Fathers and Sons
By Terri D. Thomas
Part 1 of 2
"What!" the large man exclaimed, slamming a fist angrily on the desk.
"I'm sorry, Frank," the gentle voice replied, knowing that any show of authority in the tone would only make things worse.
"It can't be. He was in for life," Frank Strenlich sighed, collapsing into the chair.
"His attorney filed a petition. With the overcrowding and the time that had gone by and his health. . .well, I guess they just couldn't justify leaving him behind bars." Her words were met with silence. "It's the system, Frank."
"I know about the system, Captain. No one has to tell me about how things work." The words were intense, barely containing the Chief's rage.
Karen Simms looked down at her clasped hands and then back at the pain-filled eyes of her friend. "I am sorry, Frank," she repeated. "If you need to. . .," she began to offer.
Before she could complete the sentence, Strenlich cut her off. "Thank you for the offer, Captain. I'll be fine." The man's eyes had turned hard and cold. "It was a long time ago."
Karen stared at the Chief for several seconds, waiting for some change of heart. It didn't come. Sighing, she turned and left the man's office, shutting the door softly behind her. Looking up, she found herself looking into Kermit's shaded eyes.
"That went well," she muttered, as she pushed her way past the ex-mercenary.
Turning, Kermit followed Karen back to her office. After both had entered the room, he shut the door.
"What did he say?"
"Not much." She shrugged her shoulders and leaned against the file cabinet next to the door. "I had just told him that the man who killed his father had been released from prison. What could he say?"
Kermit let silence settle between them for a moment. Karen turned her back on him and moved to sit in her chair. "I know how he feels, you know."
"Your brother?"
"It hurts when you are powerless to bring back those that have been taken away from you. . .especially when the ones who take them away are never held accountable."
"Edwards was caught. . .and punished. He served twenty years," Karen countered.
"It's not enough. It's never enough. Trust me."
Karen turned her attention to the activity in squad room beyond the windows of her office. "It's going to be tense around here for awhile." She then turned her attention back to Kermit. "When is Edwards going to be released?"
"Tomorrow, noon."
Simms was pensive for a moment before she spoke. "Do me a favor. Keep an eye on him."
Kermit nodded and left the office, closing the door behind him.
*********************
Chief of Detectives Frank Strenlich looked mournfully at the remnants of the beer in the bottom of the bottle. "Need something stronger," he muttered. "Terry. . .whiskey. . .straight up," he ordered. The blond bartender nodded his acknowledgement of the order and placed a shot of whiskey in front of the cop.
"Not a good idea, Chief," Peter Caine spoke from behind the rotund man. "You know what they say. . .'beer before liquor. . .'"
"I don't give a damn about what they say," the man growled in response as he slammed the contents of the shot glass into his mouth.
Peter raised his eyebrows at the man's actions. "Mind if I sit?" he said as he settled himself onto the barstool next to the Chief.
"It's a free world," the man grumbled.
"Thanks," Peter said, a smirk on his face.
"So, what brings our newest Shaolin priest to the neighborhood?" Strenlich asked after a moment's silence.
"Well, let's see. . .I killed another plant, spilled an entire container of the Ancient's herbs into his fish bowl and cut myself shaving." He pointed to a knick on his chin. "Decided to hang out some place where I could do the least amount of damage."
Strenlich seemingly ignored the snide answer and motioned for Terry to bring him another shot. Behind the Chief's back, Peter shook his head 'no'. Terry nodded slightly in acknowledgement.
"How about a cup of coffee instead, Chief."
"I didn't order coffee," Frank argued.
"I know, but I think it's time you cut yourself off."
"I'm a big boy, Det. . .I mean Peter. Don't need you telling me how to live my life."
Terry placed a cup of coffee in front of the large man and then another in front of Peter. "That's not what I ordered," Frank protested.
Terry shrugged his shoulders and walked away.
Frank stared at the cup of coffee, refusing to drink the contents. "So, I suppose Kermit told you what happened."
