"Mad. Sad. Frustrated."
Then Mag's parting words rang in her ears.
"When are you going to grow up?"
Did Frank really want to drag her ass in here once a week to try and pull one over on Clay or did she want to get on with her life? She conceded the former was more appealing but the latter more necessary. She didn't ever again want to come close to the abyss she'd stepped into after the Delamore case.
She'd conveniently blamed her crash on the burden of that case, knowing full well that if Delamore hadn't tipped her over the edge, something or someone else inevitably would have. Kennedy had her flaws but Frank would always be grateful she'd been around that night. Next time, if there was a next time, there might not be someone there. She turned and faced Clay.
"She was only seventeen. She was actually going to graduate from high school in a few months. I don't think anyone else in her family had ever done that. She was born the year I joined the force. Fact, I met her mother first day on the job. She was hanging with some cholos, drunk off her ass. She was pregnant, just huge, about to deliver any day and she was swigging out of a bottle of Boone's Farm. It's funny. I smell that stuff and it's pow — total flashback to that day."
Frank paused. The memory was as clear as the window she looked through.
"My FTO and I were driving around, and he saw her in this alley. He pulls up. He's already pissed that he's being forced to work with a woman — and that would have been the nicest thing he ever called me — so by the time we get to these homes, he's on a royal tear. He swaggers down the alley, slapping his stick in his hand, and I'm still trying to get out of the car. I'm jamming my hat on, trying to get my stick in my belt, juggling my field book. I've got no idea what's going on, got no clue what's being said on the radio. I thought, maybe he heard something, but then I was wondering, why didn't he respond? So whatever, I'm following him like a lost dog, and he says something stupid to these kids, which doesn't surprise me after having driven with him for an hour.
"They're all just staring at the ground, kicking at it. You can tell they're not happy. And no one answers him, so he swings his stick at the kid closest to him and says 'Hey! I asked you a question.' I heard his stick connect and thought, man, that must have hurt. Well this kid says they're not doing anything and that Roper, that was his name, he didn't have to do that. Of course this just pisses Roper off even more. Then the girl says something really stupid in Spanish, about a fat pig or something. She is totally pasted, and I'm thinking, 'Oh Christ, the shit is going to fly' But Roper's cool. He just goes and stands over her. He puts his shoe on her shoulder and she tips over. I want to help her but I'm thinking I better just stay out of this. But the guy who's already mouthed off, he tries helping her and Roper swats at him with his stick, like he's playing with him. He says, 'You want to fight me over this, Juan? Huh? You want to fight me over this cunt? just totally baiting the guy. And this kid knows he's fucked.
"Roper tells them all to leave, but this guy, he wants a piece of Roper so bad he can taste it. He stands there, staring at Roper and I'm thinking, 'Just go home, buddy. For Christ's sake.' But he reaches down to help Claudia up, she's out of it, all sticky with wine, and Roper goes whap! with his stick. Right on the guy's wrist, just shattered it. If he'd been playing baseball he'd have had a homerun. The kids got to be in pain but he just makes this little yelp and jerks his hand away. It starts swelling up like a fucking basketball, but the kid doesn't say a thing, just holds his arm and gives Roper the evil eye. Roper gets into his face, saying all sorts of shit, and he's backing this guy out of the alley. The other homeboys are gone. They saw the shit going down and they flew. So Roper finally gets the poor sonofabitch out of there, and he comes back into the alley, all happy now. He's got this wicked grin on his face, and I don't know what's happening next but I know it's not going to be pretty.
"And he's a big guy. LAPD beautiful. Tall, dark, built — the kind of cop straight women just pray will show up to their calls. So he strolls over to Claudia, unzipping his fly. He grins at me, an evil fucking grin, and he says, 'You can watch this or go back to the car like a good little girl.' "
Frank stopped. She watched a man lean into a bronze sedan, talking to the driver. He wore a gray suit and carried a briefcase. His hair was sandy and thinning though he looked trim and fairly young.
"I knew that was a defining moment. Either I was in with Roper or I wasn't. I could just see my whole future. It was like a long highway with a fork in the middle. On the one side, I was down. I'd go along with him. I'd be part of the team. What was happening was ugly, but that's the way it was. I'd seen it in my own neighborhood growing up. That was just the way the world was. Nothing I could do about it.
"On the other road, I was alone. There was just me in the middle of this goddamn highway, no team, nobody. And I wanted to be part of the team. I remember thinking I'd always been alone and that it would be so nice to be part of something, just once. I'd busted my ass to get where I was and I didn't want to lose it. That other road was calling me and God, I wanted to be on it."
The man stuck his hand into the car, seeming to shake the driver's hand.
"I remember I just kind of looked at my feet. That alley was filthy. Busted bottles and beer caps, cigarette packs, tossed garbage. And it smelled like rotten vegetables and piss and wine. I thought I was going to throw up. Roper was saying something to Claudia and I saw her spit on him. Goddamn. He had her by the hair and he yanked her head back so hard I thought he was going to break her neck. And then I just snapped. It was so fucking weird — I literally saw red. I slammed him with my stick, I mean with everything I had and that fucker went down. And son-of a-bitch, I was excited by that. He looked up at me, surprised at first and with just this trace of fear, and I loved it. Then he got pissed and I got scared — well, not really scared, but just incredibly amped and wired and wanting to take him on. I was ready to kill the sonofabitch. I understand how that happens. I understand why people do what they do out there.
"He reached for his baton, but I'd fucked his arm up and he couldn't use it, so I let him grab it with his left. I figured Roper was crazy and I'd rather have him swinging his stick at me than pulling his gun. In fact, he told me I was going to die. Told him I'd take him out with me. I was ready for him. God, I was ready. It was almost like sex. But better, more intense. I was flying. It was like something got released in me, a trip-wire. We circled around that fucking alley for hours it seemed like. He connected once on me, hurt like a motherfucker, but I must've jumped quick enough that it didn't do any damage. I was trying to work him back to the street and I was getting tired. The edge was wearing off and I realized what a stupid thing I'd done. Taking on the field training officer, not even before our dinner break. Thought I'd make the record for shortest time served on job by a female. But I was committed. I'd chosen my road."
She took a resonant breath, studied Clay for a minute.
"Saw a guy today, used to be a banger. Now he's into God and saving kids. Asked him if he'd heard anything on the street about who offed Placa. He said no, that he knew her.
That it was a shame she'd taken the devil's road. I told him she was a good kid, that she just hadn't had enough time to get out of the road."