Reckless

Part 9

"How is he?" Cassy asked as soon as the Ryans reentered the waiting room.

Margaret dabbed a tear from her eye and shrugged her shoulders. "He's not. . ." she started to answer, then stopped.

Lyam placed a comforting arm around his wife's shoulders. "He's unconscious. He didn't know we were there." The couple walked past the detective. "Tell us what happened?" Lyam asked Cassy as he and his wife settled on to the couch, leaving her to take the chair next to them.

Cassy clasped her hands together and rested her elbows on her knees. She closed her eyes, trying to sort out the tumbling memories. "We were after a man who murdered a fifteen-year-old girl. Tom tried to apprehend him and was shot."

"Who was this man?" Margaret asked with morbid curiosity.

"A monster. . .Jason Slater."

"Did you arrest him?" Lyam's eyes were cold.

Cassy was silent for a moment, her eyes growing equally hard. "I killed him," she answered simply. She watched the parents for a reaction. All she saw was a flicker of satisfaction crossing the faces of each.

Frannie and Harry entered the waiting room and approached the group. "How's Tom doing?" Frannie asked as the couple took seats across from the Ryans.

Lyam glanced at his wife and then back to the captain. "The nurse wouldn't tell us much. She said she would have the doctor meet with us as soon as he was done with rounds."

Margaret shook her head. "He's bad. I can tell. He's so. . .so pale."

Lyam grabbed his wife's hand and squeezed. "Hey, Tommy's gonna be okay. He's come through worse."

The distraught woman released her husband's hand as if she had just been burned. "How many times do you think he can fight something like this? How strong do you think he is?" Her words were harsh.

Lyam didn't respond. There was nothing he could say which would appease the woman; nothing that he could say that wouldn't be a lie. She was right. Tom had fought through so much pain in his life. Would this injury be the one that would prove too much for his son to conquer?

Cassy watched the anguish in the faces of Tom's parents. She understood their concern. She had the same doubts.

"Have you two eaten?" Frannie asked the Ryans.

Lyam shook his head. "I don't think either of us have been very hungry since you called." He glanced at his wife. "But, I do think we could use a cup of coffee." Margaret nodded in agreement.

Harry started to stand, but his wife hopped to her feet first. "I'll take them to the cafeteria."

The couple stood and followed the petite woman out the door, leaving Harry and Cassy alone.

"You've been awfully quiet," Harry commented.

Cassy shrugged her shoulders. "There's not much to say," her words were bitter. "We're sitting in another waiting room, another time, waiting for word, once again, on whether Tom is going to be okay." Harry nodded, but said nothing, instinctively knowing that a volcano was about to erupt in his detective. He didn't have to wait for long. Cassy pushed herself from the chair and walked to the large picture window. "Damn it, Harry. I'm so furious."

"At whom? Slater?" Harry guessed.

Cassy gave a quick nod. Harry followed the woman to the window, standing behind her. "Well, there's nothing more that can be done to him. You know that."

"I know. But it doesn't take away the anger," she answered. "Then I think about how none of this would have happened had we taken the man into custody months ago. We had him, Harry. He was right here," she held her palm open," and we. . .we. . .." She paused, dropping her hand limply to her side, unable to complete the thought.

"You let him get away," Harry completed.

"Yeah. If I had done what I knew was right; if I hadn't listened to Tom, no one else would have been hurt," the blond woman whispered.

"You don't know that, St. John. I read Tom's report. It would have been stupid to continue pursuit. He knew the layout of the warehouse. You didn't." Harry placed an arm on her shoulder. "What Slater did to Sarah Barbara and to Gwen Moore," he paused and took a deep breath, "and to Tom, wasn't your fault."

She angrily pushed the hand away. "And how many others did that man hurt that I shouldn't be responsible for Harry?" she spat. "We had him and we let him get away. No one else can claim responsibility for that."

"So you decided to make up for it last night?" Harry's eyes showed fire, but his voice stayed calm. "You go after the man single-handedly to make up for the past failure? Don't think I've forgotten about that, St. John. What you did was stupid and reckless. You should have waited for your partner. You two should have been working together."

Cassy's voice was coldly logical. "There was no time. Tom was too far behind me. Slater would have escaped. I stand by what I did. . . Captain."

