Faithfulness in the Center
Part 8
"So how's the shoulder," Peter asked his friend as they sat down in the booth.
"It's there." Kermit responded.
The waitress brought menus to the two detectives. Peter shook his head and handed his menu back, "Just coffee for me."
"Make that two," Kermit followed.
After the waitress had left with the order, Peter turned his attention back to man in the sunglasses. "So why did you quit?"
Kermit was silent for a moment. "Harris wants to know about my past."
"That's not surprising, Kermit." Peter reasoned, "The police department usually likes to know about the officers they've hired." Peter looked at the ex-mercenary, who was staring at his hands which were clasped tightly in front of him on the table. "Quitting isn't the answer. They are still going to ask questions." Peter looked into the sunglasses, seeing his reflection, "So what are you going to tell them?"
"What do you think?" Kermit's responded sarcastically. "Do you think I can just walk into Harris' office and hand him my resume? I'm sure he'll be impressed by my unique ability to overthrow dictatorships. . .He won't find many people in the precinct who can do that job."
Peter couldn't help but chuckle. In the 101st, he wasn't so sure that overthrowing dictatorships was all that unique of an ability. Before he could offer any advice the waitress reappeared, coffee mugs in hand. She laid the ticket on the table and left to help other customers. "Do you think you can stall him?"
Kermit shrugged but said nothing. Peter shook his head. "I can't believe that you and Paul never thought about creating some sort of file for you."
"Paul was concerned about putting false information out there. Sometimes a 'lost file' is better than one that can be proven as containing lies and half-truths." Kermit took a long drink from the coffee mug, never flinching from the heat of the liquid. He then closed his eyes and whispered, "I can't get her face out of my mind."
Peter was startled by the sudden change of topic, but knew instinctively that Kermit was thinking of Stephanie Porter. Kermit continued talking, "I keep replaying what happened over and over."
"Kermit, it was an accident. It could have happened to any of us. Hell, it's happened to me." Peter responded in an equally quiet voice, suddenly having memory flashes of his own.
"Not to me." Kermit snarled.
"Oh yeah, I forgot, Kermit Griffin, ex-mercenary and super spy, doesn't make mistakes." Peter's voice was tainted with sarcasm.
"Not like this." He took a deep breath, "Damn it, Peter, I killed a child. What in the hell was I thinking of? We were in a park for God's sake and it never once occurred to me that a child could be there. . .that innocent people could get caught in the line of fire."
"You were defending yourself, Kermit. Martin fired on you first. You had no choice but to return fire." Peter tried to reason.
"Like hell I didn't. I fired before evaluating the situation. My instincts took over and my brain shut off." Kermit's words where terse and short.
It was Peter's turn for a deep breath, centering himself and absorbing Griffin's anger, "It's our instincts that keep us alive, Kermit. You know that as well as I do. You were hurt and you reacted in the only way you knew how."
"Yeah, by killing Stephanie." He crumpled his paper napkin into a tight ball, his voice dropping to a whisper again, "I should've been in control." The man suddenly stood and walked towards the exit.
Peter, surprised by the sudden move, stood and dug two dollars from his pocket and threw them down on the table. Kermit had already left the diner. Peter raced to the door in an effort to keep up and then realized that Kermit had not moved on. Instead, his sunglasses were focused on something near the building.
Peter stood next to his friend and saw immediately what held the man's attention. The newspaper stand held the local newspaper and on the front page were the huge letters: "Bungled Bust Leads to Girl's Death." An elementary school picture of Stephanie Porter was on one half of the page, along with a picture of the coroner's wagon which had carried her body away from the scene.
Peter reached out and placed a steadying grip on Kermit's uninjured arm. The ex-mercenary said nothing, he just continued to stare at the photos. Then he quietly muttered, "I should've been in control." Suddenly he pulled away from Peter's hand and walked away.
Peter accompanied Griffin back to the precinct in silence. He didn't know what to do to help his friend, but he knew that he needed to be there for him. As they approached the building, Peter looked up to see a mass of reporters filling the doorway or the brick building. He reached out again, this time to halt the ex-mercenary's progress. "Let's go to the back. I don't think you want to be caught up in that mob."
Kermit shook his head. "I quit, remember. I'm heading home."
"Quitting isn't an option. You've never quit from anything before and I'm not going to let you start now. Besides, I'm pretty sure that your apartment is going to have the same activity, especially if Sandra Mason has anything to say about it."
Griffin seemed to ponder his friend's words. Peter wasn't sure which statement had changed the man's mind, but Kermit suddenly crossed the street and headed towards the back of the building. His battle won, Peter smiled and followed closely.
They reentered the precinct, finding themselves in the men's locker room. Whispered voices could be heard as Peter and Kermit headed towards the stairs. The voices were suddenly silent when the speakers saw Kermit's presence. He was obviously going to be the subject of the gossip-mill on this day. To his credit, Kermit ignored the mutterings and proceeded up the stairs to the main floor.
