A Cop Keeps a Promise

Avery stormed up to me and jabbed a finger at me. She ordered me to get Pierce free, no matter what. I sighed. The kid doesn't know what she's doing. The lingering feeling of watching the contents of that damn drive--Avery's car pulling up in front of the hotel and the suspect herself stepping out of it--caused me to shudder. I really wish that she wasn't the one that did it.

I promised her that I would do everything in my power to get Pierce free. I didn't know if I was lying to her or to myself.

Whenever I had to bring Avery down to the station, a little part of me got less and less hopeful. A back and forth would play out in my head: She did it, didn't she; no, she couldn't have; but there was evidence; but she's such a sweet kid.

Sighing, I opened the door to the interrogation room and sat down across from Pierce. I expected him to be smugly adjusting his tie and throwing his feet up on the table, smirking at me and saying, "Gotcha, Eliza."

But his head remained buried in his arm. I could hear him softly sobbing.

"Hey, Pierce," I greeted. He didn't acknowledge me. It was so strange to have watched him in his current state. I didn't see Pierce break down like that after Rosemary died. I guess he was new to the job, and I didn't really know him, but still...He's never been like this before. If I didn't know the circumstances, I would've called it pathetic. Folding my hands, I sighed. "Why'd you admit to it, Pierce?"

He shook his head.

"You know that the statute of limitations doesn't excuse you from this. You didn't have to say anything, Pierce. You didn't have to confess."

I thought that I heard him whisper something. I asked him to speak louder. I eyed the glass and wondered what Eugene thought of all of this.

"I had to," Pierce muttered.

"Why, Pierce?"

"She wouldn't have wanted this, Eliza," he said, slowly raising his head. His face was blushed, his eyes were puffy, his hair was unkempt, and tears streamed down his cheeks. "She wouldn't have wanted me to turn into a monster."

"You're not a monster, Pierce--"

"Cut the crap, Eliza. Look at me." He laughed to himself, shaking his head and letting it hang in defeat. "Dead wife. Dead daughter. Dead career. Dead, dead, dead."

We sat in silence, save for Pierce's sniffling.

"I know why you got that prisoner to kill Masefield, Pierce," I admitted. "I would've done it, too. But I would've turned myself in when I was done." Pierce nodded. It seemed like he was done talking about it. "Do you remember when you first got here?" Pierce raised his head and cocked an eyebrow. "You introduced yourself to me exactly like this..."

I spread out my arms and slightly bowed. "'My name's Pierce Prescott. Don't bother me.' And then you took a flask from your coat pocket and took a long, obnoxious swig. I had turned to Eugene and said, 'Can you believe this guy?' And then Eugene nodded. He said he would be drinking too, if he was you." Pierce reached for his pocket for his flask and then ran a hand through his hair in distress. The flask still wasn't there. "You showed up out of nowhere, Pierce. We all took bets on where you were from. I guessed Jersey. Someone else guessed Hell.

"So you know what I did, Pierce? I looked you up. You were like this enigma that nobody could crack. All we knew about you was that you were an alcoholic bastard that locked himself in his house that the chief let you work from." I began to count off on my fingers his accomplishments: "Never lost a case. Won his first case against the current state public defender. Was up for the position at age twenty-eight, the youngest ever. Why'd you move here, huh? Nice place to raise a kid?"

"You're good at your job, y'know," Pierce replied. "Too good. I don't give you enough credit."

"I know, Pierce. You're too good, too. That's why I can't figure out that you'd come here. Defending brats who commit petty acts of vandalism. I remember your face being absolutely ecstatic that there was a murder case."

"I came here because she couldn't stand to be where she was buried, okay?" Pierce finally said, pounding his fists on the table. "Rosemary didn't want to be near her dead mother every single damn day. So we packed up and moved somewhere safe." He began laughing in his hysteria. "And then, boom: Rosemary dies, the Creontes die, and Carson dies."

"You were real close with that kid, huh? Carson adored you."

"He was a good kid, Eliza. He didn't deserve any of this. Avery doesn't deserve this." He waved his hands around the room. "I deserve this. Why do you think I tried to fucking end it all, huh? Because I was bored? I could've saved my little girl, I could've saved Carson, I could've...I don't deserve to be alive, Eliza." I noticed that his hands were twitching violently. I supposed that he had been without a drink for quite a while.

"I'll be right back, Pierce." When I began to stand, he shot his arm out and latched onto my hand.

"Don't go," he begged.

"I promise, Pierce. Right back, okay?" He didn't look convinced, but he nodded softly and slowly drew away from me.

Eugene had left the room. He said he was going to go arrest Avery Carter based on what we had found on the drive. I frowned. She really was a good kid.

The whiskey splashed around in the tumbler. I held it steady in my hand as I opened the door. Pierce perked his head up when he saw me enter with a drink. I sat down and slid the glass towards him. He wrapped his hands around it like it was the most precious thing in the world. "Thank you," he muttered.

