The Guardian(32)
Author: Nicholas Sparks

Jennifer came from a long line of cops; her father was a cop, her grandfather was a cop, and both brothers were cops, though all were still living in New York. How she’d ended up in coastal North Carolina was a long story, involving college, an ex-boyfriend, the need to make her own mark in the world, and the desire to see another part of the country. It all sort of collided about six months earlier, when she’d applied for the police academy on a whim and surprised herself by actually being accepted for a job opening in Swansboro. Her father, though proud she was “joining up with the good guys,” was aghast that she was doing it in North Carolina. “They all chew tobacco and eat grits and call every woman darlin’. How’s a nice Italian girl like you going to fit in down there?”

Only she had fit in, oddly enough. It was much better than she’d expected so far, especially the people, who-get this-were so friendly that they waved to strangers while driving. Everyone was great, in fact, except for Pete Gandy. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see him flexing that arm again, making his muscle bulge, and whenever he passed another car, he nodded to the other driver, as if saying, Keep the speed down, buddy.

“So what did you think of Mike Harris’s story the other night?” Jennifer finally asked.

Since he was caught up in his nodding, it took a moment for Pete to realize she was speaking.

“Oh, well, uh . . . he was making excuses,” he said. “If I’ve seen it once, I’ve seen it a hundred times. Everybody who’s charged blames the other guy. No criminal is ever guilty, and if he is, there’s a very reasonable explanation. Once you’ve been through the ropes, you’ll get used to that pretty quick.”

“But didn’t you say you knew him and that he always seemed like a laid-back guy?”

“Doesn’t matter. The law’s the law, same for everybody.”

She knew he was trying to sound wise and worldly and above all fair, but in the two weeks she’d been partnered with Pete, none of those adjectives seemed to apply. Wise and worldly? The man considered professional wrestling a real sport, and fairness didn’t even seem to be in the man’s vocabulary. One of his jaywalking tickets had gone to a lady hobbling across the street in a walker, for heaven’s sake, and the other night, when she’d opened her mouth to ask Mike Harris a question, Pete had waved her off, commenting that “the little lady is still learning the ropes about interrogation. Don’t mind her.”

Had they been anywhere but the station, she would have put him in his place for that one. She’d almost done it anyway. Little lady? Once she was out of training, she vowed she’d make Pete Gandy pay for it. Somehow, some way, he’d pay.

Anyway, since she was still technically in training, albeit the last stages, what could she do but seethe? Besides, that wasn’t the point. Mike Harris and Richard Franklin were what this was all about. And Julie Barenson, of course. Because of what Mike and Julie had said and the “too smooth to be anything but squirrelly” way Richard had acted when they’d talked to him, she hadn’t slept well after getting off her shift.

Richard, she had the feeling, was not the innocent victim in this. And neither Julie nor Mike struck her as liars.

“Don’t you think we should at least look into it, though? What if they were telling the truth?”

Pete sighed as if the topic bored him. “Then they should have come down to the station to file a report. But they didn’t. And they admitted they had no evidence. She didn’t even know for sure that it was Franklin who was calling. So what does that tell you?”

“But-”

“It tells you that they were probably making it up. Look, it was a good collar, and we’ve got him dead to rights.”

Jennifer tried again. “But what about her? Julie Barenson. She looked scared, don’t you think?”

“Of course she was scared. Her little honey was just locked up. You’d probably be scared, too. Anyone would be.”

“In New York, the police-”

Pete Gandy raised his hand. “No more New York stories, okay? Things are different down here. Blood runs a little hot in these parts. Once you learn the ropes, you’ll realize that nearly every altercation has something to do with a feud or vendetta of some sort, and the law doesn’t much like to get involved with those unless they cross the line, like this one. Besides, before you came in this morning, I was talking to the chief, and he said that he’s had a call from the lawyer and that they’re trying to work out something, so I think for the most part, this is pretty much over. At least where we’re concerned. Unless it goes to court.”

Jennifer looked at him. “What are you talking about?”

Pete shrugged. “That’s all he said.”

Another thing she couldn’t stand about Officer Gandy was the fact that he kept information from her about the cases they worked on. Pete Gandy liked to be in control of things, and this was his little way of letting her know that he was in charge.

When Jennifer didn’t say anything, Pete went back to his nodding routine again.

Jennifer shook her head. Imbecile.

In the silence, her thoughts returned to Mike and Julie, and she wondered if maybe she should talk to them again, preferably when Pete wasn’t around.

The Guardian

Henry was standing beside Mike in the office, listening in on the phone conversation to his lawyer. “You’ve got to be kidding me” was followed by “You’re not serious” and “I can’t believe this!” Mike paced the small office, his heavy strides punctuated by looks of disbelief, and he kept repeating those statements. At last, his jaw setting, he began answering in monosyllables, then finally hung up the phone.

He neither moved nor said a word to Henry. Instead, he stared at the phone, skimming his tongue over his teeth.

“What was that all about?” Henry asked.

To Henry, it looked as if his question rolled through a complex filter, translated from English into something else, then back again. His face had taken on the “from bad to worse” look.

“He says he just heard from Richard Franklin’s attorney,” he said.

“And?”

Mike couldn’t look at Henry. He was angled toward the door, though his eyes didn’t seem to be focusing. “He said they intend to file a temporary restraining order against me until the case gets sorted out. He says that Richard Franklin considers me a menace.”

“You?”

“He also says they intend to file a civil suit against me.”

“You’re kidding.”

“That’s what I said. But according to the other lawyer, Richard is still dizzy from the other night. Supposedly, he thought he was okay and was able to make it home Saturday night. But by Sunday morning, his vision was blurry and he was so dizzy that he had to call a cab to bring him to the hospital. His lawyer is claiming that I gave him a concussion.”

