Shattered - by Pho
part - 01
Kwai Chang Caine felt the disturbance in his son's chi.
The shift from light to dark had been almost instantaneous and
the horror involved so intense that Caine had been overwhelmed.
Only his Shaolin training prevented him from collapsing in the
middle of the Farmer's Market. Home, all he could think about
was getting home. Gathering his packages together, Caine
ignored the calls from friends and acquaintances alike as his feet
moved automatically toward Chinatown.
Lo Si spotted his old friend as he moved blindly along
the sidewalk in front of the park. Caine stepped into the street
and froze as a car honked furiously at him. He stepped back,
dazed, not really hearing the driver scream "Stupid, look where
you're going" as he drove away.
Crossed the street quickly, Lo Si took Caine by the arm
and pulled him to a halt. "My old friend, what is wrong? What
has happened?"
Caine stared unknowingly at the old Shaolin. Concerned,
the elderly man tightened his grasp on his friend and guided him
toward the closest unoccupied park bench.
Lo Si forced him down onto the bench, then seated
himself beside the distraught man. Placing his hands on either
side of Caine's head, Lo Si gently turned Caine's face toward his
own. "Kwai Chang Caine, you will talk to me now."
"I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry." Caine kept repeating
the words.
Lo Si touched a pressure point on Caine's neck. The
pain caused Kwai Chang Caine's head to jerk.
Glancing around frantically, Caine gasped, "What? Lo Si,
how, how did I get here?" Bowing his head, he cried, "Oh, my
son, oh, Peter."
A sharp "Kwai Chang Caine" refocused Caine's attention
on the elderly Shaolin.
"Stay with me, my old friend. What has happened to
your son?"
"I do not know, Lo Si. I can only feel his pain and horror.
I cannot tell what has happened or where he is. I must go home."
"Why must you go home, Kwai Chang?"
"I...I do not know." Caine looked around, confused.
"Lo Si, what is happening? Since we were reunited, Peter's chi
has always been so strong, so clear to me. Now it has faded so
much that I can barely detect it. Is my son dy..dying?"
"I do not think so, my friend. Since Peter completed
his Shaolin training, has he not been able to conceal his thoughts
from you?"
"When he wishes to. But it has never been like this."
"Then something has occurred which he wishes to block
from you, consciously or not. He is not yet skilled enough to
conceal both thoughts and emotions if the event causes emotional
turmoil. Do you know where he is?"
"No, my old friend. I do not. I must find him. I must
go to my son." Caine rose quickly and started to walk away.
"My friend, where will you go?" Lo Si had followed
the distraught father.
"I do not know." Caine turned pain filled eyes toward
Lo Si. "Master, please help me."
"I will be honored, my friend. As you said before, I
believe we should return to your home. Perhaps young Caine
will go there. If not, then it will be the first place his friends will
go."
*****************************************
The coroner's wagon advanced slowly toward the crime
scene. A crowd of curious spectators moved aside reluctantly
to let it pass. The ambulance was still there, its flashing lights
indicating that someone had made it out of this mess alive.
Captain Karen Simms' face was grim as she approached
Chief of Detectives Frank Strenlich, "What happened, Chief?"
"A hostage situation gone bad, Captain. Seven dead,
five adults, including the perpetrator, a fourteen year old boy
and a seven year old girl." Strenlich's hands shook in rage as
he led the Captain toward the crime scene.
Karen closed her eyes for a moment to brace herself.
"Identities? Next of kin?"
"Next of kin's gonna be tough. The six hostages were
members of the same family."
"Dammit!" Karen slammed her hand into the wall.
"I know, Captain, I know. The perp was the ex-husband.
The others were his former in-laws, his ex-wife and new husband,
and, and the children. It happened so fast that the hostage team
didn't have time to respond."
"Who was the talker?"
"Peter Caine."
"Peter's on vacation."
"Not anymore."
"I need to talk to that young man. He's not trained for
this kind of situation. Where is he, Chief?" She was barely
controlling the anger in her voice.
"Captain, you should know, he did the best he could. By
the time we got the call, the only one alive was the little girl. The
perp had executed the others within minutes of catching them here."
"Then how did Detective Caine get involved?"
"With typical Caine luck, he was playing tourist at the
museum next door. The guard had a police band radio and Peter
took off the minute the call came through."
"Captain, Chief?" Mary Margaret was pale and her voice
shook.
"What is it, Skalany?" Simms forced her voice to be calm
as she turned toward her detective.
"We've got to do something. Peter's on the ground and
won't let go of the little girl. He just sits there rocking her body
back and forth. Captain, he keeps telling her he's sorry. It wasn't
his fault, Captain, it really wasn't." Skalany couldn't stop the tears
from falling.
Simms was speechless. Strenlich replied, "We're coming,
Mary Margaret. Captain, that's what I was trying to tell you.
Peter had gotten the little girl into his arms and was backing away.
He had just started turning, protecting her with his body when
something happened, God only knows what, and the nut shot her
in Peter's arms. Put a slug straight through her head then took
his own life."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 02 ↑
"Take me to Peter." The concern Karen felt showed in
her voice. "Where's his father? I would have thought he would
be here already."
"I don't know." Skalany responded. "It doesn't make
sense to me. Should I go get him?"
"Not yet. I want to see what we've got. Chief?"
"This way, Captain. Skalany, make sure the media does
not get through the lines. Keep a particularly close lookout for
that Mason woman. The last thing I want is that kid's picture
on the Six O'clock Report."
"How do I stop her, Chief?"
Strenlich replied grimly, "Anyway you have to short of
shooting the bitch and I'm not so sure I wouldn't sanction that."
"On it, Chief." As Skalany left, she wondered which kid
the Chief wanted to protect, the dead child, or Peter Caine.
*********************************************
Lo Si accompanied his friend through the streets of
Chinatown. With Lo Si's encouragement, Caine was gradually
regaining his center.
Caine was noticeably improved by the time they reached
his home. "Thank you, my friend. I do not believe I would have
been able to get here without your support."
Bowing, Lo Si replied, "It was my pleasure to be of
assistance to you, my dear friend. Do you know what is the
matter?"
"Not yet, Master. Whatever has happened to Peter has
so disturbed his chi that he was able to interrupt the flow of mine.
I believe that for a short while our chi were merged. His distress
overran my emotions. And...." Caine paused.
"Please continue, my friend."
"Lo Si, I believe that I have suffered what Peter would
call a 'short circuit'. My connection to my son is gone. I can no
longer feel his emotions. Not only that but I cannot determine
where he is, or what he is doing."
*********************************************
Karen Simms knew that as long as she lived she would
never forget the image in front of her. Her best detective sat in
a heap on the ground, a small girl's lifeless body clutched to his
chest. Peter Caine rocked gently back and forth cradling the still
form. He was no longer speaking but tears flowed freely down
his cheeks. The head shot that had killed the child had splattered
an obscene pattern of blood over the scene of the tragedy. Peter
was covered from head to toe.
Kermit Griffin knelt beside his friend, with Dr. Nicky
Elder behind him, "Peter, kid, you've got to let them take the
child. She's gone, Pete. Let Nicky take her."
Peter said nothing but simply shook his head and tightened
his grip on the child. Kermit reached out to touch the distraught
young man, but Peter shied away from the contact.
Karen moved Nicky to one side and placed a hand on
Kermit's shoulder. "Let me try."
