The Palpable ProsecutorChapter 17
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It took weeks for Lacey to get back into the swing of things at her office and have time to schedule a doctor’s appointment. He had been her general practitioner for five years, so she knew him pretty well. She still had to fill out the standard paperwork, prior to seeing him, which included answering yes or no to two pages of questions about her medical history and lifestyle. It was the same two pages she always had to fill out, even though she’d filled them out before. The only things she answered differently were the questions pertaining to “Do you drink alcohol?” and “Are you sexually active?”, both of which she had always ticked off the “No” box for. Then she had to write an explanation about what surgeries she’d had since her last visit. She didn’t think anybody ever looked at these forms. She was wrong.
“What’s all this about surgery for bullet wounds?” asked Doctor Henderson, when he finally came into the room.
Lacey blushed.
“A Russian mobster tried to kill me.” She shrugged. “Several times, in fact.”
“And it never occurred to anybody to notify your doctor about it?” He frowned.
“It was all over the media,” she said. “I had lots of doctors. I was on a lot of pain meds for a while. I’m sorry.” She went on to tell him she’d eventually been sent to Alaska to hide out until her nemesis was caught.
“I don’t watch the news,” he said, after she finished. “Too depressing. And in any case, it doesn’t really matter. There was nothing I could have done for you anyway when you were injured. Us GPs never get the juicy stuff. Do you mind if I take a look at what kind of work they did?”
“Not at all,” said Lacey, who didn’t realize her traditional shyness about being examined had evaporated along her journey with Bob.
He had her remove her blouse, and then her bra, when it was determined that one of her wounds was under it. He touched her scars, murmuring that the work had been very good, and then stood back and told her she could get dressed.
“So. What can I do for you today?” he asked. “You’re not due for a physical until next year.”
“I need to get a prescription for birth control pills,” she said, blushing a little.
“Easy as pie, but I need to examine you before we can do that. Have you been using protection?”
“Um ... no. It was somewhat unexpected.”
“How many times?” he asked.
“Uh ... that’s kind of hard to say,” she said.
“Well, once is all it takes. I need a urine sample and then I’ll do your physical.”
“A urine sample?”
“I need to do a pregnancy test before we talk about the pill.”
“But I’m not pregnant,” she said.
“When was your last period?” he asked.
She thought. She frowned.
“So much has been going on, what with me getting shot, and then being in Alaska,” she said. “I’m having a hard time remembering.”
“The test is quick,” said the doctor.
Twenty minutes later Lacey found out the reason she couldn’t remember when her last period was, was because it hadn’t materialized and she hadn’t noticed.
The test was positive.
“How could this happen?” wailed Lacey, when she had delivered the news to Bob.
“I think you know how this happened,” he said, gently. “As I recall, I even warned you about it.”
“What are we going to do?” she moaned.
“I hope we’re going to have a baby,” he said.
Her eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really,” he said. “But you’re the one who has to go through it. How do you feel about it?”
“I don’t know anything about being a mother,” she groaned.
“We have a while to bone up on that stuff,” he said.
“You really want this baby? I thought all that stuff about getting me pregnant was teasing.”
“I really want you, and if that comes with a baby, then I really want this baby,” he said.
“The wedding!” she gasped. “What about the wedding?”
“I’m ready to get married tomorrow,” he said.
“Really? But what about the arrangements ... the guests?”
“I’d invite a few of the guys I served with, but that’s all. How about you?”
“The marshals,” she said. Then her face went blank. “Maybe some people from work. Neither of us have any family.”
“What about your father?” he asked.
“I don’t even know if he’d come,” she said. “He had as little to do with me as possible when I was growing up.”
“It’s your call,” he said. “ But you should probably invite him.”
“I love you,” she said, suddenly.
“And I love you too. I loved you so much I knocked you up.” He grinned.
