Читать книгу No Way Out - David Kessler - Страница 17

‘I’m beginning to think that nothing’s changed,’ said Andi, bitterly.

They were sitting on the porch of their house, dining alfresco in the California evening sun.

‘How d’you mean?’ asked Gene, with measured sympathy. She wasn’t one to encourage self-pity, having seen in the course of her work what a self-destructive force it can be. Self-destructive and thoroughly seductive.

Andi attacked her food with such ferocity that Gene was forced to smile. It meant that Andi wasn’t succumbing to the demon of surrender. She was in fighting spirits and that was surely a good sign. She’d snap out of it completely in no time at all!

‘We uprooted ourselves from New York and relocated for what? It’s not a department. It’s just a meaningless title.’

‘Give ‘em a chance, honey. I mean it’s only your first day. Let’s see what they let you do.’

Gene was calmly reassuring. She knew that Andi expected no less of her. It was a game they played: Andi bitched about life and Gene pulled her back down to earth.

‘I can just feel the vibes from the start,’ Andi continued. ‘I’m supposed to be on the fast track for a partnership and yet I haven’t even got an office. They’ve stuck me in a glorified broom closet.’

Gene touched Andi’s forearm gently. ‘I’m sure that’s only temporary.’

They ate on in silence for a few seconds. Andi was still sulking. But Gene was content to leave her to it. If Andi preferred to sulk for a while longer, that was her business. I can’t be her mother all the time.

In the end, it was Andi who broke the silence, changing the subject.

‘So how was your first day?’

She couldn’t understand why Gene looked so upset.

‘My first day? What? At the Center? Pretty hectic. I guess I should be used to it.’

‘Are you understaffed?’ asked Andi.

She knew perfectly well that they were understaffed. Rape crisis centers always suffered from a chronic shortage of employees, exacerbated by the low pay.

‘Understaffed and underappreciated,’ Gene replied. ‘Everyone rails and rages against crime, but they’re more concerned with punishing the perpetrator than helping the victim recover from the trauma. Who needs to help the victim when you can get revenge? That’s the American way.’

This was unfair, and they both knew it. They both understood the desire for revenge all too well. But it was strange how guns always counted for more than bandages on the human balance sheet.

‘You’ve got something on your mind, haven’t you?’ The voice was gentle, sympathetic. It was one of those spontaneous mid-conversation role reversals that characterized their relationship.

‘I had a case this morning…’

She trailed off, but Andi could read the rest of the sentence in the silence.

‘They threw you in at the deep end?’ This was something that Andi had been hoping for in her own job. But it wasn’t to be. Instead it was Gene who had the dubious privilege.

‘Wha’d’you expect? Like I said, we’re understaffed.’

Andi put a gentle hand on her lover’s bare arm. ‘What’s bugging you? You’ve seen it all before. You know the score by now.’

A pained expression flipped briefly across Gene’s face. ‘I’ve seen this before all right,’ Gene muttered bitterly. ‘It’s the kind of case that sets off the talking heads on TV. Feminism versus race politics. A white girl raped by a black man.’

Andi, who had been taking a sip of her orange juice, gulped and put the glass down. ‘The press’ll have a field day. It’ll probably turn into another black rights versus women’s rights circus.’

‘And don’t I know it! The defense will raise the specter of the Scottsboro Boys and the prosecution will use everything they can throw at the defendant from Mike Tyson to O.J. Simpson.’

Andi nodded sympathetically.

‘And caught in the middle of it is one frightened little girl, not yet out of her teens.’

‘You think you can handle it?’

‘Oh, I can handle it all right. I’ve been there before, remember. The question is, can the victim?’

‘And can she?’

Gene shook her head, sadly. ‘She doesn’t know what she’s letting herself in for.’

‘Have they got a suspect?’

‘Yes.’

‘Has she ID-ed him?’

‘Yes. Only they released him pending DNA results.’

Andi sat forward, part eager, part concerned. She had known Gene long enough to pick up the nuances in her words as well as her tone.

‘Well if she ID-ed him then maybe she’s tougher than you think.’

‘She’s not tough. She’s just naïve. She doesn’t realize that she’s going to carry the can for two centuries of racial persecution.’