Kermit eyed his Captain for a moment, then shrugged,
and moved away from his closest friend. Karen Simms shifted
to stand where her ex-mercenary had knelt. Knowing she would
hate herself for a long time to come, she mentally braced herself
for what she knew had to be done.
"Detective Caine." Somehow she was able to keep her
tone firm. "You are not following procedure. The body must
be turned over to the coroner's crew. Detective! Look at me
when I'm speaking to you."
Slowly Peter turned his head toward his commander.
He stared at her for a moment, then relaxed his grip slightly.
"I..I'm sorry, Captain. I..I"
Simms was kneeling now. Reaching out she touched
the dead child's shoulder. "I know it's hard, son. You did the
best you could."
She almost didn't hear the whispered, "It wasn't enough,
not nearly enough. It never is."
"Peter. It's over. Let Nicky have her. He'll take really
good care of her." Simms motioned for Nicky Elder to move
in closer.
"That's right, Pete. I'll be very careful with her. I
promise."
Peter looked blankly at the coroner for a moment then
nodded shakily before he handed the child's body to his friend.
Nicky Elder steadied himself and took her into his arms.
Ignoring procedure, he carried the dead child to the coroner's
wagon.
Simms watched as Nicky gently placed the still, small
form into the wagon beside her family. She bowed her head in
prayer for a moment, then returned her attention to Peter Caine.
"Oh, my God! Kermit, get the paramedics over here. Peter's hit."
The shell that had taken the child's life had gone straight
through her head and lodged itself in Peter's left shoulder. Blood
from the victim merged with that of the young detective, making
it almost impossible to tell how badly he was injured. Peter swayed
dizzily where he sat on the ground. Simms lunged forward to
catch him as his eyes rolled back in his head.
Kermit's frantic call brought both the paramedics and
Mary Margaret. Kneeling beside her young friend, she reached
out and placed a hand on his hair. "Oh, Peter. I'm so sorry."
As she and Simms moved aside to let the EMT's work, Mary
Margaret turned to Simms, "Captain, I need to get Caine. I
don't know why he's not already here but with your permission
I'll meet the ambulance at the hospital."
"Go, and hurry."
"Captain Simms?"
Karen turned her attention to the paramedic, "How is he?"
"His left shoulder is shattered, the shell's lodged in the
bone. I think he's lost a great deal of blood. It's hard to tell how
much. The little girl's head was basically destroyed by the slug,
sending blood everywhere. We're gonna take him in now."
"I'll meet you at the hospital."
"Right."
The paramedic joined his partner at the back of the
ambulance. Together they lifted the gurney bearing Peter Caine's
inert form into the vehicle.
The older man turned to his partner, "I hope this kid's
right-handed."
"Are you kidding? This is Peter Caine. He holds every
marksmanship record in both the city and county. He even holds
honors at the state level and he hasn't competed there but twice.
He's got to be the best shot I've ever had the pleasure of watching."
"That's great. I'm glad you enjoyed watching him shoot,
but my question still stands, left or right?"
"Left. Why?"
"Damn. Harry, I'm no doctor but that shoulder injury
looks really bad to me. At best, he'll need months of therapy.
At worst, he's looking at a medical discharge off the force."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 03 ↑
Lo Si had finally managed to get Caine to drink some
herbal tea, when Mary Margaret bounded up the stairs.
Breathless, she gasped, "Caine, Peter's been shot."
Barely had the words escaped her lips than both Shaolin
leaped to their feet and crossed the room. Caine's face was
devoid of color as he asked "How badly is he injured?"
"I don't know. I'm sorry, Caine. It was a shoulder
wound but there was so much blood from the other victim that
I'm not sure how badly Peter was hurt." Mary Margaret picked
up her pace as she led the men toward her vehicle.
"Thank you for coming for us."
"No problem, Caine." Mary Margaret pointed to her
car, "I finally got rid of my clunker. That's my new car, the dark
green Taurus."
As Caine climbed into the front seat, and Lo Si carefully
maneuvered himself into the back, Mary Margaret continued,
"Caine, there's more you should know." As she drove toward
the hospital, she detailed the morning's tragedy. Caine bowed
his head in grief for both the victims and his son. Lo Si's face
became very grim as he struggled to come to grips with the
latest tragedy to plague the youngest Caine.
*******************************************
The ambulance and Mary Margaret arrived at the hospital
almost simultaneously. Karen Simms looked at Skalany then at
her watch.
Mary Margaret winced, then said, "You did say to hurry."
Simms nodded then turned toward the ambulance. Caine
was at the doors just as the paramedics threw them open. Even
his Shaolin training could not stop the gasp of horror as he saw
the blood soaked body of his only child.
"Sir, you'll have to move."
Captain Simms intervened, "This is his father."
"Yes, ma'am, that's fine, but I really need him to move.
We have to get this man inside."
Caine bent over and gently kissed Peter's forehead, then
moved to let the paramedics pass. A single tear trailed down his
cheek as he watched his son disappear, once again, behind the
trauma room doors. Mary Margaret took his arm, and together
they walked toward the much too familiar waiting room.
One hour later found Caine, Annie, Lo Si and much of
the 101 st encamped in the surgical waiting room. Strenlich had
arrived with Annie shortly after Peter disappeared into surgery.
Like Mary Margaret, Strenlich had given Annie as many details
as necessary of the events leading up to Peter's injury.
Kwai Chang Caine took her hands as she walked into the
room. "Caine, how is Peter?"
"Annie, our son is in surgery. The damage to his shoulder
is considerable but Dr. Sabourin has assured me that Dr. Miller
is the best orthopedic surgeon in the state."
"I see. Caine, what about the damage to our child's soul?"
Caine stood silently for a moment, not knowing how to
respond to that question.
"Caine?"
"I am sorry, Annie. I do not know how to answer you.
Peter was not conscious when he was brought in."
Surprise colored Annie's tones, "Kwai Chang Caine,
what is it that you are not telling me?"
Sighing, the Shaolin responded, "Annie, Peter has been
severely traumatized by this tragedy. So much so that our link
has been reduced almost to the point that it is non-existent..."
Caine's voice became choked with emotion, " No, I am misleading
even myself. The link is gone. I did not know where my child,
our child was today, Annie. I..I could not find him."
*******************************************
Across town the editor of the local paper was reviewing
the crop of articles for the next edition. There were several
hours yet before they had to go to press but she wasn't completely
happy with any of them for the lead story. She sighed, and picked
one, hoping that something else would come up before she had
to use it. She glanced up in surprise as one of her junior reporters
ran in.
"Check this out. Photos and everything."
Phyllis Murray stared for a moment. "Jeff, did you know
I graduated journalism school with Sandra Mason."
"No. Why?"
"I was just thinking that Sandra would kill for these
pictures. Get over to the morgue. I want names, ages, the works."
"What about the cop?"
"Jeff, you know I love you but I need someone seasoned
to manipulate the police. Ask Kyle to step in here please. Then
get me that information from the coroner's office."
********************************************
Annie sensed rather than heard Caine rise from the
floor to move toward the door of the waiting room. Trusting
Caine, she stood and joined him. Simultaneously, the double
doors swung open and a middle-aged woman in surgical greens
entered the room. Looking directly at Caine and Annie, she
said, "Mr. Caine, Mrs. Blaisdell?"
