Chapter 3
Mary gave up trying to console Kathy within minutes. She fervently wished this were Marshall's witness, she would much rather crawl on her belly to the detective in charge of the investigation than sit, trapped and useless, with a sobbing witness. If the woman would shut up a listen to reason they could be in and out of the PD within an hour and back on the first flight to new Mexico (via LA, Boston or whichever airports Stan and Eleanor thought necessary to throw off possible tails). On the flip side, if Kathy refused to testify, an incredibly pissed off Marvin would walk and Kathy would be dead in a matter of weeks.
She had no statistics to back her up in this assumption, statistics were Marshall's job, but she knew it like she knew the sky was blue, her name was Mary or that the diamonds in her engagement ring were real. She didn't need the facts, she just knew.
They gave Marshall fifteen minutes before turning back down South Michigan Avenue. When they pulled past the large window lined cement building. He was standing on the sidewalk, casual and confident, looking for all the world like he was simply there to savor the sun on his face. The SUV pulled alongside the curb and almost before it had come to a stop Marshall was climbing in and they were on the move again.
They rode back to the hotel in near silence, the only noise coming from the distraught passenger who was still shivering and whimpering in her seat. At the hotel they settled Kathy into her room, triple checked the windows and main door, and slipped into Mary's room through the adjoining door, leaving it ajar in case they were needed.
"Well?" Mary prodded the moment they were out of earshot.
"We have until tomorrow. And we have to get a psych consult stating her PTSD hasn't rendered her incompetent."
"You really are a genius."
"You doubted?"
"Only every time you open your mouth." She shot back with a grin.
"And for that you can find us a Chicago-based shrink who can do the eval."
"I take it back, you're an idiot. We're not taking my volatile, emotionally damaged witness to some local quack to have her head shrunk."
"Well we have to do something. Marston is expecting paperwork certifying her ability to act as a witness and somehow I don't think the papers Shelly filled out day before yesterday will cut it."
"Yes, but the paperwork Shelly is going to fax over today should be fine."
"What?"
"You are going to call Shelly and have her fax over documentation that will satisfy el-detective. Keep up doofus."
Marshall stared at her in silence for a few moments, trying to decide if she had truly lost her mind. "And this is my job because…?"
"Because you're the one who nearly got in her pants. Plus if I call her it will end in tears – hers not mine – and we'll never get the papers we need." She pulled his phone out of his jacket pocket and thrust it into his hands, "Call. Now."
Against his better judgment Marshall pulled up his phone book and hit Shelly's number.
"Shelly Finkle."
"Hey Shelly, It's Marshall." Marshall paused for a moment, "you have a minute?" He could head the tapping a keyboard in the background.
"Sure. What's up?"
"Kathy, the witness you saw Saturday, had a breakdown this afternoon. Refused to get out of the car to do the ID –"
"You need me to talk to her."
"No actually, we just need you to fax something declaring her competency to witness."
"Just how much of a breakdown are we talking about here?" Shelly's voice lost its friendly edge.
"Well she was fine until we pulled up in front of the station and then she cried and refused to get out."
"Was it the same station she went to when she turned him in?"
"I have no idea. Why?"
"She may be having a flashback. Happens sometimes with victims when they return to a place they associate with trauma."
"So what do we do?"
"You and Mary do nothing. Keep an eye on her, keep her distracted, but don't try to force her into anything. I'll talk to your chief and see if we can get someone there tonight or early tomorrow to do an evaluation."
"Alright. Thank you."
He hung up the phone was just putting it away when it rang.
"Hi Stan."
"I just got off the phone with a Detective Marston from Chicago PD, what the hell is going on over there?"
"Just a little bump in the proverbial road, nothing that can't be smoothed over."
"You had better be right."
" I do my best. Incidentally, you should be getting a call from Shelly Finkle requesting a new psychiatric evaluation on our witness before she can testify."
"What?" Marshall could almost see Stan pressing a hand against his forehead in exasperation.
