Kennedy Stern Christian Suspense Complete Box Set (Books 1-9)

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 8

She should have known she’d never be able to fall asleep on a night like this. By eleven o’clock, she’d checked half a dozen times to see if Channel 2 had any breaking news. The story was still running at the top of their website, along with the short clip of Kennedy jumping on the policeman’s back while he pummeled Reuben.

Other outlets had picked up the piece, too. The story was trending all over the internet. Black leaders were already calling for the police department to divulge the name and rank of the officer, citing how suspicious it was that he hadn’t made any arrests and was entirely unavailable for comment. The police department hadn’t released any official statements either, but someone close to the head office hinted that the chief was doing everything in the scope of his authority to figure out the whole truth. The chief also urged anyone to call in with information about the two “suspects,” as she and Reuben were called in certain publications, while others referred to them as victims.

She kept reloading one webpage after another before she finally flipped on her lamp. Willow was still awake at her desk, the ear buds and flashing lights from the screen proof she had moved back to her blood and gore video games.

Kennedy still hadn’t decided what she should do. Willow was probably right. If she told the police who she was, gave her side of the story, they’d try to find a way to make the public believe this whole mess was her fault. But if she stayed silent, what would stop the same thing from happening to victims all up and down Boston? Could she feel safe knowing that cops like Bow Legs were out on patrol?

And what about the race issue? The journalists all treated this as a black and white incident, nothing more and nothing less. On the one hand, she was glad there were watchdog groups ready to protect the rights of minorities, but she still couldn’t shake the feeling that pegging her encounter with Bow Legs as simply a race incident was akin to forcing a triangular stopper into a round lab beaker. Sure, she could cite the slurs Bow Legs spurted out like venom, but he’d called her as many bad names as Reuben. There was more to it than ugly racism — misogyny, bigotry, power hunger for starters.

She had to do something. But what? If she went to the police now, what would that mean for her and Reuben? Would they be forced to relive their inhumane treatment each time they attempted to prove that the wrongs they suffered really happened? Was it worth subjecting themselves to public scrutiny until their past secrets and public records were exposed for all to see? Was she ready to accept that cost? Was she willing to force Reuben to do the same?

But the police must already know about her and Reuben. Wasn’t that why they sent Dominic to the hospital? So why did they waste their energy asking the public to help identify them?

Unless Dominic had kept their identities a secret. Could he do that? Would he?

Then there was Ian. Kennedy had run into the redheaded journalist a time or two last semester during the peak of her fifteen minutes in the public eye. She had no reason to doubt him, but that certainly wasn’t grounds to trust somebody, either. Didn’t most journalists scurry around trying to break their story first? Was he just waiting for the hype to increase a little more before he told the world who Kennedy really was?

Would he do that to her? Or maybe the better question was why wouldn’t he?

This was all too much for Kennedy. She didn’t know about police proceedings other than the tidbits she’d gleaned here and there from the cop dramas she watched with her dad. Besides that and an occasional suspense or detective novel, Kennedy had no idea what she was getting into. She had always assumed that in America, if you were a conscientious citizen and minded your own business, the police would have no reason to bother you. It was like health insurance, important to have around but as long as you were healthy and took care of yourself, and maybe with a little bit of luck, you didn’t expect to need it.

Now here she was, wondering if she turned herself in to the police if they’d hail her as a hero for exposing a bad cop or if they’d arrest her for assaulting an officer. How would she know what would happen until she made the first move? And if she waited for them to find her — which they could do easily if they really wanted to — would she look guiltier than she would have if she came forth voluntarily?

“You awake?” Willow asked, taking off her headset. “Sorry. I was trying to be quiet.”

“It wasn’t you.”

“Just having a hard time sleeping?”

“Yeah.”

Willow gave Kennedy an almost maternal smile. “Well, you’ll be happy to know that Gordon Clarence has taken an interest in your video.”

“Who?” The name sounded familiar, but Kennedy couldn’t place it.

“Gordon Clarence. The reverend. Head and founder of the Black Fraternity?”

Kennedy groaned. She had read some of his speeches in Professor Hill’s class. The last person she wanted championing her case was someone like him.