"Uh. . .well. . .no."
"Really. . .so who did?"
"No one. I've been working on certain meditation techniques. I could. . .," Peter halted his words for a moment, took a deep breath and then continued. "I could tell something was wrong. Thought I could help."
"I am Caine. . .I will help you," Frank mimicked.
"Yeah. . .well, something like that," Peter answered, with a slight smile on his face.
"So, how is dear old dad?" Frank asked, his words sarcastic. "Heard from the great Shaolin master lately?"
"He's fine," Peter answered, unaffected by the man's attitude. "He made contact with me yesterday. I think he'll be home soon."
Strenlich nodded, but said nothing more. Peter shifted in his chair. "So, what's up."
Strenlich didn't answer. Instead, he stared into the dark liquid of the cup before him.
"Guess I'll have to go talk to Kermit then," Peter sighed.
"They're releasing Vince Edwards." Frank's words were so soft that Peter barely heard them.
Peter's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really! Why?"
"It's the system," Frank muttered, finally taking a drink from the coffee cup. He set the cup back onto the counter. "He has cancer. . .it's terminal. They can't see a reason to keep him locked up when they need the space."
"Oh. . .I'm sorry, Frank," Peter replied. "Have you told your Mom?"
Frank shook his head. "What am I supposed to tell her? That the killer who took away the only man she ever loved has been set free? I can't tell her that. She's 83 years old. She's not strong enough to handle that."
Peter took a sip from his cup. "How are you doing?"
Frank glanced over at the younger man next to him. "I'm fine."
"Yeah. . .right."
"I buried my father a long time ago. I put that part of my life behind me."
"You never put that part of your life behind you, Frank. You forget, I've been there before. You always think about what you did, what you didn't do, what was taken away from you."
Frank pushed away from the bar. "Speak for yourself, Peter."
The rotund man pulled out a few bills from his wallet and laid them on the counter. Silently, he walked away from the young Shaolin priest and left the bar.
Peter watched the man leave and then turned his attention back to his coffee cup. "That went well," he muttered.
"That's the second time I've heard that today," Kermit's sarcastic voice sounded from behind.
"Hey. Have a seat. I suddenly find myself without a date." Peter motioned to the stool next to him.
Kermit shook his head. "You aren't my type, Kid." Kermit took a swig from the beer bottle he was carrying. "So, what'd he say?"
''Not much." Peter sighed. "He's hurting."
The dark-haired man downed the last of his beer. "Well, I've got to run. Have Strenlich-duty tonight."
"Want some company?"
"Sure. The more the merrier."
Peter slid off the stool, tossed a bill on the counter and followed his friend out the door.
*******************
"I guess I should be surprised that he's here, but I'm not," Peter sighed, watching as Frank Strenlich exited his vehicle. The man walked to the front of the car and then leaned against the vehicle.
An uneventful night outside of Frank Strenlich's house had turned into an equally uneventful morning. Kermit had learned from Karen that Strenlich had called in sick that morning. Both men knew that the Chief was up to something. When he left his home thirty minutes before noon, their suspicions were confirmed.
Now, Peter and Kermit were parked in front of the main gates of the state penitentiary a half-block away from Strenlich's vehicle. Kermit glanced at his watch. "It's almost noon. Edwards is to be released anytime."
"Why do you think he's here?" Peter asked.
"Well, I can only think of two reasons. Number one, curiosity. Number two. . ."
"Revenge," Peter muttered. "I really don't want to think he could do something like that. . .but. . ."
"He's lost control before," Kermit completed.
"Yeah."
"You want to stop him?"
"No, not yet. We really don’t know for sure why he's here."
Activity at the entrance of the prison caught their attention. "That's Edwards," Peter muttered when he saw a frail looking old man shuffling out of the building. Another man in a three-piece suit accompanied the thin ex-convict.
"Well, look at that. Snyder. Should've known that snake was behind Edwards' release," Kermit growled.
Peter glanced at the greasy attorney and then turned his attention back to Vince Edwards. "I can't believe how bad he looks."
