"Mr. Caine, what is your relationship to the woman who was kidnapped?" Ramsay initiated the interrogation.

"She is my son's wife."

"Your daughter-in-law?"

"Yes."

"Were you acquainted with the two deceased parties?"

"No."

"What do you know of their deaths?"

Caine shrugged, and raised one eyebrow in dismissal. "Only what others have told me."

"Mr. Caine, is it true that you are a martial arts expert?"

"I have training in many disciplines, yes."

"You are familiar with this?" Lieutenant Brandl held up a plastic bag and handed it to Caine.

Caine studied the object inside the bag. "May I remove it?"

At Ramsay's nod, Caine opened the bag and removed the four-inch throwing star, turning it over and over in his hands and testing the razor sharp points with sensitive fingertips before carefully replacing it in the evidence bag. "A lethal weapon in the hands of someone with training."

"Someone with your kind of training?"

"Yes."

"So you're saying that not just anyone could use this with deadly force and accuracy?"

"Yes."

Brandl blew out his breath in frustration. "Could you please go into a little more detail with your answers, Mr. Caine?"

"Why? Is the truth not enough?"

"Mr. Caine, what my partner and I would like to know is what kind of person would be able to use a weapon like this to kill a very large, muscular man."

Caine shrugged again. "A person with a desire to commit great harm."

Ramsay's voice rose in frustration. "Mr. Caine, what kind of person? Tall? Short? Male? Female? What?"

"With proper training and accuracy, anyone could learn to use a weapon such as this. I could even teach the both of you, if you wished to learn."

Both officers glanced up sharply and examined Caine's face, sensing a veiled insult. "What did you mean by that?" Ramsay snapped.

"Only that anyone can be taught to use a weapon, and, with the proper motivation, any weapon can become deadly."

"Mr. Caine, do you have any idea who used this shurkin to kill Jason Fischer?"

Caine pursed his lips and shook his head. "I do not."

"You live in Chinatown, don't you, Mr. Caine?"

"Yes."

"And did you enlist the help of your friends in Chinatown to try to find your missing daughter-in-law?"

"Yes."

"Well?"

"Well...what?"

"Do you think that one of them found her and murdered her assailant?"

"I do not know."

"Mr. Caine, you are being extremely uncooperative."

Caine looked surprised. "Why? Am I not answering all your questions truthfully?"

"We were hoping for something more, Mr. Caine. A name, a lead, something. Jason Fischer's sister is adamant that we must find the person who killed her brother. So far we have nothing." Brandl threw down his pencil and it bounced off the table onto the floor.

"It must be very frustrating for you."

Again the questioning officers stared at Caine, unable to determine if he was needling them or being sincere. He surprised them with a question of his own. "Why have you not asked me if I killed this man?"

"Don't think we wouldn't be asking you if you didn't already have an airtight alibi. We have Captain Simms's statement that you were here at the 101st when your daughter-in-law was found," Ramsay snarled.

Caine rose to his feet and bowed. "If we are finished here, I must return to the hospital. My daughter has been very ill, and she was very upset after your visit."

"How do you know that? You've been with us the past two hours." Ramsay scowled suspiciously.

Caine shrugged. "I must find my son and talk to him. He will need to return to the hospital with me." He bowed again and asked, "Am I free to leave?"

Ramsay dismissed him with a wave and Brandl snorted, "I think we've talked with you long enough. Go."

Caine walked silently from the room, closing the door behind himself without a sound.

Brandl stared after him. "Looked for, they cannot be seen. Listened for, they cannot be heard."

Ramsay shot his partner a sideways glance. "What did you say?"

Brandl shook his head to clear the cobwebs. "Nothing. Just something I once heard someone say about Shaolin priests."

Caine shrugged. "They asked questions. I answered."

Paul's eyes twinkled. "Do you do that to them?"

"Do what?"

"Never mind." Paul couldn't hide a pleased grin. "I'll bet those cryptic answers of yours drove them nuts. Did they remember to Mirandize you?"

At Caine's confused expression, Paul explained, "Did they read you your rights before they started asking questions?"

"Why would they? I was not under arrest."

"It's a matter of procedure to Mirandize someone, even if they've come for voluntary questioning. Just in case something incriminating comes of their answers." Paul snorted. "But we're talking proper procedure here, and the 86th has never been known for that." He shook his head and sighed. "Come on, we'd better get over to the 101st and talk to Peter. Lord knows I'm not looking forward to this conversation."