The affirmative response caused her to continue, "I'm
Doctor Harriet Miller. Your son is in recovery. His injury was
not in itself life-threatening but he did lose a lot of blood. We
had to replace three units. Now for the shoulder injury. There
was a great deal of damage to the shoulder. We're using a
device called an external fixiator to hold the bones in place.
It's a very ugly metal appliance that does a very good job, but
it does take some getting used to. He won't be able to raise his
arm above his shoulder for the six weeks the device is in place.
Once it's removed, we'll have to see how therapy goes."
"Will he recover completely, Doctor? I mean, Peter is
left-handed." Annie knew what any loss of mobility would do
to her child.
"I don't know yet. We'll know more in a few weeks.
I'm sorry I can't tell you now but a lot his recovery will depend
on your son's cooperation."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 04 ↑
Frank Strenlich stormed into Karen Simms' office and
slammed the door shut. Karen watched her furious chief of
detectives pace the confines of her office. She waited for a few
minutes but no explanation appeared to be forthcoming.
"Frank, you're making me dizzy. Take a seat and tell
me what's wrong."
Strenlich tossed the newspaper on her desk, and sat,
saying, "You obviously haven't seen this morning's paper."
"No, it was late this morning." Curious, she unfolded
the paper. For a moment, she was too stunned to speak. Finding
her voice she asked, "Where the hell did they get this?"
The headlines read, "Hot Shot Cop Not So Hot".
Underneath was a picture of Peter Caine clutching something to
his chest. The angle was such that the viewer would not be
able to easily tell what he was holding.
"It gets worse, read the story."
Karen was already reading the article and her mood was
not improving.
*** Tragedy struck near the Museum of Antiquities yesterday
*** morning. Mr. and Mrs. Henry Fields, their daughter and
*** son-in-law, Alice and Michael Metts, and Mrs. Mett's children
*** Ronny and Kimberly Thomas were gunned down on the
*** street by Mrs. Mett's ex-husband, Mr. Ronald Thomas.
*** In spite of a restraining order issued against Ronald Thomas,
*** the local authorities were unable to prevent this massacre.
*** Witnesses state that Detective Peter Caine of the 101 st
*** precinct, was the first officer to arrive on the scene. Our
*** photographer was able to capture graphic evidence of his
*** failure to 'protect and serve'. .....
"This is absolute rubbish. This trash...." Captain Simms
was sputtering furiously when her phone rang. "Simms, What!
... Oh, Commissioner Kincaid, yes sir, I have seen the paper.
No sir, except for the victims' names, their facts are not correct.
Yes sir, your office, thirty minutes. Yes sir, Chief Strenlich and
I will be anticipating his arrival."
Simms slammed the headset down in its cradle. "The
wolves are circling. Chief, Ken Samuels from public relations
will be here shortly. All inquiries, media or private, on that
shooting are to go to him. Set him up somewhere quiet, if that's
possible. I've got a meeting with the commissioner in thirty
minutes. He's fuming, this newspaper report caught him blind
and Sandra Mason got her claws into him at a breakfast he
attended this morning."
"Ouch!"
"Yeah," she nodded toward the lobby, "unless I miss
my guess that's Samuels now. Bring him in. I want to review
the details personally with him before I leave."
In a shorter time than she believed possible, Samuels
had been briefed, and was already fielding calls. Normally Karen
Simms had little use for public relations personnel but Ken
Samuels moved from obscurity to the realm of God-Hood when
he squelched Sandra Mason, in person. Karen had the pleasure
of witnessing that turnabout personally as she left for her meeting
with the commissioner.
"Ms. Mason, It is an honor to finally meet Channel 3's
star reporter in person."
"Can the sarcasm, Mr. ..."
"Samuels, Ken Samuels. And it's not sarcasm. Your
reporting on the illegal chemical dumping was nothing short of
brilliant. I understand congratulations are in order on that story."
To the astonishment of the entire 101 st, Sandra Mason
blushed, "Well, uh , I didn't know it was known, just yet."
"Ah, Ms. Mason, I have my sources. Now how can I
help you?"
"Yes, as you are obviously aware the local paper ran
a story on Peter Caine's blatant failure to save any lives in the
hostage situation yesterday. Would you care to comment?"
"Actually, yes, the department is extremely proud of
Detective Caine's efforts yesterday. The young man was on
vacation and happened to be near the location when the tragedy
began. Through no fault of his, there were no survivors."
"But the reporters from the paper ..."
"Obviously do not adhere to the high standards of
Channel 3, Ms. Mason or they would have known that all but
one of the hostages were dead BEFORE Detective Caine arrived
on the scene."
"Before!"
"Yes, Ms. Mason, and Peter Caine was severely injured
attempting to save the life of the last hostage. An attempt which
tragically failed. May I confide something off the record?"
Stunned by the amount of information she was receiving,
Sandra Mason turned off her mike.
"Thank you. Ms. Mason, it is my belief that the editor
in charge, Phyllis Murray, deliberately tried to discredit both the
police department and the local broadcast media, yourself included."
Sandra Mason eyed him suspiciously, "Why do you say
that?"
"Well, Ms. Mason, the restraining order against
Mr. Thomas was issued on behalf of his current wife, not his
ex-wife."
The look on Sandra Mason's face turned from nonplused
to exhilarated in less than thirty seconds. Turning her mike back
on, she asked, "Thank you, Mr. Samuels for confirming that
Channel 3 was correct not to air the story as previously presented
to us. Our prayers, and I'm sure the community's, are with
Detective Caine in the hope that he will make a complete recovery.
He is a credit to the police force." With that she turned on heel,
and left the precinct.
Karen Simms broke the silence that had invaded her
squadroom, "How did.. what did. I don't get it."
Ken Samuels smiled, "Phyllis Murray and Sandra Mason
are not unacquainted with one another. To say they loath each
other would be an understatement. If one of them is ever found
dead, the odds are very good that the other one did it. Excuse me.
My phone appears to be ringing." The man turned and walked
back toward the desk he'd been assigned.
"Chief... Chief!"
A stunned Strenlich turned to face his Captain.
Captain Simms patted his arm, "I agree, Frank. That
was amazing. Looks like Samuels has things under control.
I'm off to get my beating from the Commissioner."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 05 ↑
Three days had passed since the shooting. The Channel 3
special report by Sandra Mason had brought an insincere apology
from the paper, on page A27. Ken Samuels was still handling
damage control but the calls were becoming fewer. He estimated
that the crisis would be over by the end of the week.
The same three days saw Peter Caine held prisoner of
the drugs that controlled his pain. On day three, his medication
was reduced to allow him to return to consciousness. Kwai
Chang Caine had spent the entirety of the seventy-two hours
at his son's side. Since Kelly was away at school and Carolyn's
little family had moved to New York, Annie had been chauffeured
back and forth to the hospital by various members of the 101 st.
A low moan was the only indication that Peter was no
longer completely under the influence of narcotics. Caine moved
forward, Annie by his side.
"Peter, my son, your mother and I are here."
"F..." The attempt to speak was stymied by the dryness
of his throat. Caine gently placed an ice sliver on his son's tongue.
"Do not try to speak just yet, my son, let the ice soothe
your throat for a moment. Nod when you think you can drink."
The pain increased as Peter became more and more aware
of his surroundings. After a moment, he nodded and Caine held
a straw to his lips. Peter drained the cup dry. This time he could
find his voice, "F..Father? Mom?"
