She was nodding, fighting back more tears. "I always thought he was. He is."
And finally, the nub of it. "Do you really believe he could have killed Tim? That he actually did that? Because if he didn't, Mrs. Kensing, somebody else did, and that's the person I'd like to find, whoever it might be. And to do that I'm going to need your help."
The real problem with the reunion between Eric and Ann Kensing was that Hardy didn't know that Glitsky had assigned an officer to protect Mrs. Kensing from her husband should he come back to try and kill her again. When Hardy had rung the bell and been admitted to Mrs. Kensing's house an hour before, this officer hadn't molested Hardy in any way, although he had placed a call to Glitsky informing him of the circumstances.
So at 5:35, Glitsky knocked at the door himself. Ann Kensing got up and, thinking it was her husband with her children, she opened it. Hardy, who had remained seated in the living room, jumped up when he heard the voice, but it was too late-Glitsky's foot was already across the threshold. Holding up his badge, he had asked if he could come in, and Ann had seen no reason not to let him.
Hardy, fiercely protective and fuming, stopped when he got to the hallway. "What the hell are you doing here? Are you following me?" Then, to Ann, "You can ask him to leave. He doesn't have a warrant."
But Glitsky had already won that round. "She let me in. I don't need a warrant."
"So what's your point?" Hardy asked, taking another step toward him. "Just general harassment this time? Just kick all the rules out?"
Glitsky ignored him and spoke to Ann. "I thought you might want some moral support before your husband and this Mr. Hardy double-team you. Has he theatened you in any way?"
"No." She looked back and forth at the two angry men. "Well, just-"
Hardy held out a hand, interrupting. "Ann, please."
"Just what, Mrs. Kensing? Are you saying he has threatened you?"
"No. But he told me some rights that maybe-"
Now Glitsky interrupted. "Is he your lawyer, too? God forbid you haven't let him talk you into that?"
"No, he's…"
By now the voices had pitched up. Hardy couldn't resist finishing her thought, which would-he was sure-give him the next round. "There never was any confession. You didn't take the trouble to get the context of my client's statements."
Glitsky stood stock still, rocked by the blow. Although he'd expected something very much like it, the confirmation of the news was a haymaker. His scar flared, his eyes blazed. It took a moment for him to get his senses back. "All right," he said finally, softly. "But both of you are now going to hear me out." And in the most reasonable tone he could muster, he proceeded to give her an earful of angry cop.
Like: "Ms. Kensing, you said that your husband confessed to murder. That's part of the record in this case. If you go changing your story under oath, someone could decide you're committing perjury. You might get in very big trouble yourself. Do you understand that?"
Like: "Isn't it obvious to you that Mr. Hardy here is using your own children as bargaining chips so that you'll help him get his client off? Could it be any more transparent?"
Like: "Of course your husband isn't pressing charges against you about what happened Saturday. He's lucky he didn't have them brought against himself. But please be clear on this: He doesn't decide what charges get filed, the DA does. Try to understand that what he's really doing is trading your possible misdemeanor charge against his own murder rap."
Like: "You don't have to make this kind of deal. We can in all likelihood have a judge sign a TRO"-a temporary restraining order-"and get your children back with you."
Finally, Hardy had had enough. Glitsky was overdoing it. Besides, it was in his own best interests to rise to her defense. "Actually, the lieutenant's a little off base. There's no judge in the world who would grant a TRO on what's going on here." He turned to Mrs. Kensing. "Unless, it must be said, he issued it against you. You're the one with charges pending here, not your husband."
Back at Glitsky, his voice hardened. "And you know the woman's got every right in the world to talk to me, Lieutenant. We need to know exactly what Dr. Kensing said, and if perhaps your inspectors were too eager. Mrs. Kensing got it wrong the first time and, realizing that, would like to get back on some kind of cordial footing with her ex-husband so that they can cooperate, as they always have before, on raising their children. I don't see how you can have any kind of problem with that."
Glitsky's scar seemed to glow red in the dusky light. "You don't? You don't consider what you're doing tampering with this witness?"
"Absolutely not."
"You deny that you're bringing undue influence to bear?"
Hardy bit back his initial response, which prominently featured the vulgarity Glitsky so despised. Instead, he turned again to Mrs. Kensing. "Am I forcing you to do anything?"
"He's not, Lieutenant."
Glitsky believed that like he believed in the Easter Bunny. He wanted to pull Hardy into another room where they could duke out some of their continued differences outside of the presence of this woman, but if he suggested that, he knew it would come across as though he were trying to hide something from her. And he couldn't have that, either. There was no other good option, so he went right ahead with what he had to say.
"Well, I'll tell you what, Counselor. I'd call this tampering. I'd call it undue influence, if not outright coercion. Jackman cut you a sweet deal, okay, but that's not carte blanche to sabotage any case we might be building. I think he's going to find you went way over the line with this. To say nothing of this autopsy charade I'm learning about with Strout. And now he tells me you've got Wes Farrell on your team, too, trying to pull the same crap."
"Wes isn't on any team of mine, Lieutenant. He's got his own client and his own problems."
"Yeah, which includes somebody else who died at Portola Hospital? Just surfacing at this moment? You expect me to believe that? It's just a coincidence, is it?"
"I don't expect you'd believe anything I said. But I'm not trying to obstruct this case. I'm trying to see it for what it is and solve it."
Glitsky just about spit it out. "Yeah, well that's my job."
Hardy shot it back at him. "Then do it."
"I just tried and Jackman stopped me."
"He did you a favor."
Glitsky snorted scornfully. "You're telling me I got the wrong man? Then how come every time I turn around, you're playing some legal game covering his rear end-cutting your deal with Jackman, muddying the waters with Strout, talking to my witness here. You know what that makes me think? You've got something to hide. That all you're doing is trying to get your client off, and be damned with the law, and be damned with the truth."
"That's not who I am and you know it."
"Yeah, well if the shoe fits…" Glitsky turned to Ann Kensing. "You're making a mistake here," he told her. "If you want to change your mind again, after you've calmed down, you've got my number."
Hardy was in a true high rage now, and he wheeled on them both, his voice laden with disdain. "If you do, make him promise he won't charge you with perjury."
Glitsky glared at him. "You think that's funny?"
"No," Hardy snapped. "I don't think it's funny at all."