"I think it's best if we let her explain. She is the expert in matters of the mind."
Stan sighed. "You would tell me if there was something I needed to know."
"Of course Chief."
"Yep," Stan's voice betrayed his skepticism.
***
While Marshall attempted to turn his near-lies that morning into verifiable truths, Mary returned to Kathy's room and took the chair across from her Witness. "You want to tell me what's going on or are you going to make me guess?"
Kathy glared sullenly at Mary with eyes that were red rimmed from crying.
"I know you don't like me very much right now, but I am trying to keep you alive and you not telling me what's wrong is not making that an easy thing to do."
Tears welled up in Kathy's eyes and spilled down her cheeks. "H-h-he…M-Marvin…"she swallowed, twice, and continued in a small but steady voice. "He killed her."
"Who did he kill?" Mary asked, leaning slightly forward so she could look her witness full in the face. She saw shock, pain and guilt painted across the older woman's features.
"Patty. I-it was on the news."
Mary closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She couldn't even imagine that time of pain. "When did you see this?"
"This morning."
"Did it say when it happened?"
"F-Friday morning."
Mary nodded, suddenly the breakdown from that morning seemed understated. "Was she your friend?"
Kathy nodded, "Sh-she was th-th-th-" a sob bubbling up through her throat prevented her from speaking for several moments.
"Take your time," Mary said softly.
After a few minutes Kathy collected herself enough to explain. "Patty lived next door to Marvin. She was the first friend I made after I moved here. She's the one who introduced us."
Mary nodded. "I'm so sorry." She let the room be silent for a few more moments, watching Kathy, waiting for a sign that her witness was ready for what had to come next.
When Kathy's shoulders straightened slightly and her breathing evened, Mary knew this was the time. "Kathy, you know that if you refuse to testify tomorrow, or at the trial, that Marvin will be free to hurt anyone he wants. I know you're scared, but I also know that you want to see Marvin pay for what he's done."
Kathy used both hands and the wedge of her t-shirt to wipe the tears off her face, blew her nose on an already grimy tissue she'd extracted from her pocket, and gave Mary her best attempt at a brave smile. "I want to, I just – I'm scared."
"I know." Mary patted Kathy awkwardly on the shoulder. "How about you have a nap, I'll scrounge us up some dinner in an hour or so and we can talk about tomorrow then?"
Kathy nodded and Mary slipped back into her room and closed the adjoining room's door.
Marshall was no longer in her room, she assumed he'd gone to his own room on the other side of Kathy's to shower and settle in. It was his usual routine when they had a quiet day. It suited her just fine. She was in no mood to deal with her strangely distant partner, not after the bomb Kathy had just dropped on their doorstep.
She kicked off her shoes and pulled out her mobile phone. In a few moments she was connected to Stan's voicemail. Despite her anger she managed to keep her voice bright, the yelling would come later. "Hi Stan. It's Mary. I was just wondering why no one thought it was important to let us know that our witness's next door neighbor and good friend was murdered the day before Kathy entered the program. Call me!"
They ordered pizzas and had them delivered to the front desk. When the food arrived, Mary sent Marshall down to get it and went to wake Kathy.
She found her sitting on the floor, staring blankly at the TV listening at Ron Magers and Kathy Brock as they discussed the news of the day and sank down on the floor next to her. "Anything interesting?"
"Cubs lost yesterday" Kathy informed her flatly, eyes not leaving the screen.
Mary grimaced. She'd never liked baseball, and these days thinking about baseball made her think about Raph. And since thinking about Raph meant thinking about the way she'd left him yesterday and that meant feeling both indescribably angry and incredibly guilty. I never should have told him.
"A fifteen year old girl went missing from the high school in my neighborhood," Kathy continued in the same flat tone.
Instantly Mary forgot about the problems that plagued her personal life. She shifted so she could comfortably stare at Kathy's profile. "When?"
"Three days ago."