Two weeks later, twelve witnesses gathered in the chapel of a well-known church in New York City to watch Fred Cragg gingerly walk Lacey down the aisle and give her away to Robert Shepard in holy matrimony. The ceremony was short, but colorful. Nine of Bob’s cohorts had been able to attend and they had planned to make things memorable. Eight of them made a sword arch, commanded by a woman, a Sergeant Major who worked in logistics and who had supplied Bob and many others with the tools needed to make their missions a success. When the happy couple exited the arch, Sergeant Major Catherine Hobbs gleefully swung her sword, smacking Bob squarely and firmly on his newly-married ass. It wasn’t strictly traditional, but nobody cared. The only one who didn’t laugh was Bob, who reached to rub said ass. He did smile, though.
All had been invited to adjourn to Lacey’s office, where a reception was planned, but the bride was delayed for a few minutes by her father, who approached her and pulled her gently to one side.
“I should probably get back home to feed the dog,” he said, looking uncomfortable.
“Thanks for coming,” said Lacey, resplendent in her wedding gown.
“I’m glad this happened,” said Fred. “I worried about you. We weren’t the best parents. I’m not even sure we should have tried being parents,” he said.
“You did the best you could,” said Lacey, diplomatically.
“He seems like a good man,” said Fred, glancing at Bob, who was having his back slapped by three men in military uniform.
“He is,” said Lacey.
Fred’s eyes darted sideways.
“All that stuff your mother told you...”
“She thought she was doing the right thing,” said Lacey, touching his arm. “I’ve learned she was wrong ... but I understand she believed what she was telling me.”
“She was insane!” barked Fred. He blinked. “I shouldn’t say that, God rest her soul ... but she was. Something was broken inside her.”
“Why did you stay with her?” asked Lacey, genuinely curious.
“I promised to. In a ceremony just like the one you just went through. I had to. And then there was you. It was ... difficult ... but I had to do it.”
“Well, all in all, things turned out pretty well,” said Lacey. “I can’t help but think that I’m the person I am because of how I was raised.” She smiled. “And because I met Bob.”
“I’m glad,” said Fred, obviously agitated. “Maybe you could call from time to time?”
“Of course I will. I should have before this.”
“Thanks,” he said. She could see tears in his eyes, and could tell he didn’t want her to see them spill out. “I should go.”
“Thanks again for coming ... Daddy,” said Lacey.
She heard him sob as he rushed out the door.
They had chosen to get married on a Friday for two reasons. First was that it was most convenient for their guests, who were all either members of the Marshal Service, or the Army. Both groups had been able to get Friday afternoon off. Second was that her boss agreed to let her have the reception at the AUSA office, on the condition that her co-workers could attend that, in lieu of going to the wedding itself. They weren’t going on a honeymoon right away. Lacey’s boss wasn’t keen on having her gone again so soon after her “Alaska vacation,” as he called it. Bob said he wanted to take her to Hong Kong for a honeymoon, but that could happen later.
It was for that reason that the wedding party, still dressed in their wedding regalia, were joined by a dozen staff members of the AUSA’s office for a party that was intended to go well into Friday evening.
Bob was dressed in a set of Army Blues provided by one of his guests. The left breast was covered in brightly colored ribbons. The military men - and woman - with him were dressed in like manner. They had removed their swords. Lacey’s maid of honor, Jody Dagastino, and bridesmaids, Deputies Jessica Snow and Veronica Rothschild, stood surrounded by the male marshals who had played roles in Lacey’s recent life. Ronnie was trying to get Jody to toss her Lacey’s bouquet, saying she intended to catch it later and wanted to practice, while Deputy Bernard Watkins loudly asked if anyone had brought handcuffs, which he wanted to use on Ronnie before the bouquet was thrown.
Toasts were being made and glasses were raised high when the door to the office opened and a blond woman came in, looking around, curiously. Joe Boggs, the office manager, headed over to intercept the newcomer.
“Somebody have a birthday?” asked the blond.
“Wedding reception,” said Joe. “Technically, we’re closed for the day. But, since you’re here, can I help you?” he asked.
“I’m looking for AUSA Lacey Cragg,” said the woman. “I’m Special Agent Linda Parsons, FBI.”
“It just so happens she’s the bride,” beamed Joe. “Unless it’s some kind of emergency, we should probably wait until Monday to bother her.”
