Return to Denise's page Part 3
Donnie Double D had his usual hangouts. Kermit knew Peter's snitch as well as Peter did. Of course, it also helped that Kermit knew Donnie's wife and their phone number. Like Peter, Donnie loved looking out over the water. Kermit watched as Donnie stared at the boats and barges in the harbor, lost in his thoughts.
Being a snitch had taught Donnie to be aware of everything around him. He felt the cold eyes watching him. Turning, he met Kermit's shielded gaze.
"I haven't seen him," Donnie stated as he turned again to gaze across the harbor.
"Haven't seen who?" Kermit leaned against the railing. The day seemed to be getting longer.
"The only time you come to see me is when Peter can't come. Since I haven't heard his name on the news these past few days, I assume he is lost."
"Oh, yeah." Kermit murmured his familiar phrase. "Found his car at his father's. No one has seen him since yesterday morning. Hear anything?"
A tugboat sounded its horn as lines were tossed from a barge to the smaller boat. The men worked frantically to secure the cargo-laden vessel.
"Only some dame that was whacked on drugs spouting off something about getting a cop's brother hooked. Last I heard, Pete didn't have a brother."
Donnie didn't miss the detective's reaction, his knuckles turning white as his fingers gripped the railing, or the clenching of the older man's jaw.
"Did she give a name? Or have a name?" Kermit attempted to keep the emotion from his voice and the memory from his mind. He could think about David later. Right now, his thoughts had to be on finding Peter.
Donnie thought back to the previous night. He and Lula had gone to the Shot Glass Bar before taking in a movie. The scantily dressed woman had drawn Donnie's attention, which in turn had drawn Lula's.
"Maria. Yeah, Maria. Lula knows her, said she stayed stoned most of the time."
"Lula knows her?"
"Yeah, she hired her once for a catering job. Gal showed up but her mind was in space."
Kermit released the rail, ignoring the splinters that had embedded themselves in his flesh. "I need to know if this Maria has found herself a source for drugs and what his name is, Donnie."
"I'll go find out. You gonna be hanging around?" Donnie asked, seeing some of the tension leave the intimidating man's face.
"I won't be far. Call me on the cell phone when you get anything. Here's the number." Kermit handed Donnie a piece of paper with Kermit's cell phone number scribbled on it. He didn't hand out the number to many people, but over time he had learned to trust the snitch.
Returning to the precinct after checking with forensics at the elder Caine's apartment, Kermit mentally reviewed what little he had learned. "Not much," he muttered, closing the office door behind him. Looking at his watch, he realized he had to pick up the Captain in a little over an hour, and Donnie had still not called.
It was now after 2 p.m.
Another jaunt through the Internet yielded little information. Dessa was being held in the federal pen in Florida, but Kermit knew the man could still run his business from inside.
He sent a message to an address he had received only weeks earlier, an address he was to use only when things were not going well at home. "Am I my brother's keeper? If so, I have failed, again." Kermit typed in the cryptic message, then sat back and awaited a reply.
A knock on the door brought him out of his surfing on the net. "It had better be good," he growled.
Frank Strenlich opened the door, ignoring both threat and tone. "You going to pick up the Captain? I can send Skalany."
Kermit stared at the figure before him. Frank looked the part of a former Marine, still sporting the buzz cut from his stint in the military. "No, I gotta get out of here. Maybe Donnie'll call when I leave. There's got to be something." Kermit stood, anger rising along with his height. "Damn it! I know it has to be Larsen. I can't get the Feds to tell me anything since he went into the program."
Frank waited for the storm to blow over. "We'll find him and…Pete. Forensics came up with a partial print; they're running it now, but I wouldn't hold out hope. Chinatown's not going to open up to us, so I guess we're in this alone."
Kermit let his mind drift as he wandered through the crowded airport. His mind was on his missing and friend and fellow detective, instead of on the woman approaching him.
"Are you waiting for anyone in particular?" a familiar soft voice inquired.
