Vendetta

Part 13

"Did you find Jeremy?" Tom asked as Cassy crossed the threshold of her home. Cassy nodded, but said nothing more. "Where is he? Is he coming over?" Tom struggled to push off of the couch. Harry was suddenly in front of him, preventing his progress.

Cassy shrugged her shoulders, "I don't know. I doubt it. We had. . .words. Things were pretty bad."

"What?" Tom's eyes were wide with surprise.

Cassy paced the floor in front of her partner and Harry. "He blew up, Tom. All of the anger and the sadness just exploded from him. He left before I could stop him."

Tom fought to rise again. "I have to find him," he insisted.

Harry shook his head, "I think you should let him cool down. From everything you've told me he's a good kid. He just needs to let go of his anger. Give him some space. . .he'll come around."

Tom leaned back onto the couch and closed his eyes. "If anything happens to him, I'll. . ."

Before he could complete the thought, Cassy had crossed the room and laid a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it with affection, "I know."

Harry stood, "I'm going to head back to the station. I'll call Miami and see what they have on Martinez and his associates."

Cassy looked at the two with curiosity, "Did you ID the shooters."

Tom nodded and handed two pictures to his partner, "Those two were the two that got away."

Cassy looked at the two with excitement, "Then that's it. . .the case is wrapped up."

Harry and Tom shook their heads in unison, "Can't make an arrest. . .at least not yet," Harry said.

"Why not?" Cassy was confused, then the reality of the situation dawned on her, "You don't think Miami P.D. will let us make the arrest."

Harry nodded, "Exactly. They're trying to nail Martinez. If we try to make an arrest for the shootings it could blow their case."

Cassy's eyes narrowed as her anger built, "But they shot a cop. They killed a man in cold blood."

"I know that. We all know that. But it doesn't change the fact that we're not in control of whether an arrest is made. It's not our jurisdiction."

Cassy started to protest again, but a look from Harry silenced her. "Like I said, I'm going to talk to them. Tell them what's going on. Maybe they'll want to make a move." Harry picked up his sports jacket and headed for the door. "I'll call you later." He looked at the two and smirked, "Try not to kill each other in my absence."

Tom watched the door shut behind the Captain. He turned his attention back to Cassy, "Thanks for trying to talk to Jeremy for me." He sat upright and slowly moved his legs from the couch onto the floor. Cassy saw the pain in his eyes and moved forward to assist him. He bit his lip to prevent himself from crying out.

Once he was sitting upright, Cassy sat down carefully next to him. She rested a hand on his thigh. "I wish I could get through to him, but he won't listen."

"What did he say?" Tom's question was whispered.

Cassy shrugged her shoulders, "The words weren't important, Thomas."

Tom said nothing. He knew the truth without hearing the words from her. Everything he had suspected about Jeremy's anger was true. Jeremy did blame him.

There was a knock on the door, breaking Tom's thoughts. Cassy rose from the couch and peeked through the peephole. She saw Steve Tate staring back. She glanced at her watch and realized that the shift had changed, it was almost 8:00. She opened the door, "Hi, Steve."

"Good evening, Sergeant. There's a young man out here to see Sgt. Ryan. Says he's a friend."

Cassy looked beyond the officer and saw Jeremy standing by his car. "It's okay. You can let him in." The officer turned and motioned for Jeremy to come forward. Cassy could see Jeremy take a deep breath and then begin his trek to the front door. She attempted to make eye contact with him, to make him feel welcomed, but his eyes were focused on the ground. He refused to look up. His sadness was now intermixed with shame.

Jeremy shuffled to the front door. He still hadn't looked up. "Jeremy, I'm glad you came. Tom will be so happy to see you."

Jeremy flinched at the mention of Tom's name, "I wouldn't be so sure about that," he muttered. Cassy's eyes narrowed in confusion and then suspicion. Tate, too, had heard the words. Was Jeremy threatening Tom? She saw Tate's hand drop to his gun. She shook her head slightly, indicating to the guard that he should not take further action. Jeremy's voice broke the silence, "I've been such a jerk to him. If I were him I wouldn't want to see me."

