Shattered (Michael Bennett #14)(11)

My worry turned to embarrassment that these morons had escalated this to a level I hadn’t anticipated. I stayed on one knee, motionless, trying to clear my head before I stood up again. I did flinch at a kick that wasn’t thrown. Then I felt something else. First on my leg and then on my back. Then I realized with a sickening feeling what it was. Piss. Jeremy Pugh was peeing on me.

I’d like to say it was the first time I’d encountered the use of urine as a weapon. But as a uniformed patrolman in the Bronx, my team had all been showered with jars of urine from the upper floors of apartments. This just seemed so much more personal and disgusting.

By the time I was upright, Pugh had zipped up his fly and his friends were all laughing. Then they just wandered away like I wasn’t worth another thought.

I watched them. I knew we’d see each other again. Maybe soon.





Chapter 14



I made it back to my hotel room, holding my jacket at arm’s length as if it had been sprayed with a biological weapon. I cared nothing about the view from my seventh-floor window. I didn’t care that I could see the Library of Congress clearly. Instead, I jumped into the shower, still wearing my pants and shirt. Eventually I stripped down and threw the clothing into a laundry bag. I’d spring for the hotel dry cleaning before I ever wore that jacket again.

I try to never let emotions dictate my actions. I was thinking this might be an exception. I needed a little time to cool down. And to pick my time and place to remind Jeremy Pugh that I would not forget what he’d done to me. Now I had Pugh on my list of suspects.

That brought up a lot of questions. How did he find Emily? Did he know she ran most mornings? Where did he take her?

As soon as I was cleaned up, I called home. Trent answered with such enthusiasm it made me smile.

He said, “I knew it would be you calling the house number. That’s why I raced from the living room to answer it. I got my official letter from the mayor’s office. And guess what?”

“What?”

“The mayor signed the letter himself.”

I let out a laugh and told him how great that was. I could be a pretty good actor when I had to be. If my kids were excited about someone, I could be too. At least on the outside. Most people understood the relationship between cops and the mayor of New York. But I couldn’t deny that he made my son happy with the signature. That was good enough for today.

Trent said, “In the letter, he called me a ‘national scholar.’”

“That’s big-time, Trent. I’m very impressed. I’m also proud of you. But I’m always proud of you. You don’t have to see the mayor to make me proud.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

I said, “You’re in the fast lane now. Don’t do anything too idiotic and get knocked onto a side street.”

Trent laughed, then said, “C’mon, Dad. I’m fourteen. You want me to use good judgment. Isn’t that asking a lot?”

He waited while I paused. Then all Trent said was “Love ya. Gotta go.” He handed the phone to one of his sisters.

The nature-versus-nurture debate has extra meaning in my house because all ten children are adopted. But I realized nurture was winning out because Trent had my sense of humor.

After I’d talked to a couple of the younger kids who still liked chatting with their dad, Mary Catherine came on the line. I needed this kind of distraction. I wasn’t thinking about Jeremy Pugh or what I wanted to do to him.

I filled Mary Catherine in on most of my trip, leaving out a key detail of what had happened to me in the last hour. I also told her about the rumors I’d heard concerning Emily Parker. I don’t like to gossip, but I wanted a female perspective.

I said, “I know Emily really well, and I never would’ve suspected she had a thing for powerful men. Or that she would possibly date someone who was married.”

As usual, Mary Catherine could set me straight quickly. “Usually I’d make some joke about your age and how you’re out of date. But truthfully, the way I see couples today, I think we’re both a little old-fashioned.”

“You think I need to update my thinking?”

“Of course I don’t. At least not about romance. It wouldn’t hurt you to update your ideas about fashion. Or maybe even sports. It wouldn’t kill you to watch more soccer or cricket. But I think you and I are on the same page as far as romance goes. We’re old-fashioned, and that’s the way I like it. You’re the only one I want, and I want to be the only one you want.”

I was pretty sure I agreed with her, although the way she had said it sounded like a trap. After a few moments of silence, she said, “Isn’t that right, Michael?”

For a moment, I had a flashback of my days at Holy Name School. Mary Catherine’s question sounded like a comment one of the nuns would’ve made during geography class. I knew to say, “Yes, right.” I was just having a little fun. She was right. She was the only woman for me.

Mary Catherine was quick to add, “I’m not judging Emily. I’m just saying, that kind of love life is not for me.”

“So you’re happy with just boring old me.”

“Don’t say that, Michael. You’re not that old yet. We’ve got at least three more years before that happens.”

Sharing a laugh together was exactly what I needed to set my head straight and get back to work.