Part 5

The first week after Mandy’s funeral was the hardest for Peter’s friends. No one knew what to say or do to help the detective. He lived in his own silent world, barely uttering a word. Annie had insisted that he stay with her after his release from the hospital, offering love and comfort. He wanted neither.

The pain and despair was etched clearly on his face. He had failed to protect the woman he loved. In his mind, he deserved neither solace nor sympathy. Annie waited patiently, holding him close when he allowed it, keeping her distance when he did not. He rarely let her close to him, preferring the painful silence of his own company. Annie didn’t push him. He would talk when he was ready to talk.

At the end of the hellish week, he announced that he was going back to work.

"You’re not ready yet." Annie caressed the side of his face and felt him flinch at her touch. He had not yet grieved. Not once had his face been damp from tears, his sobs had not echoed through the house at night. Death had taken the woman with which he wanted to spend the rest of his life, and he had not cried for her demise. He wasn’t ready yet.

"Annie, I’m going crazy rattling around this place. I’ve got too much time to think, nothing to do. I need to work. . ." He paused a moment before going on. ". . . and it’s time I talked to the Feds. I think I’m ready to find out more about Mandy. I *need* to know more about her."

Annie’s heart broke, but she nodded silently. Kermit had kept the Witness Protection people at bay for the last week. Maybe it was time.

****

The interview with the Feds had gone smoother this time. Kermit had explained the finer points of manners and professional courtesy to the pair. They, in turn, had given Kermit a brief history on the real woman behind Evelyn Lexton. They really didn’t tell him much, but it was enough to begin his computer search.

*It’s funny, the files you can hack into with just a little bit of information.* Kermit thought to himself as he headed for his office. Captain Simms could referee the Feds interview with Peter. He had files to locate.

Captain Simms did watch over the meeting between the Feds and her most sucesssful homicide detective like a mother hen. Each time one of the men made a callous remark, or ventured into accusatory territory, she smiled an insincere smile and raised her eyebrows, letting them know that they were out of bounds. Evidently the detective they’d had their little chat with earlier, the one in green sunglasses, had made an impression on them. They backed down as soon as the Captain did her Spock impression.

The men took turns questioning Peter, not seeming to care that they were ripping open not-yet-healed wounds.

"How did you meet Evelyn?"

"Mandy. She likes. . .liked. . . to be called Mandy." Peter’s voice was toneless, as if he here talking in his sleep. "I met her at a restaurant called Jerrad’s. She’d been stood up by her blind date; mine walked out on me."

"How long did you know her?"

"We knew each other a little over three months." The distraught homicide detective was looking down, fiddling with his pen. It seemed to hold great fascination for him.

"Did she ever mention anything about her former life?"

"She didn’t tell me she was a protected witness, if that’s what you mean. She told me that she was an only child, and that her parents were both dead. Her mother died in a car wreck on Mandy’s sixteenth birthday. Her father died of cancer three years ago." Peter tilted his head, still staring at the pen in his hands. It did seem odd, now that he thought about it that she hadn’t wanted to talk more about her past. A momentary frown crossed his face then he shook it off. She was a private person. She would have told him about everything when she was ready.

"Don’t you think three months a pretty short time to know someone before you ask them to marry you?" Peter looked stricken. His eyes grew wide and pain filled his face. It wasn’t the sort of pain that morphine could take away. It was the kind that robbed one of breath and soul. Captain Simms raised her eyebrows and crossed her arms over her chest. "Never mind," the Fed withdrew the last question.

It seemed as if Peter might survive their questions intact after all, when the older of the two asked the question that sliced his spirit into a million pieces.

"How could at least three men get into your apartment, with you at home, and you not notice it? What kind of cop are you, anyway?" Peter dropped the pen without seeming to notice it. He dropped his head even further, the burden of guilt forced his shoulders to sag under its weight.

"We were in the bedroom. . . making love. . ." Peter’s voice was a bare whisper. His eyes stared vacantly into space and it was clear he was reliving the last few moments he’d had with Mandy.

"This interview is at a close, gentlemen." Karen Simms could barely keep the fury out of her voice. "If you have any further questions, bring a warrant. . . and gentlemen, I will be in contact with your superior. This man has been through enough without your abuse. He is on your side, or doesn’t that matter to you?"

Kermit walked into the office just as the pair were beating a hasty retreat. Seeing the fury on Captain Simms’ face and the pain on Peter’s, he scowled after them.

*I wonder how they’re going to like having their paychecks slashed in half and sent to them via Mozambique?* he thought, his mind already racing. *After all, the best revenge *IS* revenge.*

[end part 5]

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Part 6

"Donnie, you had to have heard something. Nobody does a hit like that without someone knowing about it." Peter was pacing on the dock. He half pleaded and half raged.

"Nothin’, Peter. Don’t you think I would have told you if I’d heard even a whisper. The streets are talking, but only about what happened, not who did it. It’s wild out there. You have people scared. They know that when you kill a cop. . . or his lady. . . someone’s gotta pay." Donnie Double D, Peter’s best snitch watched his favorite detective with sympathy. The story was all over how Peter’s fiance had been killed while the cop was there. Some stories had Peter conscious, others said he was out cold on the floor. It was not a point Donnie wished to pursue with Peter.

