“It played out just the way you said.”
“None of this would’ve happened if he hadn’t pulled that gun. I damn near shit my pants.”
“Then none of this was premeditated. That’s what you’re saying here, right? That you didn’t premeditate what happened?”
Rooney wanted to be seen as the victim, so Talley was sending the subtle message that he sympathized with Rooney’s situation.
“We just wanted to rob the place. I’ll admit that. But, fuck, here comes the Chinaman pulling a gun. I had to defend myself, right? I wasn’t trying to shoot him. I was just trying to get the gun away so he couldn’t shoot me. It was an accident.”
The adversarial edge disappeared from Rooney’s voice. Talley knew that this was the first indication that Rooney was beginning to see Talley as a collaborator. Talley lowered his voice, sending a subtle cue that this was just between them.
“Can the other two guys hear me?”
“Why do you want to know that?”
“I understand that they might be there with you, so you don’t have to respond to what I’m about to say, Dennis. Just listen.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I know you’re worried about what will happen to you because the officer was shot. I’ve been thinking about that, so I’ve got a question. Was anyone else in there shooting besides you? Just a yes or no, if that’s all you can say.”
Talley already knew the answer from Jorgenson and Anders. He let the question hang in the air. He could hear Rooney breathe.
“Yes.”
“Then maybe it wasn’t your bullets that hit the officer. Maybe it wasn’t you who shot him.”
Talley had gone as far as he could. He had suggested that Rooney could beat the rap by shifting the blame to one of the other subjects. He had given Rooney a doorway out. Now, he had to back off and let Rooney brood over whether or not to step through.
“Dennis, I want to give you my cell phone number. That way you can reach me whenever you want to talk. You won’t have to shout out the window.”
“That’d be good.”
Talley gave him the number, told Rooney that he was going to take another break, then once more backed his car out of the cul-de-sac. Leigh Metzger was waiting for him on the street outside of Mrs. Pena’s home. She wasn’t alone. Talley’s wife and daughter were with her.
Santa Monica Hospital Emergency Room
Santa Monica, California
Fifteen years ago
Officer Jeff Talley, shirtless but still wearing his blue uniform pants even though they are ripped and streaked with blood, notices her calves first. He is a sucker for shapely calves. Talley is sitting on a gurney in the emergency room, his torn hand packed in a bowl of ice to reduce the swelling and kill the pain while he waits for them to take him to X-ray. His partner, a senior patrol officer named Darren Consuelo, is currently locking Talley’s gun, radio, Sam Browne, and other equipment in the trunk of their patrol car for safekeeping.
The nurse comes out of a door across the room, lost in whatever she’s scribbling on the clipboard, dressed in white with a pale blue apron, her dark hair pulled back into a ponytail. The calves get him first because they are not hidden by the clunky white stockings that nurses often wear; they are sleek, strong, and fiercely brown from much time in the sun. She has legs like a gymnast or sprinter, which Talley likes. He checks her out: tight ass, trim body, shoulders broad for her small stature. Then he sees her face. She appears to be about his age, twenty-three, twenty-four, something like that.
“Nurse?”
He winces when she glances over, trying to look like he’s suffering intense pain. In truth, his hand is numb.
She recognizes the LAPD pants and shoes, smiles encouragingly.
“How’s it going, Officer?”
She is not a beautiful woman, but she is pretty with healthy clean skin, and an expression of kindness that moves him. Her eyes glow with a warmth that fills him.
“Ah, Nurse-”
He reads her name tag. Jane Whitehall.
“Jane … they were supposed to bring me to X-ray, but I’ve been out here forever. Think you could check for me?”
He makes the grimace again, impressing her with his suffering.
“I know they’re backed up tonight, but I’ll see what I can do. What’s wrong?”
He lifts his hand from the pink ice. The fleshy pad on the inside of his third finger is ripped and torn. The edges of the laceration are blue from the cold, but the bleeding has mostly stopped.
Nurse Whitehall grimaces sympathetically.
“Ow. That’s nasty.”
Talley nods.
“I chased a rape suspect into a backyard in Venice, where the guy sicced his pit bull on me. I’m lucky I’ve still got a hand.”
Nurse Whitehall carefully places his hand back into the ice. Like her eyes, her touch is warm and certain
“Did you catch him?”
“Yes, ma’am. He went down hard, but he went down. I always get my man.”
He smiles, letting her know that he is kidding her, and she returns his smile. Talley thinks that he is making great headway, and is about to tell her that he has just been accepted to become a Special Weapons and Tactics officer when Consuelo comes plopping around the corner with a DietCoke and two PayDay candy bars. Consuelo, like always, smells of cigarettes.
“Jesus, you’re still sittin’ there? Haven’t they snapped the picture yet?”
Talley takes the Diet Coke, wishing that Consuelo would go back to the candy machine. He wants to be alone with the nurse.
“They’re backed up. You can hang out in the coffee shop, you want. I’ll find you when I’m done here.”
Nurse Whitehall smiles politely at Consuelo.
“I’ll see where we are with the X-ray.”
Consuelo grunts, gruff and pissed off about having to spend his day in the emergency room.
“While you’re back there, snag a load of klutz pills for this guy, extra strength.”
Quickly, Talley says, “I’ll find you in the coffee shop.”
Nurse Whitehall cocks her head, clearly wondering what Consuelo means.
“Were you with him when the pit bull attacked?”
“That what he told you happened to his hand?”
Talley feels the flush creep up his neck. He meets Consuelo’s eyes with a silent plea for help.
“Yeah, Consuelo was there. When we collared the rapist in Venice.”
Consuelo bursts out laughing, spraying peanuts and caramel all over the gurney.
“A rapist? A pit bull? Jesus, lady, this dumb putz slammed his finger in the car door.”
Consuelo walks away, gurgling his smoker’s laugh.
Talley wants to crawl under the gurney and disappear. When he looks at Nurse Whitehall again, she is staring at him.
Talley shrugs, trying to make a joke.
“I thought it was worth the shot.”
“That really how you hurt your hand, you caught it in a car door?”
“Not very heroic, is it?”
“No.”
“Well, there you go.”
Nurse Whitehall walks three steps away, stops, turns back, and looks at him with an expression of profound confusion.