"You seemed like you needed it," I replied with a shrug. The sentence seemed to linger with him.

"Seemed like I needed it...," he droned. He hurriedly tapped his index finger against the glass. He timorously lifted his head and lowly inquired, "Do you think that I'll ever get better, Eliza?"

"If you try, Pierce," I replied with a shrug.

"Eliza...please, keep Avery safe. Don't arrest her. She didn't do it, you know."

"Pierce--"

"I kept convincing her that it was one of her friends. I really am a monster, Eliza."

"No, you are not a monster, Pierce," I reassured. He sighed.

"I deserve to be in here, Eliza. Don't help me, okay? Just do me a favor and let me rot in here." His hands trembled like a leaf in the fall. He was bound to fall off of the branch any moment. He looked me dead in the eye and said, "I got Rory Masefield killed. I don't regret it--in fact, I'd do it again. I'd do it again in a heartbeat."

"Pierce, please. Give me something to convince me to get you out of here."

"The funny thing is that I can't, Eliza. Heh, maybe I'll hang myself in prison. That'd be a load off of your back, right?"

"Pierce."

He presented his wrists to me, jangled his cuffs around and said, "Just put me away, Officer." He smiled at me. He genuinely smiled at me. It almost made me want to cry. "I know that you've been wanting to do this for a damned long time."

"Pierce..." I tapped my finger against the cold table. "Are you sure that Avery didn't do it?"

"I'm positive. I even have a working theory." He opened his hands to me, gesturing for me to inquire what his theory was. When I didn't budge, he sighed and said, "Johanna Creonte. In fact, I'm positive. If I was out of here, I'd go to Maine myself and get her back down here. Doesn't even matter than I don't remember what she looks like--I would find her."

I smiled softly. "You really care about that Carter kid, huh?"

"Her name's Avery, y'know. Please stop thinking that she killed Carson. The kid doesn't have a murderous bone in her body. And yeah..." He almost looked embarrassed. "I really care about Avery."

"I'm gonna be honest with ya, bud. I'm so tired of this whole damn thing. I'm tired of hearing Carson's name all around the office, I'm tired of having to drag Avery here when I know that she didn't do it, and I'm tired of doubting myself all the damn time. I'm tired of being angry. I just want to go back to arresting delinquents."

"I know the feeling, Eliza. I do." Pierce stared at his reflection in the pools of whiskey. "You know what? I think you need this more than I do." He slid the glass over to me, some of the whiskey splashing out of the tumbler. He finally regained his composure, adjusting his tie and fixing his hair.

I smirked. "Thanks, Pierce." I stood up from my seat. "I'm only doing this because I made a promise to someone." I withdrew the evidence bag from my pocket. Within it held perhaps the worst thing in Pierce Prescott's current life. He eyed it as if he were a demon, and I had just produced holy water from my coat. "I'm going to go delete these tapes, Pierce. I'll convince Eugene. Maybe we imagined all of this, right?"

"Eliza, don't--"

"You need to get out of here, Pierce. You need to get out of here because you have a client waiting for you. A scared, lonely, vulnerable client." He suddenly seemed infused with a newfound determination. "Let's go, Pierce. I've still got to put you in a holding cell for now." He nodded and stood from his chair. When he rested his hands in front of him, I noticed that his knuckles were bleeding from when he punched the wall. Pity washed over me.

I took the tape and slipped it into his pocket. He smiled at me. "You're my guardian angel, Eliza." For a mere moment, I figured that he was bullshitting me. He had faked his sobbing and mental breakdown. His friendship with Avery Carter was non-existent. Rory Masefield was really just killed by an inmate. Pierce Prescott really had murdered Carson Harris.

But his smile wasn't a smirk like it usually was. It was...

It was a smile.

We exited the interrogation room.

I collapsed on my office chair. Someone had gone on a coffee run, so I gratefully chugged the dark roast from Avedon's down the moment I reached my desk. I grabbed the picture that resided next to my computer. I didn't know whether to smile or frown. Anna was sitting on my shoulders, sticking her tongue out at the camera and waving her arms in the air. I was proudly beaming as if to demonstrate God dammit, this is my niece, and she is amazing.

I thought of the bastard that took her out of this world when he set fire to that apartment complex. I thought of my brother sobbing on my shoulder when he told me the news. I thought of every single day that monster was on trial, and he got away with a mere sentence of twenty years to life with a chance of parole.

I thought of Pierce Prescott maybe holding his daughter on his shoulders. I thought of Avery Carter one day having her kid on her shoulders. I thought of all of the times that I should've been there for Anna but wasn't.

I set down the photo when I heard police sirens emanating from outside the precinct. I adjusted my hat and smiled.

There was always still work to do.