"Why? What's wrong? Is she worse? Those bastards..."

"Peter, your attitude is exactly why I want to talk to you before you see Kacie."

"My attitude?" Peter's laugh was mirthless. "Why the hell is everyone so God damned worried about my attitude all of a sudden?" Even as he railed, he allowed Dr. Albin to pull him aside.

"Lower your voice," Albin ordered. "We've just spent the last two hours calming Kacie down, and I'm not going to let you go in there and upset her all over again."

"Me? How is seeing me going to upset her?"

"You're angry, and you have every right to be angry at those two men who were here today, but Kacie is pretty fragile right now, and she's sure you're going to be angry with her."

"What? Why would she think that?"

"She's convinced that she's the one ultimately to blame for the deaths of two people, for her being taken captive, for your father being taken downtown. You name it, she feels responsible for it."

"That's crazy."

"You know that and I know that, but your barely out of intensive care, hormonally super-charged wife doesn't see it that way. The last thing she needs is for you to go charging into her room, looking like you're ready to tear someone's head off."

"Did they make her worse?" Peter's eyes glittered dangerously as he fought to control his anger.

"Well, their visit sure didn't make her any better." Albin placed his hand on Peter's shoulder. "Medically, her vital signs are fine. Mentally and emotionally?" He shook his head, frowning. "She has one of her headaches again, and she refuses to let us give her anything for it. What she needs is rest."

"I will make her some tea." Caine excused himself with a bow.

"Can we see her for a few minutes?" Paul asked.

Albin shook his head. "I'd rather you didn't, Mr. Blaisdell. Once Mr. Caine has given her his remedy, I'd like you all to leave for the day."

"I can't see her either?" Peter's face fell, hazel eyes dark with disappointment.

"I didn't mean you, Peter. But you can't go in there and upset her. Are we clear on that?"

Anger spent, Peter meekly nodded. "Can I go in now?"

"Don't push."

"I-I-I won't."

A very subdued Peter slipped quietly into Kacie's room. Annie was softly humming a nameless tune as she sat next to Kacie and massaged her temple.

"Is that you, Peter?" Kacie's voice was thick with pain.

"It's me, Sweetheart. Dr. Albin says you've got a headache. Pop is making you some tea right now."

"They didn't arrest him then? He didn't have to go to jail because of me?" Her face was the picture of misery, eyes squinting from the pain of her headache as she peered up at him.

Annie gave up her seat, and after giving Peter a quick kiss on the cheek, spoke to Kacie. "I'll be going now, Sweetie. You get some rest. Everything will seem better in the morning."

Peter held onto Annie's fingers and kissed them. "Thanks, Mom. I'll-I'll talk to you and Paul later." The Blaisdells quietly slipped out of the room as he leaned over his wife and brushed his lips against hers. "Everything's fine, Kace. You don't have to worry about a thing."

"I'm so sorry for everything, Peter." Kacie's lip trembled as her voice thinned and quivered.

"Honey, you've done nothing to be sorry for." He was about to say more, but his father entered the room carrying a tray bearing a cup and saucer. "See, Pop is here right now. He's brought you some tea for your headache, Sweetheart."

Caine set the tray down on the bedside stand and stepped back silently.

Peter helped Kacie sit up and steadied the teacup in her hands as she drank.

"Dad." Her voice trembled. "I'm really sorry about what happened to you today."

Caine hushed her apology. "No apology is necessary. You have done no wrong." He took the empty cup from her and set it on the bedside tray. Leaning forward, he kissed her cheek. "Sleep. I will visit you again tomorrow." He set his battered hat on his head and smoothed the brim with a fluid motion of one hand. After winking at Peter, he quietly exited.

"Peter?" Kacie quavered, looking small and frail under her blankets.

"The hell with hospital policy," Peter muttered under his breath, carefully easing onto the bed next to her and folding her in his arms. "Shh. Go to sleep," he whispered, trailing tender fingers through her hair.

She yawned tiredly and, with a hiccuping sigh, her body shuddered one last time before an exhausted sleep claimed her.

Peter lay next to her, staring up at the ceiling as his thoughts whirled.

To Part 6

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