Reckless
Part 16
"I'm sorry, Harry, but I may not have any choice in the matter," District Attorney Craig Alexander said as he closed the file. Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his hands over tired eyes.
"What do you mean you won't have a choice?" The captain, sitting in the visitor's chair on the opposite side of the desk, leaned forward and grabbed the file. He pushed his glasses up on his nose and scowled at the words written in the report.
"As you can see, IAD has not been kind to Cassy," Craig narrated as Harry read. "They describe her conduct as being negligent and imply that it may actually be wanton and reckless." The attorney was silent for a moment, letting the words sink in. "You know what that means."
"You don't have to do it, Craig," Harry grumbled, closing the file.
"Facts are facts. Cassy shot her partner and the independent investigation has concluded that she was negligent in doing so. Mere negligence in the shooting may not lead to action by my department, but something more. . .well, that's a different story."
Harry pushed himself up against the exhaustion weighing him down. He could feel his anger growing again, but fought to keep it under control. He moved over to the window and watched the passing traffic, hoping the diversion would calm his nerves. "You can't possibly believe that this was anything more than an accident."
"What I think personally and what I have to do professionally are two different things, Harry. You know that."
"When do you have to make a move?"
"I'm going to wait until. . ." Craig started to speak, then stopped.
"Until what?" Harry frowned, knowing the words Craig had intended to say, now daring him to speak them out loud.
Craig gave the man a hard look. "Until I have a better idea about Tom's prognosis."
Harry spun on the man. "What? A deathwatch? Is that what you are doing?"
"In a word, yes. Tom's outcome could make a substantial difference in whether my office has to get involved."
Harry turned away, feeling his ire surge uncontrollably. Grabbing his jacket from the back of the chair, he left the office without another word.
Cassy turned her back to the spray from the showerhead, trying to lose herself in the steady rhythm of the water pelting her shoulders. But no matter how soothing the heat was to her physical being, her thoughts would not succumb. Memories and regrets rolled over and over in her mind. Her pain and confusion were wounds on her soul. A voice inside her head, sounding very much like that of her mother, reminded her that she was now suffering the consequences of her over-confidence.
When Cassy had departed from the safety of her grandmother's home in Texas, she left knowing that her life was in her own hands, that she could not rely on others to make her successes.
She had pursued her career in law enforcement with a zealousness that was unmatched by any of her coworkers. Nothing was going to stand in the way of her being the best cop she could be.
Jane Wayne. She knew of the moniker and had never really been offended by it. It implied that she was strong, decisive and determined. Even though she had always been partnered with men, it was quite well-known that she was usually the more aggressive of the pairing. This was especially true with Tom. While he was known as the pensive, sensible one, Cassy could be counted on to make the quick, tough decisions. And she was good at it. She had never regretted her behavior. . .until now.
'Now' was different. 'Now' she had failed because of her confidence. 'Now' her partner's. . .her best friend's life hung in the balance because of her stubbornness.
She cradled her forehead in the crook of her arm, resting it against the opposite wall of the shower. Closing her eyes, she whispered a soft prayer. 'Please be okay, Thomas."
Harry walked into the waiting room of the hospital and was not surprised to find Frannie there. She had told him earlier that she was going to return to join the vigil which was being held by Tom's parents. She wanted to be there for them if they, heaven forbid, needed the support. Harry was grateful. Knowing that his wife was watching over the family of his detective was comforting.
"Hi Honey," he said to the woman, who was flipping through a magazine, looking at the pictures, but not concentrating on any one page.
She looked up with warm eyes, stood and slid into her husband's arms. "Hesch."
"Where are Lyam and Margaret?"
"With Tom. They just returned a little while ago and wanted to check on his status."
"And?" Harry asked with piercing concern.
"He's stable. The fever has gone down."
"Is he awake?" The words were hopeful.
The petite woman shook her head. "Damn it," the man muttered as he led his wife to the couch.
"Hesch, what's wrong?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing? Oh come on, don't try that on me," she responded.
"I just came from seeing Craig."
"And?"
"And he may have to bring criminal charges against Cassy," Harry sighed, leaning back against the couch.
"What?" Frannie exclaimed. "He can't be serious."
"The IAD report was not good for Cassy. It raises some serious issues about what may have happened at the warehouse."
"But it was an accident."
Harry nodded. "I know. But it doesn't matter. If Cassy's conduct is found to have risen to a level of gross negligence, it could mean criminal charges could be brought against her."
Frannie's eyes widened in amazement. "But how? What would they accuse her of?"
Harry thought long and hard about his response. He hated to even say the words, let alone speak them to his wife. However, she had a right to the truth. He had never hidden the hard facts from her before. He wouldn't do it now. "If Tom dies, it could be manslaughter."
"What?. . ." Frannie started to protest and then realized she was arguing with the wrong person. None of this was her husband's fault. She swallowed her words and then set her jaw stubbornly. "Well that's not going to happen. Tom is going to make it. Everything will be fine. You'll see."
Cassy padded barefoot into the kitchen, her lightweight robe wrapped around her. She brushed the tangles from her wet hair as she made her way to the coffeepot. Her mother was wiping down the counter after having put the finishing touches on a grapefruit half. "You have nothing in your refrigerator. What was in there was spoiled. . .except for this. When was the last time you went to the store?" Evelyn asked as she sat the bowl on the table.
"It's been. . .awhile," Cassy answered as she poured herself a fresh cup of coffee.
"Hmmm. . .I'll go later."
"No. . .Mom, I'll take care of it after work tonight."
"Cassandra, dear, that's why I’m here. I know that you haven't had time to take care of things around here."
Cassy's guilt rose again, but she swallowed it back down. Her mother was trying to help. "Okay, thanks. I appreciate it. I’m going to get dressed. I need to get back to the station."
"I made that grapefruit for you," Evelyn said before her daughter could leave the room.
"Oh. . .thanks. . .I'm really not hungry right now." Cassy tried to sound grateful as she rejected the offering.
"No wonder you look so tired. . .and thin. You don't take care of yourself."
"I think the last two days have more to do with that than my diet," Cassy explained as she tried to leave the room once again.
"It all ties together, Cassandra," the woman scolded. She then returned to the kitchen table and picked up the grapefruit. "I guess I'll ask you before I cook breakfast for you the next time."
Cassy sighed and returned to the kitchen. "You're right. . .I need to eat." Defeated, she dropped into the chair and picked up her spoon.
End Part 16
To Part 17