Mother's Milk (34 page)

‘I know … he's solid, and funny and smart and … I really messed things up with him.'

‘Do you love him?'

Ruth's bluntness stunned her, but the answer that came fast and clear shocked her. ‘I do. I really do, but he's seeing someone else and … I …'

A knock at the door. ‘Can I come in?' Jerod asked.

‘Hold on,' Barrett said, buttoning her pajama top. ‘OK.'

The tip of his head poked through, his dreads concealed beneath a red kerchief identical to the one her mother wore. ‘You want coffee?' he asked, pushing the door with his foot while carrying three steaming mugs. He was wearing a pair of blue scrubs and his feet were bare.

‘That would be great, and who are you?' Barrett asked. ‘What happened to Jerod?'

‘It's me. I didn't know what either of you took, so it's the junkie special for everyone.'

‘What's that?' Ruth asked.

‘Four sugars and half of it's milk.'

‘How does that make it a junkie special?'

‘Sugar, something about dope, you always want sweets. Plus where you don't think too much about food, and all your money goes for dope, it turns a cup of coffee into a meal. Sugar has calories and you can take as much as you want for free, same thing with milk,' he explained.

Barrett put Max back in his crib and sipped the hot sweet coffee. ‘It's not bad.' She usually took it black, but found something comforting in it, like a child's first taste of coffee, all the bitterness buried under sugar. ‘Are you hurting?' she asked, looking at Jerod. The circles under his eyes were less extreme, but his pupils had still not returned to normal.

‘Craving like a mother,' he said, settling down on the rocker beside the crib, ‘but I think the worst is past. The voice is there,' he said, ‘keeps telling me to use, that I'm not going to be able to stay clean. I figure I'll stay in as much as possible, maybe vacuum or something. I have to stay busy.'

‘Vacuum?' Barrett asked.

‘I don't know why,' he said, ‘it's soothing, the noise and the feeling like you're getting something done.'

‘You can vacuum all you want,' Ruth said, ‘not my favorite thing.'

‘Good, because if you're going to let me stay here, you've got to let me do stuff. I'll do all the cleaning, and if you need me to look after Max, it's no problem.'

Ruth shot Barrett a look.

‘I saw that,' he said. ‘If you don't want me looking after Max I understand.'

‘It's not—' Barrett began.

He interrupted her. ‘Dr. Conyors, you don't have to explain. You've done too much already. And letting some junkie schizophrenic look after your kid … probably get DFYS knocking at your door.'

‘You know,' Barrett said, ‘I've got other fish to fry and if DFYS want to complain about my child-rearing, they've got plenty of their own problems to answer for.'

‘No kidding,' Jerod said, taking a gulp of the super-sweet coffee. ‘I hope you don't get mad … but I kind of heard what you were talking about … You know he's into you?'

Barrett felt blood rush to her cheeks, ‘I think you're wrong,' she said, wanting to avoid a coffee-klatch over her non-romantic life.

‘I'm not,' he affirmed, ‘he's always looking at you, and you can just tell. I think if you gave him half a chance.'

‘Can we please talk about something … anything else,' Barrett said, but wondering if Jerod was right, and then relieved by the sudden ringing of the phone. ‘I'll get it,' she said. It was Marla.

‘Dr. Conyors, I hate to bother you, but I just got off the phone with the Lieutenant Governor, there's a meeting in two hours and he insisted that you be there. He said it has to do with the department and Dr. Fleet. I told him you hadn't come in and weren't feeling well. He got kind of rude, said this wasn't optional, and that you were expected.'

‘OK, Marla, just tell me where and when. Also, what are people saying about what happened?'

‘It's wild. She was murdered in her apartment, they're saying it was a failed robbery.'

‘Anything else?' Barrett asked.

‘No, why?'

‘I can't say, but keep your ears open, let me know about any gossip and who's doing it.'

‘Does this have something to do with whoever broke into your office?'

‘Among other things.'

‘I do have one tidbit,' Marla offered.

‘Yes?'

‘It seems Hugh Osborn reported his key card as being stolen.'

‘When?'

‘Yesterday.'

‘Interesting, but it shouldn't give him access to my office anyway.'