Kermit shook the memory from his mind. "Oh, yeah."
Karen Simms noted the patently false smile directed at her by her favorite detective. The time they had shared these past few months had allowed her to be able to read him in all his difficult moods. "What's happened to Peter?" If he had removed his sunglasses, she would have seen his eyes go wide with shock.
'You're losing your touch, Griffin.' There had been a time when no one could get any information from looking at the ex-mercenary's face.
"You're getting as bad as Caine," he commented dryly, relieving her of her carry-on bag.
She didn't move when he nodded toward the baggage pickup. Instead, she gave him the look of Captain to officer, wanting to hear the news and dreading it at the same time.
Meeting her stern gaze, he touched her hand. "He's missing."
"You know who took him?"
There was no hesitation in the answer, "Yeah, I think so. I'll fill you in in the car."
They retrieved her luggage and drove to the precinct, where she had left her car for the five days she'd been gone.
Kermit told her of Peter's missed date with Annie and his not coming in to work, of Caine's trashed apartment, and of finding Peter's car. Pulling into the parking lot, Kermit put the Corvair into Park, and slumped wearily back in the seat.
"I met with Donnie. He's trying to find some information on a woman. Said she was bragging about turning a cop's brother into an addict. It's gnawing at my gut that it's Peter they have." Kermit stared straight ahead.
Karen took in the words that he wasn't saying. "And the only person closest to a brother Peter has is…"
"Me," Kermit whispered, closing his eyes, helplessly watching Peter's face dissolve into David's lifeless face. David had died alone without his brother to help him.
The high-rise condominium loomed above the city's waterway. Its exterior lights reflected off the glassy surface, causing flickers of white to dance on each small wavelet.
Parking in the underground garage, Kermit looked around for suspicious vehicles. When he had moved in, he had run the tags of each car, then the owners of the cars. His motto: Never can be too trusting.
Seeing the usual assortment of vehicles, he exited the car and stepped into the elevator, his senses on full alert.
Getting off on his floor, he pulled out his gun as he saw that the door to his condo was open. As he moved closer, he spotted the faint glow of light from the direction of the balcony.
Slowly, he entered, weapon ready. A scrap of noise out on the balcony alerted him. Then he heard a familiar voice and the echo of traffic ten stories below and Kermit's mind quickly raced to possible scenarios that he couldn't dismiss.
Cautiously, Kermit peered around the corner and saw the sliding glass door open and Peter Caine standing on the wall of the balcony. The only thing that prevented the young man from falling was his vise-like grip on the railing ascending the wall.
"Shit!" Kermit whispered, on a heartfelt sigh. Then he wondered how Peter, who was afraid of heights, had managed to get that far, not to mention how he had bypassed Kermit's elaborate alarm system in the first place.
"Peter?" He gently called, slipping the Desert Eagle back into its holster. Receiving no response from Peter had Kermit inch forward. As he reached the glass doors, Kermit registered the honks and sirens of the city below, but his attention remained fixed on Peter.
"Peter?" he called again, edging closer. Kermit was an inch from his friend when Peter turned to look at him.
"I'm scared, Father. Please help me." The childish plea and white face of Peter Caine assaulted Kermit's heart, tearing at it like only one other person's plea had done.
"Give me your hand, Peter. I'll help you," Kermit encouraged as he reached up and touched Peter's hand. The clamminess of Peter's skin startled Kermit; he looked again at Peter's face before the young man turned his gaze back to the traffic below.
"I can't jump, Father. It's too far."
He had not missed the glazed look in Peter's eyes. A look of confusion and doubt clouded the dark hazel eyes. "Yes, it is. Come down and we will talk." He did his best Kwai Chang Caine impression.
The slow turn of Peter's head allowed Kermit to see the tear streaks tracing patterns down his cheeks. Reaching down to the offer of safety, Peter clutched tightly to the hand extended toward him and was helped to the floor of the balcony.