The same day her friend was killed, Mary sighed, and the hits just keep on coming. "Are you going to be able to testify tomorrow, help us put Marvin away?"
Kathy chewed on her bottom lip. "I c-can't. He'll kill me."
"No, he won't. But if you don't testify – if you can't make yourself enter that office tomorrow and ID him – he will walk free and he will kill someone else. You know he will."
"Pizza's here!" Marshall announced brightly, entering through the adjoining door from Mary's room carrying two white Giordano's Pizzeria boxes, paper plates and a six pack of coke.
Mary shot him a dirty look, annoyed at the interruption that came just as she thought she might be getting through. She forgave him a few seconds later when he passed her a plate of pizza and an ice cold pop. It was hard to be angry with another passing out free food.
They kept the conversation light as they made short work of the pizza and coke. Marshall filled would be awkward silences with tidbits of trivia that only a man like Marshall would bother to know let alone share.
"Ancient Greeks ate bread covered with oil herbs and cheese."
"Chicago-style pizza was invented by Ike Seawell, a Texas U Football star, in 1956."
"Coca-Cola was originally created in the late 19th century by a John Pemberton as a cawcaine, which is a mixture of wine and cocaine, and called Pemberton's French Wine Coca. It was renamed CocaCola in 1986 when prohibition forced Pemberton to replace wine with a non alcoholic syrup. Pemberton claimed that the newly formulated Coca-Cola cured many diseases, including morphine addiction, dyspepsia, neurasthenia, headache, and impotence."
Mary smiled and shook her head at each random bubble of knowledge, but kept her usual snide commentary to herself when she saw Kathy crack a smile and even giggle a little as Marshall delved into the wonderful world of paper manufacturing.
When they were done and Marshall reached over to take her plate and empty coke cans she mouthed thank you and received a crooked grin in return.
***
Marshall bid Mary and her witness good night at nine when Kathy began to yawn and Mary suggested they all get some sleep and headed back to his room where he put in a call to the security detail to ensure everything was alright before taking a long hot shower and changing into a pair of light grey pajama pants liberally decorated with fire trucks (a Christmas Present from his mother) and plain white t-shirt and collapsing on his bed.
He hated travelling all night. Unlike Mary who could and did sleep everywhere, Marshall couldn't turn his brain off long enough to sleep when they were transporting a witness until they were safely holed up in a hotel with a full security detail watching while he rested.
He lay for what felt like hours, staring at the ceiling listening to the typical noises of an inexpensive hotel in the evening and trying not to think. It had been a long difficult two days with next to no sleep. There was a time when he looked forward to these long weekends away from Albuquerque, but that was before. In the time where Mary was his best friend and Raph was no more than her convenient fuck buddy. Back when she told him, and only him, everything that went through her mind with no filters, no awkwardness and no hesitation.
Just as he slipped into the place between sleep and waking where reality and dreams bleed together, his phone rang. He rolled to his feet with a groan and slapped the mobile phone to his ear. "Marshall."
"Marshall, It's Stan."
"Hi Stan."
"I've talked to Dr. Finkle, she thinks we need to have a complete work up done on your witness before taking her in to ID the guy."
"Ok."
"So I called the local Marshal's office. They're going to send over their staff psychologist – Dr. Madison Leery – first thing tomorrow to do the evaluation."
"Thanks, Stan." Marshall disconnected the call and stepped out into the hallway. It was late, but Mary would want to know what was in store for her witness the next day.
His soft knock at her door went unanswered, he considered that she might be asleep but dismissed the idea. Mary had always been more of a night person and it was only eleven. It was more likely that she was in with her witness. He pulled out a copy of her room key and let himself in.
The sight of Mary half sitting, half laying on the bed, face relaxed and vulnerable set off a sharp pang in his chest. She looked as if she'd fallen asleep mid motion, the .22 glock she usually kept in a holster around her ankle hung loosely from her right hand, which was dangling off the edge of the bed, almost skimming the carpet. As gently and quietly as possible Marshall lifted the gun from her hands and placed in the bedside drawer, pulled back the covers and tucked her beneath them.
