Tribal Court by Stephen Penner Page B

sorry I did use you to review autopsy reports for me the other night."
    Kat offered another small nod. Then she just sat there. After a few moments, she spread her hands. "Anything else?"
    "Uh, well," Brunelle stammered, "like I said, this case has really gotten to me and—"
    "No, dumbass," Kat interrupted. "Anything else you're sorry for?"
    "Uh…." Brunelle felt a dump of adrenaline. This was going deeper than he'd planned. "I'm sorry I did it over dinner?" he tried. "When we were supposed to be having a date."
    Kat's eyes narrowed. "No, not that. Jesus, David…" She crossed her arms and shook her head. "How about you're sorry you haven't called me for four months? How about you're sorry you made me think we had something special when I guess we really didn't? Or, if we did, then how about you're sorry you didn't follow up on it? How about you're sorry you made me think I was just another woman you charmed to get whatever it was you wanted? How about you're sorry for not returning my calls, or replying to my emails, or acknowledging me at all? Not even a curt, rude, 'Busy. Will call soon.' How about you're sorry for leaving it to me to explain to my daughter why this really great guy suddenly disappeared? How about you're sorry for being a complete asshole and treating me like garbage? How about that?"
    Brunelle was dumbstruck. The adrenaline dump proceeded in earnest and his mind raced to catch up with his feelings. He just stood there.
    "Um," he said finally. "Yeah, that. Sorry about all that too."
    Kat sneered and shook her head again. "Wow. Really? That's the best you can do? 'Sorry for all that too'? Damn it, David, I thought you were better than that. I guess not."
    She turned back to her work.
    Brunelle ran a hand over his head. "Uh, look. I— Um…" He caught himself and took a deep breath. "I was scared."
    Kat scoffed. "Scared?" she repeated derisively without looking back at him. "Well, I'm sorry that needy Miss Kat scared little David."
    "No, no. Not scared by you. For you." When Kat still didn't look at him, he added, "And Lizzy."
    That had the desired effect. Kat turned to glare at him. "Lizzy?"
    Brunelle finally stepped all the way into the office and sat in the one plastic guest chair Kat had managed to jam into the closet-like space. "Look," he said, gazing down. "You're an M.E. You chop up bodies that are already dead and testify about what killed them. If it weren't for evidence rules, I wouldn't even need you to testify about that. Any moron knows that when you get shot in the head three times, you die. But I can't argue that in closing unless a witness actually says it out loud. And only an expert can give an opinion as to cause of death. So fine, I call you, you get out of this cheery office for an afternoon, and that's the end of it for you."
    He paused and looked at her.
    "At least, that's supposed to be the end of it. But I don't deal with dead bodies. I deal with live bodies. Defendants. Murder defendants, who have no qualms about making more dead bodies.
    "After out last case together, I realized I didn't understand that well enough. I don't have kids. You do. Believe me, there are plenty of times I picked up the phone to call you. Not a night went by that I didn't want to drive over to your place. But I thought of Lizzy and I just couldn't do it."
    Kat listened expressionless. She stared at him for a few more seconds, her expression still inscrutable. "You expect me to believe that?"
    Brunelle shrugged. "I don't know. Believe it or don't. It's the truth."
    Another few seconds of Kat staring at him. Finally, she said, "Really?"
    Brunelle ventured a tentative smile. "Really. I'm sorry, Kat. I'm sorry I made you feel like I wasn't interested, or that you weren't worth it. I just—"
    "You should have told me, David," Kat said softly. "You can talk to me, you know. I have ears."
    Brunelle smiled more fully. "And what lovely ears they are."
    Kat crossed her arms. "Is this the part where you try to