"Yes, my son."
"We're here, baby."
"W..Where?"
"You are in the hospital, my son."
"Hospital? How long?"
"Three days, baby."
Peter's face was a mask of confusion, "Three days?"
"Yes, baby, but you're still weak you should rest."
Annie stroked her son's hair as she spoke. "Are you in any
pain."
Peter's voice was stronger, "Some, Mom, but don't worry,
it's nothing I can't handle, and" He paused to catch his breath,
"I've been resting for three days." Glancing around he spotted
the bandages and pins on his shoulder, "What the?"
"Your shoulder was damaged, my son. Dr. Miller did
surgery to repair it. The pins are holding everything in place
while it heals." Caine surveyed his son's face with growing
concern. Peter was staring at his shoulder but no longer appeared
to really see it. "Peter, do you remember what happened?" Caine
watched as the confusion of his son's face was suddenly replaced
with a look of absolute horror.
"Oh, God, She was a baby, just a baby, Why? Why!"
The anguish in his voice brought tears to Annie's eyes.
Caine braced himself to deal with his son's pain. "Peter, there
was nothing else you could have done."
"She died, Father, don't you understand. She was in my
arms one minute, alive, terrified. She was counting on me to save
her and I failed her. I failed her." His voice faded to a whisper.
"No, baby. Your father's right. You did all you could
do. You tried. That's what matters."
"I didn't try hard enough. I never try hard enough."
"My son, no, you always ..."
In his agitation, Peter attempted to rise, "NO, Father.
Don't lie to me. I can't get it right. I never follow procedure.
I'm not a talker. A talker could have gotten her out alive. I
killed her. Father, don't you understand, I killed her."
Caine struggled to hold his son on the bed, "Peter, you
must stay still. The injury to your shoulder is severe. You are
in no condition to move around."
"NO. I must..."
Caine touched pressure points on Peter's neck and watched
as his son slipped into an uneasy sleep. "No, my son," he said
sadly, "There is nothing you must do except get well."
Annie was openly weeping. Caine enfolded her in his
arms and stroked her hair, "Oh, Caine, he has never been like
this before. I've never heard him so tortured. Will he be all
right?"
"I do not know, Annie. I do not know."
**********************************************
Ken Samuels had proven correct. The crisis over the
hostage massacre disappeared from all media reports within a
week of the event, replaced by larger, more spectacular stories
elsewhere in the world. Great care was taken during that week
to shield Peter Caine from the wide variety of fact, fiction and
speculation that went on.
**********************************************
The next five weeks were agony for Annie and Caine.
Peter was released into their care a week after surgery. His
parents forced him into his old room at the Blaisdell home.
His father took up residence in the Blaisdell guest room to
assist Annie in the care of their son. Peter's mobility was
severely hampered by the external fixiator and everyone, Caine
included, counted down the days until the device would be
removed. To everyone's relief, Dr. Miller scheduled the next
operation a full four days early. Caine suspected she was as
tired of Peter's complaints as everyone else was.
Kwai Chang Caine was as concerned about his son's
emotional well-being as he was about his physical health. With
the exception of the single outburst in the hospital, Peter had
not mentioned the hostage situation at all. Caine desperately
wanted to counsel his son but could find no reason to instigate
a conversation on the event. He knew that Peter, being Peter,
would talk about it in his own way, in his own time.
Peter's reticence would have been disturbing to Caine
under any circumstances. For Peter to be silent, the emotional
pain must be deep indeed. What worried Caine the most was
that for the first time since he had been reunited with his son,
he had no barometer to Peter's feelings. Six weeks after the
horrific event and his link to Peter was still non-existent.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 06 ↑
The removal of the pins went exceptionally well and
Peter Caine was once again released from the hospital early.
To both Annie's and Caine's dismay, the young man insisted
on going home to his apartment.
"I appreciated all you've done but I've put you both
out far too long. I just want to sleep in my own bed, in my own
place for a change. And I know Father wants to get back to
Chinatown."
Caine found himself wincing as Peter used the title
'Father' rather than the hated 'Pop'. During his convalescence
at Annie's, Peter had never failed to call him 'Father'. Although
he could not completely understand why, this bothered Kwai
Chang Caine more than he cared to admit.
Kermit Griffin had volunteered to drive Peter home.
Caine elected to ride with Annie and Mary Margaret to collect
his things. He would have preferred to go with his son, but his
fatherly instincts told him that Peter needed to do this without
his assistance.
The ride to Peter's apartment building was abnormally
quiet. The silence unnerved the former mercenary as a reticent
Peter usually meant trouble. Unable to take the silence, Kermit
asked, "How long until you can come back to work?"
"Three months and then it's desk duty for at least
another three until I'm cleared for the streets. If I'm cleared."
"You'll be cleared."
"What are you psychic now, like my father?"
Kermit shot Peter a sideways glance. The young
detective's face flushed with embarrassment. "I'm sorry,
Kermit. That was uncalled-for."
"It's OK, kid."
"No, Kermit, it's not OK. I..I'm just running a little
scared. My shoulder is so stiff and sore. I'm afraid it won't
ever be right again." Silently he thought, "And what if it's
never OK? God, what if I can't shoot anymore?"
"Kid, you just had the pins out. Give it some time.
Don't you start therapy tomorrow?"
"Yeah, the hospital arranged for home therapy for the
first few weeks. By the time I'm released to drive, I'll supposedly
need to start using the big guns down at the rehab center."
"And the shrink?"
"Shrink?"
"Yeah, the resident mind bender. I'm surprised
Simms hasn't had him call you yet."
Peter blushed again, "I, uh, told him not to call back.
I do not need to talk to a damned psychologist."
"Peter, you know as well as I do that with the hostage
scenario that got you shot, you'll have to have at least one meeting
with the staff psychologist before you can return to work. And
let's face facts, as bad as that situation was you need to talk to
someone."
"It will be a cold day in hell before I talk to a shrink."
"Kid, you can't keep ignoring this."
"No, dammit. Nothing happened that I can't handle.
I'm fine."
"Right."
"Really!"
"I'm not arguing."
"Oh. Thanks, Kermit." Peter's tone was contrite.
Kermit skillfully maneuvered the green Corvair into
a parking spot that was much too small. Peter start to gather
his belongings, just as it began to rain.
"Great, that's all I need, now it's raining."
"Peter?"
"I'm OK, Kermit. It's just been a long six weeks. I'm
glad to be home." Peter started to open the door.
"You sure you don't need help?"
"No thanks, Kermit. I just need to be alone."
"Peter."
"Kermit, please, I appreciate the concern but there's
nothing to talk about. The victims didn't do anything to cause
their pain and deaths, it just happened. They didn't deserve
what happened. Nothing can change that and I've completely
accepted it. I'll talk to you later." Peter climbed out of the car,
turned and ran for cover.
Kermit watched concerned as his young friend vanished
into the building. "Yeah, kid", he said to himself, "you're right,
they didn't deserve what happened, but neither did you, son,
neither did you." Wanting to do something, but knowing Peter
had just shut him out, the ex-mercenary watched the building
until he saw the lights come on in Peter's apartment. Starting
the engine, he turned his green Corvair toward Chinatown, and
Caine.
**********************************************
Caine opened the door for Annie, then followed her
into the house. Knowing Peter's parents needed to speak alone,
Mary Margaret waited for Caine in her car.
