4th of July

Chapter 97

I FORGOT ABOUT YUKI as soon as she turned away from me. I was falling backward in time, feeling the pain of that horrifying night. The whooshing sound of Sam’s breathing was like the sound of salt water washing over my open wounds, and the courtroom was a slick sea of faces, reflecting back what must have been my own pained and stricken expression.

I picked out six members of the Cabot family by their resemblance to Sara and Sam, and the fury in their eyes. And I saw cops everywhere, men and women I’d known and worked with for years. My eyes locked on Jacobi, and his eyes held mine. He gave me a thumbs-up and I wanted to smile, but Mason Broyles was coming toward me.

He wasted no time with amenities.

“Lieutenant Boxer, when you shot my client and his sister, did you shoot to kill?”

There was a loud ringing in my ears as I tried to understand his question. Had I shot to kill? Yes. But how could I say that I had meant to kill those kids?

“I’m sorry, Mr. Broyles. Could you repeat the question?”

“Let me ask it another way. If this incident happened as you say, that Sara and Sam Cabot refused to put down their guns, why didn’t you simply disable them? Shoot them in the arms or legs, for instance.”

I hesitated, trying to imagine it. Sara standing squarely facing me on the pavement. Those shots pounding into my body. Falling to the street. The shock. The pain. The shame.

“Lieutenant?”

“Mr. Broyles, I fired in self-defense.”

“Amazing that your aim was so good. Drunk as you were.”

“Objection. He’s badgering Lieutenant Boxer.”

“Sustained. Watch yourself, Mr. Broyles.”

“Yes, Judge. Lieutenant, I don’t understand. You shot two bullets into Sara’s heart—a pretty small target, wouldn’t you say? Why couldn’t you have shot her so that she’d survive? Why didn’t you shoot Sam Cabot’s gun out of his hand?”

“Your Honor! Asked and answered.”

“I withdraw the question. We understand what you did, Lieutenant.” Broyles sneered. “We understand exactly what happened.”