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Kacie spoke thinly, and her swollen nose made her sound as though she had a bad head cold. "No shit, Sherlock. You should be...detective.. powers of... observation...like that." She smiled at him drowsily. "You're so cute... asleep. Like a...little boy taking...nap."
"Can I get you anything? Should I call a nurse for you?"
"Thirsty."
He poured a glass of water from the pitcher on the bedside stand, and supported her head as he maneuvered the flexible straw so she could drink.
She raised a trembling hand to her head and gingerly touched the bandage on the cut by her eye. "How many stitches?"
"Enough. Dr. Novak said he was pleased with the job, and that you'll never be able to tell anything happened after it heals." He rose from the chair to perch on the edge of the bed beside her. Leaning over, he ever so gently kissed her lips.
She smiled faintly. "How'd you know?"
"Know what?"
"That was the...only place on my...whole head...that didn't hurt."
His hazel eyes darkened in concern. "Are you in a lot of pain, Sweetheart?"
"Some. Feel...floaty." Her eyelids fluttered sleepily.
"'Floaty'. What's that supposed to mean?"
"Dunno," her words slowed even more. "Kinda like...I... sleep."
"Go back to sleep," he whispered in her ear, and tenderly caressed the uninjured side of her face. "I love you."
"I...you...too." Nestling her cheek in his hand, she drifted off.
Peter was reassured by their brief exchange, but he noticed with a pang that Kacie looked like the figure on the domestic abuse poster at the precinct. The now thoroughly blackened eyes made her pale face and the white bandage stand out starkly. He was finding it difficult to recall what she looked like before her injuries; the vision of seeing her bleeding on the floor at Chandler's was still seared into his brain.
A soft knock on the door preceded Dr. McClanahan's entrance. "How's the patient?" the doctor rumbled softly.
"She woke up a little bit ago and talked to me for a minute, and then fell back asleep."
"Why don't you go home and get some rest?" McClanahan suggested, taking in Peter's haggard looks. "And then clean up before you come back. She sees you looking like this when she's more alert, you'll scare her to death. I'm going to give her one more dose of Demerol, and from the way she reacted to the first shot, she'll probably be sleeping most of the day. Medications seem to hit her harder and the effects last longer than for most of my patients."
"She won't even take an aspirin. She said that ever since..." Peter stopped, afraid he would be revealing a confidence.
"Kacie told me all about her depression and treatment, Peter. Right up front, before she would accept the job here. Said she didn't want any skeletons popping out of any closets. Go on home. She's in good hands here. We won't let anything happen to her."
"You'll be taking better care of her than I did, then," Peter berated himself bitterly.
"Son, you will never be able to keep her safe from everything in this life, and you're either crazy or unbelievably egotistical if you think that you can. All you can do is your best, and leave the rest to God, or fate, or whatever else you believe is out there."
Peter smiled tiredly and asked, "You been talking to my father?"
"We exchange ideas from time to time, yes. Now get out of here for awhile."
Peter let himself into their apartment, and found the
silence there depressing. He threw down his keys on the
dresser and stretched out on the bed, intending to get
some sleep. As he lay there, hands behind his head, he
found that the thoughts spinning in his head wouldn't
allow him to rest. {Should I have been able to tell there
was something wrong with Eppy? That something was
bothering him? Should I have seen this coming and tried
to do something about it? Was there some way I could
have kept this from happening?}
He rolled over onto his side and stretched his arm out over the space where Kacie should have been, and ached with loneliness for her. {What about Kacie? The doctors said she'd be all right physically, but how about mentally? Emotionally? Will she blame me for any of this? Should she? God, why didn't I just take her home when she wanted to go? Oh, man, the way she held me when we were dancing...the way she looked at me...the way she always looks at me.} He swallowed against the sudden lump that appeared in his throat. {Will she ever look at me like that again? Some fricking knight in shining armor I am...}
He suddenly felt his father's presence with him, within him, surrounding him, and the words were so clear, they could have been spoken aloud. "Peter, you will be of no help to anyone if you are exhausted. Rest." His eyes closed in spite of themselves, and he drifted off into a restless slumber.
