“Have a seat. Can I get you something to drink? I think there’s still some bad coffee left in the pot in the lunch room.”
Myles waved off
the offer. “No, thanks. I’ve had enough equally bad hospital coffee
today to last me. What did you need to see me about? Does this have
anything to do with Miss Locke?”
“Let me guess.
She has a record.” Myles grinned wryly.
The detective
sighed. “Yes, but not quite the kind of record you might be
expecting.”
Sitting back, he
crossed one knee over the other, lacing his fingers together before
laying them on his abdomen. “Give it to me.”
Perching his butt
on the edge of his desk, Horner picked up a folder from his desk and
opened it. “Her name is Cressa Locke. She goes by the name of
‘Goldie.’”
“Goldie?” Myles
chewed on that for a second. “What was she arrested for?”
“You ready for
this?” The detective read from a list. “Vagrancy. Shoplifting. Petty
theft. All misdemeanor charges. No prison time served. The most
serious offenses were a couple of drug possession charges, but the
amount on her person was so miniscule, she was slapped with a fine
and spent a total of six days in the city jail.” Closing the folder,
he sat it on his thigh. “That’s minor stuff. This is her first big
bust, but I’m not surprised.”
“How do you
figure?”
“According to
Officer Sawings, she confessed that she deliberately broke into your
house to steal some expensive jewelry to pawn for a quick buck. Dr.
Camptown confirmed she’s a pixie junkie. A dustie. That can only
mean she needed the money to get her next fix. The longer she rides
that horse, the more addicted she’s going to get, and you know that
better than I do. She’ll need more and more money as her body craves
more and more of that shit. Which means her crimes are going to ramp
up to the point where she could be spending years behind bars,
instead of months.”
“Unless she gets
help now to drag that monkey off her back,” Myles remarked.
Horner nodded.
“Only question now is, is she willing to try and shake it, or will
she fall off that wagon as soon she’s served her time?”
“So you think
she’ll definitely serve some time in the big house for this?”
“She’s not your
average cat burglar, and this wasn’t a little penny ante theft,” the
detective remarked. “This conviction alone, even if her past record
isn’t brought to bear in the court, will earn her at least three
months to a year.”
Myles felt his
eyes widen as an irrational thought came to him.
No, he told himself.
You can’t. Don’t do it, you son of a bitch. Don’t do it.
His brain
said one thing, but his conscience overrode it.
“What if I drop
the charges?” he asked.
Horner’s mouth
literally gaped open. “What?”
“She’s sick,
Detective. Are you going to make her go cold turkey in the slammer?”
“No. Of course
not. We’ll see she gets counseling and the medical attention she
requires.” Horner frowned. “Please tell me you’re not serious about
not pressing charges.”
Myles sat up
straight. “Let me think on it tonight, and tomorrow morning I’ll let
you know. But right now I’m seeing a woman who hasn’t quite gone
over the edge into a full-blown addiction. I think she can be saved.
And if she can be saved, she can be rehabilitated. And that means
one less body taking up space in the big house at the taxpayers’
expense.”
Rising, he held
out a hand to the cop. “Thanks for the discussion.”
“Please. Rethink
this,” Horner urged as they shook.
“I will,” Myles
promised. “Trust me. But you have to remember, my oath is to heal,
not to harm. And if I turn my back on her after all that’s already
happened, how can I look myself in the face next time I use a
mirror? How can I call myself a doctor if I decide to let her slide
because she wronged me?”
Horner cast him a
curious look. “Tell me I’m wrong, but something tells me you’re
going to get more involved than you already are.” |