Read Online No Show of Remorse by David J. Walker - Free Book Online Page A

officer.”
    â€œI’m not a police officer,” he said, “although sometimes I let the kids call me that, so they can think of me as a cop who’s on their side. I’m on disability, not with the department anymore.” He stared down at his thighs, massaging them with his hands. “I get a lot of physical therapy, and I work out six days a week.” He looked up. “I’m gonna walk again, you know. It’s matter of the Lord’s help, progress in medical science, and … and determination.”
    â€œFrom what I hear,” I said, “determination seems—”
    â€œFine, let’s get to it.” It was as though he’d suddenly remembered who I was. “I picked this place to meet because I wanted you to know that nobody’d be around to listen in. No wires, either.” He grabbed the hem of his T-shirt. “See?” He yanked the shirt up and off over his head.
    â€œRight,” I said, and if pride in his physique was part of his motivation I could give him that. I sat on the bleachers—the lowest bench, so I’d have to look up a little to meet his eyes. “I’ve given up worrying about eavesdropping, anyway.” For all I knew, he could have had a micro-mike poked up his left nostril. “So let’s just go ahead and talk.” When he nodded, I said, “I’ve filed a petition to get my law license back.”
    â€œI know. That was inevitable.”
    â€œWrong.” He looked surprised, but said nothing. “Not inevitable at all,” I said. “In fact, it’s never really been that important to me. I filed because it seemed to mean a lot to a woman, and the woman meant a lot to me.”
    He smiled. “That’ll do it.”
    â€œUh-huh.” His smile went away in a hurry, but to my surprise I started to like him. Damn. This was a guy whose family helped organize a campaign to convince the supreme court to keep me locked up in hell until I’d go back on my word to my client. The last thing I wanted was to like him. I didn’t want to find out, either, that he really was someone who’d used a terrible misfortune to turn himself into a true-life hero, or that his born-again-Christian reputation was based on more than talk, or that his dedication to helping kids with handicaps, mostly minorities, was the real thing. Damn. “Anyway,” I said, “the woman’s up and gone to Taos now … or somewhere.”
    â€œReally?” The voice was casual enough, but I was paying attention. Because, as Dr. Sato loves to repeat, attention is quite most important secret weapon. Sometimes I do better than others, and this time I saw the muscles in Coletta’s face and neck relax a little. “So,” he added, “are you dropping it?”
    â€œI might have.” The look of hope—and that’s what it was—disappeared. “Except I keep being followed around. By cops, I think. Coming right into my home, leaving what they think are very scary messages, telling me I better drop it.” A door slammed, and I noticed the gym was suddenly silent then, only the sound of the rain still slapping hard against the windows. “I’m like you, I guess. When something gets in my way it tends to increase my—what word did you use?— ‘determination.’ ” I left medical science and the Lord out of it.
    â€œSo,” he said, “you’re going ahead?” I nodded, and was surprised at how quickly the flush of anger flooded his face. “You don’t even want that law license. But you wanna prove yourself. And you being a tough guy and all, you figure you’ll start with the guy you think’s a cripple, right?”
    â€œâ€˜Cripple?’ I hadn’t really thought about it. And if I start … well, forget it.” I knew his anger rose up out of fear—fear of the trouble I might unleash—and I