"Caine, Is there anything I can do?"
"No, thank you, Annie. I do not have much to pack."
Blushing, Annie Blaisdell said, "Actually, I was
thinking of Peter."
"Ah. I fear that you and I have the hardest task of
all. We must wait Peter out."
"I feel so helpless, Caine. He was so upset at the
hospital but never even mentioned it here."
Caine smiled at the woman who had become the
only mother Peter had ever known. "Annie, Peter is trying
to come to grips with this tragedy without our aid. Eventually
he will find he needs us, but for right now, all we can do is
wait."
"You still don't have that special connection of yours
back, do you Caine?"
The Shaolin's voice trembled as he spoke, "No, I..I
have no connection with my son. I cannot even be sure that
he is at home right now."
**********************************************
Peter breathed a sigh of relief as he shut his door behind
him. Dropping his sports bag on the table, he looked at his home
with satisfaction. It was good to be back. Spying a neatly piled
stack of newspapers, he thought, "I haven't seen much news lately.
Wonder what's going on in the world." As fate would have it, his
cleaning lady was addicted to cross-word puzzles and assumed
that the rest of the world was also. Thus, the oldest paper was
stacked on top. The headline, and the picture, from so many
weeks ago screamed an accusation at him. In Peter's tormented
mind, the accusation was equivalent to a conviction. His failure
to 'protect and serve' was vividly displayed for all to see.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 07 ↑
Kwai Chang Caine stood at his window and watched
the rain. Peter had disappeared on a day like this one, almost
three weeks ago. Concern rose in Peter's circle of friends and
loved ones as time passed with no word from the young man.
That he'd been terribly distraught when he'd left had been
painfully obvious to those who knew and loved him. But to
stay out of touch, this was unthinkable. Communication was
an important part of Peter's job, as well as his basic personality.
To those closest to him, however, the most inconceivable fact
was simply that Peter had left with no message to his father
or Annie.
Lo Si entered the room bearing a steaming cup of herbal
tea. "My friend, you must rest - you cannot keep depriving
yourself of sleep."
"How can I truly rest, not knowing where Peter is. I pray
that he lives but even that certainty is blocked from my view.
As a Shambala Master I should be able to pierce this cloud and
determine my son's fate. But I cannot." Caine stated bitterly as
he turned to face his friend. "The 'short circuit' I suffered weeks
ago still plagues my ever waking hour."
Lo Si watched the distraught father sympathetically,
"My friend, I feel I must suggest something to you, but I fear
that it will cause you additional distress."
"Please go ahead, Master."
"When the temple was destroyed, you could not tell that
Peter was alive, correct?"
"That is correct."
"When you found your son, your 'link' as you call it began
to develop again."
Caine nodded, puzzled by Lo Si's comments.
"Then my friend, is it not possible that the link you have
with your son is as much a result of his ability to 'broadcast' to
you as it is your ability to sense him?"
Stunned, Caine could only stare at the elderly Shaolin.
"I do not mean to offend you, Kwai Chang Caine, but
the evidence is there. He thought you died in the temple. His
emotional shut-down kept you from finding him. Again, when
he is injured now, you know immediately. The only injuries
you have been unaware of, have been trivial ones. Those that
he does not need to make you aware of, either consciously or
unconsciously."
"So you are saying that Peter suffered the loss of connection,
not I?"
"I believe it to be possible, my friend. I am sorry."
Caine sighed, "Do not be sorry, Master. It would explain
much." Caine remained silent for a short while longer, "It has
been three weeks, Master. I must do something, anything."
"You can do and see nothing in this state," Lo Si countered,
"When your son is found, he will need your assistance to overcome
this tragedy."
"If he is found alive."
"My friend, that is your despair speaking, not you. Please
do not bury young Peter too soon."
Kwai Chang Caine bowed respectfully to the older man,
"You are once again correct, Master. I will drink your tea and
hope that it will provide the peace that has been alluding me
of late."
Lo Si watched as his friend downed the bitter brew but
could think of no words of comfort to offer as Caine turned back
toward the window.
"Where are you, my son?" Caine whispered as he leaned
his head on the frame, the rain outside proving to be a pale
imitation of his own tears.
**************************************
Three weeks earlier:
The physical therapist had arrived early at Peter's apartment.
She had to be at her next appointment by ten and knew the first
session required the patient to do more paperwork than actual
therapy. Since this patient was left-handed, and it was the left
shoulder that had suffered the injury, it would take longer than
usual to complete it. She knocked on the door, and was surprised
to find it slightly ajar. The young woman suddenly remembered
from her case briefing that Peter Caine was a cop who had been
injured in the line of duty. Becoming concerned that something
was wrong, but afraid to enter the apartment, she pulled out her
cell phone and dialed 911.
Within minutes Kermit Griffin was on the scene, followed
closely by Jody Powell. A quick search of Peter's apartment
turned up no signs of foul play. The sports bag still lay on the
table where its owner had abandoned it.
Jody returned to the living room, bypassing the stack
of newspapers in the dining area.
Kermit, meantime, had stopped to pick up the single
paper crumbled on the floor. Unfolding the mangled section,
his eyes narrowed, "Jody, look at this."
"It's an old paper, Kermit. There's more stacked over
there."
Kermit gave her a scathing look from behind his glasses.
"Look at it, Sweet Cakes."
Bristling at the hated nickname, Jody took the paper
from him and gasped in horror. " Oh, my God, Kermit. You
think he saw this one?"
"He's not here. I've already checked the bedroom. This
is crumbled on the floor of the living room. I'd say, yes, Peter
saw it."
*******************************************
Present day:
The young man sat alone on the beach, watching the
waves crash onto the rocks. He'd been there at dawn and was
still there at sunset. The lifeguards had seen him everytime
they had driven past that stretch of beach. The younger of the
two, an eighteen year-old girl on her first beach patrol, saw
nothing but a handsome man. The older, more perceptive team
member saw the distress hanging over the man like a cloud.
She'd tried approaching him during her lunch break but had
gotten no response. The next morning, when the mysterious
man was nowhere to be seen, she couldn't help wondering if
his next appearance would be as lifeless, in the surf.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 08 ↑
Helen Jones watched the gaunt young man in the food
line. Her experienced eyes immediately told her two things -
that this boy had never accepted food like this before, and
that he carried a burden which she could not quite define. The
closer he came to the servers, the slower he got. Finally, his
pride, at least that's what Helen assumed it was, got the better
of him and he slipped out of line. Without a backwards glance
he headed for the door. A sudden impulse sent her flying
after him.
It was not hard to spot him. He was the only Occidental
on the streets of Chinatown. Even without that distinguishing
characteristic, his height, Helen guessed over six feet, would
have given him away. He stood now leaning against a street
light, head bowed in despair.
"Sir, why don't you come back and get some food.
You're obviously hungry."
"No, it wouldn't be right. I can't take food away from
people who need it."
"You're hungry, why don't you need it?"
His brown eyes met her blue then dropped. The sorrow
she saw there rocked her badly. He was much too young to be
hurting this much. She barely heard his words, "I don't deserve
it."
"Why not?"
"I haven't earned it."
Pushing her graying hair out of her eyes, she asked,
"Do you have any money, any place to sleep?"
"Not here, I do back ho..."
