Back to Story Menu
"Hey."
Caine stopped short at the voice, and Mary Margaret slid an arm through his. He looked down at her hand and then into her eyes.
Skalany saw past the enigmatic Shaolin features into the hazel depths of sadness and underlying fear. "We're gonna find her, Caine. We are."
He patted her hand before letting his own rest on it. "I know that you all will try."
Skalany stroked his cheek with gentle fingers. "Did you get any sleep last night?"
Shaking his head, he sighed. "No, I could not. My son's pain was too deep to allow rest for either of us."
"What's in the bag?"
"A change of clothing for Peter and his shaving kit. He refuses to leave this place."
"I know. He said last night that he can't stand the thought of being back at the apartment without Kacie. I'm worried about him, Caine, about what he might do if…"
"I, too, am afraid for my son. His thoughts are dark and his heart is filled with hate. His anger smolders within, as do his emotions." He sighed before continuing softly, "I understand his feelings of helplessness, for I am no more able to ease his suffering than he is able to help Kay Cee." He patted her hand again. "Excuse me, Mary Margaret, but I must speak to my son."
She touched his cheek again, and smiled in understanding. "I'd better get back to work."
Caine set down the sports bag on Peter's desk before silently gliding over to stand next to his son.
Peter's eyes were closed as he spoke. "I keep wondering if they hurt her again. If she's calling for me, wanting me to come, but knowing that I've abandoned her."
"You have not. You are doing all within your power to rescue her."
Peter went on, showing no indication he had heard his father. "I-I-I keep hearing her scream. I keep seeing her, lying there on that floor. And I couldn't do anything. I couldn't help her, Father. She's my-my-my LIFE, and I couldn't help her."
Caine put his hand on Peter's shoulder, but the younger man eeled out from under it. "Don't…try and comfort me." He backed away and held up both hands in self-protection. "I-I-I can't handle the way everyone is being so-so nice to me."
"They are your friends. They love you."
"Maybe they shouldn't. It's not safe to love me." The corners of Peter's mouth turned down, and his eyes were red-rimmed and bloodshot. The two days' growth of beard that darkened his face aged him ten years. He looked exhausted; he was. The desolation in his eyes showed he had nearly given up all hope; he had.
Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. After he lit up, he stared at his father. "What is it about us? About the name of Caine? Any woman foolish enough to love us ends up dead. Your mother. My mother." His voice thickened. "My baby's mother."
"Peter." Caine's voice was sad and reproachful. "My mother was killed during a time of war. Your mother had a disease. Your child's mother still lives."
"For how long?" Peter's chin quivered. "Do you have any idea how unstable crank users are?" His voice rose in agitation. "A couple weeks ago, we arrested a father who had decapitated his nine-month-old baby because it wouldn't stop crying!" He was shouting now and didn't care. "They beat her yesterday, Pop!" He gestured wildly, scattering ashes as his hands waved through the air. "God only knows what happened to her last night, or could happen to her today!"
"But you still plan to meet this woman, and agree to her terms?" Caine regarded his son soberly.
"What choice do I have? I will do whatever I have to do to get Kacie back." He chewed briefly on his lower lip and shrugged. "I have to hope to hell that Sara keeps her half of the bargain."
Kermit strolled up to catch the last part of Peter's statement. "Meanwhile, the rest of us will be tearing this city apart brick by brick to find Kacie."
"So you trying to tell me you got a lead?" Peter took another shaky puff from his cigarette.
Kermit dropped his head a moment before looking up to meet his friend's piercing gaze. "No, not really. But at least we've got something to go on."
"We got nothing and you know it." Peter ground out his cigarette in a nearby ashtray. "I'm gonna take a shower. Thanks for grabbing my gear, Pop." He took off his watch and laid it on his desk before slinging the shoulder strap of his bag over his arm and heading for the locker rooms, shoulders bowed and steps dragging.
Kermit stood stiffly where Peter had left him.
Caine stepped closer and put his hand on the man's arm. "My son is not himself. He does not mean to use his words as weapons."
"He's scared, Caine. He's scared and he's hurting, and it feels like we're not helping him at all."
"Do you not have the 'lead' you told Peter about?"
Kermit sighed wearily and rubbed the back of his hand against his forehead. "We're interviewing all the people Sara worked with at the 52nd and all her known associates. We've got her phone records, credit card bills, everything we can get our hands on. But it all takes time. And I'm just as afraid as Peter that time is something we're running out of."
"Have you been able to reach the Blaisdells yet?"
Kermit nodded. "About an hour ago my ship-to-shore call got through. As soon as their boat docks, they're taking the next flight back."
"I am sure that Paul has some…contacts?…of his own he is making?"
"Oh, yeah. If Sara had any idea of the kind of reinforcements that are on the job, she'd give up Kacie now and skip the country."
"Or they would kill Kay Cee and do the same."
"Isn't it difficult, always knowing things the way you do?"
"Yes." The answer was slow and measured. "But it is more difficult to watch my son and see his spirit fading away along with his will to live." Caine's voice grew deep with emotion. "I am afraid that if my daughter and her child are lost, I will also lose my son." His face looked old and tired. "That is a grief I could not bear again."