April 19, 1992
8:21 a.m.
'
"Late night?"
"What?" I ask, looking up from my coffee mug and into the smiling face of my partner, Chin Ho Kelly.
"Did you have a late night?" he asks again, pulling out his chair and taking a seat at his worn, scratched-up desk, which directly faces mine.
I consider lying, but Chin Ho is too smart for that. And observant. It's one of the reasons I picked him for my partner, even though he's a rookie. He's been at work for all of two minutes this morning, and I'm sure he's already noticed the slight hunch of my shoulders and the bags under my eyes, not to mention my neglect of the sports page and preoccupation with my yet untouched coffee.
No, Chin Ho is too smart to buy a lie. But I really can't tell him the real reason why I was up late. Even though I'm not sure who I can trust in HPD, I'm sure I could trust Chin. But I don't want to put him at risk or take the chance that we might be overheard, that one misspoken word or a knowing glance could do us all in. No, I have to keep it to myself. Things are dangerous enough already. And for a cop to say that… well, that's saying something.
"Yeah, a little," I admit, before taking a sip of my now lukewarm coffee.
Chin grins. "I knew you'd stay up watching the game. I can't believe the Tigers pulled that one off. I thought the White Sox had them for sure."
I nod, thankful that I didn't have to come up with a plausible cover story. "Just goes to show you should never underestimate your opponent." Not in baseball, not in life, and certainly not in police work. Which is exactly what I told Mary a few weeks ago.
I never wanted her to get involved, to start investigating. "It's too dangerous," I told her. Especially for a civilian, even if she is a cop's wife. And a pretty decent shot, too. But she pleaded. Insisted. "Nobody will suspect a thing. I'm already in the job, John. I can't just ignore what I heard." And, truth be told, the cop in me had a hard time ignoring it, too.
After an hour of discussion, we finally reached an agreement. She would keep her eyes and ears open and pass along anything she learned to me. Then, we'd go over the information together at home at night. But under no circumstances was she to do anything out of the ordinary at work, nothing to arouse suspicion. If the choice was between getting information and standing out or remaining in the dark and appearing normal, she was to go for normal every time.
At first, she found it exciting. "It's just like playing Nancy Drew," she said. Playing Nancy Drew sounds safe, as if she would be solving mysteries from the safety and comfort of our living room. But we quickly realized what she has stumbled upon was far more serious than first anticipated. What appeared at first to be a simple misuse of power was blossoming into something much bigger. Bribery and money laundering, for starters. And the straightforward Nancy Drew mystery turned into a game of Clue, with too many suspects and far too many potential crimes. And I learned, first-hand, that it's hard to figure out what Professor Plum and Miss Scarlett are plotting, and to where the lead pipe and rope disappeared, when all you can really focus on is Mrs. White, sitting alone, and vulnerable, in the library.
I wanted Mary to get out weeks ago, to quit, but she convinced me she needed to stay. That our only hope of bringing them down was to get information. Inside information. Information that she was privy to only if she kept working. She dug in her heels, exhibiting her stubborn streak, and finally, I relented. We agreed she'd only stay long enough for me to get what HPD will need to press charges. Charges that would stick, and couldn't be weaseled out of by some smooth-talking, high-priced defense attorney. And once we have that, she'll get out that instant, and not one second later.
In the meantime, I worry about Mary. Morning, noon, and night. But especially late at night, long after Steven and Mary Ann are asleep and we've reviewed any findings she's had that day. In the darkness and stillness of the house, after we've crawled into bed and said our "good-nights", the weight of what we are investigating presses down on me, threatens to crush me, and the air is stifling, even with the window open to the cool, Hawaii breeze.
Neither one of us sleeps much anymore, but last night, she drifted off first. And as I lay there, in bed, watching her sleep, I wondered what we've gotten ourselves into.
And how much longer it will be before we can get back out.
To be continued…