Henry rocked back slightly. “Did you tell him that Richard is lying? I mean, nothing against you, and I’m sure it was a good shot, but c’mon, a concussion?”

Mike shrugged, still trying to process everything, wondering how this had suddenly spun so out of control. Two days ago he’d just wanted Richard to stop bothering Julie. Three days ago he hadn’t been thinking about the guy, period. And now he was considered a criminal because he’d done what he was supposed to do.

Officer Pete Gandy, he decided, was definitely off the Christmas party list. Not that he had a Christmas party, but if he ever did, Pete Gandy wasn’t going to be invited. Had he listened, had he even tried to understand Mike’s reasoning, none of this would be happening now.

Mike stood from the chair. “I’ve got to talk to Julie,” he announced, slamming the door on his way out.

The Guardian

By the time he reached the salon, Julie needed only a glance to surmise that Mike was just about as upset as she’d ever seen him.

“It’s ridiculous,” he repeated. “I mean, what good are the police if they won’t do anything about him? I’m not the damn problem here, he is.”

“I know,” Julie said soothingly.

“Don’t they know I wouldn’t make up the stuff I tried to tell him? Don’t they know I wouldn’t have come after him unless he’d deserved it? What the hell good is keeping on the right side of the law if they’re not going to believe anything you say? Now I’m the one who has to defend myself. I’m the one who’s out on bail. I’m the one who has to hire lawyers. What does that say about the criminal justice system? This guy can do whatever he wants, but I can’t do a damn thing.”

Julie didn’t answer right away, nor did Mike seem to need a response. Finally, she reached for his hand and tugged on it until he relented.

“You’re right, it doesn’t make any sense,” she said. “And I’m sorry.”

Though her touch seemed to calm him, Mike couldn’t meet her eyes. “I am, too,” he said.

“Why are you sorry?”

“Because I screwed things up with the police. That’s what I’m really worried about. I can handle whatever happens to me, but what about you? Because of me, the police don’t believe your story. And what if they don’t believe me or you in the future, either?”

Julie didn’t want to think about that anymore. She’d been thinking about it all morning. The whole thing had worked out just the way Richard wanted. She was more certain than ever that he had planned it all.

“It just doesn’t seem fair,” Mike said.

“Did the lawyer say anything else?”

Mike shrugged. “Just the usual stuff. That there’s no reason to worry just yet.”

“Easy for him to say.”

Mike let go of Julie and took a deep breath. “Yeah.” It came out sounding tired, defeated, and Julie looked up at him.

“You still coming over to my place tonight?”

“If you want me to. If you’re not too mad at me.”

“I’m not mad at you. But I would be if you didn’t come. I really don’t want to be alone tonight.”

The Guardian

Steven Sides’s office was located near the courthouse. Once inside, Mike was led to a paneled room dominated by a large rectangular table and shelves filled with law books. He took a seat as the attorney pushed open the door.

Steven Sides was fifty, with a round face and black hair that was turning gray at the temples. His suit was expensive-one of those silk numbers imported from Italy-but it looked rumpled, as if he hadn’t hung it up after wearing it last. There was a puffiness to his skin and the tip of his nose that suggested the habit of a few too many after-hours cocktails, but there was a steadiness to his demeanor that gave Mike confidence. Sides spoke slowly, carefully, with every word measured for effect. He let Mike rant for a few minutes, before guiding him into the story with a series of questions. It didn’t take long for Mike to tell him everything.

When he was finished, Steven Sides set his pencil on his legal pad and leaned back.

“Like I said on the phone, I wouldn’t worry about the altercation on Saturday night right now. For one thing, I’m not sure the district attorney is going to push for prosecution, for various reasons.” He began to tick them off, one by one. “Your clean record, your good standing in the community, and the fact that he’s well aware that you’d be able to bring in dozens of character witnesses make it unlikely that he’d find a jury who would convict you. And once I tell him what led you to this point makes prosecution that much more doubtful, even if there is no proof of the stalking. It could still play well to a jury, and he knows it.”

“But what about the civil case?”

“That’s a different matter, but it’s not something that would happen right away, if it happens at all. If the district attorney doesn’t prosecute, that won’t be good for Franklin’s case. If the district attorney prosecutes and loses the case, that won’t look good, either. In all likelihood, they won’t go to court unless he wins at trial, and like I said, I just don’t see that happening. You thought Julie was in trouble and you reacted; for better or worse, most people would find that perfectly reasonable. And the restraining order is just for show. I’ll assume you have no problem staying away from Richard Franklin.”

“Not at all. I never wanted to be around the guy in the first place.”

“Good. But let me handle the prosecutor, okay? And don’t go talking to the police again. Just refer them to me and I’ll handle it.”

Mike nodded. “So you really don’t think I should worry about this?”

“Not yet, anyway. Let me talk to a few people, and I’ll let you know where we are in a couple of days. If you’re going to worry about anything, worry about Richard Franklin.”

Sides leaned forward, his face serious. “What I’m going to tell you is just for you, okay? And I’m only doing this because you seem like a decent guy. If you say that I’m the one who told you what I’m about to say, I’ll deny it.”

After a moment, Mike nodded.

The lawyer waited, making sure he had Mike’s complete attention.

“There’s one thing you should understand about the police. The police are great when there’s a burglary or a murder. That’s what the system was set up for-to catch people after the fact. Even with the stalking laws on the books, there’s still nothing that the police can really do if someone targets you and he’s been careful not to leave evidence that gets him locked up first. If a person is hell-bent on doing you harm and he doesn’t care about the possible consequences, then you’re pretty much on your own. You’ll be the one who has to deal with this.”

“So you think Richard Franklin might want to hurt Julie?”