‘Well … that's what I thought,' Marla said, ‘and then I asked a few questions down at security, it turns out that when he was trying to take over your office during your leave, he'd told them to give him access … and they had. When you returned they never deactivated it.'

‘Excellent work, Marla,' she felt a sense of satisfaction as one of the missing pieces slid into place, ‘but don't let Hugh know what you just told me. I've got to figure out just how much of this mess he's involved with.'

‘It wasn't a robbery, was it?' Marla asked.

‘The break-in?'

‘No, I meant Dr. Fleet. It was something else, wasn't it?'

‘Yes, but why would you think that?'

‘Something the Lieutenant Governor said about the meeting, called it damage control … that and I've had half a dozen reporters try to get through to you.'

‘Anything else?'

‘That's about it. Just please be careful. I've seen how these higher-ups use everyone below them as target practice.'

‘I'll do my best.' Barrett hung up and looked at the clock. She hated the feeling of being ordered around, but her curiosity was blazing. Janice had been a darling of this administration; depending on what came out in the press, ‘damage control' was going to be tough.

Now eleven and she'd need to be downtown in less than two hours … at least they hadn't insisted on meeting in Albany. ‘Mom, do you still have that gray suit I got you?'

‘Just wore it the once,' she admitted. ‘Not really my style – I think it's still in a dry-cleaning bag.'

‘Could you find it, and some kind of neutral blouse. You wear nines, right?'

‘Yes, dear, you inherited your mother's big feet.'

‘Please get me your most boring black pumps, preferably something with a low heel … although it doesn't matter.'

‘Where are you going?' Ruth asked. ‘You're telling me after all you went through last night, you have to go to work?'

‘No choice.'

‘You have court today?'

‘No, apparently I'm about to meet the Lieutenant Governor, and Lord knows who else. I have a feeling heads are about to roll. My boss had wanted me fired and until they appoint someone as acting commissioner I guess I report all the way to the top. Wonder if I'll have a job at the end of the day.'

‘Serious?' Jerod asked.

‘This could blow up in the press,' she said, wondering just how involved Janice had been with the drugs and whatever creepy dealings Chase had had.

‘You want me to go with you?' Jerod asked, clearly alarmed. ‘I can vouch for you. You're the only doctor who's ever really cared. I mean look at all you've done for me. People don't do that.'

‘Jerod,' Barrett said, wondering what he would look like without all that hair, ‘that's sweet. But caring and competence have nothing to do with politics … there's going to be all kinds of investigations.'

‘You're serious,' her mom said. ‘You think they'd try to blame what happened on you?'

‘Don't know,' Barrett said, feeling a surge of determination, ‘but I've a feeling this is going to be one hell of a day.'

On the cab ride down, Barrett called Houssman. Her long-time mentor had earlier called. ‘It made the papers,' he reported, ‘not a lot of particulars and still entirely separate stories.'

‘How did you even know about it?'

‘Spies in low places,' he said.

‘Whatever,' suspecting he'd gone through Marla, who was still devoted to George – her former boss. ‘Give me the details. I literally just rolled out of bed and was commanded to this high-echelon meeting, tell me what they wrote.'

‘OK,' he said, papers crinkling. ‘Page two, Metro section, we've got a police manhunt in TriBeCa, gunshots fired … one seriously injured suspect, another in custody.'

‘Stop there. Seriously injured, not dead?'

‘Not dead and names not released either, which unless they were minors, why keep the names out? Right there, you know something's up.'

‘What else?' she asked, feeling a burden of relief that she'd not killed Chase, followed by a severely queasy feeling that he was still alive.

‘The big news … front page,
Commissioner of DFYS murdered in her Chelsea home … apparent robbery … undisclosed amount of jewelry and cash … police looking for suspects
, and then quite a lovely bio of Janice …
creator
and founder of the Mother's Milk drop-in centers … a force for at-risk youth
, and on and on. Hmm.'

‘What?'

‘Well, usually when a top-ranking official dies the reporters throw in some accolades from politicos. Not today.'

‘This all happened in the early
A.M.
, George, I doubt they had the time to—'

‘Of course they did,' he interrupted, ‘look at how quickly they rallied the forces for whatever inquisition you're about to step into. I know I don't need to tell you this, Barrett, but keep your ears open and shift into day-at-court mode, answer truthfully but don't elaborate. Yes and no are two very good words.'

