Come on out. Don't be afraid," Alexa shouted through the bolted iron door. "You've been afraid since you were born. It's time to put all that behind you."
"That's ridiculous," I called back. "The only fears we're born with are fear of falling and fear of loud noises. All other fears are learned." Sweat was dripping out of my hair, into my eyes.
"I won't hurt you, I promise," she said. "Open the door."
My heart was beating fast, my eyes strained to see in the dark enclosed space. "Fear is what lets you grow," I shouted through the door. "I've had my head shrunk by the best. I know the drill. You can't just live in a comfort zone. You have to take chances if you want to improve." I could barely make out the walls. Dim light seeped in through a few holes in the rafters.
"Come out, Shane. I promise I won't hurt you."
"But you already have." I was crying. I never cry, but I was crying. Tears ran. Hot tracks of salt and self-pity.
"But I don't mean to hurt you," she called to me.
"I know. But I can't take this. I can't live like this. Not knowing is killing me."
"But I'm right here. Right outside this door. All you have to do is come out."
I woke up without opening my eyes. I had departed from one darkness and was suddenly in another. I remembered lying down on the bed with the police graduation book on my chest, trying to sort out what it meant that Slade and Alexa's relationship dated back to the Police Academy. I had not intended to fall asleep, but fatigue had overtaken me. Then I dreamed, and my dreams were torture.
I opened my eyes, sat up, and looked at the clock in our bedroom. It was eight in the morning. Damn. I jumped out of bed, went into the bathroom, slapped water on my face, and looked into reddened eyes. I looked different. Everything was the same, but somehow it wasn't. There was less here than there was yesterday.
Then the front doorbell rang.
I grabbed my jacket and moved to the side window and looked out at the street.
Parked by the side of my house was the maroon Crown Vic. It was empty. Tommy and Rafie were at the front door.
Decision time. What do I do? Do I open up and risk taking an arrest? Or do I slip out the back door and beat feet down the canal walk to the side street? I was still half-asleep, but then a thought hit me. Maybe these guys knew something. Maybe they'd found Alexa.
I opened the door.
"Thank God you finally went home," Tommy said. There was a piece of yellow paper in his left hand that looked like some kind of internal department document.
"Yeah," I answered. "Finally came to my senses. Whatta you doing here? I was expecting the I. A. rat squad."
"Takes a little time for a shit souffle to rise," Rafie said. "They gotta get a deputy chief to sign their warrant and DCs don't get in till ten. We got our paper from the division commander who gets in at seven." "What paper is that?"
Tommy handed me the yellow sheet. It was an internal demand served on Alexa's computer.
"You want her computer?"
"Police property. We're reclaiming it as part of the investigation."
"I see," I said, cussing myself. I hadn't even thought to look at her personal computer. I didn't want these two guys in my house going through her files so I centered myself in the doorway.
"Don't be a schmuck," Rafie said.
"Look, I'm…"
"You gonna step aside or is this going to turn into a police incident?" Rafie said. Both of them looked like they were a heartbeat from thumping the crap out of me. Actually, scanning her computer was a good idea. I should have beat them to it, but with the two of them standing there, I knew that race was pretty much over.
"Okay," I finally said, and stood aside.
"Where is it?" Tommy asked.
"Her office." I led them through the house into a small storage room off the hall that we'd converted into a place for Alexa to work. No windows, a small workspace, everything stacked and organized neatly, Alexa-style. I turned on the lights and motioned to the desk. Her computer was gone.
"Where is it?" Rafie said. The tension in his voice was hard to miss.
"I don't know." And I didn't.
"Starting last night you were a problem, but me and Tommy were trying to look past it because the Lieutenant is your wife. Now, however, we're talking criminal malfeasance. Obstructing justice, withholding evidence, interfering in a homicide investigation, accessory after the fact. You're stacking up felonies faster than an E-Street gangster."
"I don't know where the computer is," I said. But in the next instant, I figured it out. John Bodine stole it. He hadn't been looking out my side window earlier, when I'd caught him, he'd been unlatching it. That's why he jumped. Then after I dumped him on the Nickel, he must have rented a cab using my money, come back here, shimmied through the window, and stole the computer. My guess was when I checked the house I'd find he'd liberated a lot of other stuff as well.
"I'm going to ask the Professional Standards Bureau to pick you up, Shane. You won't stay out of this, so I'm gonna have you held," Tommy said.
"We all do what we have to do," I answered.
They turned and walked out of my house, leaving me standing in Alexa's office looking at her empty desk.
After they were gone, I took a quick tour. Bodine had stolen two TVs, Chooch's stereo, and a microwave, along with Alexa's computer.
He'd clouted our stuff and true to his rep, was long gone.