Читать книгу Ailanthus - Antonio De Vito - Страница 9

-4-

Right after 7:00 A.M, Stacie decided to go out and look for a Starbucks. Maybe a coffee would have revived her. She hadn’t sleep at all and keeping her eyes open was a real challenge. She was meaning to go to the District Attorney’s office and have a chat with Prosecutor Douglas. She couldn’t and wouldn’t hide her state of mind and hoped that Douglas was willing to give her a chance.

She slowly drank her coffee trying to get slowly back in her shoes. A multitude of thoughts and images went through her mind before her eyes. She didn’t cry but, maybe, just because she didn’t have any tears left.

The Starbucks was already quite crowded at that time and Stacie tried to look around to observe people’s faces. She really liked it. Sometimes she dwelled so much, risking being even misunderstood. She liked finding details, analyzing the uniqueness. Often, even simple moves captured her attention. This habit distracted her and deflected her thoughts from the daily routine. This time she needed a huge concentration exercise, but her commitment was very laudable.

She went to the DA’s office by cab; it was only a few miles far from there and, once reached her destination, she went almost running towards Timothy Douglas’ office.

“Stacie! You have no idea how much seeing you in this office fills me up with joy. First of all, how was Switzerland?”

“Unfortunately Sam didn’t make it. I’m here about this, too. I know that it’s more than two months that I’m away. I don’t expect any special treatment and I don’t think that you could afford such a low-efficient coworker...” Stacie started off like a shot. She didn’t even look the Prosecutor straight in his eyes. It was the only way. On the other hand, she didn’t release the frustration since the moment when the doctor had stated Sam’s death to her.

“Keep calm; let’s have a seat, so you can tell me what happened.” Douglas was extremely understanding, like a father. They sat close for almost one hour. He poured her a cup of coffee and Stacie could tell him everything she had lived in Geneva, from hopes to harsh reality. Douglas knew how to listen and understand Stacie’s state of mind and she felt like having in front of her a man able to understand pain.

“I can only imagine how you feel. You don’t have to feel ashamed of your pain, but try to draw strength from this situation. I met you a few months ago because you were mentioned by Detective Cross. I didn’t know how you were, and even less if your decanted abilities were real. But I came to know a determined woman, almost stubborn, without for this reason renouncing to her fragilities.” Stacie was listening to him inebriated. “From this meeting I understand more than ever how complicated it is to let live together work and emotions. What I can assure you is that, the day that you’ll fully make it, you will be able to say you have control of yourself and live totally your life without having to necessarily sacrifice a part of it.”

Stacie listened impressed to Prosecutor Douglas. His words hit the mark. They weren’t advices, but traced a road that seemed already covered. It was her turn and she had to get back in the game taking all the risks of the case.

“I thank you a lot for your words, and even more for the way you welcomed me. To me that’s an extra reason to show you all my gratitude. If and when you consider it appropriate, I still will be available to give you my professional help.”

“Good, that’s how we talk. You are so needed here. Frank Berrimow already called twice in the last hours to get informed about you. You know, he works at the Detective Bureau now and he’s the one who will help you on your next case. In your absence I’ve been designated as Prosecutor of New York Southern District. Now, we’ll deal with the cases happened in Brooklyn or in the Bronx, too.” Douglas poured more coffee in Stacie’s cup.

“Are wheels already in motion?”

“Unfortunately yes. A murder in the Flatbush neighborhood in downtown Brooklyn. A man’s throat was cut and the right eyeball was taken away.”

“Oh my God!” Stacie seemed horrified at Douglas’s words.

“Unfortunately given the details, everything makes us think of...”

“… Of a psycho cut-throat around New York’s streets.” Stacie finished Douglas’s sentence.

“Exactly! And now it’s on you. Do you feel like diving out there again?”

“Yes, absolutely! I’ll go to Frank, so we can start as soon as possible. Prosecutor Douglas, remember that I owe you one.” Stacie, even if she was still recovering, seemed to take stock of Timothy Douglas’s words.