Cassy closed her eyes and smiled in relief. It appeared that Jeremy had done some hard thinking in his absence. "Are you kidding? Thomas will be thrilled that you decided to come." She held the door open and motioned him inside.

Jeremy took a step forward into the house and the stopped moving. Cassy could see the apprehension in his eyes, "It'll be okay, Jeremy. I promise."

Tom turned to see his young friend standing in the doorway and his breath caught in his throat. He could feel the pressure of building tears behind his eyes. He struggled to push himself to his feet, not wanting to make Jeremy come to him.

Jeremy watched his friend's struggle to stand, and for the first time saw the pain that he had suffered. He suddenly moved from his position and came forward to grab Tom by the arm and assist him the rest of the way upright.

Tom didn't fight the assistance. "Thanks," he whispered. Jeremy said nothing.

Cassy watched the exchange between the two and decided to stand back and let their emotions play out. Jeremy turned away from Tom, "Can we talk."

Tom nodded, "I was hoping that was why you were here."

"I mean, can we talk alone." Jeremy corrected, looking at Cassy.

Tom looked at Cassy and nodded, "Yeah. Cassy?"

Cassy shook her head, "No, Tom. You forget, you need protection."

Tom, fighting his frustration, tried to keep his voice calm, "Please Cassy. We need to talk. Could you please give me that."

Cassy looked at the two men and then took a deep breath in resignation, "Okay. I'll be outside with Tate. If you need anything, holler."

"Thanks, Cass," he responded gratefully. After his partner had closed the front door behind her, he turned his attention back to Jeremy. "How are you doing?"

Jeremy shook his head, "Not so hot. Of course, you already knew that, didn't you," he muttered. Tom didn't respond, wanting Jeremy to open up instead. "Did Sgt. St. John tell you what happened tonight?"

"She said you two had an argument."

"Did she tell you what I said?" Jeremy turned, embarrassment in his eyes.

Tom shook his head, "She said the words weren't important." Tom could see the relief in the young man's eyes. "Jeremy, I'm sorry for what happened to your dad. I should have protected him. I tried, honestly I did. But I couldn't stop them."

Jeremy said nothing. He just turned his back to his friend. Tom saw his shoulders beginning to shake. He was crying. Tom took a painful step forward, concentrating on keeping his balance, and laid a hand on his back. "I'm sorry. I know you're mad at me, but I. . ."

Jeremy turned, "Mr. Ryan. . .Tom," he corrected after seeing the look of disapproval in the older man's eyes, "Stop. Don't apologize. I'm the one whose been acting like a jerk. Your partner made me see that."

He saw Tom beginning to wobble, his legs no longer wanting to support his weight, and he grabbed him by the arm, easing him back down to the couch. "You look tired. Maybe I should come back in the morning."

"No! Don't leave." Tom said quickly, "We need to talk this out. Please, Jeremy."

Jeremy nodded and sat down in the chair opposite Tom. "When. . .when I got the phone call that Dad had been shot, I knew he was going to die. I don't know why I knew that, I just did. The whole time I was driving here, I thought about the time that we had been separated. I became angrier and angrier that he had pushed me away. That he didn't love me."

Tom started to interrupt, to tell the kid that his father did love him, but a look from Jeremy silenced the older man. "When he died, I realized that any chance I had to regain my relationship was over. It had been taken away from me.

"Then when I was at his house, I found pictures that he had taken of me. Newspaper articles about me. Letters he had written to me, but never sent. I realized that he did love me. That everything you had said to me about him was true. That he wasn't trying to push me away because he didn't care, but because he did." Jeremy stopped to wipe away a tear that was trailing down his cheek.

"I was so angry that I lashed out at the easiest target. . .you. I blamed you for putting my father in that position. . .for taking away any time I had left with him."

"Jeremy, I. . ." Tom started to speak, feeling his heart break at the words.

"No, Tom, let me finish." The tone of Jeremy's voice silenced the protest. "I was wrong. Sgt. St. John showed me that tonight. She made me remember that it was you who cared enough to help me get to college. That without you, I would be on the streets. . .with no future. . .probably dead.