Ignoring the broken off sentence, she replied, "No
matter what, you do deserve to eat. And sleep in a bed for a
change. From the look of those clothes, you've been on the
street awhile."
"Yes, ma'am." He blushed in embarrassment. "But
I still can't accept anything I haven't earned."
Smiling, she said, "Tell you what. We can't afford to
hire a handyman but I'm willing to offer you a bed and three
meals a day if you'll help me out."
"Why?"
"Because you obviously aren't going to eat if I don't
hire you."
"No, I mean, why me? There're lots of others in the
shelter."
"True. Most of the people in there have hit the point
that they will take the food at least, without any hesitation.
There comes a point when almost everyone swallows their
pride. We help as many people as possible but we aren't able,
unfortunately, to save them all. Some of them are on the run
from the law, some are just plain lazy, and others, poor souls,
have been released as cured from mental hospitals. Then there
are the ones who've lost everything. Some of those have lost
the will to try, at least for now. Others make an effort, but fate,
destiny, or whatever keeps pushing them down."
"Which category do you put me in?"
"Well, you don't look lazy, the cut of your clothes
says you didn't come out of a mental hospital and your eyes
tell me you're not a criminal. I'd guess that puts you in the last
grouping except you don't quite fit there either. I may have to
come up with a new category for you."
"You don't have to do this."
"No, I don't. I'm Helen Jones. And you are?"
"Peter, just Peter."
"Well, Just Peter, welcome to San Francisco's
Chinatown Shelter."
***************************************
Kwai Chang Caine sat quietly on the large sofa in the
Blaisdell den, watching Annie Blaisdell gracefully pour tea.
He quietly reached out and took the cup she offered.
"Thank you Annie."
"You're welcome." She paused for a moment, "Caine,
I spoke with Captain Simms just this morning. There is no
news of Peter, but I'm sure you know that."
The Shaolin's voice was hushed as he replied, "Yes."
"Please don't misunderstand me, Caine, but why are
you here?"
"I have come to say goodbye."
"You're leaving? With Peter still missing? Caine!"
"No, Annie, I'm leaving to search for Peter."
"Caine, what can you do that his friends at the 101 st
have not already done? Has your link returned? Do you know
where he is?" Her voice had risen in excitement.
"No, I am sorry, Annie, my link with Peter may very
well be gone forever. I do not know where my son is."
"You are avoiding my first question. I'm asking again,
what can you do that his friends have not already done? Kermit
has resources far beyond the local police."
"I realize that, Annie, but I feel so useless here. Without
my son, I have once again lost my purpose. Peter has been gone
for a month now."
"Forgive me, Caine, but I must ask you not to leave
just yet." The pain in her voice rocked his equilibrium.
"Why, Annie?"
"Paul is gone, God alone knows where, Carolyn has a
life of her own in New York and Kelly is in school. Peter is
truly my rock right now. Without him, I feel so lost. Would
you consider staying in town until Kelly finishes this term
and comes home?
"When will she return?"
"In two months."
Caine sat silently for several moments. His heart wanted
to search for Peter, but the woman in front of him was so very
important to his son. Annie and Paul Blaisdell had rescued his
child from an existence that would surely have claimed his soul.
His debt to her, to them, was beyond measure. There was no
choice.
"I will stay, Annie."
"Thank you Caine, thank you."
***************************************
Peter followed Helen back into the shelter. She pushed
him toward the line, "Get something to eat. You look famished."
"I'd really rather ...."
"Young man, if you're going to work for me, even just
for room and board, you're going to have to take my orders.
Now, get some food. After you've eaten, come to my office and
we'll discuss your duties. It's down that hall, third door on the
left. Well, what are you waiting for?"
Peter's eyes had widened in astonishment as she spoke.
Her question released him from his momentary paralysis, "Yes,
ma'am. I'll be there shortly."
Nodding, she turned and walked away. Peter, still
reluctant, joined the food line. Unable to get his left arm to
cooperate, Peter switched to using his right hand and awkwardly
selected utensils and a tray. Gingerly taking a filled plate from
a server, he thanked her and carefully walked to the far end of
the room. There were fewer patrons at that end, thus the risk
of conversation was lessened.
Helen glanced back to make sure her truant was still
with her. "Hmm, wonder why I'm thinking of him that way?
Just Peter, you're a mystery that I'm going to have to solve."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 09 ↑
The knock was so quiet that Helen almost missed it.
"Come in."
Peter slipped into the office and stood silently in front
of her desk.
She smiled as she looked up, "How was dinner, Just
Peter?"
Blushing, he replied, "I..it was fine, thank you, a.and
my name's Peter."
"Oh, I know that. I wanted to see how long it would
take before you corrected me."
"What are you, some sort of shrink?"
Helen noticed the suspicion and genuine fear in his
voice as he spoke. "No," she replied gently, "I'm a retired
school-teacher who got bored and took a very low-paying
job as the supervisor of this establishment."
"I'm sorry." Peter absently rubbed his shoulder.
"No, need. What's wrong with your shoulder?"
"I broke it a while back. It's fine."
"I see. Now, let me tell you what I need help with."
Helen sighed, "Everything, absolutely everything."
Her response, she was pleased to see, elicited a slight
grin from the young man. She went on, "At any rate, I'll
show you to what we'll call your room and I'll point out the
handyman chores on the way."
Peter turned too quickly and stumbled, knocking over
a picture on her worn metal desk. He hastily picked it up,
saying "I'm sorry, I hope I didn't break it." His voice faded
as he caught sight of the images in the frame. A handsome
young man stood next to a pretty young woman. A small girl
of about eight, wearing a frilly pink dress and a smile made of
sunshine, stood in front of the man.
Helen reached for the photo. "That's my son, Steve,
his wife Amanda, and my granddaughter, Katy."
Handing it over, Peter managed, "They make a very
handsome couple and the little girl's beautiful. Do they help
you here?"
"Amanda helps two or three times a week after she
gets off work. Katy comes with her some of the time. Her
daddy also brings her whenever he can. Both of them feel it's
good for her to understand that not everyone is as blessed as
they are."
"They're very wise, but it looks like Steve had a good
teacher. If you don't mind my asking, where do they work?"
"Amanda's a nurse in the clinic here in Chinatown.
Steve's a homicide detective at the 71 st precinct, which just
happens to also be the Chinatown beat."
*******************************************
Kwai Chang Caine sat motionless in front of the candles,
legs neatly folded in a lotus position. He'd been attempting to
find his center for over an hour, but to no avail. He eyes trailed
down the delicately carved features of the wooden candlesticks.
They had been a present from his son. Peter had found them in
an antique store in New Orleans. Caine smiled as he fondly
remembered that particular misadventure. The candlesticks
had been a thank you gift from his son for, as Peter put it, "Once
again saving my behind."
Reaching out, he absently stroked the distinctive features
of the dragon and the tiger. The dragon's ruby eyes seemed to
glare at him, flashing an accusation of negligence in the care of
his son. The eyes of the tiger, a muted jade, were more forgiving,
reminding the father that the son was an adult, free to make his
own choices.
That had been their last trip together. Kwai Chang Caine
didn't notice as, once again, his tears began to fall.
********************************************
"Dammit, I should never have left the kid alone."
Kermit's hand slammed once more into the side of his PC.
"I take it that means you've found nothing." Mary
Margaret spoke from the door to Kermit's cave.