When he awoke, he was surprised to see that it was
well after noon. He had been sure he wouldn't be able to
sleep at all. He rolled out of bed quickly and showered
and shaved. He decided to stop at the precinct to check
in with Captain Simms before heading to County General
to see when they would let Kacie come home.
Walking through the squad room on the way to Simms's office, he was stopped several times by concerned fellow officers and asked about Kacie's condition. He was gratified by the fact that he worked with such a caring group of people. He didn't see Jody or Skalany around anywhere, and Kermit and Blake didn't seem to be in evidence, either.
When he knocked at the Captain's open door, Simms quickly motioned him in. "Detective Caine, I heard about the incident at the Club last night. How is your wife?"
"Broken nose and facial cuts. The doctors say everything will heal just fine."
"What are you doing here? Filing assault charges?"
Peter looked startled. "Charges? No...I don't think so. The guy was dead drunk. Had a total blackout. Didn't even remember what happened until somebody told him. It's up to Kacie, but we haven't talked about it yet."
Simms looked like she was ready to say something else, but then changed her mind. She glanced away from him and back again. "Then I assume you've come to ask for compassionate leave?"
"Yes, I was hoping to beg a few days off, Captain. I'm sorry I didn't think to call in this morning..."
She brushed his comment aside. "Kermit filled me in last night. I didn't expect you here at all today."
"I don't know the time frame I'll need. I'm on my way back to the hospital now to see how soon I can bring Kacie home."
"I'll take care of the paperwork," Simms assured him, and as an afterthought added, "You know, paperwork is something that you COULD catch up on at home...if you catch my drift, Detective?"
Peter half-smiled at her. "Message received and understood, Captain. But can I get back to you on THAT, too?"
"Get out of here." Simms attempted to look stern, but only succeeded in broadening Peter's grin.
"Thank you, Captain." Peter was still smiling as he walked out of her office. He started to leave, but first glanced over at Kermit's office and heard the familiar clicketyclacking of a computer keyboard being abused. He knocked softly and walked in to find Kermit sorting through pages from his printer.
"Peter, hey, how's Kacie?" Kermit looked and sounded tired.
"Doctors say she'll be all right. I'm on my way to see her again now." He peered more closely at Kermit. "You been here all night or somethin'? What're you working on?"
Kermit paused uncertainly a moment, and then scanned the computer printouts in his hand. He held them out to Peter. "Maybe you should read for yourself."
Peter started scanning the pages. His face darkened as he demanded, "How'd you get this?"
"Ask me no questions, I'll tell you no lies."
"What business did you have hacking into Eppy's personnel files from Boston?"
"I guess I made it my business when he punched out a friend of mine. The man's a walking time bomb, Peter. I think last night is proof enough of that."
"You don't know him like I do!"
"Like you DID." Kermit corrected flatly. "Look, I know that you two have a history, but you've seen him...what? Once or twice in the past eight or nine years? People can change a lot in that amount of time, Peter."
"You didn't see him at the hospital last night, Kermit. The man was sick about what he'd done. He told me about having blackouts and that he knew he needed help. He said he was going to get it."
"He told his captain in Boston the same story after he got disciplined for being drunk on the job. And what has he done about it in the last month besides keep drinking?"
"Back off, Kermit. You don't know Eppy."
"I've known guys like him. All of us have watched fellow cops try to handle their personal and professional problems by turning to a bottle. Epstein is no different from any of them."
Peter threw the report pages on the cluttered desk and spoke coldly. "I'm going to see my wife." He stalked out of the office without a backward glance.
Kermit shook his head and leaned back in his chair wearily. "Ah, Peter, I hope this blind loyalty of yours doesn't blow up in your face."