Free Defensive Wounds by Lisa Black Page B

get bogged down in the human suffering. You went around in a fog for three days after that baby-sitter mutilated that infant last year. And the mom of that one guy is still calling you.”
    â€œOnly once in a while. I make a conscious effort to remind myself of the people involved. I don’t want to get to the point where I forget entirely.”
    â€œDid Marie Corrigan forget entirely?”
    â€œYou never know what’s in someone else’s heart,” Theresa said. “But my best guess is yes, she did.”
    â€œBecause she switched your fibers?”
    Theresa glanced over from the driver’s seat. “I told you that story, did I?”
    â€œOver and over for about a week.”
    â€œSorry.”
    â€œAnd then the guy killed someone else. Maybe he killed this lawyer, too. Or maybe the husband of his last victim.”
    â€œHis last victim didn’t have a husband. Her own family barely noticed she was dead. And the alleged perpetrator has been sighted in Texas.”
    â€œThe prosecutor?”
    â€œIf he’d been that upset about the trial, he’d have requested a new one. He’s already in private practice. The only person still upset about that case is me.”
    â€œDo you have an alibi?” Rachael teased.
    â€œYes. You. We were home watching NCIS reruns all night.”
    â€œYeah, but I’m your daughter. You can’t believe anything I’d say.” The girl twirled her hair for a few moments. “I still can’t believe she stole your evidence and you let her get away with it.”
    Theresa said, “No, some unknown entity ‘misplaced’ it. And there was nothing I could do.”
    â€œWhat about justice?”
    â€œSometimes justice loses.”
    Another silence. This is parenting, Theresa thought. You feel guilty when you lie to your kids and sometimes guiltier when you tell them the truth. You want them to believe in the right things but to be prepared for the reality that others don’t.
    Rachael said, “So now you get to be her jury. And you’ve reached your verdict.”
    The words hit Theresa like an unexpected wave, one that knocks you off your board not because it’s that violent but because you didn’t see it coming. She had judged Marie Corrigan’s life and character and found both wanting. She would search for her killer, but only because he seemed even more depraved than his victim, not because she felt that Marie Corrigan deserved the justice she’d worked so hard to ravage. And Theresa would say nothing, only maintain her mask of righteous objectivity.
    But didn’t every human do that? Each person judges the next every minute of every day—people’s faces, their clothes, the way they pronounce a word or discipline their children.
    But then again, why shouldn’t they? Minds were trained from infancy to gather information and draw conclusions from it; ignoring that information would be foolish and a bit insulting. Why shouldn’t a human being observe other people’s character and actions and decide from that how to deal with them, what to think of them? What was so wrong with that?
    Another parenting question: Stick to the party line and insist that every life is sacred? Or tell the truth, that some are more sacred than others and some, as a measure of their character, not at all?
    They were silent for another two miles. Then Theresa used a lesson she’d learned from her mother and said, “Let’s talk about something more pleasant. Tell me about William. He seems nice.”
    With a smile and a carefully casual voice, Rachael explained that he lived in Solon, played the drums, and was so kind to everyone. “He’s always willing to help Shawna unpack the toiletries, and that’s not even his job. He keeps Ray company on the loading dock—another charity case of his—while he has a smoke. Ray, not William.” William also had a cat