Part Seven

Cassy was obviously ready and waiting for him when Tom arrived to pick her up the following afternoon. Still, he couldn't resist the opportunity to tease. "Hey, Partner! All ready to go, or should I come back in oh, say...two or three more hours?"

His partner playfully took the bait. "I guess that all depends, hotshot. How long would you like to continue breathing?" she fired back.

The nurse Tom had spoken to on his way in interrupted them, arriving with the mandatory wheelchair for Cassy's discharge. Tom carefully helped her into the chair and grabbed the small bag he'd dropped off earlier that morning on his way to the station. They kept up the light banter all the way out to the car, but Tom turned serious as soon as they pulled away from the curb. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Cassy sighed. "Look, we went over this earlier. My mind is made up. It's the perfect solution. I'll be fine once the new security system is installed and that should only take a couple of days. With my mother off on this cruise, it's the perfect time for a visit to my sister. I'll be back first thing Monday morning."

"That's not what I meant, Cassy, and you know it. I think visiting your sister is a great idea. But are you sure you want to do your own packing? You could give me a list and I can do it while you wait downstairs," he suggested. "You don't have to face this if you're not ready." The concern filling his voice matched his expression.

Cassy gave him as much of a smile as her injured face would allow. "Look, I know you want to protect me, and I appreciate that. But I have to face this. Okay, I'll admit it...Just the thought of going back in that room scares me. And I don't want do this alone. So are you gonna back me up or not?"

"Don't I always?" Tom replied, flashing his most devilish grin.

They continued the drive in silence for several minutes. Tom could feel Cassy's tension building as they approached her street. In an attempt to lighten the mood, he asked, "So how about letting me use the Porsche while you're out of town?"

Cassy couldn't keep from laughing, despite the discomfort. "I can't believe you actually let someone steal the Mustang. Only you could have your car stolen from a crime scene! And after that, you really think I'd let you have the Boxter?" she teased.

Tom put on his best false wounded-to-the-core face. "Like it's my fault you live in a neighborhood full of juvenile delinquents! Gee, thanks a lot, Partner."

Cassy's grin abruptly faded as they pulled into her driveway. Taking a deep breath, she turned to her partner and firmly announced, "Let's do it." Exiting the vehicle, Cassy slowly made her way to the front door and entered.

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With Tom's help, Cassy managed to hold herself together long enough to get her bag packed. Her hands had been shaking so badly by the time she finished that Tom had to zip the case shut for her. Leaving the bedroom, she hesitated at the top of the stairs. Her legs felt rubbery; she wasn't very confident that they would hold her up. For a moment she thought Tom might have to carry her. She took a deep breath and cautiously started down, with Tom right behind her. Once they'd made it safely to the bottom, Cassy went to the kitchen for a glass of water. Though her hands were still shaking, she managed to keep from spilling any.

Tom sat her bag down and walked over to Cassy, placing his hands on her shoulders. "You okay, Partner?"

She brought her hand up and placed it over his. Her voice broke as Cassy half-whispered her reply. "Why, Tom? Why did he do this?" Her tone switched from hurt to angry. "How did he get in here? And just who the hell is this guy?"

"I wish I knew, Cass. We will get him, though, I swear. We're checking out all of the security company's employees, and I'm going through our old case files. I mean it, we WILL get this creep."

She turned and settled into his reassuring embrace. "I know we will. And I want a real big piece of him when we do."

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Tom Ryan had spent the past few days digging through old case files and chasing down dead-end leads. Adding to his frustration was the endless stream of evening lectures from Harry. The Captain had managed to cover everything from Tom's eating habits to the many benefits of owning live houseplants. He couldn't ever remember being this happy to see a Monday morning arrive. He didn't even mind having to wait in a hot apartment for the repairman. Now, if he could just catch a break on the case...

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The first thing Monday morning, Cassy headed straight from the airport to the police station. Stopping briefly to greet several of her fellow officers, she marched straight to Harry's office and demanded answers. "So exactly where do things stand with this investigation? When I talked to Tom yesterday, he said that so far none of the leads have panned out. Are we any closer to nailing this guy?" Talking with her sister the past few days had helped begin the healing process. Now she wanted action.

"Cassy, forget it. You are not getting anywhere near this investigation," the captain insisted.

"Harry..." she started to protest. She abandoned the argument at the sight of Harry peering over his glasses in his trademark look. She opted to change tactics. "When is Tom due in?"

"As soon as his air conditioning gets fixed. And don't try to worm your way into this through him. I mean it Sergeant St. John, stay out of it."

A knock on the door interrupted the discussion. A clerk entered with several envelopes. "Lab results for Sergeant Ryan are here. You said you wanted them the minute they came in," the clerk reminded.

Harry picked up the top envelope and quickly scanned the report. "Just like I thought, same stuff he used on you. That means he was definitely inside before that night. We need to re-canvass the neighborhood. Maybe we'll get luckier this time around." As Harry set the report aside, Cassy reached for it. She frowned as she studied the page. "What is it?" the captain demanded, ignoring what he'd just told her about keeping away from the investigation.

"Tom only had one glass of wine, Harry. He was tested, what, about twelve hours later?"

"Yeah, that sounds about right. So?"

"These levels are too high," she answered.

"Yeah, they do seem high," he agreed, taking a closer look. "Get the lab on the phone. Let's see if they have an explanation."

Cassy reached for the phone and dialed the lab. While they waited for an answer, Harry picked up the unmarked envelope that was with the report and removed the contents. He sat frozen, staring at the first of two photos. Seeing his expression, Cassy leaned over to get a look. The phone slipped from her hand and fell to the floor. "Oh my God, how..."

The top photo showed Cassy, blindfolded and bound to her bed. There was no blood, no bruising, and no writing on her stomach. The words 'A good father will protect his children from the boogie man' were hand-written across it. Hands shaking, Harry moved to the second photo. This one showed his detective leaving the hospital. The writing across the bottom half of the picture chilled Harry to the bone. The same hand had carefully written, 'Are you a good father, Harry the Lip?' Fear tightly gripping his soul, he stared at the photo...into the face of Tom Ryan.

End Part Seven

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