While There Is Hope

I tried to do something, anything, but now even yelling seemed to be beyond me. I felt my life force slipping away, condemned to my last sight being the execution of the woman I loved. And I could do nothing. Ashley's finger moved backwards in slow motion. I closed my eyes, unable to bear what was unfolding.

Then Hope spoke, and her voice conveyed no fear, only recrimination. "But Ashely, I loved you. I thought you loved me. Why?"

I opened my eyes, even that was now a massive effort, and I could only manage narrow slits. Images warped and rippled, as if we were under water. Ashley seemed to falter. She lowered her gun slightly. Even with my malfunctioning vision, I could tell her hand was shaking.

She was trying to sound resolute, to be adamantine in her purpose, but tremors underlaid her words, revealing inner indecision. "No. It was a charade you stupid bitch. All an act. I love... I loved Gabriel. And you are going to fucking pay for what you did to him!"

Ashley raised the gun again, her face contorted, as if conflicting emotions were doing battle inside her.

Hope's voice turned soft, gentle even. "It's OK, Ashley. It's OK. You don't have to do this. You could... you could give me the gun. Walk away. I know you don't want to hurt me."

Ashley crumpled a little. I saw Hope tense as if she was going to spring into action. Then she relaxed again, maybe judging that the odds were not in her favor. 'She's fucking calculating probabilities,' I told myself, 'and she's playing for time.' A small ray of light shone into my utter despair. Hope still believed. She was still working the angles.

Maintaining a soothing voice, Hope continued. "That's it, Ashley. It's OK. You can put the gun down. It's all OK."

Grief seemed to sweep through Ashley, she doubled over, her eyes to the desert floor, and no longer on Hope. I saw my friend ready herself, prepare to make a life or death move. In my head I silently whispered, 'I don't care about me, but please let Esperanza live.' I had no idea to whom my heartfelt prayer was addressed.

And then the air was full of a thundering, throbbing noise, the dust flying around us. And, above the maelstrom, came a loud voice, magnified by electronics, until it boomed, resonating in my rib cage.

"US Marshals. Drop the gun now, Miss Baldwin. Drop it right now. I won't repeat this command."

Ashley and I both looked up at the helicopter. I could see two Deputies sitting in the open doorway, telescopic rifles trained on her. And behind them was standing Marshal Molinera, holding a bullhorn, and come for his little girl.

Like Hope before her, Ashley was clearly doing the math. A final time she wavered, but then dropped Hope's gun, and held her hands up.

The last thing I saw was two Service copters landing. And... was it real, or a trick being played by my dying brain? I thought maybe an air ambulance was in the sky behind them.

Then oblivion enveloped me.

They tell me I was lucky. No major arteries severed, though a bunch of smaller ones trashed. I'd lost a lot of blood, but a transfusion had sorted that out. The surgeon later told me he'd repaired my bowel in two places, and my intestines in three, always good to know. The long and short of it is that, after four hours in the OR, and a few more in recovery, I woke in a hospital bed. It had been close to twenty-four hours since the ambush.

Hope was next to me in a chair. She was sound asleep, a pair of crutches lying against the wall behind her. Her face had ugly bruises and abrasions, a bandage crossed her brow. I wanted to call her name, but waking her seemed selfish. I thought about how beautiful she still looked, and how much like a younger Valentina.

Another voice broke my reverie. "Hey, Dad, I'm here too, you know? Not just Mom 2."

Bianca was seated on my other side. She stood and embraced me, trying not to squeeze too hard. Even so, I yelped a little and the noise woke Hope. I looked from one woman to the other, not knowing what to say, and still feeling, well, like I had been shot in the gut.

Bianca filled the vacuum. "I know, Dad, it's a head-fuck, right?" My princess had always had a potty mouth. "She's like a doppelgänger. Hope and I agree on that, don't we? I have photos on my phone. We've been passing the time looking at them."

Hope grinned and levered herself out of her chair. Ignoring her walking aids, she hopped to Bianca's side, managing to make it look more graceful than awkward.

"Yeah, and we had a kinda woman to woman seminar. Seems like there is a whole lot of things I never knew about Bill Kowalski." Her evident teasing was accompanied by a broad smile.

Bianca put an arm out to steady Hope, and the Deputy acknowledged her help. It seemed the two of them had bonded during the time I was out. Seeing them side by side, I reflected on how little of Valentina was in Bianca. Instead she resembled no one more than my mother. Genetics was weird.

"And, Bill, you never told me that there were people with brains in the family. I assumed they were all like you."

It was Bianca's turn to smile. "Dad's not so dumb. He just loves to act that way. Don't you Dad? Don't all fathers?"

The talk of fathers turned my thoughts to Marshal Molinera, and then everything else. I wondered what they had told Bianca and tried to ascertain this from Hope. "Did they, did you?" I rolled my eyes towards my daughter. "You know..."

Hope chuckled. "Explain to Bianca? Our deep, dark secrets? Yeah, except for the NSA, CIA, and Area 51 stuff of course."

