and break in from all sides in a beautifully coordinated movement.
Maybe thirty seconds pass, though they seem like three hours, and a voice yells out, “Clear!” Pete and a bunch of other officers head for the house and enter. The sergeant I am with does so as well, so I tag along with him. I’m not sure if he even notices me, but he doesn’t tell me to stay back.
There are at least a dozen officers in the house, all talking, but above the din I can hear a woman crying, a frighteningly pained sound. I move toward the den, which is where the sound is coming from. It’s the room in which I talked to the Pollards on two previous occasions.
Teri Pollard is on the couch, hysterical, while Bobby is dead on the floor, against the wall, his head a bloody mess. Next to his outstretched hand lies a gun, more effective than a thousand justice systems.
LAURIE AND TARA are waiting for me when I get home. My two favorite ladies.
We all go for a walk around the neighborhood. I haven’t been spending nearly enough time with Tara, and I want to change that now. She seems to be getting more white in her face each day, a sign of advancing age in golden retrievers. In Tara’s case it’s less significant than in other goldens, because Tara is going to live forever.
The scene at the Pollards’ and the lingering depression over Adam’s death have really taken their toll on me, and I’m feeling little of the euphoria that I would ordinarily feel after a victory like the one in court today. For that reason I didn’t schedule the party we have at Charlie’s after every positive jury verdict.
“You were brilliant, Andy,” Laurie says. “I don’t know that there’s another lawyer in the country that could have gotten Kenny acquitted with the evidence they had.”
“Adam did it. I was nowhere until Adam came up with the answer.”
“He helped, but you led the team, and you got it done. Don’t take that away from yourself.”
“It was awful at the Pollards’ house today,” I say. “I’m just so tired of all this death and pain. And I keep saying that, and yet I don’t change anything.”
“You’re doing what you were meant to do, in the place you were meant to do it. And I think that down deep you know that.”
I shake my head. “Not right now I don’t.”
“If not for you, Kenny Schilling’s life would be over, and Bobby Pollard would still be out there killing. The death and pain would be much worse.”
“But I wouldn’t have to look at it.”
We walk for a while longer, and I say, “What Teri Pollard went through is beyond awful. This man she devoted herself to, every day of her life, completely betrayed her. And then, after she stayed, after she forgave him, he left her to deal with everything alone.”
“She’s a strong woman,” Laurie says. “She’ll rely on the core of that strength, and she’ll get through it.”
“You’re a more optimistic person than I am.”
“I don’t think so,” she says. “You’re just more honest about it. I have as many doubts as anyone, but I learned a long time ago that it doesn’t help to give in to them. That we have to do what we think is best and deal with the consequences.”
We walk another block in silence, and I say, “You’re leaving.” It’s a statement, not a question, that comes from some hidden place of certainty and dread.
“Yes, Andy. I am.”
I feel like a house is sitting on top of me, but it hasn’t been dropped suddenly. It’s more like it’s been lowered on me. I’ve seen it coming for a while, but even though it was huge and obvious, I just couldn’t seem to get out of the way.
I don’t say anything, I can’t say anything, so she continues. “I wish more than anything in the world that you would come with me, but I know you won’t, and I’m not sure that you should. But I will always love you.”
I want to tell Laurie that I love her, and that I hate her, and that I don’t want her to go, and that I want her to get the hell out of my life this very instant.
What I say is, “Have a nice life.”
And then Laurie keeps walking, but Tara and I turn and walk back home.
PEOPLE TELL ME that the intense pain is going to wear off. They