"Who? Snyder? He's a scumbag. No big surprise."
"No, Edwards."
"You've seen him before?"
Peter nodded. "I came to live with the Blaisdells about the same time that Edwards was being sentenced. Frank was a mess. He spent a lot of time with Paul."
Edwards and Snyder proceeded down the sidewalk and into the visitor's parking lot of the facility. Kermit noticed movement from Strenlich's vehicle. "Uh oh," the man muttered as he watched the Chief walk across the street and towards the same parking lot.
"I think that maybe we'd better move," Kermit said as he pushed the door of his Corvair open.
"Agreed," Peter responded as he followed suit.
Peter and Kermit jogged across the street and followed Strenlich as the Chief made a beeline towards Edwards and Snyder.
The sound of footsteps approaching from behind caught the attorney's attention. He turned around and his eyes widened in surprise when he saw who was approaching. "May I help you, Chief Strenlich?"
Strenlich's gaze shot past the attorney and locked onto Vince Edwards. "I just want a word with your client."
"My client has no business with the 101st," Snyder responded and turned around, pushing Vince Edwards towards his sedan.
"Your 'client' has business with me," Frank Strenlich's voice boomed across the lot, stopping the progress of both men.
Snyder turned around. Vince Edwards also turned back to face the rotund man. "My client has been in prison for over twenty years. What business could he possibly have with your department?"
Frank looked into the eyes of his father's killer. He saw nothing in the brown orbs. There was no anger, so sadness, no spark of life. Before Frank could speak, additional footsteps could be heard from behind.
"What are doing here, Frank?" Peter asked as he and Kermit approached.
"It's none of your business."
"If you gentlemen don't mind, I need to get my client home," Snyder interjected.
Kermit's gaze met Snyder's. The attorney shifted his stance, clearly uncomfortable. "So, I see you're still representing the slime of the earth. Guess it's good to work with your own kind, huh."
Snyder started to respond and then wisely shut his mouth.
Frank stepped away from Peter and Kermit and towards Vince Edwards. "I just want to talk to Edwards."
"My client has nothing to say to you," Snyder answered.
Vince Edwards stepped forward and placed a bony hand on the counselor. "It's okay." His voice quivered, his words weak.
"I don't think it's a good idea, Vince. You don't have to talk to him."
Vince moved away from the attorney and waved for Strenlich to come to him. As Frank approached the ex-convict, movement from across the parking lot caught his attention. A young man was leaving a small, beat up Ford pickup and approaching the group. He carried a jacket in one hand and nothing more.
Peter also saw the man, as did Kermit. An aura of anger surrounded the newcomer, his face contorted with rage, his movements jerky and harsh.
Peter moved towards Strenlich, pushing Snyder between his body and the Chief's. His instincts were on full alert.
Kermit, watching Peter's actions, also moved forward, hand resting on his weapon.
Before either could move, the young man raised his arm and dropped his jacket. A small revolver was gripped tightly in his hand, the gun pointed directly at Vince Edwards.
Strenlich was clearly surprised by the man's actions. His gaze darted between the young man holding the gun to Vince Edwards and then back to the assailant.
He saw the man's finger tightening on the trigger. Instinctively, Frank reacted.
As the gun exploded with sound, Frank pushed the frail man standing next to him out of the way. Both men collapsed on to the ground, with Strenlich's greater weight on top of Edwards.
Before the attacker could get off a second shot, Peter rushed forward and then sent a front kick at the man's arm, knocking the gun out of his hand. The man scrambled after the weapon and then stopped his movement when he saw the wrong end of a desert eagle aimed at his forehead. "I wouldn't do that if I were you," Kermit growled. The man raised his hands in surrender. Within seconds, Kermit hand fastened handcuffs on the man.
Peter turned his attention to Strenlich and Edwards. Neither man was moving. "Frank? You okay?" Peter knelt down next to them.
"Help. . .me. . .," a quiet voice sounded. "Get him off me. . .."