Sgt. Broderick was doing his best to keep the press at bay. The questions being shouted by the reporters were deafening. Captain Simms was standing next to Broderick, waiting for the wave of noise to recede long enough that she could be heard. Kermit started to walk forward into the crowd, his mercenary look plastered on his face. Peter grabbed the man and pulled him away from the mob and into the squad room.
Simms had seen her men enter the room and, to her credit, did nothing to draw attention to their presence. She reached into her pocket and pulled out a silver traffic whistle and blew it until the ear-piercing sound caused the room to quiet. "All right, that's enough. This is a police station, not an amusement park." Although sometimes it's hard to tell the difference, she thought to herself.
"You have already been told that there will be no press releases coming from this precinct. You will have to get all formal statements from either the Mayor's office or from our Public Relations office. Now, I want all of you out of here so that we can get back to doing our jobs." She turned to Broderick, "I want all persons not having official business out of this building immediately." She turned away from the man and walked back to her office, shaking her head in amazement. Handling the press was often times like handling a disobedient child.
Broderick responded with a respectful, "Yes, Captain." He turned to the mob, "Okay, you heard the Captain. All of you. . .outside, NOW!"
Backed up with a couple of patrolmen, Broderick began herding the crowd to the exit.
As the reporters dissipated, a man and woman were left in the lobby. Their eyes were bloodshot and dark. Broderick looked at the couple and instinctively knew who they were. "Mr. and Mrs. Porter?"
The man nodded, "Uh, we're here to see Detective Skalaney."
Broderick glanced at the clock. They were early. He was certain that Mary Margaret was not expecting them to arrive until 10:00. It was only 9:00 now.
"I know she's in. Let me find her. Have a seat." The Sergeant pointed to the chairs lining the back wall. The man led his wife to the chairs and helped her take a seat. He then moved to a similar position beside her.
Broderick picked up his phone and dialed Mary Margaret's extension. She answered on the first ring, "Skalaney."
"The Porters are here," he responded quietly.
"Already? I wasn't expecting them for another hour." The Detective glanced at her watch. "Send them on back."
Broderick left the desk and walked up to the distraught couple, "If you'll come on back, Det. Skalaney can see you know." Broderick watched as Mr. Porter eased his wife to her feet, the woman seeming to have no strength of her own.
He led the couple to the back room and saw Skalaney waiting for them, a sympathetic smile on her face. "If you'll come with me I'll take you to a place where we can talk in private." She led the way to an interrogation room. "Would either of you like some coffee or water?"
The parents silently shook their heads. Mrs. Porter finally spoke, "We just want to get this over with."
Mary Margaret nodded, "I understand how difficult this must be."
Neither parent said anything in response. She entered the interrogation room and held the door open for the visitors. Once they were inside, she shut the door behind them.
Kermit and Peter had returned to the computer expert's office. Kermit had immediately landed in his desk chair, once again staring at the computer screen. Peter stood at the window, peeking through the closed blinds.
"It looks like the Captain ran everyone off," he commented. Kermit didn't respond. "Have you written up your report yet about last night?" Peter asked the detective.
Kermit shook his head, "I was just thinking that I needed to do that." There was a sudden tap on the door. The handle turned and Karen Simms stood in the doorway, her arms full of file folders and other unknown items.
"I see that you decided to come back to work," she smiled as she walked into the room.
Kermit looked into her eyes and said simply, "Yep."
"Next time you decide to leave, take your badge with you." She pulled out the badge that he had recently surrendered to her possession and tossed it on the desk. "Oh, and you can have this back too." She pulled the Desert Eagle from the top of the stack and handed it back to the man. She then pulled the clip of ammunition from her pocket.
Kermit didn't respond, but the corners of his mouth turned up in a slight smile. "So is Harris pissed off at me."
"He's IA. . .he's always pissed off," the Captain grinned back.
"Sorry to leave you stuck with that crowd out there." Kermit apologized.
"Hey, that's why I get paid the big bucks," she responded. "Have you written your report yet?" she asked the man.
"Peter just asked me the same thing. No, I haven't. I'm going to do that now." Kermit looked at his two companions and then turned back to the computer.
Karen stood near her detective, "I know this won't be easy for you, but you need to do this while the details are still fresh in your memory. I don't want your only record of the event to be what Harris and Peterson wrote up last night." Concern suddenly filled her eyes, "Can you type with your wounded shoulder?"
"I'll manage," was the short response.
She looked at Peter and ordered, "Let's leave Kermit alone so he can get some work done."
Peter nodded. Although the Captain's words were outwardly official, he could feel her caring and compassion for the ex-mercenary smoldering underneath. "Aye, aye, Captain," he responded obediently and followed her out of the office, shutting the door behind him.
End Part 8
To Part 9