"AAAAAGGGGGH!" Peter Caine’s face was a mask of fury as he slammed his fist into one of the pilings on the dock. He didn’t seem to notice the blood pouring out from torn knuckles, or the swelling that appeared immediately. He wasn’t seeming to notice much of anything, except the empty space in his heart. Donnie stepped away from the wild-eyed man. Peter Caine was a man to be reckoned with on the streets. A half-crazed Peter Caine was just flat out dangerous.

"Look, Petie. I am looking as hard as I can look to find out what I can on this. You want some advice?" the snitch asked gently, making sure he was out of reach. "Cool down and let someone else handle this one. You’re out of control, man, and on the streets out of control gets you dead."

Peter’s answer chilled Donnie even deeper than the madness in his eyes.

"I’m dead already, Donnie. I just haven’t quit breathing, yet." The cop’s comment was made barely above a whisper, but the sadness in his voice made Donnie want more than ever to help his friend. There was no help for Peter Caine, though, at least none he could give.

*I gotta call Skalaney. Somebody’s got to stop him before he gets himself dead for real.* Donnie thought to himself as he watched the man he considered a friend stride away. A moment later the screech of tires told him that Peter was on the move again.

***

A tentative knock sounded at Kermit’s door just as he was downloading the file on Evelyn Lexton, aka Marybeth Jolynn Dayleson. He turned the monitor away from the door then spun around in his chair.

"What?" he snarled in his most irritated growl, the one he used when he didn’t want to be disturbed. Seeing the look on Skalaney’s face, however, his frown softened.

"Kermit, we have to find Peter. He’s investigating Mandy’s death," the shapely detective spoke softly, not wanting anyone else in the precinct to hear her. "Simms told him specifically to leave that case alone, that he was too close. Donnie Double D just called after he had an interesting conversation with Peter. He thinks that Peter is out to catch Mandy’s killers and he doesn’t think that Peter is worried about get himself killed. Donnie said he isn’t in control."

"Damn it to Hell. I should have known the kid wasn’t ready to come back to work." Kermit opened the desk drawer where his beloved Desert Eagle was housed. "Let’s go bring him in before he gets himself hurt or worse."

***

Peter had gone to ground. Kermit and Skalaney tried his cell phone, his pager, his father’s place, the Ancient’s garden, and all of his usual hangouts. He was nowhere to be found. They found the Stealth parked in his usual space at his apartment building.

Kermit knocked on the door to Peter’s apartment, and he was surprised when not Peter but his father opened the door.

"Is Peter in there?" Mary Margaret asked Caine, seeking out his eyes and finding comfort there.

"He is not. I came to . . . put things back in order. The apartment was left as it was the night that Mandy died. The essence that is Mandy has not left for another plane. I can still feel her. It is as if her soul were trapped here. I knew that Peter would feel it, as well. I could not let my son return to that, " the priest told Kermit and Skalaney when he invited them in, gesturing questioningly at the teapot and three cups on the coffee table. Mary Margaret gratefully accepted Caine’s offer , while Kermit shook his head, preferring to pace. As he did, he saw the fruit of Caine’s labors.

Kermit had stopped by the apartment while the forensics team were still working, after he had checked on Peter. The scene had not been a pretty one. Blood soaked the carpet and was splattered on the walls. Pockmarks were scattered against the red stains where the buckshot had divoted the drywall. There was a small stain of blood on the sheets and bedspread. He assumed that it had come from Peter, after he was hit with the rifle butt.

Caine had somehow managed to get all of the blood out of the carpet, and off the wall. Tiny white splotches dotted the wall where he had filled the pockmarks. A little sanding, and some paint, and it would be almost impossible to see the damage. He had no doubt that Peter would see it though, probably as long as he lived in the apartment. No matter how much Caine scrubbed to free the place of Mandy’s "essence", she would be permanently etched in that room.

"Peter has not yet returned to this place." Kermit flinched as Caine suddenly appeared at his right shoulder. "He has not been back since that night. I wanted to repair the damage before he saw it."

"He won’t need to see it," Kermit’s haunted voice echoed through the too empty apartment.

"Look," Kermit said after a moment’s pause, never once taking his eyes off the fill marks. "We came looking for Peter. He’s gone off on his own, trying to find Mandy’s killer. He could be in big trouble. Anyone crazy enough to break into a cop’s place at night and kill doesn’t care what he does."

"I feel Peter’s chi, linked with my own. He is troubled, angry, haunted, but safe. He will not show himself to us. He is like the tiger who is wounded. He will seek isolation until he heals." Caine was annoyingly calm as he spoke.

"He’s not going to heal if he runs into the men that killed Mandy." Kermit snarled at the Shaolin priest. Maybe Caine was willing to wait out the storm in Peter’s soul. He wasn’t.

"Mary Margaret, why don’t you stay here and make sure Caine gets home all right. I have to go check out some sources and they aren’t too keen on strange faces," the ex mercenary spoke quietly to his partner. He knew that she was at least as troubled as he was, and that the older Caine could help her regain perspective. Besides, he wanted her there if Peter decided to contact his father.

"Kermit, are you sure? You might need some backup." Mary Margaret was hesitant to let Kermit go off on his own, as Peter had done. He traveled in very dangerous circles.

"Stay. The kind of backup I need is way out of your code of ethics. The people I’m going to see don’t have morals, or consciences, or a great deal of trust in strangers. I can’t take you with me." He touched her shoulder in a very uncharacteristic display of emotion. "Keep an eye out in case the kid comes back, okay?"

[end part 6]

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