"We only met here. Can you believe that son of a bitch wouldn't even take me out to dinner?" Rosa glared at them. "He was afraid his wife would find out and steal his money." Her breath came short. "Oh, he was some piece of work."
The trocar that only doctors knew how to use, Rosa's hair on Petersen's body—on his sweater—the mink coat that Emma saw at the scene of the crime— all Rosa's. That was Ducci's message. Rosa hadn't missed the cause of death; she'd murdered the victim.
Mike opened his jacket and placed himself between Rosa and the door. He jerked his head at April to get out of the way. She moved toward the window. "Why?"
Rosa's face distorted with rage. "No way I'd let him tie me up and beat me. Not for all the money in the world. Once was enough." Her mouth twisted. "I don't let nobody trick me and hurt me like that." She sniffed back angry tears.
"What about Merrill Liberty, did she hurt you, too?"
"I'm a doctor. You understand? I'm a doctor." Rosa didn't move. "I'm a doctor. You can't treat me like this."
"I don't understand, explain it to me. He hurt you, so why didn't you just break up with him?" April asked.
Rosa shook her head. "He wouldn't let go."
April shot a look at Mike. Now one of them was at each end of the room. It occurred to April that Rosa might be crazy enough to try to shoot them. But where was the gun? Not on her person. Maybe behind the pillows in the sofa. Once again Rosa's hands were folded in her lap. She'd calmed down. Now she looked both dangerous and helpless at the same time. Spooky. This was a woman who killed her lover, then coldly dissected him as part of her job. All the pieces that hadn't fit before came together. Rosa had access to Petersen's body in the morgue. She had removed his T-shirt with the tiny hole in it and used waterproof makeup to disguise his wound. Rosa had been so cool when Ducci picked it up during the autopsy. She must have figured, as ME, she was in control. Only later, when April kept picking at it, did she feel threatened. April took off her coat and laid it over the back of a chair.
Rosa turned to her, complaining. "You got me into this by criticizing my work. I was respectful of you, and now you want to destroy me. This is not my fault."
"Rosa, let's not debate it here," April said.
"I'm a doctor. Do you know what it takes to be a doctor? Huh, you little street rats? You know how much it costs, how many years it takes? Ten years of starving and studying and taking tests, working two jobs. Eighty thousand dollars in loans," she screamed. "Call me doctor!"
"This isn't about medical school. It's about murder." April watched Rosa's hands.
"Call me doctor," Rosa insisted.
"Where's your coat, Doctor?" Mike asked.
"You got the jock. What do you need me for?"
"You talking about Liberty?"
"Fucking football player," Rosa muttered. "The man's a fucking football player. Let him go down."
"He didn't kill anybody," April said quietly.
"No!" Rosa was shocked. "You didn't let him go! I saw it on TV. He was arrested."
Mike shook his head. "You stopped watching too soon. The eleven o'clock news will have another story. Liberty wasn't arrested for the murders of Tor Petersen and Merrill Liberty."
"No!" Rosa exploded again. "I don't believe this."
"You wouldn't want someone else punished for your crimes."
"Uh-uh. You're not pinning murder on me. I didn't do anything wrong. I only did what I was told. My boss was sick. I did what he and the mayor and the police commissioner asked me to do. That's all." Rosa stood, shaking all over. "My only fault was that I knew Petersen. You can't prove anything else."
"We can prove you killed them." April watched Rosa, giving her a moment to make her decision. The best thing was to get them to confess. But sometimes they came at you instead.
"You're going to have to get me out of this," Rosa cried. "It's your fault. You started this. And now it doesn't look good for anybody. I'll blow your careers. I'll blow all their careers. No one will survive."
April thought the mayor and the police commissioner, and even Rosa's boss the ME, would survive somehow. She and Mike, however, would probably not get a medal.
"Let's go, Rosa," she said. "You can tell your story uptown."
Rosa moved toward the French windows. At first April thought she was going to close them, but Rosa quickly swung one door open and stepped outside onto the tiny balcony. April didn't pause to consider what she was doing. She followed Rosa out the door into the small space where she stood looking down at the street and shivering all over.
"No," April said softly. "That's not the way." April was trembling, too. She could hear her voice crack in the cold. The sidewalk was six stories down, and the railing on the -balcony was low, meant for plants, not people.
"Come inside. We just want to talk, that's all. You'll have lots of chances to explain. Just come inside," April urged. "Come on. This isn't the way." She held out her hand. Rosa didn't take it. "Come on."
"I'm not going to the station. You understand me. I'm not going to any police station. I'm one of the good guys." Rosa was crying now. "You're just treating me like this because I'm black. If I die, it's your fault. My blood is on your hands."
"No." April was shaking all over. Her gun was in the holster. She was too close to the woman to unholster the gun. The gun wouldn't do any good anyway. It wasn't April who was in danger.
"Yes!" Rosa screamed. "You just want a black to go down for killing those white folk. How could you do this to me? Don't you know you're colored, too?"
"No, Rosa," April said. "Come inside. We can talk about this later."
"Yes, you are. Chink and spic—colored." She spat out the words. "No better than I am."
"Mike!"
"I'm here. I'm right here." Mike reached out the door and touched April's shoulder, encouraging her to move aside. "Come inside, April."
April shook her head. She didn't want to move and give the hysterical woman a chance to jump. "1 didn't do anything wrong."
"Rosa, let me talk to you," Mike said. "No one wants to hurt you. And you don't want to get hurt." He nudged April. Will you get out of there!
There wasn't room for three of them on the balcony, no way to each take a side of Rosa and move her downstairs into the car before she was totally out of control. They'd wanted her to go quietly. They'd played nice. But Rosa was screaming now, calling for help.
"Help! help! Police brutality! Somebody help. They're trying to kill me. Helllp!" The noise soared out into the street. Later witnesses would recount the scene. Two against one. Police brutality.
"Okay, that's enough," April said sharply. She reached out to take hold of Rosa to pull her inside. At April's touch, Rosa lunged, grabbing April's arm as she tried to launch both herself and April over the railing.
April dodged, shifting her position to throw Rosa off balance so she could save the woman, take her down on the right side of the abyss. But both women were holding on to each other, and Rosa's weight propelled her over. April lost her balance and her breath as her knees banged against the railing, then caught as Mike grabbed her around the waist, stopping both women from plunging to the pavement below. April's shoulders wrenched from their sockets. A scream caught in her throat.
She tried to pull Rosa back, grunted with pain, as
Rosa dangled by her wrists, kicking against the side of the building.
"Let go!"
"Take my hand."
April couldn't breathe, couldn't think or speak. She heard noises from below, heard Mike say something, but couldn't tell what it was. Some language she didn't know. She heaved on Rosa's arms, but couldn't budge the bigger woman. Sirens rang out on the street below.
"Hold on, baby." This she heard. "Switch hands," Mike said.