Peter carefully rolled Strenlich off of the smaller man. "Frank?" His attention was immediately diverted to a red stain which was growing on the right side of the large man's chest. "Damn it," Peter muttered as he pulled off his own jacket and pushed it on the wound. "Call for help!" he yelled at Kermit. The ex-mercenary pulled out his cell phone and quickly dialed for backup and an ambulance.
End Part 1
Fathers and Sons
By Terri D. Thomas
Part 2 of 2
Captain Karen Simms entered the Emergency Room waiting area and glanced around. She spotted Peter pacing the length of the small room. "How is he?"
"The Doctor's still with him. The EMT said he regained consciousness on the way to the hospital." Peter rubbed a hand over his face and then ran his fingers through his hair. "Edwards is being checked out as well."
"What happened?"
Peter sighed and collapsed into a chair. "Kermit and I followed Strenlich to the prison."
"Why did he go there?"
Peter shrugged his shoulders. "I don't know. He said he just wanted to talk to Edwards, but. . .." Peter's voice trailed off.
"Never mind, what happened then?" Karen prompted.
"This guy came from the other side of the parking lot, raised a gun and fired at Edwards." Peter closed his eyes and shook his head. "Frank pushed Edwards out of the way and was hit."
"What?" Karen exclaimed.
"The kid. . .his name's Brad Perkins. Twenty-four years old. Kermit's taking him in for booking."
"Perkins?" Karen repeated. "Damn," she muttered.
Peter frowned at the Captain's reaction. "You know him?"
"No. . .only read about him. . .in Vince Edwards' file."
Peter's brow furrowed, clearly showing his confusion. Karen continued. "He's the son of the store clerk that was killed in the same robbery that Frank's dad was killed in."
Peter shook his head. "No. . .the clerk's name was Hansen. . .James Hansen."
"Yeah, and Brad's name used to be Hansen. His mother remarried after his father was killed. His name changed to Perkins. When word was out that Edwards was being released, Perkins started placing phone calls to the Governor's office, protesting the release."
"So he snapped?" Peter already knew the answer.
"Apparently."
A woman in a white lab jacket and green scrubs approached from the ER. "Are you hear for Vince Edwards?"
Karen nodded. "We don't know if he has family. I'm Captain Karen Simms of the 101st. This is Peter Caine."
"I'm Dr. Martinez." Her gaze settled on Peter. "Are you related to Kwai Chang Caine?"
"His son."
The woman smiled. "I miss him. He used to come to the hospital and help out every now and then. How is he?"
"Fine," Peter answered.
The woman nodded, but then her smile faded. "Well, Mr. Edwards is a very sick man."
"He has cancer," Karen stated.
"Yes, so he told me. It's terminal. I would say that he doesn't have long. It makes the rib injury insignificant by comparison."
"Ribs?"
"Yes. He has two broken ribs. From what he tells me, it happened when another man fell on top of him."
"Frank Strenlich saved his life," Peter muttered.
"Yes. Mr. Edwards said that as well."
"He did?" Peter responded, somewhat surprised.
"Yes. He also seems very concerned about Mr. Strenlich's well-being."
Karen stepped forward. "So are we? How is he?"
"He has been taken to surgery. His chart says that he's stable. . .actually in pretty good shape. Could have been much worse."
"Then he'll be okay?" Karen pushed.
"Well, I can not give any guarantees, but I would say that his chances are very good that he will completely recover."
"Thank God," Karen whispered. Peter said his own silent prayer.
**********************
Karen and Peter walked into the squad room of the 101st. "How's Frank?" Mary Margaret Skalany asked anxiously when she saw the two approaching.
"He came out of surgery without a hitch. Kelly is staying at the hospital. Molly brought the kids by as well," Peter answered.
Karen glanced around the bullpen. "Where's Kermit?"
"He's still taking Perkin's statement."
"Perkin's is talking?"
Skalany nodded. "Yeah, he waived his right to counsel. He's giving a full confession."