"No. He hasn't used any of his credit cards or his
ATM card. The only transactions on his checking account
in the past month have been the automatic deposit of his
paycheck and the automatic bill payments he'd set up."
"I guess that means we haven't had any feedback on
the missing person report?"
"No, not one damn thing has come through. We've had
matches on his description at bus and train stations, and at the
airport, but all of them turned out to be dead-ends. It's almost
like he never existed. Have you heard from his snitches?"
"Only Donny Double D. He says the streets are buzzing
with the news that Peter's missing but the only information he's
gotten has been from Sandra Mason's reports. Kermit, are you
sure he's still in town?"
"Not anymore. With Annie and Caine being here, I was
sure Peter would stay in town or at least run no further than the
Blaisdell lake house." He rubbed his aching head in frustration.
Mary Margaret briefly considered patting Kermit's shoulder,
but thought better of it. She made a verbal stab at consolation,
"You weren't the only one thinking that way. The whole precinct
went on that assumption. I came in here to let you know, the
Captain's ordered the missing persons report on Peter faxed to
every major law enforcement department in the country every
week until he's found, one way or the other." She paused, "Uh,
Kermit, I guess your other sources haven't found anything either?"
"No. His identity hasn't been erased but the dead-end
trail is usually where an erasure starts. But if there's a reason
for that action, I can't find it."
"Erased? Oh, you mean the Witness Protection Program."
"Something like that."
"I'll tell the Captain we've still got nothing. Then I
think I'll go see Annie. She's trying to hide it but I can tell
that she's been very depressed lately."
As she left his office, she once again heard his haunted
voice, "Dammit to hell, why did I leave the kid alone?"
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 10 ↑
Peter listened closely as Helen Jones described a wide
variety of 'jobs' that needed to be done, pointing out various
needs as they walked the hallways of the shelter. The most
obvious need was for the fix-it jobs, requiring non-existent
materials that would arrive any day from mysterious donors.
Then there were the regular housekeeping jobs such as floor,
window, and dish-washing, trash-pickup, and laundry.
Helen eyed Peter curiously, "You don't by any chance
cook, do you?"
"I'm sorry. Not very well."
"Oh, well, it was a thought. Here we are." She'd
stopped by a narrow door. "It's not much, only a junk closet
right now, but if you clean it out and move a mattress in here,
you can use it as a sleeping area. I wouldn't recommend
spending too much time in here. In an area this small, with
no windows, you could go claustrophobic on me."
"Mrs. Jones," Peter began.
"Dr. It's Dr. Jones. I've got a PhD in Early Childhood
Education." She'd considered allowing the boy to call her
Helen but rejected the idea as impractical for the time being.
There was something appealing about the young man walking
beside her. She instinctively trusted him but there was an air
of mystery and tragedy surrounding him For now at least, she
would maintain the distance that the formal title granted her.
"I'm sorry, ma'am."
Helen wondered to herself why this young man felt
the need to apologize so much.
Peter continued quietly, "Dr. Jones, I can sleep in the
main room with everyone else."
"Nope. You're an employee here now, very under-paid
and no social security credits but still an employee. You'll
need your own space to get away from the environment at the
end of the day. Now let's go to the kitchen and get you started
on those dishes."
"Yes, Ma'am."
Peter followed the supervisor to the kitchen, where
several volunteers had started the massive clean-up effort.
"Martha, this is Peter. He'll be handling odd jobs
around here for awhile. I'd thought we'd introduce him to the
workload with the dishes."
A smiling fifty-something red-head grasped Peter's
extended hand firmly, and almost shook it off. "Pleased to
meet ya, Peter my boy. Doc can use all the help she can get."
Keeping a tight grip on his hand, she led him to the sink.
"Here ya go, boy, they're all yours."
Peter gazed in dismay at the mountain of dishes, then
rolled up his sleeves and went to work.
***************************************
"I'm sorry we have to meet again this way, Captain
Simms. The Commissioner thought it best that I return to help
with the press coverage of Peter Caine's disappearance."
"I appreciate the help, Mr. Samuels. I have outstanding
police officers working for me but unfortunately media handling
is not a subject covered at the Police Academy."
"I'm quite certain that your department can handle most
events but Detective Caine's disappearance combined with that
damned hostage scenario has really brought out the vultures."
"Sandra Mason?"
"No, actually she's being surprisingly supportive. Once
she came out with the pro-Police slant against the newspaper,
the lines were drawn. I'll have to throw her a bone pretty soon
to keep her that way though."
Simms looked puzzled.
"Sorry, Captain. I mean I'll give her a harmless inside
scoop that we want leaked anyway. I'll figure out what later."
"I don't envy you your job, Mr. Samuels."
"Please, call me Ken. Actually Captain, my job can be
quite interesting at times. Mundane at others. But back to the
original topic. The vulture I had in mind is Phyllis Murray.
Channel 3 and Sandra Mason made her look very, very bad
and she's out for revenge. Mr. Caine's AWOL status is
exactly what she'll be looking for. Your staff did a good job
down-playing the event for so long but putting his face on the
wire every week definitely put an end to your charade."
Simms voice grew cold, "Are you suggesting that we
shouldn't fax his photo?"
"No, Captain, not at all. I would never presume to tell
you how to do your job. I just hope Peter Caine doesn't have
any skeletons in his closet. It would also be better if his family
is skeleton free, too."
*****************************************
Peter wearily walked the main hall of the shelter toward
his 'room'. He'd taken a couple of hours while supper was being
served to clean it out and move a thin mattress in. Exhausted,
he flung himself down onto the hard surface and prayed that
for one night he'd be free of the nightmares.
He'd been asleep less than two hours when his latest
demon returned to plague him. The images swirled through
his dream, dragging him through a maze of dead, or dying,
nameless, faceless, children. Crying out in terror, he leaped
to his feet to bolt from ... from what? Confusion masked his
features as his wakefulness returned. Slowly the memories
of the previous day returned, bringing with them the warm,
caring face of Helen Jones. Peter sank shivering onto the
mattress and buried his face in his hands. He remained like
that for several moments. Reluctant to try returning to sleep
for fear that the dreams would return, he climbed wearily to
his feet. Pacing the length of the small chamber only added
to his unease. Throwing open the door, he began to wander
the corridors of the shelter.
Peter walked quietly toward the main sleeping chamber.
All was quiet there. He continued on through the kitchen and
then toward the stairs leading to the laundry. The muffled
sounds coming from the basement room, aroused every cop
instinct he had. Moving stealthily forward, he paused at the
door in an effort to determine exactly what he was facing. His
sharp ears picked up three, no four distinct voices.
Running now on auto-pilot, he threw open the door.
Heading swiftly down the stairs, he roughly asked, "Just what
the hell is going on in here?"
He'd expected teenage hoodlums, he got hired thugs.
The attack took him completely by surprise. The Kung Fu kicks,
which he had so dramatically improved over the last two years,
served him well. Unfortunately, against four attackers, kicks
were not enough. The delicate hand and arm movements necessary
for hand-to-hand combat were severely hampered by the injury
to his left shoulder. The last thing Peter saw was the butt end
of a gun heading toward his skull.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 11 ↑
"Left him gently, Steve, I'm afraid he has a concussion."
"I know, Mom, I've seen a few head injuries in my
time."
"Sorry, sweetheart, but I really like him. I hope he
didn't hurt himself too badly with that tumble down the stairs."
