I drove.
Radar sat beside me. Quiet. Reflective. I wondered what it was like for him right now. Lethal shootings by cops are much rarer than people think and I knew he’d never been involved with one before. I wondered if dropping that knife by the body should’ve bothered me more than it did.
It was a hard question to answer.
Since we’d rushed out of the department this morning right after my meeting with Dr. Werjonic, and then driven straight to Griffin’s place-and from there to the farmhouse by the landfill-Radar and I had both missed lunch. In fact, the only thing I’d eaten all day were the muffins and bananas I’d had at breakfast when Taci broke up with me.
Not a memory I wanted to be carrying with me right now.
I hadn’t even had any of Thompson’s cherry turnovers.
My stomach could definitely tell.
We stopped at a gas station that had a Subway. I filled up the car while Radar grabbed us some foot-longs.
We’d gone about another five miles before it occurred to me that I’d once again missed Dr. Werjonic’s afternoon seminar. This time, though, I figured I could get copies of the notes easily enough when I connected with him about Slate Seagirt.
“So, how are you doing, Radar?”
“Good.”
I was no counselor by any stretch of the imagination, but it seemed like I should at least offer whatever help I could. “If you want to talk about…”
“I’m good.”
I drove for a bit. “You remember when Lyrie was involved in that shooting last year? The gang kid? He-”
“I don’t need to talk to Padilla, Pat. I’m good.”
I didn’t have to mention a name. Radar knew right away I’d been talking about our police chaplain.
A pause. “Right.”
We continued down the highway as darkness spread across the countryside. It was almost ten minutes before Radar spoke again. “Do you believe in hell, Pat?”
“Hell?”
“Yeah. For people like Griffin.”
“You know, when we were back there, I was thinking to myself that there’s gotta be a place set aside down there for guys like him. I’m not sure if I believe in a literal fire and brimstone hell, but for people like Griffin I sure hope one exists. What about you?”
“I believe there’ll be a reckoning.”
“A reckoning? You mean like Judgment Day?”
“I guess so.” He didn’t go on right away. “I guess because I believe that both love is real, and so is justice.”
I thought I could see where he was going with this. “You’re saying justice doesn’t always happen in this life. People get away with rape, murder, whatever, so-”
“Yeah. So if there’s no hell, there’s no final justice in the universe, not really. It’d mean those people just commit their crimes and then die like everyone else. If justice exists, if it’s more than just wishful thinking-”
“There must be a hell.”
“Yeah, or a reckoning, or whatever, and if there’s no heaven, there’s no hope, no victory; we would all just die and be gone. Love wouldn’t win in the end.”
I’d never thought of it quite like that, but what he said rang true to me. “So you think, Griffin, he went there? To hell?”
“I think he deserved to.” It wasn’t quite a direct answer. I thought maybe he would go on, but he left it at that and, though his words made me curious, so did I.
Then he was silent and I was silent and we drove toward police headquarters so he could pick up his car and go home to his wife and kids. And I could get back to work.