"She reminded me that it was dad's decision to push himself away from me, not yours." Jeremy stood and walked to the glass, "I didn't want to listen to her, but I knew, down deep inside, that she was right. I was blaming you because I could. . .you were alive, my father wasn't." He turned to Tom. "My blame was misplaced. I should have been blaming the men responsible for this. They are the one's who took him from me. . .who destroyed my chances of ever changing my relationship with him." Tom could see the anger flare in his eyes, the tone change in his voice.

Tom finally spoke, "Jeremy, I know you want to blame. I want to blame. But you can't live your life wanting to seek revenge. It'll get you nowhere."

Jeremy shook his head, "Tom, I'm sorry for the way I treated you and I hope that someday you can forgive me, but don't try to change my mind about this. I want these men."

Tom closed his eyes and shook his head, "Jeremy, there's nothing to forgive. I understand why you were hurt. Frankly I never blamed you for it. I would have felt the same way if I were you. And believe me, I am fighting my own anger for what happened, but we can't allow ourselves to be consumed by it. We have to let go."

There was a sudden loud and solid thud against the front door, startling Tom and Jeremy from their discussion. Jeremy raised himself from the chair and went to the door, grabbing for the handle. Tom shouted out before Jeremy could turn it, "Don't open it!" Jeremy jerked his hand away from the knob. Instead, he looked through the peephole. All he could see was the outline of a body lying on the ground in front of the door. He couldn't suppress the sudden intake of air in his throat.

Tom pushed himself from the couch, ignoring the pain, "What is it? What do you see?"

"Something's happened. I think your guard has been hurt." Jeremy said, his voice panicked.

Tom stumbled forward, "Oh God. . .Cassy!" Jeremy rushed forward to catch Tom before he hit the ground.

"What do we do?" Jeremy asked, keeping his arm around Tom's shoulders.

Tom closed his eyes to regain his thoughts and push down the fear for his partner. "Lock the door." Jeremy left the man to secure the locks. "Go to the upstairs bedroom, call 911. Give the address. . .tell them that an officer is down and that the suspects are on the scene. . .armed and dangerous. Then get out of the house. You can jump from her balcony. Don't come back until its safe."

Jeremy shook his head, "No Tom. I'm not leaving you here."

Tom's voice raised, "Jeremy, just do it. . .NOW!" Jeremy nodded and ran up the stairs, two at a time. Tom grabbed for the back of the couch and pushed his way to the kitchen, looking for anything to use as a weapon. He grabbed a butcher's knife from a drawer, but knew that the knife would be no match for a gun. He suddenly regretted that he hadn't thought to tell Jeremy of the gun in Cassy's nightstand. Jeremy could have dropped it down to him. . .that would have given him some protection.

A popping sound came from outside and the doorknob of the front door exploded. Tom hobbled to the bedroom next to the kitchen and hid in the closet. He closed his eyes and said a silent prayer. . .a prayer for Tate and Jeremy. . .and especially for Cassy.

End Part 13

Vendetta

Conclusion

From his hiding place in the closet, Tom could hear the sudden sound of the front door being kicked open. The sound of the steel door impacting with the wall sent a wave of vibration through the house. He heard heavy footsteps moving across the tile of the entryway and then realized that he could not hear any other movement. The intruders were walking on carpet, meaning they were in the living room.

A familiar voice echoed through the house, "Sgt. Ryan? We know you're here. You might as well come out."

Tom tried to control his breathing, making it as quiet as possible, but the sound of each exhalation was deafening. Burt's voice continued. "Here's the deal, Ryan. If you come out, we can get this over with. Right now, your guard and your partner are still alive. Your partner is gonna have a whopper of a headache, and the guard is gonna have to have a bullet dug out of him, but they're still alive. Two more bullets can change that very quickly, though."

Tom closed his eyes, fighting the wave of panic rising in his chest. "Oh God, Cassy," he whispered.

"I know. . .I know," Burt continued, "You're saying to yourself that if you come out of hiding, I'll kill you and then I'll kill them anyway. I'd be saying the same thing if I were you. But you see, I have no reason to kill them. Neither of them can identify me or my associate. In fact, you are the only person alive in this whole mess who can do that. You are all we need."

