One Phone Call
McCoy held the receiver to his ear, looking across his desk at Keri Dyson as she waited for him to tell Mike Cutter in Narcotics that he was getting a new ADA. He felt as if he was watching himself through a thick layer of glass, but habit carried him forward.
The ringing stopped, replaced by a familiar voice.
"Regan," McCoy said. "I need you to come into my office right away."
"What the hell – " Keri said, taking a quick step towards him.
"This needs more than one phone call," McCoy told her, hanging up the phone. "Just wait."
The door behind Keri opened and Regan hurried in. "What is it?" she asked McCoy.
He took a second to answer her, studying her, the way she looked at him, without doubt, without hesitation. As if I'm still the man who deserves that faith. As he hesitated, Regan looked at Keri and gasped.
"Jesus, Keri, who the hell – " Her fists clenched as if she wanted to deal with whoever had beaten Keri herself.
"Regan," McCoy interrupted quietly. He picked the pad of Complaints forms from his desk and held them out to her, along with a pen. "I need you to fill out two complaints and walk them downstairs for me."
"Uh-huh," Regan said, taking the papers. "On who, for what?"
"What the hell are you doing?" Keri asked sharply.
"Remembering my responsibilities as an officer of the court, Ms Dyson," McCoy said evenly. He turned back to Regan. "Regan, the first is against ADA Keri Dyson, for coercion in the second degree. Complaining witness, John J McCoy."
"You'll regret that," Keri said angrily.
"I doubt it," McCoy said. "Regan. Fill in the form."
Regan's eyebrows lifted but she started writing.
"I'm not sticking around for – " Keri started to say, moving toward the door.
"Ms Dyson, if you leave this room before Ms Markham does, I'll have you held pending arraignment," McCoy told her. Keri stopped still.
"You have got brass balls," she said wonderingly.
Regan finished writing and ripped the form off the pad. "What's the other complaint?" she asked McCoy.
"Against John J McCoy – "
Regan's pen skidded over the page and her head shot up. "What?" she asked.
"For assault in the second degree," McCoy went on steadily, ignoring her interruption. "Complaining witness, Keri Dyson."
Regan stared at him, and then swung around to stare at Keri, who looked just as astounded. "Complaining – what the – is this some kind of joke, Jack? I thought I was done with the rookie hazing."
"I'm not joking," McCoy said. "And neither is Ms Dyson. You need to put your pen on the paper to write, Regan." He tried to smile, aware that it was probably a grimace.
"If you think I'm going to collar you – "
McCoy opened the folder Keri had given him and leaned forward to put it on the desk in front of Regan. "Ms Dyson alleges that I caused these injuries in the attempt to commit another crime, namely, sexual assault. That's assault in the second."
"Who witnessed this alleged assault?" Regan demanded, turning to Keri. "Keri? Is this true? Why would you – "
"Regan," McCoy said quietly, and she looked back to him. "Trust me," he said. "Just fill out the forms and walk them down to the Complaints Room."
She hesitated, and he held her gaze, then let one eyelid droop in the subtlest of winks. It was a high-sign, saying as clearly as words This is one more wild play from the Jack McCoy playbook. Regan hesitated, and then bent over the form, filling in the required boxes.
McCoy felt a slight pang at how readily she was willing to back his play, no matter if the strategy didn't make sense to her. She would blame herself, later, he knew, for being fooled, and he regretted the necessity, but the regret was far away, beyond the blank horror that had been roaring through him since the moment he had understood what Keri Dyson was telling him.
"I'm not sticking around for this charade," Keri said angrily.
"You'll be coming with me," Regan said, getting to her feet. She picked up the file McCoy had shown her. "You've got an affidavit to swear, and charges to answer."
"I can't believe you'd do this, Jack," Keri said.
"I can't believe you'd think I wouldn't," McCoy answered.
"Let's go," Regan said calmly, but in a tone that would admit no argument. Cop voice, McCoy thought. He'd heard it a thousand times over the years as uniforms or detectives picked up a suspect or moved along an overly inquisitive passer-by. Regan took Keri's arm, gently, but again making it clear that she wouldn't tolerate resistance.
"Make them both priority, Regan," McCoy said.
She nodded, gave him one level look that let him know that she might be going along with him for now, but she'd expect an explanation later, and led Keri out the door.
McCoy sank heavily into his chair. For a moment he didn't move, gazing sightlessly at the sea of papers on his desk, at the trials he'd never prosecute, the arguments he'd never make, the law books he'd never need again.
Final moments should have more fanfare.
And what would he say to Regan when she came back? Sorry, kiddo, turns out I'm even more of an asshole than you suspected?
He took a breath against the roiling of his gut and pushed himself to his feet. It was only a few steps to the side door of his office, a few more to Colleen's desk.
"I need a few moments of Arthur's time," he told her.
From the look Colleen gave him, McCoy guessed he looked like hell. "He's free," she said. "Go through."
"Thank you, Colleen," McCoy said. "For everything."
He turned away from her puzzled expressed and pushed open Arthur's door, that once upon a time had been Adam's door. Oh, god, he thought suddenly, Adam is sure to hear about this.
The blank horror receded enough to let him feel a keen, stabbing grief, and he hesitated on the threshold.
"In or out, Jack, make a decision," Branch said genially.
McCoy swallowed hard, and stepped into the room.
Final moments should have more fanfare.
But they never do.
.oOo.
