Part 4
Peter found Annie in Paul's room, sitting in the chair Peter had slept in the night before; he hoped she felt more comfortable in it than he had been. He watched as she turned her head toward him, a slight smile on her lips and knew his mother had recognized him either by the sound of his steps or his after-shave lotion. "How is he?" Peter asked, constantly amazed by his foster mother's ability to get around in the world of the sighted.
"Fine. He just dozed off a few minutes ago." She stroked her husband's hand softly. "I went and sat with Molly. The doctor came out and said Frank was making fast improvements and they may be able to take him off the ventilator tonight or in the morning." Annie walked into her son's embrace.
Pulling her into his arms, he pressed his lips against her forehead, hoping he had strong enough shoulders to prevent his world from shattering even further. His weariness disappeared as the good news registered and he felt his mother's arms around his waist. She was the one he would run to when he couldn't explain himself. Paul had always been there for him, to guide and teach him, but Annie was the one who eased the hurts when he was younger. Annie had always told Peter her blindness helped her to see deeper than the skin. "I'm glad. I want to get the guy who's doing this, and I will," he vowed to himself and Annie.
Annie pulled back and caressed Peter's cheek. "I know you will, honey. But you need to rest. Why don't you go home and sleep, I'll stay with Paul."
"I don't need a babysitter," came Paul's answer as he awoke to the conversation.
Peter smiled as Annie reached down and touched her husband's hand. "We know you don't. We are just concerned about you," she soothed.
"I have a phone call coming here later and I need to be here. Just as soon as I'm done, I'll get some sleep," Peter broke in. "Besides, you need to be home to make sure Kelly gets off to school in time. What time was Caroline coming to pick you up?"
Annie felt her watch. Pressing a button, she caused the face crystal to pop open so she could feel the hands on the face. "Oh, she should be here by now. It's six o'clock."
The door opened and the night shift nurse aide walked in carrying a tray of food. "Here's supper, Mr. Blazedale." She removed the cover to reveal four glasses of liquid, each a different color. "I'll be back in a little bit and get your vital signs." Then the perky girl left, not paying attention to the sour face Paul made at the liquid diet before him. She'd no sooner left when the door opened again to reveal Caroline Blaisdell and Mary Margaret.
"Hey, Daddy. How are you?" Caroline asked, walking over to Paul and giving him a kiss on the cheek.
"I'm fine, sweetie. I'd be better if I had something more substantial to eat," he pointed to the liquid. "Like maybe what Mary Margaret has in that bag behind her back." Paul grinned and ran his tongue over his lips.
Mary Margaret moved to the foot of the bed. The bag she held had both men's attention, its aroma tantalizing everyone's nose.
"I brought this for Peter. I figured he wasn't going to take time to eat before that call came in, so I stopped and got us something. Captain, this isn't going to bother you, is it?" she said innocently as she looked at his tray.
"No, it'll be all right. I'll just sit here and drink my supper while you eat," Paul replied, rolling his eyes.
Annie patted her daughter's arm as Caroline came and stood beside her. "We need to go and check on Kelly." Annie was still only inches from Paul's bed. Walking just the few steps, she bent over and received a kiss from him. "You behave, Paul. Set a good example for Peter so the next time he's in the hospital, the staff won't be so anxious to see him leave."
Peter blushed at Annie's words then gave both women a kiss on the cheek.
Peter set down his fork, looking at his watch for the fifth time in as many minutes. He had inhaled the food, not really tasting it, anxious to get the call. Both Peter and Mary Margaret sat in the space between the bed that Paul occupied and the other empty bed, the phone on the bedside table. It rang, causing both detectives to reach for it.
Reaching the phone first, Peter answered, "Caine."
"You shouldn't eat so fast," the voice replied.
"How did you…? Never mind. Did you find anything?" Peter asked, still cautious of the stranger.
"Yeah, seems you were right. They all served in a special unit of twelve men. Five are dead. The three there, and one in Oklahoma that was found dead of an apparent overdose of insulin. Thing is, the man wasn't diabetic. His wife was, and she was in the hospital at the time. The captain of this unit makes number five. He died at Fort Bragg when he stepped on a land mine." Griffin paused.
"What's so unusual about that? The military has land mines and that's how they train their soldiers."
"For one, they don't use live ammo in training. Another thing: he was walking down his driveway when he stepped on it. Your Frank Strenlich was also in this group. Of the six remaining, three are MIA's."