Tom had to fight the urge to come out of hiding. He so wanted to believe what Burt said. . .that Cassy wouldn't be killed if Tom surrendered. He put his hand on the door of the closet, but could not take the action it would require to open it.

Suddenly the decision was made for him. The door flew open, causing Tom to lose his balance and fall into the room. The knife he held in his left hand fell to the floor beside him. He grunted in pain, squeezing his eyes shut against the tears that welled up.

"There you are, Sergeant. So good of you to join us." Tom looked up to find he was staring at the face of Fred's murderer. Behind Burt was the man Tom had shot in the side.

Tom grimaced, "Damn it. . .I need to work on my aim. . .I thought I'd nailed you for good," he said to the unnamed man.

"I owe you for that one," the man growled in return. He pushed Burt to the side and drew back his leg, throwing a vicious kick into Tom's injured hip.

Tom's cry echoed through the house. He gasped for air that wouldn't come. He tried to fight the black spots forming in front of his eyes. The man laughed, "Not so cocky now, are you?"

Burt chuckled and then became serious. "You know, Calvin here has been waiting to do that to you all week. We were starting to think he wouldn't get the chance." So Cassy had been right. They had been watching him, waiting for the right time to strike.

"You know, my employer is quite upset with me," Burt grumbled. "He didn't like the fact that you survived. Said that you could lead the cops to him. Told me that it was either you or me. Either I made sure you were dead or he'd make sure I was. So you understand, there was really no choice in the matter. You lose."

Tom said nothing. Burt looked around the room, "Where's your friend?"

"What friend?" Tom groaned, still fighting the agony in his side.

"The black kid who came into the house a while ago. We know he's here somewhere." Burt pushed at Tom's injury with his foot. Tom bit his lip, refusing to make a sound.

"Damn it," Burt pushed harder, "Where is he?"

Tom inhaled deeply, "He's gone. He escaped out the back."

Burt looked at his companion. "No problem. He can't identify us either. Let's just do our job and get out of here."

Calvin nodded in agreement, "I want to do it." He raised the gun he held in his hand and pointed it at Tom, aiming for his heart. "Two bullets should do the trick."

Tom, for the second time in a week, was staring at the wrong end of a gun, only this time, he was certain that there would be no escape. He could only hope and pray that with his death, Cassy, Jeremy and Tate would be safe. He saw the finger squeezing on the trigger and waited for the deafening explosion and the accompanying pain. Suddenly, movement from behind the men drew his attention and he saw a dark mass fly into the room, throwing a full body tackle at Burt's companion. Jeremy's momentum caused Calvin to fly over the bed and land hard on the floor near the opposite wall. Jeremy landed on top of him. There was the sound of a struggle and then the popping of a silencer. Tom was certain that Jeremy was dead.

The attack and subsequent gunfire drew Burt's attention from Tom and Tom took the opportunity to use the knife that he had dropped on the closet floor a few moments before. He grabbed the blade by the hilt and stabbed at Burt with all of his strength, hitting the armed man in the thigh. Burt cried out in pain and collapsed backwards against the wall, clutching at the bloody wound. His gun dropped to the floor. Tom tried to raise himself from the floor to grab the gun, but his body wouldn't cooperate. His hip was enflamed, his leg seized with pain.

Burt could see Tom's movement for the gun and released his injury to grab for it first. His hand closed on the cold steel of the weapon, but before he could use it, Jeremy's voice bellowed from the opposite side of the bed, "Freeze Asshole." Burt looked up to see Jeremy holding his partner's gun on him. Burt, realizing that he would not be able to get a shot off before Jeremy, let go of his gun and moved his hand back to his injured thigh.

Jeremy, however, did not move the gun from his intended target. Tom looked into the eyes of his young friend and could see they were filled with hate for the man who had murdered his father.

Tom twisted his body around and successfully gained control over Burt's discarded weapon. He then grabbed the knife and pushed it behind him, out of the killer's reach. Tom aimed the gun at Burt and then looked at Jeremy. "Okay, Jeremy. I've got him covered. You can put the gun down."