She groaned once and snuggled deeply into the pillow he placed under her head, but did not wake. Against all of his best instincts Marshall allowed himself to linger at her bedside for several minutes. He watched, heart beating more loudly than it had any right to, as her brow furrowed and she squirmed in response to whatever dream was chasing its way through her mind. She grumbled something that sounded something like 'don't want to' and then her face relaxed into a half smile and she lay still again. "Goodnight Mary," he whispered, bending to place a tender kiss on her temple.
He grabbed Kathy's case file form the table on his way out - scribbling a quick note to Mary on the hotel stationary to let her know a shrink was coming that morning and that he'd taken the file- it would be hours before he would be able to sleep.
***
For the first time in weeks Mary woke to the steady, obnoxious buzz of an alarm clock and felt completely rested. She stretched her arms above her head and glanced over at the clock. They had three hours before she should head to the station for Kathy's statement. Plenty of time for a nice hot shower and some breakfast from room service once she made such Kathy was alright.
She reached under her pillow for the loaded glock she usually kept there. Her fingers skimmed over silky sheets, no gun. She frowned and lifted the pillow, no gun. She really was exhausted these days if she was forgetting her gun. She pulled on a pair of jeans and a cotton undershirt, dug her second gun out of the bottom of her bag and slipped it into its holster on her belt, thankful that she hadn't needed either gun during the night.
She gave the room a cursory scan, Kathy's folder was missing and there was a note in its place. She picked up the piece of paper and shook her head. Trust Marshall to stay up the entire night reading a case file. Doofus probably had her glock too. She knew he objected to a loaded gun under her pillow, no matter how often she assured him she didn't sleep walk or throw her pillows in her sleep. She would wake him in a while and give him hell for scaring her. For now she would check on Kathy, just to be safe.
She taped lightly on the adjoining door between her room and Kathy's. where there was no answer she slipped it open and entered the room. The bed was mussed, obviously slept in, but empty. "Kathy?" she called, scanning the room cautiously. She heard a burst of water from the shower and returned to her own room. She would check back in half an hour or so to see how Kathy was holding up. She knew the woman only agreed to return to the Chicago PD offices the night before because she was afraid to be kicked out of the program, it was possible that she'd rethought the decision during the night. Which meant it was Mary's job to ensure that she didn't back out again.
Mary was slipping off her white cotton undershirt so she could hop in the shower when she heard the shot. In under a minute she flew through the door to Kathy's room, gun at the ready. A quick sweep showed no one there, she turned to the bathroom door. The door was still closed and she could hear the noise of the shower over th rapid staccato of her heart. "Kathy?; she called out.
No answer.
"Kathy!" Mary took a step back from the door, "Kathy, open up or I'm coming in."
One solid kick was enough to splinter the cheap hotel door, forcing it inwards. The smell hit her senses before her brain could reconcile the sight before her eyes. Sticky, sweet, familiar – freshly shed blood peppered with gunpowder. Her eyes caught up quickly, practiced at observation they made quick work of the scene before them, blood mixed with brain matter spattered on the walls like a bizarre impressionist painting, window locked and shut, shower running, pooled blood diluted to a sick pink, empty eyes, her missing glock clutched in a lifeless hand. Her brain cataloged these details even as her stomach tried roiled and the edges of her vision darkened ominously.
She didn't hear Marshall enter the room, didn't even know he was there until his strong arms were pulling her backwards, away from the horror, and his strong familiar voice telling her to breathe, just breathe.
But she couldn't breathe. Breathing was impossible. There was something in her throat, clogging it, she couldn't breathe. Each hard-won breath that she managed to suck in around the lump in her throat brought a fresh wave of that sickening sweet scent. Blackness once again crowded at the edge of her vision. This time she surrendered to it and dropped into sweet oblivion.