I looked up at Gwen, tears in my eyes. “He wanted to live.”
“I know,” she said softly.
“We need to work together to bring Jones down.”
“We? You don’t seem like the team player type, JP.”
I didn’t like the insinuation-never had. “Why don’t you call Byron Jasper and Jeff Carter and ask them if I’m a team player? Ask them if they trusted me in their foxhole with our lives on the line?”
“I did,” she said with a grin, always taking joy in one-upping me. “They said you would die for them, JP Warner, and they wouldn’t trust their lives to anybody else.”
I recovered from my surprise with a smile. “So I guess we’ll be working together … just like old times.”
Gwen’s look turned serious. “They also told me not to take any crap from you.”
We were about to sail out into uncharted waters in Noah’s Ark, and Gwen was the captain-these were definitely new times.
Part Four
Chapter 42
Gilbert, Arizona
Day after Labor Day-1995
Kyle Jones finished putting on his police uniform. His military background had rendered him meticulous-Lucy called it anal-retentive-about the look of his uniform. He checked himself one last time in the full-length mirror, passing the inspection. He took a deep breath, not looking forward to what he had to do next.
He couldn’t sleep the last few nights. Grady’s words had awoken something in him, something that he thought he had put behind him years ago. He knew he must rededicate himself to the vow that he and Grady had made-seeking justice for those who were unable to help themselves.
But even with this epiphany, Grady’s assault on Lucy crossed so many lines that he knew their relationship would never recover, and he had no choice but to evict him. Batman and Robin would be no longer.
He walked into the sun-filled kitchen to find Grady sitting at the breakfast table, slurping cereal and reading the morning edition of the Arizona Republic.
Grady looked up from his cereal with an apologetic look. They both began talking. Then simultaneously stopped and then began to talk again at the same time.
“You first,” Kyle finally said, once again putting off the inevitable.
“I just want to say how sorry I am about the other night. I had no right to attack you and Lucy like that. I was wrong.”
The apology was nice, but not enough. “Listen, Grady, I think it might be best if you found another place to live. Lucy feels uncomfortable around you after what happened.”
“I totally understand,” he responded affably. “I’ve already started looking for a new place, but would you mind if I came back to shower when I have a job interview, and perhaps keep some clothes here? I promise I’ll call ahead to make sure Lucy isn’t here if I come by. I really don’t trust the people at the shelter.”
“Shelter?” Kyle asked with surprise.
Grady returned his attention to the classified ads. “Yeah, I checked out one in Tempe yesterday. Hopefully I’ll land a job soon, so it’ll only be temporary.”
“You’re looking for a job?”
He looked up. “I heard what you guys were saying about me the other night. Actually, I always hear what you’re saying.”
“I’m sorry about that, Grady.”
“No, don’t be. You were right. It’s time for me to stop making excuses for myself. Today is the first day of the rest of my life,” he said and proudly held up the classified ads full of his ink circles. “There’s a lot of opportunity out there and I plan on going after it.”
Kyle sat down across from him. “That’s good to hear. If you want to drop by to clean up when you have an interview, it’s fine by me.”
Grady smiled. “Thanks, Kyle.”
Kyle studied the man diligently circling classified ads in magic marker. It was more like the Grady he knew. Even his slouching posture was gone.
“Sometimes when I have a difficult project in front of me, I like to keep a journal, so I can keep track of my goals and then mark things off when I accomplish a task. I find it very helpful,” Kyle offered.
“I’ll keep that in mind-I appreciate the advice.”
Kyle looked at his watch, noticing that he was running late. But just before he turned to head for the door, Grady set the paper on the breakfast table. Suddenly staring back at them was a front-page photo of Leonard Harris of the Arizona Cardinals. He was flashing a big smile at the news that he only received probation for the vehicular homicide of two Arizona State coeds, despite his blood alcohol level being well past the legal limit. It had been the biggest story in the Valley for the past year.
Kyle felt like the headline was mocking him for his own transgressions. He was lucky he didn’t kill any innocent people the other night. He and Grady looked at each other, and it was as if they were reading the other’s mind. Sending a bat signal.
Kyle began to head toward the door. He knew it was another reminder that he needed to recommit himself to justice. As he did, Grady called out, “Kyle?”
He turned, “Yeah?”
“We’ll always be Batman and Robin, right?”
Kyle nodded, feeling their bond rekindling. “Always-Batman and Robin.”
Chapter 43
He was Batman now. The mission was clear-written out in a bold headline on the front page of the newspaper. He could no longer deny his destiny. He must get justice for those two girls.
The accident took place in December of last year. Harris had been the star of the game, getting three sacks as the Cardinals beat their rival, the Dallas Cowboys, on Monday Night Football.
After the game, he joined a couple teammates, who hopped from bar to bar on the festive Mill Avenue, accepting numerous free drinks from strangers. Harris finally felt like the star he was always supposed to be. He partied until two in the morning, before leaving in his Porsche 911 Carrera.
The two girls had gone out to celebrate their final night of the semester at nearby Arizona State University. Finals had just ended and Kelly and Laura were booked on flights home the next day-Kelly to Wisconsin, Laura to Boston-but they wouldn’t make it. They never saw the black Porsche that sped out of nowhere as they attempted to cross University Drive.
As part of his probation, Harris was given court ordered alcohol rehabilitation. With the unique access available to a police officer, Batman was able to discover the location of the rehab class. It was in an unmarked storefront in a North Scottsdale strip mall, located between a Subway and an Osco Drug.
The meeting was open to all comers. Batman, outfitted in US Air Force T-shirt and jeans, walked inside the windowless room. Metal folding chairs were set up in a semicircle-it looked like a school classroom, with a desk and blackboard facing the “students.” He sat next to the large black man dressed in a running suit.
A middle-aged woman was the instructor. She wore glasses and a blue sundress. Her reptilian skin told a story of many unprotected years in the Arizona sun. She began predictably, “My name is Barbara and I’m an alcoholic.”
After the class gave her the expected applause, she pointed to the two new members-the more famous one being Leonard Harris. “I see we have two new members today. Please make them feel part of the group.”
There were about ten other people in the class, and they all clapped.
Harris slumped in his chair. He seemed to want to be anywhere else but here. Perhaps he could switch places with Kelly and Laura, Batman thought, wondering if he’d prefer their accommodations at the Motel Six-feet-under.
So he took the lead. “My name is Batman and I’m an alcoholic,” he belted out, full of emotion. He received the applause of the class, along with a few chuckles at the superhero moniker, which cut the tension.