"Maybe you're right, Connie," the lieutenant said. "I never in my life felt as hopeless as I did on that day. I knew that Walker had gotten his filthy hooks into you. And I knew that it wouldn't be long before you ended up here. And there wasn't a damned thing I could do about it."
"Oh, I wanted to rush right out and arrest the bastard, only Captain Brennan stopped me. You see, a former policewoman's junk-lidded eyes and heroin stroll aren't grounds for an arrest warrant in this state. And we didn't have any other evidence against him. Probably never will have! Because the only cop – and a damned good one she was – who ever got close to him blew it. She was corrupted by him and she let him destroy her."
Connie had been looking down at the floor during his little speech. No way that he was finished she looked up at him with icy disdain.
"Spare me the hearts and flowers, Lieutenant," she said. "Johnny Walker is your problem now. I'm through with him."
"Are you through with him?" the lieutenant asked. "Or is he through with you? How long did he keep you before he tossed you out on the street like an old newspaper?"
"Three months," she said bitterly. "Thirteen weeks, like a new television show. And then he just didn't pick up my option."
"Listen, Connie," the lieutenant began. "I don't know how to tell you how sorry I am about what happened. I feel that it's mostly my fault. I had no business sending a young and inexperienced girl like you out against guys like Walker and his crew. I'll never forgive myself."
"Forget it, Lieutenant," she said. "Nobody's to blame for anything."
"But wait," he continued. "It isn't too late yet, you know. There are treatment programs. The city has lots of them. There's the Phoenix House. And the Rockefeller Program. And there's methadone. And I still have a little influence around this town. I could get you into one of the drug-addiction programs tonight, if you're willing. I can't promise to get you your old job back again. But if you really want to beat this thing, I can promise that you'll have a good chance to lead a clean and decent life. What do you say, Connie? Let me help you."
Connie looked up at him, an amused smile on her face. "I don't want your help," she said. "Not yours or anybody else's. All I want is to be left alone. I don't mind what I've become. It isn't such a bad life. Maybe I even like it. You and I just don't understand each other anymore, Lieutenant. You are what you are and I am what I am. Why don't we just leave it that way?"
Lieutenant Blumenthal looked at her for a long silent moment, a muscle in his jaw twitching silently. He cleared his throat before speaking. "I'm sorry you feel that way about it, Connie," he said. "I guess we don't understand each other. I don't really know anything about what you've become. But whatever you are, I'm still a cop. And I'd hate to have to arrest an old friend." He stepped back toward the door as he spoke.
"So do us both a favor," he said. "And stay out of my precinct!" Then, turning abruptly on his heel, he left, closing the door behind him.