I discovered that laughing was a really bad idea. "OK, thanks."

"Yeah, I told her that I got her old man caught up in a shit load of trouble, leading to a bullet being lodged in his duodenum." She turned to Bianca. "It was duodenum, that's right isn't it?" My daughter nodded.

"It's OK though, Bianca forgives me. I'm not so sure about you though, Bill. Can you forgive me?"

I ignored Hope's attempted levity. "What about you, are you OK?"

"Yeah, nothing like last time. A flesh wound. It knocked me over, and hurt like fuck, but nothing serious. I'll run again. Though that bitch God seems to be doing her very best to stop me!"

Again it hurt when I laughed.

Hope continued. "Anyway, I'll let you two chat. I'm gonna talk to my Dad, OK? He's wrapping stuff up, I'll explain later."

She paused and her tone changed. "It's great to see you awake, Bill. I was worried. Thank you for having my back."

"Any time, partner."

Hope gripped the railing on the side of my bed and lowered her upper body, with a little discomfort, to kiss my forehead.

"Later, Tiger, OK?"

I nodded. Hope hopped to her crutches and left us to talk, moving at a surprisingly rapid rate for an invalid.

As soon as the door had closed, Bianca took up the teasing baton from Hope. "So, cradle-snatching is your thing now, when did this phase start? Are you going to, like, buy a Porsche?"

I was too tired to defend myself much. I mumbled something about only eleven years, and that we were just friends anyway. Bianca wasn't buying any of it.

"It's OK, Dad. It's cool. I know she's not Mom. She told me so. But I like her. If I were you, I'd maybe try a bit harder. She didn't say anything, but call it women's intuition if you like, I think there is something there."

"Did she...?"

"Tell me that you two fucked? Sure. First thing she said. Pretty much, 'Hi, I'm Hope, and your father and I fucked,' I guess she's kinda direct."

I groaned and closed my eyes. Bianca and I had always been open about things, but it was normally her rather complicated sex life we were discussing not mine. Then I also wondered about Hope, why she had broached the subject with Bianca? Was it anything more than her customary honesty? I decided I was in no place to figure this out right now.

"OK, enough life hacks from a nineteen year old, missy. I think, I may need to take a nap. Will you stay with me?"

Bianca kissed my head in exactly the same place as Hope had. "Sure, Dad. I've got my phone."

Something struck me. "And me? What do the doctors say?"

"It's going to be OK, Dad. They said you should make a full recovery. Now get some sleep."

Feeling lucky to be alive and luckier that the two most important women in my life had seemingly hit it off, I drifted back to sleep. Other questions could wait.

I was released two days later. Bianca drove me to a Service house in Pasadena. It was a nice place, set in an extensive garden. Hope had visited me again while I was in the hospital, and she continued to do so during the next few weeks of my convalescence. But, to me she seemed distant, perfunctory even. The speed with which Hope appeared to have recovered from her latest wound was almost miraculous. But I wondered whether she had coped so well with her manifold mental traumas, old and new.

Whenever I asked Hope if she was OK, she always answered defensively, then sometimes added that there was stuff going on at work. She was heavily involved in helping her father, she seemed to relish the focus this brought. My suggestion that she take some time for herself was not well-received.

My trauma training told me that Hope was perhaps displaying signs of PTSD. Maybe this was something that having a mission, a purpose, had enabled her to mask. Maybe that was what she was looking to do now. Or, maybe I was just fooling myself. Reluctantly I acknowledged that it might simply be time to recognize that she just wasn't that in to me.

It was the simplest explanation after all. A beautiful, intelligent, thirty-one year old woman, and a kinda average-looking, not so bright, and well past his best forty-two year old guy, how much sense did that make? I suppose it was nice that she wanted to stay friends.

I'd learned from Hope that both of the detectives from my department had died during the ambush. Her face displayed a grim satisfaction when explaining that ballistics confirmed she had killed one and I the other.

But their presence, together with evidence that Marshal Molinera had gathered, and Hope's photographs, had been enough to arrest the Captain. He'd broken down and made a full confession, including the selling of seized guns to the Emilia Cartel. It also seemed that Hope's father was satisfied that at least the police aspect of corruption ended with him.

It had been a few days since Hope's last visit. I'd missed her, but tried to focus on Bianca, knowing I'd be back to having a continent between me and my daughter all too soon. It was nice, just having Dad / Daughter time. Then I got a text from Hope, asking if we could talk.

I was sitting outside in the sunshine when she drove up. The doctor said I was meant to take light exercise now. Hope kissed my forehead, as had become our ritual, and sat down next to me.

She seemed to be pondering what to say, or how to say it. "So, Bill. I've already nearly got you killed. I have no right to ask. But I'm gonna anyway."

"What is it, Hope. What can I do?"

"It's Ashley." Again I had the feeling of a vacuum in my chest. I had no idea where this conversation was going to end up.

Hope shut her eyes, and I felt her hand close on mine as she spoke. "Dad, and... and my therapist... they. And I guess I kinda agree. They... Oh, fuck, Esperanza, just say it!"

