Part 3
Peter slowly pushed open the door and peeked inside, not intending to wake his foster father.
"Come on in, Son," Paul invited, hearing the door creak open. "Surprised to see you. Didn't think you'd come back until this evening."
Mary Margaret followed Peter into the room, meeting her captain's gaze. "How are you feeling?"
"Skalany, I'm doing better." Paul noticed the red eyes she tried to hide and Peter's somber mood. "What is it?" Paul's ready smile dissolved into a frown.
Peter paced to the window as he ran his hand through his brown hair.
Mary Margaret allowed Peter time to answer. When he didn't, she told Paul, "Frank was shot in the head. He's in ICU now."
Paul stared at Mary Margaret. "My God. What happened?" The pain in his abdomen had been growing, but now it was forgotten.
"Molly found him in the basement. Said she saw someone running off. We're going over to the house when we leave here. Forensics is already there, taking pictures and dusting for prints. Maybe whoever did it, left something." Peter answered as he turned from the window. Visits to the precinct had Peter growing fond of the military man. Frank's own son was Peter's age and they became friends until Frank Jr. went off to college and Peter went to the academy. "He had these with him." Peter walked over and handed the dog tags to Paul. "There's got to be a connection, Paul."
"Yeah, seems strange: two deaths and one shooting in four days and each victim has had dog tags on his body." Skalany stated, sitting down in one of the two chairs in the room.
Peter stood beside the bed, again running his hand through his hair. "Paul, Frank has NEVER taken those out of the box. Even when I was a kid, he just let me look through the glass." He explained, pointing to the dog tags. "What I need is someone we can contact to see if these three people are connected. Maybe they served in the same branch of service and same unit. I've tried calling the V.A., they said it'd take them a week or so to research all their files."
Silence filled the air. Paul knew what Peter wanted: quick information that only someone with Paul's background knew how to get. Looking at Mary Margaret, he answered, "OK. Give me a pen and paper."
Peter handed him the items and Paul wrote down a name and number. "Tell him I told you to call and who you are. He can get you everything you need. Peter, you're the one who has to call him, OK?"
Nodding, Peter read the name on the paper, knowing this person was from Paul's mercenary days by the tone of Paul's voice. Very few people knew of their Captain's secret life, Mary Margaret was not one of the few.
Mary Margaret stood, seeing the look on her partner's face that said he was a son who really needed time alone with his father. "Hey, Partner, I'm going to go check on Molly, OK?"
"Yeah, sure. I'll be up in a minute." Peter waited as the door closed, changing him from employee to son. "Do you need anything?"
"No. I'll be all right. Go on and call him," Paul insisted, hoping Peter wouldn't notice the pain he was in.
Bending down, Peter kissed Paul's forehead. "I'll tell the nurse to bring you something for pain. I'll be back tonight, I want to check on the chief and Molly -- and make sure you behave."
"Thanks, Son."
Peter smiled and whispered, "I love you."
Visiting hours were ending as Molly and her brother left ICU. They ran into Peter and Mary Margaret.
"You'll catch whoever did this, Peter?" Molly asked, dabbing at the tears falling from her eyes.
"Yes, I will. I promise. And don't worry, he'll be all right. He's too damn stubborn to stay down. OK." She fell into his open arms. He stroked her hair as he said his next words. "We need to look in the house, and search for some clues. Maybe the man you saw running dropped something."
Pulling back from his embrace, Molly held out her hand to Mary Margaret. "We were going to have the baby's christening Thursday at church. Polly was excited about it, I was so proud when she said you were going to be the godmother."
A tear left Mary Margaret's eye. She and Polly were best friends when Polly had met the youngest of the Strenlich's sons at the church they all attended. "Don't worry. Father Flanigan will record it for Frank to see when he's better." Mary Margaret gave a weak smile then hugged Molly.
"Molly, he'll be fine. I'll be back tonight." Peter encouraged, as he led his partner to the elevator.
Frank and Molly had worked hard to live in the nicer neighborhood, insuring their children a better education and safety.
The veteran's pension Frank received each month, helped send the kids through college and Molly's job with the mental health clinic combined with being a talker for the SWAT team had helped with little extra's in their lives.
Peter pulled his car into the driveway, noting the uniformed officer standing at the door. He guessed forensics had already come and gone, dusting for fingerprints and taking pictures of the crime scene.
Both detectives showed their badges to the officer at the door. He was one of the regulars at Chandlier's. The officer opened the door, admitting the detectives and then followed them in, giving a report from forensics. "Greg said they didn't get any good prints off the car or the garage door. They dusted the living room and the box the Chief kept his medals in. Got one partial print and said he was sending it off to NCIC. It might take a couple of days to get a positive hit."
Peter nodded and motioned for his partner to look downstairs in the combination garage/basement while he searched the living room. Going to the box that contained the American flag and medals, Peter nodded. Someone had moved the box from its normal resting place. Instead of the shelf above the television, it was sitting on the coffee table. He saw the remanents of the white powder forensics had used for dusting along the box, the table and television. Opening the lid, he found a photo of the twelve man unit. In the background were trees native to the tropics.
"Hey, Skalany!" Peter called out as he walked to the door leading to the basement.
Mary Margaret looked up from the basement, having found nothing of interest. "Yeah?"
"I found a picture of Frank and his unit. I want to go and see if anyone in the neighborhood can ID anyone in it."
"Want me to come with you?" She asked, climbing the stairs to meet him.