Peter clung desperately to the man who, in his mind, was his father. His body shook from fright at both the height and his confusion.
Kermit felt the tremor of every muscle in Peter's body. He wrapped his arms around the shaking form. "It's all right, Peter."
Suddenly, Peter stiffened, his body rigid. Arms and legs began to jerk. At first, the seizure was minor but as the seconds passed, the jerking grew harder and more intense. His eyes rolled upward, leaving only small crescents of hazel eyes. After what Kermit thought was an eternity, the seizure stopped and Peter's body relaxed, leaving the young man in a stuporous state. The hoarse rasping of Peter's breathing calmed Kermit's immediate fears.
"I'll call 911." Karen Simms' voice startled Kermit as he began rolling up Peter's sleeves. He had thought she had stayed at the station after getting a call from Donnie.
Kermit looked up from the track lines on his friend's arms and the scabs on slowly healing wounds around his wrists. "NO!" he shouted as she pulled out the antenna of her cellular phone. "Capt…Karen, please?"
Kermit watched as she pushed the antenna in but kept the phone in her hand. She walked closer, her eyes scanning the prone body of her missing detective, seeing the track lines and scars.
"Now would be a good time to tell me who did this to him."
Kermit gently placed Peter's head in his lap, easing his labored respiration. "I need to get him into bed."
Gently pushing Peter's torso up, Kermit draped one arm over one shoulder and pulled him to a standing position. Karen stepped forward and did the same to Peter's other arm. Together, they dragged Peter into the spare bedroom, where they undressed the unconscious man, involuntarily noting the signs of extensive drug use and the beginning of withdrawal.
"Watch him while I get some water. I need to clean him up," Kermit stated, continuing to ignore Simms' pointed question.
Karen waited as patiently as possible under the circumstances for the rest of the story. She removed Peter's shoes as Kermit went to the bathroom for a bucket of water, wash cloth, and towel. They worked together to sit Peter up and pull his shirt up over his head. Dark blue circles, the size of a man's fist, covered Peter's torso both back and front. They were fresh and no yellow ring was seen, a telltale sign of slow healing. Peter's ribs protruded, allowing Karen to count them, though she refused to. Peter Caine, in good health, was lean with little fat to spare.
The seizure had left the unconscious man incontinent of both bladder and bowel. "He needs a hospital, Kermit."
"Why?" His voice sounded angry. "So they can claim he's an addict and get him kicked off the force? No damn way will I let that happen, not to Peter, not to Paul. He's been hooked because of me."
"How do you know it was because of you? I'm sure he's made plenty of enemies," Karen retorted, her voice rising.
"Because," Kermit hissed, his ability to keep his temper under control fading quickly, "Most of his enemies would either shoot him or stab him. No, this is Larsen's handiwork."
Kermit sat beside the bed, watching as another seizure wracked the pale thin figure. Peter stopped breathing as his muscles stiffened once again, casting a blue tint to his lips and under his eyes.
Both Karen and Kermit waited for any sign of breathing, both sending up prayers of their own. The jerking muscles soon abated, sending Peter's mind into a deeper sleep.
Removing his glasses, Kermit allowed her to see a tear escape as he relived another time, another place, where he lost his brother to the same man.
"I had a brother. He'd be about Peter's age," Kermit began quietly as they worked together to remove the soiled pants. Again, as the denim material came off, they could see more bruises and the flaccid muscles of Peter's thighs.
Karen laid her hand on his. "You don't have to talk about this."
Looking first at Peter, then Karen, he answered, "Yes, I do. Remember when I went to Florida during the hurricane, and Peter and his father followed me?"
She nodded but remained silent, glancing briefly at Peter's still form.
"The man I went after, Larsen, he…" Kermit hesitated. Only four others knew about David. Making a quick decision, Kermit was about to make it five. "David had had problems with drugs when he was a teenager. I was away on a mission, but when I came back, I got him cleaned up and into the police academy." Kermit smiled. "I couldn't let him get in on what I was doing. I told him it was too dangerous. Anyway, he was a good cop and was tracking Larsen when Larsen had him killed." He let the words hang between them.
