"Great," she said. "So he's out on the street where he can make threats and hunt other little kids. What a system."
"Actually, he's not making threats—his lawyer is."
Alicia stiffened. "About what? About finding his pervo client with his hand down a little girl's pants? Fondling a four-year-old's genitals?"
"Well, of course, he says his client did no such thing, that you were completely mistaken and physically assaulted poor Mr. Stevens without the slightest provocation."
"Just what you'd expect a lawyer to say."
"Yeah, but…"
"Yeah, but what?" Alicia swallowed. Her tongue felt like crepe paper. "You're not buying that, are you?"
"No. But I gotta tell you, Kanessa Jackson is no help. That little girl is a ball of confusion."
"Well, what do you expect? She's only four, and she was scared out of her mind."
"And she's… not exactly…"
He seemed to be having trouble settling on the next word, so Alicia helped him out.
"'With it'? Is that what you want to say?"
"I wanted to say retarded, but I'm told no one uses that anymore."
"You were told right. 'Mentally challenged', is currently in vogue, but Kanessa's challenges go far beyond mental. She's not only HIV positive, she was also a crack baby. She got zero prenatal care. Before she was born she lived inside a woman named Anita Jackson who was stoned out of her mind most of the time; and when Anita wasn't high, she was having sex any which way you can imagine to get the cash for her next vial of rock. Finally, after seven months of abuse, her uterus spit Kanessa out into the world in an alley. We're not sure when—either during or shortly after she was born—Kanessa's brain didn't get quite all the oxygen it needed, leaving her in a state of bemused confusion most of the time."
She watched Matthews squeeze his eyes shut.
"Christ," he muttered. "Talk about child abuse."
Damn if he didn't seem genuinely moved. Alicia appreciated that.
"Physical and emotional," Alicia said. She could feel her anger rising; it sprang to life every time she thought about Kanessa's mother. "Anita Jackson hasn't bothered to stop by and see her once. She's had eight children. God knows where half of them are."
"Eight," Matthews said. "Christ."
"And she's pregnant again."
"Aw, no."
"Yep. You know, if you'd asked me about mandatory sterilization when I was a student, or even a resident, I probably would have taken your head off. But now… now…"
She let the thought trail off. She didn't like to go where it led. She'd followed it once into a realm of fantasies where the Anita Jacksons of the city were kidnapped, anesthetized, had their tubes tied, then returned to the streets, leaving them free to do whatever they wanted to themselves, but unable to harm any more unborn children.
"Yeah, well," he sighed. "Then, I guess you know Kanessa's not going to be able to back you up. It's going to come down to your word against Floyd Stevens's."
"Fine."
He stared at her, and it made Alicia uncomfortable. Almost as if he was studying her.
"You're a tough one."
"Where those kids are concerned? You betcha."
"Well, you'd better be. Stevens's lawyer—a guy named Barry Fineman, who you'll be hearing from soon, I'm sure—was mouthing off after the bail hearing. I heard him telling his client how he's going to demand criminal charges of assault and battery against you, then bring a civil suit for pain and suffering from the injuries you inflicted. He was also talking about going to the hospital board and having you removed from your position because—and these are his words—'her violent and unstable personality is a danger to everyone around her.'"
Alicia felt her gut tighten as she sagged back against the door. "Oh, great."
Just what she needed—more legal expenses. And a threat to her job as well. This was scary. What was happening to her life?
"But he said he'd offer to drop everything if you withdraw your child molestation charges against Stevens."
Alicia stiffened as anger shot through her spine. "Never. I want this creep on record as a pedophile so he'll never be allowed near kids again."
Matthews's smile was tight and grim, but his approving nod bolstered her.
"Good for you. But I hope you know you've got a bumpy road ahead of you on this."
Alicia knew. And she wondered if she'd make it to the end.
"Can I ask you something?" she said. "What's your interest in this?"
"Oh, a couple of things," he said, and she noticed that his cheeks reddened as he answered. "I worked Vice for a while, and these kiddie hawks were always the toughest to nail. They tend to have money and can afford good lawyers, their victims make poor witnesses, and they seem to be upright citizens, which makes it—"
"I know all that," Alicia said quickly, swallowing back the queasy feeling in her gut. "But why this particular case?"
His cheeks reddened further. "Because I like the work you're doing with those kids at the Center." A smile, almost embarrassed. "And I like the way you took after Stevens. That took guts."
Not guts, Alicia thought. I was more nutsy than gutsy.
"And finally," he continued, "I wanted to give you a heads-up on what to expect from Stevens's lawyer. So you'd be ready for him."
"Thanks," she said. "I appreciate that." And she meant it.
"And I want to let you know that you're not alone in this. The system chews up the wrong people sometimes. Even when you're right, the Barry Finemans of the world can use the courts to punish you instead of their clients. But you've got an ally. I'm going to do a little research on Floyd Stevens and see what I can come up with."
"Will that help?"
He shrugged. "You never know. Sometimes—"
The phone rang. Probably the Center.
"Excuse me," she said, and stepped past Matthews into the main room. But it wasn't Raymond's voice she heard when she lifted the handset.
"Alicia? Jack. We've got to talk."
Jack! She glanced guiltily at the detective cooling his heels in the foyer. She couldn't exactly discuss arson now.
She lowered her voice. "Um, I can't talk right now."
"Well, I wouldn't want to discuss this on the phone anyway."
"I'm not going back to that horrible Julio's again."
"I was thinking your place."
Two visitors in one day? That might be a record. She found Jack a little frightening. Would it be reckless to be alone with him here?
"Gee, I don't know."
"You going to be around?"
"Yes, but—"
"Good. Your place, then."
She gave in. "Okay, but how about… later?"
"Sure. After lunch. What's your address?"
She gave it to him, hoping she hadn't made a big mistake, then hung up and returned to the foyer.
"I've got some appointments to keep," she said, thrusting out her hand. "But I do want to thank you again, Detective Matthews. This is all very kind of you."
"Call me Will," he said, taking her hand and holding it.
Alicia pulled away and opened the door. "Okay… Will."
She felt terribly awkward, shooing him out like this, but she had a sudden, overwhelming urge to be alone.
"You'll be hearing from me," he said as he stepped outside.
"With good news, I hope."
She made a stab at a smile as she closed the door. Then let it fade as she pressed her forehead against its rough surface. Suddenly she felt exhausted.