Reckless
Part 10
Cassy leaned against the door of Tom's ICU room. She took a deep breath, mentally preparing herself for what she would see beyond the threshold.
Knowing that her partner lay comatose, just beyond, caused the knot of fear, which had been dormant in her stomach, to come alive again. The last time he had been like this was only a few short months ago. A crazed killer had almost taken him from her then. Now, Slater had caused it all to happen again.
Her fear was as much for the injury he was suffering as it was from the knowledge that the odds were, once again, stacked against his survival. How many chances did one person have to win against a bullet?
She took a hesitant step into the room, her eyes focusing immediately upon his pale face, at least what could be seen of it. It was partially hidden by the respirator tube entering his mouth, feeding him life-supporting oxygen. The medical tape criss-crossed his cheeks, holding the equipment in place. She closed her eyes, trying desperately to eliminate the fatalistic image the picture brought.
Reopening them, she plucked up her courage and took another stop forward. She was close enough to the bed now to reach out and touch the limp hand. Her fingers brushed against his. She prayed that he would show some sign that he knew she was at his side. There was no response. The fingers did not move; they did not even flinch at the contact. Her mind registered the cold clamminess of his palm.
She took another step forward and found herself now within arm's length of his face. Her fingers drifted from his, sliding up his arm, being careful to avoid the IV tubing. They then passed over his bare shoulder, up his neck and found their way to his face. The immediate heat of fever surprised her. She allowed her palm to press gently into the soft skin, desperately watching his closed eyes for any acknowledgement of her presence. Still nothing.
"Tom?" she whispered and waited for a response. More silence. "Thomas?" she repeated. "I'm here." She allowed her hand to leave his face only long enough to pull a chair closer to the bed. Once she was settled on it, her hand returned to his cheek, her fingers slowly stroking his features. "You need to wake up. Your Mom and Dad are here and they're worried about you."
There was still no reply. Her eyes drifted from his face to his chest. She had to see how bad the injury was for herself. She lifted his flaccid hand and pulled the blanket back exposing his chest. Surgical tape and gauze padding covered his left ribcage. A drainage tube drew the bacteria-filled liquid from the wound and deposited it to a collection bag. Cassy placed a gentle hand on his chest, inches from the injury and could feel the heat being generated.
She closed her eyes and lowered her head. "I'm sorry, Tom. I should have waited for you. I didn't think. . ." she paused as the memories from the warehouse assaulted her again. "I didn't think this would happen." She pushed the guilt from her mind and reopened her eyes. "I got him. He won't hurt anyone else again."
A nurse entered the room and approached the patient from the other side of the bed. She frowned as she read the information displayed on the machines.
"What's wrong?" Cassy asked.
The woman glanced at the visitor. "His temperature has been steadily rising over the past few hours. We have him on antibiotics, but they haven't taken hold yet."
Cassy shook her head. "Not again."
"What?" the woman asked, curious at the reaction.
"He was hurt a few months ago. . .shot. He had problems with infection then."
The woman nodded. "It was in his history." She wrote notes on the chart attached at the end of the bed. "He's had a rough few months, hasn't he."
Cassy nodded, guilt rising.
"Did they get the person who shot him?" the woman asked.
Cassy tilted her head. "What?"
"Did they get the person who shot Sgt. Ryan?"
"He's dead."
Before the nurse could respond, Harry's gentle voice came from behind. "Cassy?"
The blond woman turned. "He doesn't look good, Harry," she mumbled.
Harry looked at his injured detective and then shifted his eyes back to Cassy. "We need to talk."
Cassy frowned. "What's happened."
Harry shook his head. "Let's go some place private."
The petite blond nodded. She leaned over the bed rail and gave her partner a gentle kiss on the cheek, allowing her fingers to brush his one last time.
***************************************
Harry led Cassy into a small deserted waiting room. Inside, Cassy was surprised to see Sterling Morton leaning against the wall, file folder in hand.
"Hi," Cassy greeted the Medical Examiner.
Morton gave her a half-hearted smile. "How's Tom?"
Cassy shrugged. "They say he's running a fever." She glanced at Harry. "I think he looks too pale."
"Was he awake?" the balding man queried.
"No."
Harry placed a gentle hand on her shoulder. "I think you'd better sit down."
Cassy felt a lead weight drop in her stomach. "What's happened?"
Harry sat in the chair next to her and Sterling took a seat across the table. He slid the file over to Harry. Harry opened it and let his eyes skim over the report for the one-hundredth time. Nothing had change. It still had disaster written all over it.
"Cassy, as you know, when there's been a shooting which involves multiple weapons and victims, Ballistics runs tests to confirm the facts," Morton explained, trying to keep the information as factual as possible.
Cassy nodded, becoming impatient. "What's wrong, Harry," she prodded.
Harry reached out and placed a hand on hers. "Morton's people ran tests on the bullet retrieved from Slater's body and from the bullet taken from Tom."
Cassy nodded again, sliding her hand away from her captain's. "It's SOP. Your point?"
Harry took a deep breath and pushed the file to the woman. He flipped the folder open and pointed to the photos and analysis. Cassy read the report for herself, the lead weight in her stomach doubling in size, her breath catching.
Harry's voice softened, knowing from the look on his detective's face that there was understanding. "Cassy, the bullet which was taken from Tom came from the same gun as the bullet which killed Slater. . .yours."
End Part 10
To Part 11