Willow clicked her mouse. “Here, listen to this. This is Gordon Clarence in a video address to his congregation about the piggyback attack. That’s what they’re calling what happened. Cute, huh?” She glanced at Kennedy’s face and then ducked back behind her screen. “Anyway, here’s part of the speech.” She unplugged her ear buds, and a booming, rhythmic voice filled the room. “And that’s why I’m asking you tonight, brothers and sisters, that’s why I’m standing here before you wanting to know when will the world see these cops for what they really are — a militarized force intent on occupying the neighborhoods and communities where our brothers and sisters are trying to make a peaceful life for themselves. When will the mayor and people of Boston stand up to defend our brother and sister who were brutalized in full daylight by an officer who clearly sees no value in the lives of black men and women? When will my brothers and sisters of color rise up and declare with one voice, ‘Enough. Enough of the victimization of our women and children. Enough of the ...’”

A knock on the door interrupted the reverend’s tirade. Willow paused the recording, and both girls glanced nervously at each other.

“You expecting anyone?” Kennedy asked.

Willow shook her head.

Kennedy wished their doors had little peep holes like in hotel rooms. What if it was the police? What if they’d come to arrest her or bring her in for questioning? It was a good thing she hadn’t gotten into her pajamas.

Willow stood up and was arranging her purple-tipped hair. “I’ll get it. You just ...” She glanced at Kennedy’s bed as if she might find a hiding place. “You just wait there.”

She cracked the door open. “Yes?”

“I’m here with the Boston Police Department.”

Willow adjusted her position so she blocked the policeman’s view into the room. “I already answered a few questions earlier. Is there something else you fellows needed?” Her foot was planted by the door, keeping him from opening it any farther.

Kennedy’s heart pounded. Her mouth was dry. If they took her in to the station, would they let her make an international call? She would do anything to be back in Yanji with her parents. Anywhere but here.

“I actually stopped by to check on Kennedy. Is she in?”

There was something familiar about his voice. Kennedy tried to peek around her roommate to get a look at his face.

“Kennedy? She likes to stay out late. She sometimes doesn’t come back until ...”

The policeman nudged the door slightly and pointed. “Isn’t that her in the bed?”

Willow let out a casual laugh. “Oh, yeah, but you know, she’s been asleep. Came home right after her afternoon classes and just crashed ...”

The door was wide open now, but the officer didn’t step in. He gave Kennedy an apologetic smile. “Hi, Kennedy.”

She let out her breath. “Hi, Dominic.”

Willow turned around, raised one of her penciled eyebrows at Kennedy, and then gave a little shrug.

“Can I come in?” he asked. “Or would you rather talk out here?”

Willow was slipping on a colorful shawl. “You know what? I completely spaced out and forgot that our director called a rehearsal tonight. I’m already late, so I better run. Don’t wait up for me,” she called as she hurried out the door. Dominic and Kennedy watched her leave in a wave of colors and patterns.

“That’s your roommate?” he asked.

Kennedy nodded. “That’s Willow. You can come in,” she told him when she realized he was still standing on the threshold of her room.

“I’m sorry to bother you like this.” He looked around awkwardly until Kennedy pointed him to Willow’s swivel desk chair. “I’m glad I found you awake. You doing ok?”

She shrugged. “I guess.” She couldn’t read him. Was he here on official police business? More questions, maybe? Or was this some sort of social call? She wanted to trust him. Desperately wanted to trust him. With her dad so far away, who else was there to help her navigate through this mess of legal proceedings she’d gotten herself dumped into? But just because Dominic was a Christian, did that mean he was safe to talk to? Just because his prayer had covered her with a peace and tranquility she hadn’t experienced in years, maybe in her entire life, did that mean he wouldn’t betray her?

He scratched his cheek. “So, I guess maybe you heard about the news reports.” It came out as half question, half statement.

She nodded.

“And well, the chief, he’s doing what he can to save face. Trying to avoid any sort of scandal.”

It made sense. That seemed like the sort of thing a chief of police would do after a video leaked of one of his officers kicking an innocent man.

“We know the officer in question. Got that figured out even before we saw the tape based on your interview and the location of the engagement.”

Engagement. He was using the same terminology as the characters in Willow’s computer games. Another reminder that, as kind as he appeared, he was still one of them. Part of the same force as the man who’d landed Reuben in the hospital. Who’d groped Kennedy along a busy Boston highway.

“And obviously, we had your name right away too, but we’re keeping that from the press right now for several reasons.” His shoulders rose as he took in a noisy inhale. “I just got back from talking with your friend. With Reuben.”

Kennedy tried not to let him see how nervous she was when he said Reuben’s name. She clenched her teeth shut to keep from spewing out the dozens of questions streaming through her consciousness.

