a child. This was a sociopath, possibly a psychopath. “Are you for real?” I asked.
Bateman leaned across the table. “I’ll tell you what I am.”
“Grow up,” I said, and the ferocity of my response momentarily startled him into silence. “You’re not a nine-year-old boy anymore, and neither am I. So knock off the big bad wolf bullshit. Your daughter is going blind, and we both know it came at your hand. Your ex-wife didn’t tell me. I figured it out on my own. So did the emergency room doctor. But I’m willing to let that go, David. I’m willing to cut you some slack and give you the chance to do the right thing, something decent.”