*
A few weeks later, I’m drinking iced coffee at a diner when a shadow passes over my computer. A man stands behind me.
“I get the sense you’re avoiding me, Ms. Quinn.”
“What makes you say that, Detective?”
“Cop’s instinct.” Haggerty slides into a chair across the table. “You don’t look so good.”
“If that’s your attempt at flirting, so much for your instincts.”
“Your brother’s trial is in three weeks. Getting anxious?”
“Not at all. Billy is innocent. Justice will prevail.”
“That’s optimistic given where he’s sitting.” Haggerty flags down a waitress and orders an unsweetened iced tea. She turns to me. “More coffee, hon?”
“I’m just leaving, thanks.” I dig out a few dollar bills, which Haggerty plucks from my hand.
“She’ll have another iced coffee. And a slice of apple pie with whipped cream, please.”
“I don’t eat pie, Detective. You’re, like, the shittiest cop ever.”
“The pie is for me, Ms. Quinn.” Stumped for a comeback, I say, “Oh. Duh.” We both crack a smile. But once the waitress leaves, I cut to the chase. “What do you want?”
“We’re looking at other issues related to the Lawrence Quinns.” He sits back. “Tell me about Lawrence’s business—where the money came from, how it flowed, et cetera.”
“I told you everything. I have no other details; rather, nothing of significance to you.”
“You’d be surprised, Ms. Quinn, by what I consider significant. Which is why I repeat my questions. The story you’ve been telling me is very different from the story I’m hearing.”
“Are you saying I’ve been lying to you?”
“Sure. Maybe not lying, but distorting, omitting, overplaying. Not that it matters—to me or to your brother’s case. Billy is guilty. We have eyewitness statements, CCTV tapes, and physical evidence. Facts are facts, Ms. Quinn. They’re not transmutable. My focus is interpretation. The lies you tell because you’re not conscious they’re lies. Or, you do know they’re lies, but you don’t, or can’t, admit that they’re crimes.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Detective.”
“You know exactly, Ms. Quinn.” Haggerty sits back.
The waitress returns. “One apple pie with whipped cream.” She sets down the plate. “Iced tea and more coffee.”
Haggerty thanks her, far too effusively for a piece of pie.
“You can’t be serious,” I say. “What was that about?”
“I’m an appreciative customer. You’ll find that I’m always serious, Ms. Quinn. And I think you are too. I think you’ve been wanting to talk for years.”
“You sound more like a shrink than a cop.” I keep my voice steady, my hands still. My jaw is clenched so tightly I’m grinding my teeth into dust.
“I grew up in Massachusetts. Poor family, big brains.” He pauses, as if this should mean something to me. “Scholarship kid.”
“And?”
“I went to Brown, did a BA in psych, had my heart set on med school. But other subjects caught my interest.”
“What kind of subjects?”
“Sex crimes, for one.” Haggerty sticks a fork into his pie. Whipped cream oozes through the tines. He takes a bite, chews, and swallows. “So, tell me about the business.”
“I already told you.”
“Humor me.”
“Lawrence used to advise political candidates on media strategies. Now he’s creating a charitable nonprofit to reduce poverty and hunger in the United States.”
“Sounds noble. What does he want you to do?”
“I told you this too. He’ll be the face of the foundation. I’ll be the brain trust. Together, we’re the whole package, the head and the heart. We were all set to get started, but I flaked out.” I shrug. “Like with you and med school. One day you’re a doctor; next, you’re having a go at sex crimes.”
“I investigate them. I don’t commit them.”
“Oh, sorry. You weren’t clear.”
“Now what? Now that your brother’s been arrested, how does that change things?”
“Don’t know that it does.” Leaning across the table, I get so close to Haggerty’s face I can smell his aftershave. I swipe whipped cream off his pie and lick it, slowly, off my fingertips. “You’re handsome. For a cop.”
Haggerty doesn’t smile back. “Stop.” His voice is as hard as his eyes. I bet under his baggy clothes this guy is a savage. “I am not playing.”
“I’m better than this?” My voice is just as hard. I’m a savage too. “Flirting is beneath me? Frankly, Detective, your questions are beneath you. You don’t care about Lawrence’s business or the foundation. Tell me what you really want, and then we’ll have a conversation.”
“You know what I want. I want you to tell me about Marcus Silver. He doesn’t show up on any Google searches for men aged thirty-five through seventy in the Tri-State area.”
“So what? I already told you: it’s over.”
“But it happened. You were a minor. He was an adult. It’s a crime. What if there were other girls? No one wants a predator roaming the streets.”
“There was no one else.”
“Only you.” Haggerty smirks. “You know that for sure?”
“I’d bet my life on it.” I pause. “Let’s say this is true. I was a minor; he was an adult. But what if it only happened once? One time before I turned seventeen. You’d arrest a man for one time? No credit for all the other times he held out?”
“That’s not how the law works, unfortunately.”
“Okay, let’s say he leaves his wife, and we get engaged. What could you charge him with? Statutory rape of his fiancée?” I think of Mary Kay Letourneau, a teacher who went to jail for raping her student, a minor, whom she later married. It’s possible, I concede.
“I’m sorry, Cassie.” His voice is a whisper. I notice he calls me Cassie. And says it with kindness. “Marcus Silver will never leave his wife. Not even for you.”
“Oh, I know. We broke up, remember?” I try to sound confident, but Haggerty’s conviction, the finality of it, is chilling.
He changes the subject. “Here’s something I don’t get. You call Lawrence Quinn your father, but he isn’t your father. And Eleanor Quinn isn’t your mother. Your real parents are dead, correct?”
“Lawrence and Eleanor are my real parents. They raised me.”
“But they’re not your legal parents. Any reason why they didn’t adopt you?”
“Money. My trust becomes available next year. By not adopting me, Lawrence said my money is my money, and has nothing to do with my place in his family.”
“There are legal ways to protect money. But okay, that’s one story. What about Eleanor?”
“Eleanor pushed for adoption, but in the end, she agreed with Lawrence.”