Reckless

Part 14

"Cassy?" The whispered word penetrated her foggy mind. "Cassy, Honey?" the voice repeated.

Cassy rolled over on the soft mattress, bringing the tightly gripped comforter with her, and opened her heavy eyelids. Her blurred vision finally focused on the woman's gentle face. "Margaret!" she exclaimed, bolting upright from the bed, voice rough from exhaustion and emotional turmoil.

Margaret jumped back in surprise at the suddenness of the young woman's movement. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," the older woman apologized.

Cassy's eyes darted around the room and immediately connected with Lyam, who was standing near the doorway of the apartment. "We didn't expect you to be here," the man said, a sheepish smile on his face. "We just came here to clean up and check on things."

Cassy looked down at herself. She was still dressed in the blouse and pants of the previous day, but her clothes were hidden by the heavy comforter which she had wrapped around herself before collapsing into Tom's bed, overcome by exhaustion and tears earlier that night. "What. . .what time is it?" Cassy finally asked, trying to hide her embarrassment at being caught in Tom's home.

"It's almost 7:30," Margaret answered, moving away from the bed and opening the blinds which covered the window, revealing an early morning dawn.

Cassy scrambled from the soft bed, attempting to extricate herself from the blanket, while keeping some semblance of dignity. "I. . .I'm sorry," she stumbled.

"For what?" Lyam frowned.

"I. . .I shouldn't be here," she said as she successfully moved away from the bed, only to trip over her shoes which had been discarded on the floor a few feet away. She quickly picked them up, leaned against the back of the couch for balance and slipped them on her feet. "I. . .I didn't know where. . .," she started to explain and then stopped. Her eyes connected with the newspaper on the coffee table, the gut-wrenching headline glaring back at her, sending a dagger of pain through her heart. "I'll. . .I'll leave," she finally stated, holding back the tears which threatened to spill once again.

"Cassy, Honey, it's okay," Margaret said, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder.

Cassy pulled away as if she had been burned by the touch. "No. I shouldn't be here," she whispered as she moved away from the woman and then frantically looked around the room. Spotting her purse on the table, she grabbed it quickly and moved past Lyam to the front door.

Lyam reached out to her, taking her upper arm in a firm grip. "Cassy, stop," he said authoritatively.

Cassy froze in place, but kept her back to Tom's parents. "I. . .I need to leave."

"No," Lyam responded. "We need to talk about what happened."

"I. . .I can't," Cassy mumbled, still not turning. "My fault." Lyam could barely hear her hushed words.

"No, Cassy. You can't go," he insisted.

Cassy said nothing. She only shook her head and pulled her arm free from Lyam's hand, opening the front door with her other hand. She started to leave and then stopped. "How's Tom?"

Margaret moved to her former daughter-in-law. "He made it through the night without another convulsion. His fever came down a full degree. The doctor is hopeful."

Cassy closed her eyes and said a silent prayer. "Thanks," she finally replied, then she made her escape.

Cassy could feel their eyes on her back as she climbed into the Boxter. She avoided looking at the apartment for fear that once her eyes met theirs she would be unable to drive away. So she kept her eyes focused on the parking lot as she pulled away from the apartment.

"Damn it," she muttered, ashamed that she had been caught in Tom's apartment, violating his world.

When she had found herself at his front door earlier that night it was for one reason. She had to be near him, and going to the hospital to sit by his bedside was impossible. His home was the only place she could safely go and feel like he was with her.

She pulled onto the main route and realized she had no clue where she should go. A glance into the rearview mirror quickly resolved that issue, however. Her blond hair looked as if it had done battle in a hurricane, her face was pale, her eyes puffy and bloodshot. Knowing that she needed to regroup, she pointed her car in the direction of her house.

"Hesch, I'm worried," Frannie said to her husband, as she towel dried her petite body. The steam from her hot shower still clouded the mirror.

Harry entered the bathroom behind her, wrapped his arms around her shoulders and pulled her body close to his. Covered only by his light robe, he could feel the heat of her skin, and for a moment he lost himself in the sensation. Finally, he returned to reality. "About Tom?" he finally responded.

Frannie turned around in his arms and wrapped hers around his chest, laying her head on his left breast, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat. "Tom and Cassy, both," she clarified. Then after a moment she continued. "This could destroy her."

"She's strong," Harry consoled.

"No one is that strong," his wife countered. "If Tom. . .," she started to speak and then stopped, afraid to say the words. Taking a deep breath and pulling Harry even closer to her, she finally found the courage. "If Tom dies, she will lose everything, Harry. Not just her job. . .but everything that makes her what she is as a person."

Harry closed his eyes and let the words sink in. Frannie continued. "Even if Tom lives, this will permanently change her."

Harry let his chin rest on the top of his wife's head. "Cassy's a fighter. She won't let this ruin her. She's been through some tough things in her life and she has always come out on top."

Frannie gently pushed away. "Everyone, even the strongest of fighters, eventually faces a battle that they can never win by sheer will." Her brown eyes met his.

Harry sighed. "Then we'll just have to make sure that we are here to help her through this."

Within minutes of leaving Tom's apartment, Cassy was pulling into her garage and closing the door behind her, allowing her to hide in the safety of her home. No one would find her there unless she allowed it. She could hide from the accusing eyes and looks of disapproval until she felt brave enough to endure them, which based upon the way she felt now, could be a very long time.

Retreating into the house, she avoided following her morning routine, which would have started with the retrieval of the newspapers lying on the front porch. She already knew the pain which they held. She couldn't handle looking at that headline again.

She moved to the kitchen and found herself automatically preparing coffee. As she moved into the living room to collapse onto the couch, the red flashing light of her answering machine caught her eye. The indicator told her that several messages were waiting.

She wasn't sure she had the courage to listen to the words. It didn't take a rocket scientist to know that every message would be a reminder of what she had done to her partner and, ultimately, punishment for the pain she had caused him.

As if not in control of her body, she made her way to the machine, even though the voice in her head screamed that she should ignore the flashing light. Her hand reached out and pressed the button, betraying her trust.

The first voice came over the recorder. Harry. Cassy breathed a sigh of relief. He was about the only person she felt she could face at the moment. "Cassy, it's Harry. Frannie told me you called the hospital, but that you refused to come down here. I just want you to know that it's okay. You should be here with Tom. . .with his family." The man's rough voice paused for a moment. "If you need anything, call."

The second, third, fourth and fifth messages were from the local media. Crime beat reporters wanting the inside scoop about the cop who shot her partner.

Cassy returned to the kitchen to pour herself a cup of coffee, while half-heartedly listening to the messages. As each reporter spoke, memories of the shootout in the warehouse and of Tom lying prone on the floor, bleeding and unresponsive, flashed in her mind.

The voice of the last message almost caused Cassy to drop her coffee cup. "God, no, it can't be," she whispered. "Please, no. . .I can't deal with this," she pleaded.

She moved back to the machine to replay the message, hoping desperately that she had imagined the whole thing. . .that every word was the result of a horrible nightmare.

The voice on the tape returned. "Cassandra, this is your mother. I just heard the news. I can't believe this has happened. You must feel horrible. I'm leaving within the hour to be with you. I know you probably won't need my shoulder to cry on. . .you've always been able to handle problems like this on your own. . .but I want to be here for you. I'm leaving now. It's about seven in the morning. I should be there within a couple of hours." The message cut off, leaving Cassy to stare at the answering machine blankly, her body and mind numb.

End Part 14

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