Peter remained quiet as he wrote down the information, writing numbers down, subtracting the dead and injured. "I don't suppose you found anything on the six left," Peter asked, hoping for more information.
There was a pause. Peter could hear the man breathing before he said, "One is married, with kids in Hawaii. Changed his last name to his wife's maiden name. Still trying to find the others."
"OK, thanks. If you find out more…"
"I'll contact you. Let me talk to Blaisdell."
Peter looked over; Paul was asleep.
"He's asleep right now," Peter answered, still not wanting to give too much information to this stranger.
"OK. I'll call back later." The line went dead.
Peter hung up the phone, letting out a deep sigh as he ran his hand through his hair. "Well, they're all from the same unit. Of the original twelve, five are dead and Frank is injured. Maybe Frank'll be able to give us more answers tomorrow."
Mary Margaret yawned and stretched, then looked at her watch. "I'll meet you at the station then, tomorrow. Did that guy say where the last six are living?"
"One. Said three were MIA's and he'd find some more information on the other two."
"Well, I guess it'll all wait until in the morning. You going home?"
Peter looked at Paul's sleeping form, the over bed light causing his skin to be paler than Peter was comfortable with. Paul's face continued to hold a grimace from the pain that went deeper than the medication could touch.
"Maybe later. I think I'll just stay here for awhile. Check on Molly and Frank. You go on. I'll see you in the morning."
Mary Margaret looked from her partner to her captain and shook her head. "All right. Good night, partner."
Paul slept though the night, rousing briefly when the nurse came in to check his vital signs. The first time he was wakened, he saw Peter asleep in the chair, his long legs propped up in another chair and his chin resting on his chest.
The nurse followed Paul's gaze and whispered, "He hasn't left all night except to go to ICU."
"He's a good son," Paul answered groggily as his heavy eyelids began to close. "Needs to be in bed."
Paul's soft snoring made the nurse smile as she checked the IV. Going over to Peter, she gently shook his shoulder. "Get into bed." She nodded toward the empty bed.
Peter did as he was told, his mind still shut down in sleep. The nurse covered him with a sheet as he crawled into the unoccupied bed, then smiled as she left the room and quietly closed the door behind her. It was always a blessing to see family members stay with those in the hospital. So many patients were alone with their ailments.
Peter stopped by his apartment long enough to shower and change clothes after being awaken at six a.m. by the aide. She had finally learned how to say Blaisdell and said it in every breath as if it would help her to remember.
The station was full of activity. Captain Styles was in Paul's office, assuming command of the 101st until its regular captain could return.
Styles glared at Peter as the young detective walked in. He quickly changed to a false smile, but the look had not been lost on Peter.
"Peter, Kates said you'd be interested in this. Found a body under the bridge at Lakeview Drive. Dog tags around his neck." Broderick shouted back to him after hanging up the phone.
"Method of death?" Peter asked, ignoring the temporary captain and walking back to the front desk.
"Someone beat him with a whip. Copy of the coroner's report is on your desk."
"Thanks." Peter stopped and redirected his steps toward the coffeepot where he met his partner.
"You hear that?" he questioned as he poured coffee first into her cup, then into his.
"Yeah. So, that makes six murders and one attempted." She turned and caught Styles staring at her and Peter. "Wonder what his problem is?"
Peter casually spun around, seeing whom she was talking about as Styles looked away. "He and Paul have a history. He won't tell me what, just to stay away from him. Said he didn't trust Styles as far as he could throw him."
They walked over to their desks, with Peter propping one hip on the corner of Mary Margaret's and reaching over to retrieve the coroner's report. "Says at least 75 lashes to his back. Wonder if this is another member of that unit," Peter mused.
"That guy didn't tell you the other names?" she asked in disbelief.
"He wasn't the kind to pressure. Said he'd call me today." Peter continued to look at the report. "Humph. Blow to the back of the head."
"Like the drowning and hanging victims?"
"Caine! Line two." Broderick shouted.
"Caine here," Peter answered, hoping it was Griffin.
"Peter, it's Molly. I wanted to tell you Frank's being moved to Paul's room in about an hour. They finished weaning him off the ventilator earlier and he woke up for a few minutes," Molly said excitedly. "I'm going to run home for a few minutes, but I'll be back before lunch. I just thought I'd let you know."
Peter smiled. "Thanks, Molly. I'll tell everyone."