The White Angel Murder

26

Stanton went surfing the next day before the sun was up and stayed on the beach well into late morning. Someone with a large truck was selling tacos out the back and he bought two breakfast tacos and a horchata and ate near the surf, letting the water foam at his ankles. He then slept, the sun warming his cheeks and neck, and showered in one of the public showers provided by the city before heading into the office.

The entire building was quiet. No one laughing or telling stories and only speaking when absolutely necessary. Officers would quietly nod to each other in understanding when passing in the halls, to everyone except Stanton. Word had already gotten around.

He went to his office and shut the door. He turned on Pandora and listened to the Enigma station as he let his thoughts drift for awhile before turning to his computer. There was an email from Chin:

Hey, you were right. Taken off the case this morning.

C H

When he was through checking his emails, he saw he had two voicemails. One was from Melissa, wondering if he had the number to a doctor they liked to use when they were married. It was an odd little fact they shared and it tugged at him to be reminded of it. They would both have to use the same doctor. No, one of them would change. They would have to.

The other was a hang up. He turned away from his desk and spun the chair around so he could look outside. There were no clouds and the sun was cooking the city. He wished desperately he could’ve spent the whole day at the beach.

Tommy buzzed him. The chief would like to see him.

Harlow was not on the phone and was not even flipping through paperwork or a magazine when Stanton walked in. He was sitting quietly at his desk looking at his monitor. He turned toward Stanton as he sat down and smiled.

“I’m not a bullshitter, Jon. You know that.”

“I know.”

“So I’m not going to bullshit you. This is bad. One of my detectives was killed because you didn’t follow the orders of your superior. The media’s gotten hold of it already. Hunter wrote an op/ed in the Trib.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he did.”

“George wants me to refer this to the DA to see if there was any criminal negligence. I don’t think there was and I’m not going to do that. But I can’t have you on the unit anymore. It would taint everything we do.”

“I know.”

“I’m going to put you on administrative leave, with pay, until this thing blows over in the papers. Won’t be long I’m guessing. Some meth-head will shoot up a party cause he thinks the CIA’s out to get him and people will forget about this.”

He rose. “Can I go?”

“Sure. I’m sorry about this, Jon. I wish this could’a turned out different.”

“Me too.”

*****

Stanton waited by the fence at Theodore Roosevelt Elementary as his son walked out. He was carrying drawings he had done and Stanton wondered who they were for.

“Hey champ.”

“Dad!”

Mathew ran up and threw his arms around his father. Stanton hugged him back and kissed the top of his head, smelling his hair. He remembered the day at the hospital when Mathew had a fever of 103 and wasn’t yet a year old. He remembered rocking him late into the night and the smell of his skin and hair and the fear that was inside him as he looked at his boy’s cherubic face.

“What’re you doing here?”

“I just wanted to come by and see you. So what’s going on?”

“I got picked for soccer today and Josh kicked the ball really hard and it hit me in the face.”

“Oh no.”

“Yeah but I didn’t cry. I just kicked the ball back and said I was fine.”

“Good for you.”

“There’s mom.”

Melissa drove up in her car and parked. She saw Stanton and waved, a slight smile on her lips as she saw them walk toward her.

“Hey,” she said.

“Hey. I just wanted to see him. Where’s Jon Junior?”

“He’s at day care.”

“Since when do you put him in day care?”

“Just a few times a week so I can do my yoga.”

“Melissa, we talked about this.”

“Not now, Jon. I don’t want to hear it. I have a life too. It can’t all be spent at home.”

Stanton looked down to Mathew who was hugging his leg. He had moonlighted early in his career as a bodyguard, a bouncer and even a night watchmen at a warehouse so that they would never have to put their kids in day care. He had done two years in Special Victims and had seen the videos of what happened when monsters were left alone with children and thought nobody was watching.

“Let’s go Matt.”

“I want to go with dad.”

“You’ll see him on the weekend. Come on.”

Mathew begrudgingly let go of his father’s leg and got into the car. He smiled and said bye and watched Stanton as they pulled away. Stanton turned toward his own car when he saw some boys in football uniforms assembled on the school’s field. On the sidelines the parents had gathered and were chatting. He walked onto the field and stood farther away than the other parents but close enough to listen in on their conversations. It was mundane and obvious but he ached to join them. To brag about his son’s time in the forty meter dash or how they had been practicing tackling in the backyard. But he knew that wasn’t his destiny. That was now Lance’s … if he wanted it.