I waited. Her anger with herself subsided, and her tone became more measured. "They think it might help me... help me to get over... this, whatever the fuck this is, if... if I met with her. It's nothing to do with the case, she's signed a confession. Apparently... apparently she's willing to meet. To talk. But I... I can't..."

I squeezed her hand. "Would you like me to come with?"

The simple question unleashed floods of tears. I guess I was glad to see it, Hope's apparent control after all she had been through had been scary at times. I also reflected that she now had a therapist, that had to be good, right? I wondered if I needed one myself. Eventually her sobbing subsided and she turned her tear-stained face to mine.

"Yes, Bill. I'd like that. I'd like that a lot."

We sat silently, enjoying the sun, still holding hands, until Bianca called us in for lunch.

Arrangements were made quickly, and two days later, Hope and I made the 45 minute drive to Madera County and the California Institution for Women. I drove, having been given an all clear at my last review. As the octagonal building came into view, I looked briefly across at my passenger. She was impassive, feelings locked away behind oversized sunglasses.

As we waited to be admitted to the facility, I tried to check in. "You OK, Hope? Still want to do this?"

Hope nodded, barely perceptibly, but said nothing. Before we had started out, she had warned me about her likely silence, still it was a little unnerving. Equally unnerving were the high fences, topped with razor wire, and the tall, concrete observation tower.

The gate opened, and I drove in, wondering whether this was such a good idea after all. We were met by a guard, who escorted us to an interview room. She asked us to sit and said the prisoner would be with us soon. She moved to stand impassively against one of the walls, and we waited.

I wasn't a frequent visitor to prisons, and for some reason I had this idea that Ashley would be in shackles, maybe too much TV. When a second woman brought her in, the only restraint was the guard's hand on her arm. Ashley was dressed in a pale blue T shirt and dark blue pants, the same as the other inmates we had seen on our way in.

I couldn't help but assess her physically as she sat down. Not in that way, but as someone who had captured Hope's heart. Maybe I was looking for tips. She was taller than Hope, I guess most were. Her file said she was thirty-three. Devoid of make-up and looking slightly disheveled, it was hard to immediately see the attraction. But when she spoke, her voice was sonorous, almost seductive, and her clear intellect shone. I guess I began to see what Hope had.

I could feel a tenseness in Hope. She'd kept her glasses on, despite being inside and the lighting being far from blinding. Maybe they were a kind of shield. It was Ashley who broke the silence.

"Hello, Hope. How have you been?"

Hope said nothing at first, simply looking at her ex. When she eventually spoke, there was nothing in her voice to indicate the level of emotions I knew she must be feeling. Instead her tone was flat, though her words were anything but that.

"I've been much as you might expect. For someone whose been shot twice, kidnapped, raped and beaten countless times, all because of you."

"I had nothing to do with that, sweetheart. It was all Gabriel."

"And Eric Abebe, and Raoul Martinez, and Maria Mancini? Nothing to do with you."

"Of course not, Hope. I'm not a monster. I just fell in love with one. And the heart wants what the heart wants, right? You of all people should know that."

"Not a monster, right. And Tony Sutherland, how exactly did he die?"

Ashley's composure was broken for a second, but she recovered. "You know, Hope. I had no choice. It was self-defense."

"Bullshit, Ashley." The guards shifted uncomfortably, but didn't intervene. "He was Gabriel's guy, right? How you communicated with him. And you, what? Wanted to tie up the loose ends?"

Ashley crossed her arms and smiled silently at Hope.

Hope leaned forward in her chair. "And you fucking bludgeoned him to death with his own weapon. What happened? He released you as planned, then you asked to borrow his gun, and..."

Ashley continued. "...and it was empty. Davenport spoke to the armorer, I assume. So, it was self-defense. He attacked me."

"But only when the gun didn't go off and he realized what you were doing, right?"

Anger was evident in Ashley now. "You've read my confession. What are we doing here?"

Hope stood up. "I have no fucking clue, I guess I just wanted to hear it from you. To confirm what a piece of shit you really are."

Ashley smiled, she seemed pleased by Hope's agitation. "Well it was you who fell in love with this piece of shit. And I'm told you looked so lovely in the sexy outfit I picked out for you, a tasty treat to charm an aging cop, right?" She leered at me as she finished her sentence. Something in that look revealed the blackness inside her to me.

Hope turned to me. "Let's go, Bill. I'm done."

As we walked to the door, Hope stopped and turned. "Bye, Ashley. I know you think you're this intellectual colossus, the master manipulator, but I know someone smarter than you. I'm not the only Molinera to fuck you. Dad fucked you up, he fucked you up good, just as surely as I fucked your boyfriend up. Enjoy jail, and remember who put you there."

Ashley seemed to be searching for a reply, but we left before she could speak again. Once we had put some distance between us and the room, Hope pounded with her fists on the corridor wall and roared a feral scream. Our accompanying guard asked if she was OK.

"No. No I'm not OK. But I'm gonna be. Get me outta here, Bill. Please."

To be concluded in The Epilogue...