‘Got it,' she said, as the cab pulled up to the state's downtown administration building. Middle of the lunch hour and a gorgeous day, which any New Yorker who'd survived 9/11 could tell you is not always a good thing; sometimes nightmares happen on beautiful days.

She caught her reflection in the plate-glass doors, and then in the admiring glances of the two security guards – one young and thin, the other close to retirement – who had her remove all metal objects and step through the detector.

‘Barrett, wait up.'

She turned and saw Hobbs, dressed in a navy suit, starched white shirt, and striped tie, as he pushed through the doors, and stripped off his sidearm, cell phone, detective shield, and all other metal. ‘You look nice,' he said.

‘Thanks,' and quickly added, ‘you too.'

‘Right,' he said passing through and setting off the detector. He raised his arms and stood still as the younger guard passed the wand over him.

‘It's your belt,' he commented. ‘You can go on in.'

‘So what's this all about?' Barrett asked, as they waited for the elevator.

‘Wish I knew, Schmitt told me to put on a suit and get my butt downtown. Apparently our shenanigans last night have got some of the big boys worried.'

‘I hate this part … so Chase isn't dead?'

‘Nope, pretty banged up, though. Should I ask him if he wants another date?'

‘Bastard.'

The doors opened and a dark-suited aide met them. ‘Dr. Conyors, Detective Hobbs, please come this way.'

Barrett shot Hobbs a look. The aide led them to a corner conference room, and opened the door on to a sun-filled space with two middle-aged men, one with gray hair and glasses, the other with a large center bald spot, both in shirtsleeves and ties, their jackets on the back of their chairs.

The balding man, who had a gut, looked at Hobbs. ‘Ed, good to see you.'

‘Same,' Hobbs said, going to shake hands, and then turned to Barrett, ‘Dr. Conyors, this is Daryl Fisk, Deputy Chief of Detectives.'

The other man was Reginald Compton, the Lieutenant Governor. Introductions were made, hands shaken, and first names agreed upon before they took seats at one end of the large burnished mahogany table.

‘Let me come straight to the point,' the Lieutenant Governor began. ‘We've been made aware that Dr. Fleet has been implicated in illegal activities, and that she used her position and influence to carry these out. We need to know the extent of her involvement and that of any other state employees. Where there's a criminal investigation,' and he looked toward Hobbs and the Deputy Chief, ‘we'll need close coordination between the NYPD and our own internal investigation, as well as considerable … sensitivity. My understanding is that the two of you have the greatest sense of what we're dealing with, and to be blunt, I need to know just how bad this is.' He looked at Hobbs and then Barrett. Neither spoke. ‘Well?'

‘Go ahead,' Daryl Fisk instructed Hobbs.

And Ed dispassionately laid out the facts of the case, from the peddling of dope in the city's college dormitories to a high degree of suspicion that young girls were being sold into the sex trade. He described how he came to discover Janice Fleet's body and how she was likely connected to her one-time patient Chase Strand – a DFYS counselor.

The Lieutenant Governor said nothing as Ed went on to recount the events of the past week. His elbows rested on the table, the tips of his fingers in front of his mouth. He waited for Hobbs to finish and looked at Barrett. ‘This Chase Strand who … fell from the roof, how well did you know him?'

‘I met him yesterday.'

‘No prior contact whatsoever?' he asked.

‘No.'

‘And yet you went out to dinner with him last night.'

‘Yes,' she said, feeling defensive, ‘and he tried to kill me.'

‘What will he say when he's interrogated?' the Lieutenant Governor asked.

The question defied George's counsel of sticking to yes and no. ‘It depends on what offers are made,' she said, imagining the clockwork ticking behind the Lieutenant Governor's wire-framed glasses. ‘Chase is a sociopath with a high IQ, he feels no remorse for his many killings, and will do anything possible to receive the lightest punishment. Problem is, he's directly implicated in several murders, and if he didn't pull the trigger himself, they would have been under his direction. He'll try to shift the blame to Janice Fleet. The likely problem is his lieutenant, Marky, and if he's not under close supervision I'd be concerned that something bad will happen to him.'