He watched as she feigned panting on the last step and smiled. "Maybe you're getting to old to be running up and down the steps. Should look into a desk job for you."
"Funny, ha ha." Mary Margaret answered back. "He have another picture? I can take one side of the street and you the other."
"No, just the one. Come on, Granny. Let's see if we can get any witnesses." Peter looked at the officer, "John, lock all the doors. We've seen all that's here. Molly will probably come back tomorrow morning. Just have an extra patrol tonight, OK?"
"Sure, Pete. Next time you see her, tell her we are all thinking of her and the chief."
Peter nodded as his partner led the way out the door.
Hours later, Peter and Mary Margaret walked back into the precinct. Everyone wanted answers from the two, but the only answers they could give were Chief Strenlich's condition and what little they learned from Molly and the scene.
Peter slumped into his chair, letting out an exasperated sigh. He just knew there was a connection. Remembering the name and phone number Paul had given him, he walked into Paul's office and shut the door. Something about Paul's tone had told Peter to try and keep this a secret so he used Paul's private line.
He listened to the ring on the other end, then a low voice answered, "Griffin."
"Uh, yeah. Paul Blaisdell gave me your number. I'm Peter…"
"Caine. Yeah, I know. How's Blaisdell?"
Peter wasn't sure about giving information about Paul to this stranger, though the voice was vaguely familiar. "He's fine. Look, I need some information on a case I'm working on and he said you could help."
Griffin paused. "This have anything to do with the explosion that put him in the hospital?"
"How did you know?"
"I have my sources. What do you need?" Griffin's voice wasn't as menacing as it had been only moments before.
"I have two murders and a shooting victim. All three were wearing dog tags." Interrupted by Skalany knocking at the door, he motioned for her to come in when he saw her waving a file.
She handed him the file while mouthing the question, "Who are you talking to?"
He waved her away while he flipped open the file. "Who's this?" he asked her, forgetting to tell Griffin to hold on.
"The only casualty of the fire you and the captain were involved in," Griffin chimed in, breaking into the conversation between Peter and the woman. "You'll notice he also had dog tags."
"OK, that makes three murders. The fire marshall says it was a bomb that exploded," he said into the phone as he waved his partner back out of the office, ignoring her irritation at being excluded from the conversation.
"Give me the numbers and I'll see what I can find. What's a number I can call you at tonight?"
"I'll be at the hospital. The number…"
"I know the number. I'll call you around seven." There was a click and Peter heard the tone of a dead line.
After hanging up, Peter walked back out to his desk and cradled his head in his hands. Having his foster father in the hospital was emotionally draining -- even though he knew Paul would be all right -- but now Frank was in there, too, with a bullet in his head.
Mary Margaret turned her chair and watched her partner, a look of sympathy in her eyes. "You look like you could use a break. Come on, I'll treat you to lunch."
Peter raised his head, preparing to object to the offer, then decided to accept. "Yeah, I guess." He started to stand, slowly smiled as he thought of her offer. "I get to choose the place?"
"Oh, no. Last time you chose, I was sick for a week. I choose. But," her brown eyes glittered with merriment. "I'll let you drive."
Rolling his eyes at her concession, he fell in behind her as she led the way toward the stairs.
Sitting on a park bench, the two detectives blended in with the other patrons of the park. They sat in silence eating their lunch.
The drive over had given her time to look at his face. She could see the taunt jaw, the darkening circles under his eyes, and the spark that was usually in his rich hazel eyes had slowly been dimming.
Finally, seeing that Peter hadn't eaten but two bites, she knew she had to bring him out of his melancholy mood. "You staying at the hospital tonight?"
Peter's closed his eyes for a few seconds, hoping they would open again easily. Not having slept well at Paul's bedside and now worry for Frank probably would not allow him to sleep tonight. The explosion had caused him to have a headache, that combined with interrupted sleep had left him somewhat drained. "Yeah, I want to be there for Molly. Check on Paul." He finally managed to open his eyes and stared into her concerned gaze. He smiled briefly, "I'll be fine."
Mary Margaret watched as he nibbled at his sandwich, then took a sip of his drink. She knew he wouldn't talk about the two men in the hospital, not yet anyway. Not until the case was over. Peter tended to keep his personal feelings to himself when working on cases, so she changed her direction. "Who was that you were on the phone with?"
Looking out over the water, watching the sea birds fly the warm current, he answered. "Remember that number Paul gave me? It was a guy he knows that can get us some information on the dog tags. He's going to call me at the hospital tonight." Peter paused, taking time to smell the air as it blew into their faces. "I just need to find out who is doing this. If all these people are not connected, then why is this happening? You can't call it a copycat killing. Each has been killed a different way. The only thing they have in common is those damned dog tags."
Frustrated, Peter got up and walked to the bank of the water. Pinching off pieces of his sandwich, he fed the ducks and sea birds. He heard the faint crunch of grass as Mary Margaret came to stand beside him.
"You know, Partner, we'll catch him. Frank's tough, he's been through rougher things before. You mind if I was there when that man called back, or is this all to be hush-hush?"
Having divided his lunch between the waterfowl and himself, Peter turned toward her and gave her a genuine smile. He had needed this break to relax. "Yeah, but I think they make you shoot yourself when you get the information."
"Was he really a spy?" Mary Margaret let her curiosity get the better of her as they walked back to the car. She noticed his jaw wasn't clenched as much now, though the circles remained under his eyes.