But Jeremy didn't move. He was frozen in place, the eyes not blinking, the rage growing. "Jeremy?" Tom repeated the young man's name, hoping to get through to him. He was ignored.

Louder and harsher, Tom repeated, "Jeremy! Put the gun down."

Jeremy slowly shook his head, "No," was the whisper.

Tom held Burt's gun steady in his left hand and moved closer to the bed, using his right hand to pull his body up. It was a slow process, but he made it to his feet. Taking a deep breath, he pushed the pain down, "You can't do this Jeremy. It's not worth it. . .he's not worth it."

"But my father is," Jeremy protested. "An he took him away from me." Tears began to gather in his eyes.

"You will be throwing away everything your father tried to do for you if you kill him," Tom reasoned. "Your father wanted you protected from his world. If you kill him you will be spending the rest of your life in jail. Do you think that's what your father would want?"

"What's the matter, Boy, don't have the nerve," Burt taunted from his position on the floor.

Tom turned quickly to the man, "Shut up!"

Burt just laughed. "So it was your father that I blew away." Jeremy began to shake with rage. "Can't tell you how much pleasure I got from watching the fear in his eyes as the bullet hit his body. What a sight."

Tom turned quickly on the man, "Damn it! Shut up!" He then turned back to Jeremy, "Jeremy, don't listen to him. He's just trying to make you lose control."

Jeremy's tears streaked down his face, but he held the gun steady. Tom looked from Burt to Jeremy, not knowing what to do to convince the kid not to make the biggest mistake of his life. He took a deep breath, lowered his gun and stood between Jeremy and his target.

Burt, seeing his opportunity, pushed himself to his feet. Tom turned to Burt, pointing the weapon at him in warning. Burt raised his hands innocently. Tom then turned back to the tortured young man. "I'm not going to let you do it, Jeremy."

"Get out of the way, Tom," Jeremy cried.

"Can't do that," Tom muttered.

"Do it," Burt prodded. "The kid doesn't have it in him. He's a coward, just like his old man."

"Shut up!" Tom yelled again as he spun on Burt, but the move caused pain to shoot down his leg and up his left side. He cried out and involuntarily bent over. That was all the diversion Burt needed. He threw himself forward, grabbed at Tom's gun hand and knocked the detective to the floor, landing on top of him. The two struggled for the gun, but in Tom's weakened condition it was not much of a battle. Burt had possession of the gun within a few seconds and had knocked the butt against Tom's temple, knocking him unconscious. There was the sudden sound of a bullet leaving the silenced weapon in Jeremy's hand and Burt felt the bullet tear into his back.

The killer, with pain and murderous anger in his eyes, spun on the kid and returned fire. His aim was off, however, and he missed his target. Jeremy didn't. He fired the weapon a second time, hitting Burt square in the chest and Burt collapsed on top of Tom's unmoving body in a lifeless heap.

Pain and noise were the first sensations which penetrated Tom's mind. Awareness came slowly. He heard sounds around him. . .voices. Someone was shifting his body and the motion was making him sick to his stomach. His left side was burning. He tried to move his arms and legs to escape, but they wouldn't respond. He squeezed his eyes shut, hoping to block out the world around him and go back into the darkness where there was no pain. . .where there was only quiet.

"Thomas?" He now identified one of the many voices as Harry's. As his mind tried to sort through the other sounds, he realized that he heard sirens approaching in the background. Sirens? Then, the sudden realization of what the sirens were for hit him. His eyes snapped open, wide with fear. "Cassy!" he shouted and tried to rise, but Harry was there to push him back to the floor.

"She's okay, Thomas. They're getting ready to take her and Tate to the hospital, but she's okay."

"But they. . .they," he knew that she wasn't okay. He knew that she and Tate had been hurt by the intruders.

"Apparently, they shot Tate and knocked out Cassy. Tate had a bulletproof vest on. The bullet hit him in the chest and knocked the wind out of him. . .broke a couple of ribs. They were locked in the trunk of Tate's car.