"By an overdose," she completed. "I'm sorry, Kermit."
"Don't be. I went to Florida to kill Larsen, and I probably should have." Kermit's normal tone of voice came back, flooded with anger at the man who had brought him so much pain and loss.
"So, why kidnap Peter? Why not Marilyn or one of her kids?"
"You know I don't let anyone know about my relationships. Larsen doesn't know about Marilyn. She was married and in another town when David met up with Larsen. Peter, however, went to Florida and after me and helped mess up Larsen's plans."
"How did you come to the conclusion that Larsen was the one who did this? Right now, all you have is a hunch." Karen wanted to get as much information as she could to get to the bottom of this investigation. "And how did you know that Peter was here?"
"Larsen plea-bargained and was put into the witness protection program. Donnie called when we were at the precinct. He and Lula found Maria back at the bar. She'd been slapped around a few times, but they got her to talk. Turns out she met up with a man fitting Larsen's description. She told Lula that her new man wanted to see how quick a cop could be converted. Then Donnie went on to say that they dropped the cop off at an apartment. She said it was near a harbor." Kermit stopped, letting the words slip silently away.
"We need to find this Maria again. Donnie get an address?"
"Somewhere in the midtown area, nothing concrete." Kermit glanced down as Peter moaned, his face squeezed into a grimace. "If Peter recovers, he can ID Larsen. He was supposed to have jumped." A sarcastic smile ran briefly across Kermit's face. "Guess he didn't count on the kid's fear of heights. I have to stay with him. Larsen will come after him, and probably get rid of Maria in the bargain."
Karen watched Kermit pace the width of the room, then walk to a drawer and rummage through it. The stiffness of his movements alerted her to the words he hadn't said. "You weren't there when David died."
Kermit stopped; his shoulders and head slumped in resignation, then, through gritted teeth, he answered her. "No. I was with Blaisdell on a mission. Peter had been accepted into the academy. We had just completed the mission when I got the call from Marilyn."
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
As he turned toward her, she saw a tear escaping from under the sunglasses. "Don't be. When I came to work at the 101st, I told Paul I'd watch the kid. I had been watching him since he was fifteen. He was so much like David. Always into something, never satisfied with the answers he got. Always afraid of being alone."
"Well," she interrupted, her voice steady and brooking no argument, "Larsen was wrong. Peter will not die, nor will he be alone." Karen walked over to Kermit, gently touching his arm, then his face. "We'll do this together."
"It won't be easy."
"I didn't think anything with Peter Caine involved would be easy." She slipped away, again looking at Peter. "We can't stay here."
"No, we can't. I have to get some things ready at a place I have in mind. He should be out for a few more hours, but just in case…" Kermit pulled out what he had found in his search of the drawer. The silver handcuffs dangled from one hand; in the other hand, he held a sling.
Karen watched as Kermit wrapped Peter's wrist and hand with the sling and tied it off, then placed the handcuff over the material, and closed the other end on the frame of the bed. "Why?" she asked, oddly unnerved by the restraint being inflicted on Peter.
Briefly running his hand through Peter's hair, Kermit allowed her to see the affection he had for the young man. "Insurance. Look, I'll be back in about an hour. I can't ask you to do this. I don't know what they gave him, maybe a mixture of heroin and amphetamines. That would cause the hallucinations."
"You didn't ask me, I volunteered. Now, I suppose you have a key to his apartment?"
"Oh, yeah." Kermit smiled; glad the woman he had grown to admire and love was staying at his side. "We need to take him someplace quiet, where he can scream and no one will hear him but us. I have to go see Annie. Then I'll come back. Karen?" He stopped, removing his sunglasses, looking into her eyes. "Thank you." Leaning down, he kissed her, then pulled back in surprise as she returned his kiss, answering his unasked question.
"You're welcome. Now go."