“And after talking with him, I’m even more convinced about what I’m going to say.”

Kennedy squinted slightly. Studying his face. If she were a card player, she’d have a better feel for whether or not he was bluffing.

“I know at the hospital I said some good could come out of making a complaint. Might not happen right away, might not result in immediate progress, but if you were willing to jump through the fire, I told you I’d help you start that ball rolling.”

She tested his speech, mulling over each phrase. Like one of Willow’s gluten-free, sugar-free, chia seed muffins, his words looked appealing at first glance. Looked like words spoken by a friend. A confidante. But the more she analyzed them, the more mistrustful she grew.

He clasped his hands on his knees. “Now that I’ve seen the way the department’s scurrying to handle this particular PR mess, I’m not convinced that coming forward right now is going to be in your best interest. Or your friend’s.” He put special emphasis on that last part, so much so that it came out sounding like a threat.

She didn’t know what to say. She wished Willow were here. Anyone she knew. Anyone she could trust.

“Listen, I know I’m contradicting everything I told you earlier, and you gotta believe me, it’s eating me up inside. But not everyone’s called to be a David. And you don’t want to make the same mistake as others and underestimate Goliath, either.”

Kennedy’s headache had eased up when she was resting in bed but now returned with even more cruelty. What others was he talking about?

He spread his hands out. “I know I’m being cryptic, and part of that’s because I’m in a delicate situation myself.”

She didn’t care about his delicate situation, about his David and Goliath metaphors or anything else he was talking about. She didn’t even care so much about vengeance as she cared about people believing her side of the story. What happened to her was wrong. If the chief of police called her on the phone, told her he believed every word she said, and asked her to accept his apology, Kennedy could live with that.

Almost.

It would sure beat sitting here listening to Dominic pretend to care about her and her feelings while trying at the same time to convince her to shut up and accept tonight’s harassment as a normal East Coast occurrence.

She wouldn’t. She couldn’t.

“So here’s what’s happened so far,” he continued. “The chief has a press release set to deliver first thing Friday morning. He’s going to explain how one of our cops pulled two people over for speeding. During their encounter, he had enough evidence to suspect the couple of drug possession.”

“That’s ridiculous.” Kennedy couldn’t keep the edge out of her voice. “He didn’t even have a reason to pull us over in the first place. It was rush hour. I couldn’t have been speeding if I wanted to.”

Dominic nodded. “I know that.” Kennedy couldn’t figure out if that should make her feel relieved or even angrier now that he was telling her to give up any hope for justice.

“At that point the chief is going to admit our man made a mistake.”

“Good.”

Dominic held up his hand before Kennedy could say anything else. “The mistake was that even though he had suspected you of drug possession, he failed to call for backup. And if you hear the chief’s side of the story, he’s going to be all over it as an example of how the city needs to put more resources into the police force. The reason our man didn’t call for backup, at least as the public is going to hear it tomorrow morning, is because we’re short-staffed. Budget cuts, lay-offs, the whole enchilada.”

“But he attacked us.”

Dominic shrugged. “The chief already got the public believing you two are druggies at this point. And based on that video I saw, he won’t have a hard time arguing you assaulted him first. There’s a reason it’s being called the piggyback attack, you know.”

Rage boiled in Kennedy’s brain, making it impossible to put any rational thought into a cohesive sentence.

The worst part about this whole encounter was how shaken up Dominic was pretending to be over it all. “That’s what I mean when I’m telling you not to underestimate Goliath.”

“He grabbed me.” Kennedy blinked back tears, no longer of shame or fear but of blind fury. “He had his hands all over me.” She shut her eyes so she wouldn’t have to watch Dominic shrug another time.

“Cops search suspects. It’s what they do.” Did Dominic really believe any of this? Did he really believe she and Reuben were drug pushers?

“You can search the baggie. All it had was tea.”

Dominic frowned. “Do you have any idea how many drug busts we see a week? How hard do you think it would be for someone in the force to sprinkle your roommate’s tea leaves with a little weed, huh?”

“They can’t do that.” Kennedy hadn’t realized how childish her argument sounded until she heard it come out of her mouth.

“But they do. It’s not right. I’m not making any excuses. That cop, based on what you told me at Providence, he had no business pulling you over, making you get out of the car, restraining your friend, none of it. But it doesn’t matter what I think. What matters is what the chief thinks, and all he’s thinking about is how he’s gonna protect his own. It’s an unwritten code.”