Tom closed his eyes in relief. "They didn't kill them."

"No," Harry also closed his eyes in relief.

"Jeremy?" Tom's panic was renewed.

"He's giving his statement to Parks right now. He's okay, too." Tom said a silent prayer, thanking God for the safety of his friends. "Help me up, Harry."

Harry shook his head, "Nope. There's an ambulance here to take you to the hospital. We're pretty sure you have a concussion and I want the Doc to take a look at your hip. "

"But Harry. . ." Tom protested.

"No buts, Ryan. You're going to the hospital. I'll be along later with Jeremy."

Tom surrendered and relaxed back onto the floor. He heard footsteps approach and saw the ambulance attendants entering the room. Harry backed away, giving the attendants room to work. Within minutes, they had strapped the detective to the gurney and were wheeling him out to the ambulance.

Tom looked at the clock on the hospital room wall. It was 11:30. It was hard to believe everything that had happened in the past three hours. He had made his return trip to the emergency room, been X-rayed from every angle possible, been given painkillers and then told to rest. He wasn't tired. He was worried. Until he saw Cassy, he wasn't going to believe that she was really okay.

There was a soft knock on the door, and Tom's hopes raised with the thought that it was Cassy.

The door cracked open and Harry's head peeked around the corner, "You awake, Ryan?"

Tom pushed himself up in the bed, "Yeah, Harry. Come on in."

Harry pushed the door open wider and Tom saw Jeremy standing behind Harry. A smile came to his face. Jeremy returned Tom's smile with one of his own. "I brought someone I thought you might like to see," Harry grinned at his detective.

"Thanks, Harry." Tom said gratefully.

"Now, I'm gonna leave you two alone and go find my other two wounded officers. Make sure they are okay."

"Harry. . ." Tom clearly doubted that Cassy was in one piece.

"Thomas, trust me. Your partner has a hard head. She's madder than hell that the killers got the drop on her, and she's complaining about the bruise on her face, but other than that she's fine. I'll make sure she checks in with you. Frankly, once she's up and around, I don't think I'll be able to keep her away." Harry chuckled and then left the room.

Tom turned his attention to Jeremy. The younger man's eyes dropped to the floor. "I'm sorry Tom. This is my fault," he whispered.

Tom's eyes narrowed in confusion, "What?"

"You. . .being here again. It's my fault." Jeremy repeated.

Tom shook his head, "How do you figure that?"

"If I hadn't. . .I mean, I was gonna. . ." Jeremy stumbled over the words.

Tom tilted his head, now understanding Jeremy's thoughts, "You think that because you wanted to kill Burt you are responsible for my injury?"

"You put yourself at risk to keep me from killing Burt. If I hadn't been so angry. . .so filled with hate, you wouldn't have had to done that."

Tom chuckled. "The only person responsible for me being back in the hospital again was that SOB." Tom became serious, "Jeremy, you aren't to blame for what happened. If anything, I should be thanking you. You saved my life. Burt would have killed me. . .would have killed us all, if you hadn't had the presence of mind to fire when you did."

"But I wanted to kill him," Jeremy protested.

Tom nodded, "I know." He was quiet for a moment, "So did I."

"But I did kill him," Jeremy added, eyes dropping to the floor again.

"Yes, you did. But Jeremy, there was a difference. When you first wanted to shoot Burt you actions were motivated because of revenge. . .you wanted payment for your father's life. But that changed. When you fired the gun, you did it to defend yourself. . .to defend me. You were saving lives. The hatred was gone. It was love that made you act."

Jeremy shook his head in frustration and started to argue once again. Tom held up his hand, silencing his protest, "No Jeremy. It's over. . ."

Jeremy closed his eyes. Tears ran down his cheeks, as the tension of the past week left his body in a rush. He collapsed on the chair by Tom's bed and rested his forehead on his arms, next to Tom's uninjured side. His body shook with his sobs. Tom closed his eyes and felt his own tears wash away his pain. He reached out to his young friend and placed a caring hand on the back of his head, knowing that what he said was true. The vendetta was over.

The end.