Harry couldn't douse the heat of his anger. "Fine, stand by what you did. But don't you dare criticize procedures, not when your actions may have resulted in your partner ending up in the hospital."

Cassy turned away from the man, his words striking home. "If you had waited for your partner then maybe, just maybe, you two would have been able to plan how you were going to take down Slater, instead of you running off half-cocked ready to bring the man in on your own. You're lucky I don't have you on suspension for your actions, Sergeant.

Approaching footsteps caused the two cops to turn to the door. Sterling Morton was standing in the doorway. The look on his face indicated that he knew he had just walked in at the wrong time. Clearing his throat, he shifted his weight uncomfortably. "I just heard what happened to Tom. How is he?"

Harry left Cassy at the window and approached the medical examiner. "He's holding his own. They have him in CICU."

"That doesn't sound good," the bespectacled man responded.

"The doctor is supposed to be meeting with his family in a little while. Maybe we'll know more then."

"The DB they brought in was the man who shot him?" Harry nodded in response. Sterling's gaze dropped to the floor.

Cassy turned to face him. "Did you do the autopsy?"

"Yep. Bullet entered the heart. He died instantaneously. Knowing what he did, I can't say I'm all that upset." The man pushed his glasses up on his nose. "You shot him?" He posed the question to the petite detective.

Cassy nodded. Sterling looked at Harry. "Has IA cleared the shooting?"

Harry shook his head. "I haven't heard. I was going to go down to the station in a little while to see what the status is. From everything I know it's a clean shoot."

The balding man nodded in agreement and looked at Cassy. "How are you holding up?"

The woman gave him a mournful look. "Better than Tom," she whispered.

"Yeah. I guess so. Well, I. . .I just wanted to stop in and see how things were going. If you need anything, let me know," the man offered.

Cassy reached out a hand, grasping his and nodded appreciatively at the man. Saying nothing further, Morton gave a slight wave and left the waiting room.

She turned back to the window, feeling a swell of emotion rise. "I'm sorry, Harry." The man, who was now standing behind her, could barely hear the words. "I shouldn't have behaved that way."

Harry felt a tug of a grin growing at the corners of his mouth. "You're right." He placed his hand back on her shoulder, turning her towards him. "But I understand. And I've come to expect it every now and then." A hint of a smile came to her face and Cassy's eyes met his. He winked at the young woman, pulling her into a hug, knowing that the detective-to-captain argument was over, for now."

****************************

Sterling Morton collapsed into the chair at his desk. A twinge of pain shot behind his eyes. He sighed and removed his glasses, rubbing the bridge of his nose. It was too early in the day to be dealing with a stress headache.

He picked up the coffee cup sitting on the coaster and sniffed at its contents. The liquid inside smelled foul. Pushing himself from the chair, he made his way to the small coffeepot in the corner. The liquid contained in it was the consistency of mud. Dumping the thick brew into the sink, he washed out the carafe and refilled it with water.

"Sterling, I think we have a problem." The excited voice from behind caused the medical examiner to jump. Spinning around, Sterling found himself facing Herb from Ballistics.

"Ever heard of knocking?" Morton responded, more harshly than he intended.

Herb shrank back. "I'm sorry. But this is important. I have to show you. . .I don't know what to do."

He pushed the file folder he was holding into Sterling's hands. The medical examiner flipped open the cover and began to read the report. "It would help if you told me what I was looking for," he muttered.

Herb moved next to him and pointed to the handwritten paragraph at the bottom of the page. Morton read it silently, his forehead creasing more and more as each sentence was completed.

Once finished, he turned the page and scanned every detail of the attached photos. "Are you certain you have the right ones?"

Herb nodded. "As long as the evidence bags were marked correctly."

Sterling shot an angry glare at the lab technician. "Make damn sure they were before you show this to anyone else. Understand?" Sterling pushed the file at the man, as Herb cowered backwards.

"But one of the bags came from you," he stuttered.

Sterling paused and then sighed. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't jump on you. Make sure that the chain of custody is in tact on the other one. Don't say anything about this until you report back to me."

Herb nodded and left the room. Sterling closed his eyes and mumbled, "Damn it, this can't be happening."

End Part 9

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