FBI Special Agent Linda Parsons, by virtue of being the most junior agent in the office, had been given the dubious honor of wrapping up the paperwork on the Boruskiev case file. It had taken her two months, but she was pretty sure all the dots and crosses necessary had been done. All that remained was coordination with the AUSA on the case, concerning some puzzling information that came from the infamous crime scene in which the Russian mob shot up New York City. The information wasn’t germane to the case, but her supervisor had told her to meet with the AUSA and make sure she was aware of it. She knew what the information was, but not how it might impact anything. All she wanted to do was finish her mission so she could finally go home. She intended to eat a pint of Rocky Road and get laid, assuming she still had a boyfriend. The case had consumed all her time in recent weeks.
“It won’t take but a minute,” she said. “It has to do with the Boruskiev case and it’s the last coordination before we close the case.”
Joe frowned. He hated to interrupt the proceedings. But the relationship between the FBI and the AUSA was one that needed to be nurtured.
“Wait here,” he said. “I’ll ask her. But if she says no, then it has to be Monday. Deal?”
“I guess,” sighed Linda.
Joe reached to touch Lacey’s elbow.
“There’s an FBI agent here who says all it will take is a minute. Something about the Boruskiev case.”
“I thought that was closed,” said Lacey.
“She says it’s the last coordination they have to do to close it,” said Joe. “I told her if you didn’t want to be disturbed she’d have to come back Monday.”
Lacey looked for Bob, and saw him dancing with Jody. Somebody had brought a boom box and was playing dance music.
“What the hell,” she said. “She’s here. And the party is going to go for hours. I’ll talk to her.”
“I’ll put her in your office,” said Joe.
“How can I help you?” asked Lacey, when she entered her office.
“Congratulations on your wedding,” said Linda. “And thanks for giving me a minute. I’ve been instructed to give you some lab results.”
“Lab results?”
“Yes, from that shootout you were injured in.”
“Okay,” said Lacey, wondering why lab results from that incident might be important.
“Some of the DNA results were interesting,” said Deputy Parsons. “They weren’t important to the case, but my supervisor wanted me to read you in on them. They were ... curious.”
“DNA?”
“Yes,” said Linda, handing Lacey a sheet of paper. “Two DNA samples from the good guys side of things came back as being close relatives. The statements didn’t make mention of that. Not that that’s critical to the case. It just seemed odd.”
“Who were they?” asked Lacey.
“You and someone named Robert Shepard. Does that mean anything to you?”
“Bob? He was my bodyguard.” She almost added that he was now her husband, but something flared on her internal radar. Close relatives? Impossible.
“So is he a relative of yours?”
“If he is I didn’t know it,” said Lacey. She felt faint. “What kind of relative?”
“We didn’t go into it that far,” said Parsons. “The lab tech just noticed that two of the panels were familial matches and my supervisor wanted me to see if it mattered.”
“There must have been some contamination,” said Lacey. “Bob and I were both shot within a few feet of each other. Our blood may have comingled.”
“Yeah, that could be it,” said Linda, eager to be on her way. “If it isn’t a problem for you, it isn’t a problem for us. It’s not even in the official report.”
“Good,” said Lacey. “That case has gone on too long. Let’s put it to bed.”
“Fine by me,” said Deputy Parsons. “I’ll let you get back to the festivities.”
“Can I keep this?” asked Lacey, holding out the paper.
“Sure,” said Linda. “Your office’s copy of the final report should show up in a week or two.”
“Thanks,” said Lacey. She looked through her office window. Bob was dancing with Jessica. Ronnie was holding her bouquet, which hadn’t been officially thrown, yet.
She decided to go do that now ... and talk to Bob about the lab report later.
“Later” turned out to be Sunday afternoon, when she took the things out of the purse she’d used at the wedding, to put them in her normal every-day purse. She found the lab report neatly folded into quarters, tucked into the purse. Bob was in the kitchen, preparing lasagna.
“Hey,” she said, as she walked into a room full of good smells.
“Hey yourself,” he said. “Have I told you today that I love you?”
Cayleigh
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