Unwritten code. That phrase was like fingernails on a chalkboard. So this was it? This was the Goliath she had dreamed of going up against? What chance did she have?

She would never look at a policeman the same way again.

There had to be some other option. This was America. It wasn’t China or Kenya or some other country riddled with corruption.

Things like this didn’t happen here.

Did they?

A memory tugged at the back of her brain. Something Pastor Carl said in one of his recent sermons. A Bible verse from Proverbs. Or was it Psalms? A verse about God bringing justice to light like the noonday sun. A verse about Christians waiting patiently for God’s truth to prevail.

But why should she have to wait for it? She wanted it now. Everything Dominic said made sense. Of course, that’s how the chief would slant the issue — an officer going about his business, risking his life to make the streets of Boston safer, when all of a sudden he’s attacked by two suspects, and the force is so overworked and underpaid that he fails to call for backup. It was a flawlessly logical argument, however wrong it was. Like a bilayer of phospholipids surrounding a cell’s organelles — perfectly watertight.

How could she stand against a Goliath like this?

The truth was she couldn’t.

“Wait a minute.” A seed of doubt had germinated in Kennedy’s mind. It was taking root now. Sprouting. “If he was so convinced we were criminals, why did he just drive off? Why did he leave Reuben there bleeding on the pavement?”

She had him now. This was her slingshot. This was how she’d defeat the Philistine giant.

Dominic’s frown did nothing to bolster her newfound encouragement. “The PR guys already thought of that. Between you and me, the fact that he did run off is the only reason the chief hasn’t pulled you both in and arrested you for assaulting an officer. He won’t admit it, not even to us, but we can all sniff out a rotten egg. If our man believed half of what the chief’s saying — that you were carrying drugs or attacked him unprovoked or anything like that — he would have thrown every citation in the book at you. But he didn’t. He ran off, and I’m speaking strictly off the record here, but that’s the biggest reason I believed your story to begin with.” His expression softened for a moment.

She was too busy formulating her next argument to let his words sink in. “But that means that we can’t have really done all those things, or else he wouldn’t have just left us there like that. So there must be some way to prove to the public ...”

“You’re not understanding something here,” Dominic interrupted. “The chief doesn’t want the public to know the truth. He doesn’t want the protesters, the marchers, the Gordon Clarences all taking to our streets. He’d rather throw the media a bone and bury the truth in the backyard. I’m not saying it’s right. I’m just saying it’s the way things are done.”

“So that’s all?” She hadn’t meant to sound so accusatory. She just couldn’t understand how someone like Dominic, someone with a powerful faith who obviously loved the Lord, could sit there and tell her that lies and gross abuses of justice were normal, just as much a part of Boston life as the swan boats in the Common or a strong nor’easter in the winter. Kennedy refused to believe it. “Can’t you do something?”

“I am doing something.” He pointed to his badge. “I’m getting up every day, begging God to make me a salt and a light to those other officers. I’m putting on this uniform. I’m not the kind of guy who rolls over and watches corruption. Not usually. So when I say it’s time to let it go, I really mean it. If not for your own sake, at least for your friend’s.”

The mention of Reuben was enough to make Kennedy’s whole body tense. “What do you mean?”

“I told you I saw Reuben earlier. He has his reasons — very personal reasons — for keeping this quiet. Let me tell you how the chief sees it. You two stay out of the public eye, don’t come forward, we keep your identity secret ...” He held up his hand to stop Kennedy from interrupting. “We keep your identity secret,” he repeated, “and we don’t charge you with assault or possession.”

He leaned forward in Willow’s chair as if he were about to stand up. “But if you go to the press, if you start broadcasting your side of the story ...” He shook his head. “The chief is willing to do whatever it takes to keep his own guy covered. I need you to remember that. You shout police brutality, I guarantee you they’ll find m*******a in that tea-leaf baggie, no matter what was in it when he took it out of your car. You accuse his guy, the chief accuses you. Not just possession. Not just battery. But your past, too. Any mistake you ever made, any ...”

“I don’t have anything to hide.” She sounded braver than she felt.

Dominic stood. “Maybe not. But what if Reuben does? Out of respect for him, and because I gave him my word, that’s all I’m gonna say. But if he’s your friend like you claim, you really should let this case drop.”

His shoulders sagged as he opened the door. “I’m sorry.” He let himself out. As he pulled the door shut behind him, he looked back once and added, “I really, really wanted tonight to end differently for you.”

Kennedy didn’t reply. She was feeling the exact same thing.