Karen and Peter headed towards the interrogation room. As they approached, Kermit opened the door and walked out. "So, what's his story?" Peter asked.
"Revenge, pure and simple," Kermit replied. "How's the Chief?"
"He's going to be fine," Karen answered. Before she could continue, the door opened again and Brad Perkins exited the room with a two-cop escort. The man's eyes were directed to the floor. He made no effort to struggle against his guards. He seemed completely resigned to his fate.
"Revenge for killing his father?" Peter concluded as the man left from earshot.
"Well, that and more. Apparently, he had a lot of problems with his adoptive father."
"Abuse?"
Kermit shrugged. "Maybe. Anyway, sounds like he snapped when he heard that Vince Edwards was being released." Kermit watched as Perkins was taken down the stairs. "There was a lot of anger in that young man. . .a lot of hatred for what Vince Edwards did to his life."
"Sounds familiar," Peter whispered.
Kermit heard the words. "You mean Frank?"
"No. . .me," Peter answered. "I'm sure Paul told you how angry I was when I came to live with him. I lashed out at everyone."
"But you never sought revenge."
Peter leaned against the wall. "Yes I did. Everyday I planned how I would avenge my father's death. . .all I needed was a target."
"So why do you think Frank saved his life?" Karen asked. "He had to feel the same way. . .had to hate the man for what he did to his father."
"Instinct," Kermit answered.
"How do you think he'll react when he finds out what happened?"
Peter sighed and shook his head. "I don't know. . .I honestly do not know."
**********************
Frank Strenlich watched the coffin as it was lowered into the freshly dug grave. He felt empty inside, devoid of emotion, devoid of life. It was over. Vincent Edwards had succumbed to cancer and died only two weeks after Frank Strenlich had saved him from a bullet.
Frank's finger pressed gently against the healing wound on the right side of his chest. He closed his eyes and remembered back to the day of the shooting. He pictured the gun in Brad Perkin's hand. He saw the finger tightening on the trigger. He didn't know why he had saved Edwards life. He was afraid to know the answer.
He wandered away from the burial site and moved across the cemetery. His eyes skimmed over the names listed on the headstone. After a short while he found what he was looking for.
He stood next to the marker and read the words once again. 'A Loving Husband and Father--Walter F. Strenlich.'
"Hi Dad," he whispered, and then waited as if he expected a response. When his conscious mind realized none would come, he kneeled down next to the marker and continued. "Sorry I haven't been around much." The he let out a small chuckle. "Actually, I haven't really been around at all, I guess."
He placed a hand on the marker, his fingers tracing the words inscribed. "But I guess you know that. I guess you also know what happened." Frank glanced over his shoulder. He was still able to see the workers who were placing Vince Edwards body into the ground. "He's dead, Dad. That store clerk. . .what was his name. . .uh. . .James Hansen. . .his son, Brad. . .." Strenlich shook his head. "His son tried to kill him.
"He was so angry. He wanted Edwards dead for killing his father. I know how he felt. I felt the same way for a long time. Guess I really never did stop feeling that way.
"I saved his life, Dad. I don't know why, but I saved his life." A stray tear escaped from the large man's eye. He wiped it away harshly. "He took you from Mom and me and yet I save him. Hell, I did more for him than I ever did for you. I'm here. I'm watching him being buried and I didn't even show for your funeral."
"It's funny how things work out, isn't it?" Quiet words came from behind the Chief.
"Do you not have a life of your own, Caine?" Strenlich growled, realizing that his words had been overheard.
"Well, now that you mention it, no. My world revolves around the 101st."
Strenlich pushed himself to his feet and began to walk away from his father's burial plot. Peter followed. "I want to be alone, Pete. I would think you would understand that."
"Well, actually, I don't think that's a very good idea, Chief."
"Just because you’re a Shaolin priest doesn't mean you know beans about me or what I need."
"No, but I do know what it's like to lose your father. . .and what happens when you feel like you've betrayed him."
