At Close Range

“Which I don’t remember at all,” he said softly.

Brian had hit his head in the accident. His memories were select. The doctors had warned that he might never remember everything.

“And they talk about the trial….”

“And the fact that the kid wasn’t tested for drugs at the scene? That he got away with some misdemeanors and a few months in jail?” Even while she understood his anger, shared it, it scared her for a second.

Because she was stressed. Worn out. Not at her best.

“What’s this got to do with SIDS?”

“They imply that you’re trying to rid the state of immigrants because of Cara. They printed a picture of you, taken ten years ago, at that rally downtown….”

“For stricter enforcement of immigration laws, I remember. But this guy can’t actually think that because I support immigration patrols, I’d resort to murdering innocent children. I’m a pediatrician, for God’s sake!” Brian’s incredulity struck a chord in Hannah. Her momentary doubts dwindled into nothing—the result of a long day, a long week. A trial that still hadn’t ended.

“Crazy, huh?” she asked her dear friend. Cara’s death had changed Brian forever. Changed them both. But he wasn’t unstable. He wasn’t disturbed enough to take the law into his own hands, as the article implied.

“I’d say someone has way too much spare time. Does it say how I supposedly bring about these deaths? Or how rich I’m getting with the supposed kickback I’m getting from the SIDS fund-raising?”

“Of course not.”

“Did they mention Carlos?”

She blinked. And blinked again. She’d only had her sweet boy for eight short weeks, but what an impact he’d made on her heart. On her life. For eight weeks out of forty years she’d been what she’d always dreamed of being—a mother.

“No,” she said when she could speak. She’d accepted that her grief was going to be a permanent part of her. And had learned to live with it. “None of the children were named.”

“So the only mention of you was regarding the seminars?”

“Yes.”

“I should sue them.”

“All they did was state facts and then imply. You can’t stop that.”

“There aren’t enough sick and twisted people in the world, doing ungodly things, that they have to drum up something like this?”

“Sick and twisted is too commonplace. The Sun News is always looking for the big angle. The story no one else has.”

It was going to be okay. The story was just that. A story. She’d overreacted.

“I wouldn’t hurt a child for anything. Not even the son of the man who killed my wife.”

“I know that.”

“I loved Carlos.”

“I know.”

“I’m sorry this came up now. You didn’t need it. I should’ve remembered the damned call. I probably could’ve prevented the whole thing.”

“Or not. You know how these people are. They had some interesting coincidental facts and that’s all they need to sell papers.”

“I don’t understand why anyone reads that crap.”

“Makes their lives seem better, I guess,” Hannah said, not wanting to hang up. On days like this she longed to be back in college when she and Cara and a few others had all lived in the same block, sharing life’s ups and downs. “You know, they see someone worse off than they are and think they have it good.”

“I hate seeing you hurt.”

“The feeling’s mutual.”

“I’ve had negative press before,” he said, sounding as tired as she felt.

So had she. Most recently the previous week when a certain unnamed reporter thought she’d been too lenient in sentencing a girl convicted of vehicular manslaughter in a hit-and-run.

“If there’s a drop-off in your patient load you can claim damages…”

“That would have to be a drop-off in my waiting list,” he said with more weariness than pride. “The accusations are ludicrous and while some people will believe anything, I have to hope this article’s going to generate more awareness of SIDS. It might actually help save a few lives.”

Trust Brian to come up with a positive spin. A fix. He was the ultimate fixer. Bodies. Minds. Hearts.

He spent his entire life fixing—as a means of escaping the things that couldn’t be fixed?

No matter how many lives he saved, he’d never be able to bring back the wife who’d died in a car he’d been driving.

“How’s the trial going?” he asked and Hannah was glad he wasn’t ready to hang up, either. It had been a couple of weeks since they’d talked and she’d missed him.

“Not great.” Glancing at the file in front of her, the one that was thicker and far more bothersome than the rest of the stack her JA had left on her desk, she said, “Based on statements made by the defense, the state, who’d already rested, moved to admit testimony from the victim of a crime the defendant was convicted of as a juvenile.”

“I thought they couldn’t bring in prior convictions because it’s prejudicial.”

She smiled, loving the fact that Brian paid enough attention when she talked about her job to pick up on the basics.

“Generally that’s correct.” Opening the file, she stared at Kenny Hill’s mug shot. And then let the folder drop shut. “But in this case, the victim of the previous crime can give information relevant to a claim the defense has made on this charge. Had the defense not made the claim, this door wouldn’t have been opened.”

“So what’d you do?”

“I took it under advisement.” Which meant she wouldn’t be getting any sleep tonight. “I told the attorneys I’d have a ruling for them by ten in the morning.”

“Do you know what you’re going to do?”

“I think so.” Still, she couldn’t act rashly. She needed to mull over all the angles. To research. To make sure. “I don’t want this case losing on appeal.”

“It’s a capital case, right? If he’s convicted isn’t it pretty much a given that it’ll be appealed?”

“Yep.”

“I don’t envy you.”