“Is that when you became interested in memory?”
“I never thought about it before. But I guess so. Memory and the truth. And fairness. Or all of it. I mean, it’s not like I had any idea what a psychologist was when I was eight. But I do know that it was the first time in my life that I’d felt outrage about being treated unfairly and being browbeaten. Up until then, I was like most boys. I idolized cops. They were the heroes from movies and TV shows, keeping us safe and putting all the ‘bad guys’ in jail, right? Even after Robson hit our car, I didn’t think of it at first as anything but a tragic accident. Not until he ran away and left us there to die, even when I called after him to help. Is that mentioned anywhere in the official files? That I called to him for help and that he ignored me?”
“No. Not exactly, at least. In the internal affairs report, he stated that he left the scene because he was in shock. He lived just a few blocks from the intersection. He said he ran home in a state of mental confusion. Claimed that it was only after he got to his house that it started to sink in what had happened. He said he poured himself a few stiff shots of whiskey to steady his nerves. Then he called nine-one-one to report the accident.”
“What do you believe?”
“I believe that Robson’s description of his own actions after the collision fits the pattern of one of the oldest DUI dodges in the book. Leaving the scene of an accident because you’re confused and in shock isn’t nearly as serious as impaired driving causing death. That one gets you jail time. So if there’s nobody around to stop them, a drunk driver can flee the scene, go home, say they had nothing before the accident and half a dozen when they got home. It means that any Breathalyzer test we give them is worthless in court. People do it all the time when they think they can get away with it.”
“So you believe me?”
“Look, I was two years old when it happened. But from what I could find out, he didn’t exactly have a stellar history on the force even before that night. Whatever anybody told you at the time, the truth is that after the accident, the department took him off the street, out of cars, and transferred him to a desk job until he retired. It’s not an admission of guilt, but let me tell you, the Seattle PD doesn’t take somebody off the street for no reason. Anyway, I’m sorry for what happened to you. It’s a terrible thing to lose a parent. And to have it covered up.”
“Well, you know how it feels.”
“That I do,” said Maclean.
The waiter glanced over in their direction. Maclean picked up on his cue.
“Want to stay for another?” she asked.
“Sure,” said Verraday, “That’d be good.”
Maclean signaled for another round of drinks. Verraday absent-mindedly tapped the rim of his glass.
“Out of curiosity, do you know Bosko?” he asked.
“Not really,” Maclean replied. “Uniform cop. Passed him a couple of times in the station. Never spoken to him. I don’t think he’ll ever make detective or sergeant. Not after what happened with you. Even if the department won’t admit it. Plus he doesn’t have the smarts to be a senior officer. But whatever his faults, he’s brave, I’ll give him that.”
“What makes you say that?”
“He saved a kid who fell into a storm sewer during a flood last spring. Went in after him without any backup or equipment. It was an extremely dangerous situation. He got a commendation for it.”
“I can never understand that about cops,” said Verraday. “I mean, some cops.”
“What?”
“The fact that they seem to like kids so much. But only until they grow up. What’s that about?”
“I can’t speak for Bosko. But cops have a protective nature. Kids are easy to protect, philosophically speaking. They’re pure and innocent. Unfortunately, by the time people grow up, you can’t be as certain of their motives any more. That’s why most of us get into this line of work. We want to be the people you once idolized, keeping everybody safe and putting all the ‘bad guys’ in jail, you know?”
“Right. Superheroes in blue.”
“I suppose.” Maclean grinned wryly. “Hey, speaking of superheroes, there’s something else I’ve been wondering. Why did you ask Kyle Davis what the special power was that the kid said he’d like to have?”
Just then, the waiter came by with their drinks. Again, it caused a lull in their conversation, and again, unlike the waitress at the Trabant, the waiter just took it in stride that he’d arrived at a private moment.
“There you go, folks,” he said with a smile, then quickly slipped away.
When the waiter had left, Verraday answered, “Partly it was a test to see if Davis actually had an answer or if he was just making it up, bullshitting us,” replied Verraday. “And partly because I’m just curious about what kind of superpowers kids are into these days.”
“Why? Did you ever wish for any superpowers when you were a kid?”
“Sure.”