"I don't feel. . .," Strenlich started to protest and then stopped. He turned away from the younger man and proceeded to walk across the cemetery grounds.
Peter followed. "Did Paul ever tell you why I never called him 'Dad'?" Frank didn't respond. Undeterred, Peter continued. "Part of it was that I was afraid that I was betraying my father's memory by calling another man 'dad'. But it was more than that. I felt I had let my father down when he died. I wasn't there for him. I had vowed that I would avenge his death. I was afraid that by calling Paul 'dad' that I would lose that anger. . .that burning drive to hurt the people that had hurt me so much."
Frank stopped walking. "I know what you're trying to do, Pete. But it's not the same."
Peter tilted his head. "Why not?"
"You were a child. You had no choice in what happened to you. . .what happened between you and your father." Frank paused for a moment then he continued. "But I did."
"What do you mean?"
"I. . .," Frank began and then stopped. "Never mind. It's not important." He started to walk away again, but Peter's hand on his shoulder stopped him.
"Frank, what happened?"
My dad and I were very close when I was a kid. Then, when I was a teenager things. . .well, let's just say we had our differences. I left home for the Marines when I was right out of high school. Went against everything my dad had planned for me. He was angry. . .God, he was angry. When I got out I wasn't really sure what I wanted to do with the rest of my life." Frank closed his eyes, the memories of a lifetime washing over him. "My dad expected me to go into the police academy. I told him that I didn't want to start over again by being a cop. I mean I had ten years in the service, why would I want to enter a field where I'd be low man on the ladder?"
Peter nodded his understanding, but said nothing. The older man continued. "We had an argument. He accused me of betraying our family's tradition. Three generations of Strenlich's had been in law enforcement, you know." Frank sighed. "A few days later, Dad was killed in the robbery."
Frank turned away from Peter and stuffed his hand in his pocket. "That wasn't the worst of it, though. I didn't go to the funeral."
"Why?"
"I don't know. At the time I told myself that I couldn't take seeing him being buried. . .all by himself. . .taken away from the rest of us. But over time, I think it was because I felt so guilty for letting him down. For not being the son that he wanted me to be."
"That's why you became a cop," Peter concluded.
"Yep. Applied to the Academy the day after he was buried and never looked back. It hurt too much to remember. And then this thing with Edwards came up. All the memories. . .the good ones and the bad ones. . .keep flooding in."
Peter nodded his understanding. "So you becoming a cop was to try and make up for what you didn't give him before."
Frank chuckled spitefully. "Guess I did a bang up job making it up to him, didn't I. I end up saving the life of the man who killed him." He turned to Peter. So, I'm waiting."
Peter frowned, clearly confused. "Waiting for what?"
"For the lecture. . .where you tell me that 'my dad's death wasn't my fault, where I have nothing to feel guilty about, that my dad would be proud of me, that what happened with Edwards was nothing more than me doing my job."
Peter raised his eyebrows. "Me? Lecture you? Sorry, Chief. But I've been there. I've thought all those things that you thought. I've felt the guilt. I know how hard it is to remember. Me lecturing you isn't going to make any of that go away. I know that. Trust me, I've had an earful of those lectures over the years."
Frank was silent for a moment and then shook his head. "So, Mr. Shaolin Priest, why are you here?"
Peter felt a small grin tug at the corners of his mouth. "I left my robes back at the loft. I'm here as a friend. . .as someone who knows what you're going through. That's it, nothing more."
"No strings?"
"No strings. . . well, except one."
Frank narrowed his eyes suspiciously. "What?"
"You let me buy you a beer."
"That's it?"
"That's it. . .well, and one more thing. . .I'd really like to hear more about your father. . .if you want to share some stories."
Frank Strenlich considered the words for a moment. Then he allowed a smile to overtake his face. He threw his arm over Peter Caine's shoulder. "There are a lot of stories. He was on the force for a long time. I could bore you to death for hours."
Peter Caine chuckled in response as the two men made their way to the cemetery exit. "That's the best offer I've heard all day."
The end