Steve glanced at his mother as he maneuvered the
lanky form of the unconscious young man into one of the
infirmary beds. He'd expected to have trouble lifting the man
his mother called Just Peter, but the figure was thin, too thin.
Helen was too concerned about Peter to notice the odd
note in her son's voice, "No, Mom, I don't think a tumble did
him much harm. He's going to have one heck of a headache,
though."
"Help me get his shirt off, it's covered with blood. I
want to make sure he's not bleeding anywhere else."
Steve Jones gently raised Peter off the bed and using one
hand helped his mother pull the bloody shirt off.
"Is he...?"
"No, I think the blood's from the head wound. They
bleed almost as badly as an ear nick." Steve studied the head
injury more closely. "Mom, I think you should call a doctor."
"Already did, Dr. Li is on his way, with Amanda."
"You're terrific, Mom. Why don't you get a compress
for his head?"
"Good idea." Helen rushed to the supply closet in
search of a clean wash cloth.
Amanda Jones raced into the shelter infirmary followed
closely by an young Chinese doctor. Her worried features
relaxed when she saw her husband. "Steve, what on earth, your
mom called and Sherry said she sounded so upset. I..I was
afraid you'd gotten hurt."
The young cop moved to embrace her. "I'm sorry, darling.
Mom's latest pet project got injured in the laundry last night."
"I heard that."
Steve winced, "Sorry, Mom, but you're always taking in
strays."
"And I'm usually right about them, aren't I?"
"Yes ma'am."
Helen Jones turned to the doctor, "How is he?"
"With him still unconscious, I can't tell if he's got a
concussion or not. In general, he's minimally twenty pounds
underweight for his size. Then there's his left shoulder. Helen,
do you have any idea what happened to it?"
"He said he broke it but that it was fine."
"Broke, yes. Fine, I'd say no."
"What do you mean?"
"He's had surgery no more than six weeks ago. From
the scarring, I'd say it was his second operation recently on
the shoulder. Unless I'm mistaken, his shoulder was probably
pinned, meaning he's supposed to be undergoing physical
therapy to get it back to normal."
"I did see him rub it a lot yesterday and thinking about
it, he'd always start what he was doing with his left hand then
switch to his right."
"If he's left handed, and from what you've said then I
assume he is, then therapy is an absolute must."
A low moan from the bed drew everyone's attention.
Peter's hazel eye's fluttered open and he made a move to sit
up. Steve Jones planted a hand on his chest as his mother
said, "Don't move, Peter. You took a bad fall. Let Dr. Li
see if you have a concussion."
"What? Where?" Peter's voice betrayed his confusion.
"You're in the shelter infirmary. This is Dr. Li. Now
lie still." She placed her hand beside Steve's and pushed
downward on his chest.
A weak "Yes, Ma'am" brought a smile to Steve's lips,
"Got him trained already, I see."
"Steven." Helen managed to convey a great deal to
her son with that one word.
Laughing he rose and hugged Amanda again. "Mom's
really fond of this one, Mandy."
Giving her son an exasperated look, Helen turned her
attention to Dr. Li. The doctor was carefully reviewing his
now conscious patient's vitals. After using his pin-light to
examine Peter's eyes, he said, "Well, it doesn't look like you
have a concussion, however, I'd recommend bed rest today."
Peter shook his head, "There's too much too do around
here. I've got to..."
"Stay exactly where you are. You could have been seriously
hurt with that fall down the stairs and I want to make sure you're
OK before I put you back to work."
Peter started to speak when he saw Steve in the background
shaking his head frantically. Remembering the young man was
a cop, Peter reduced his reply to a simple, "Yes, Ma'am."
Amanda, in the meantime, was cleaning the wound on
Peter's scalp. "Since you're awake, let me do the introductions.
I'm Amanda Jones, this is Dr. Li and the handsome guy with the
scowl is my husband Steve."
Peter nodded, "I'm Peter" then winced as she hit a particularly
sore spot.
She immediately stopped. "I'm sorry."
"That's OK." Peter replied, "It's just a little sore."
Dr. Li laughed loudly, "A little sore? I'll just bet it is.
Amanda, get it cleaned up then come on back to the clinic
please."
"Yes, Dr. Li. I'll be there shortly." Amanda went back
to work on Peter's wound, as Dr. Li left.
She finished quickly, hugged her husband and mother-in-law
good-bye, then left for the clinic.
Helen was about to leave to let Peter rest, when she noticed
Steve not budging.
"Steve?"
"Sorry, Mom, you know I've got to stay and do my usual
'cop son talks to latest project' routine."
"Steve, Peter's hurt."
"I'm not going to stay long, Mom, but I am staying."
Realizing she'd lost round one, she said, "OK, but Peter,
as far as I'm concerned you can spar with my son with your
gloves off."
Peter smiled nervously as Helen followed Amanda out
of the room.
Steve Jones eyed the young man in the bed. He quickly
saw the haunted, pain-filled eyes and gaunt features. He smiled
reassuringly at Peter. "Don't worry. Mom and I have a deal.
As long as her current project doesn't give me a reason, I don't
run a check on him, or her." Growing more serious, he went
on, "Do I have a reason?"
"No."
"Fine. Now what happened last night?"
Peter hesitated only briefly, "I couldn't sleep and got up
to take a walk around the shelter. When I got near the door to
the laundry, I heard voices. Like an idiot, I figured it was kids
out to do some damage. It wasn't. There were four men down
there. I didn't get a chance to see what they were doing. It
went dark pretty quick."
"Do you think you could identify them?"
"I'm sorry." Peter's voice was contrite, "I only saw
outlines. Things just happened too fast. You should know
that at least one of them was armed. I got slugged with the
butt end of a revolver."
"I thought so." Peter's confused look caused Steve to
elaborate. "My partner just got over a very similar head wound,
caused by the same thing."
Peter paused for a moment, "Look. It's none of my business
but you obviously don't want your mother to know about this.
Why? What's going on?"
"I don't know, yet. I just don't want her to worry. She
has enough to worry about with this shelter, and," he sighed,
"my job. But trust me, I'll find out what's going on. Nobody
gets away with anything that could hurt her. Nobody."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 12 ↑
"Nobody gets away with anything that could hurt her.
Nobody." The words looped through Peter's thoughts long after
Steve had left the infirmary. There was a passion to his words
that Peter envied. At one time he would have been able to relate
to that passion, that concern, that love. Now Peter felt drained,
completely incapable of such feelings any longer. Memories
stirred within him of the friends and family he'd abandoned
when he fled. He shoved those memories into a mental vault
and threw away the key.
Peter knew that his inability to 'protect and serve' had
cost him the right to be loved and respected by anyone. He had
been unwilling to remain in his home and watch as those he
loved, came to hate him for his failure. A still small voice
inside him whispered that Mom and Pop could never hate him
for any reason, but Peter was not in a listening mood. The
same voice also urged him to contact either Annie or his father.
This plea was likewise ignored by the anguished young man.
A single tear trailed down his cheek as he drifted off into a
troubled sleep.
************************************
"Well?"
Steve wondered exactly how his mother could say so
much with so few words. Sighing, he said, "Mom, I agree with
you. I like Peter. There's something bothering him very badly
but I don't think it's criminal in nature. Or maybe I just don't
want to think badly of him. One thing's for sure, there's a lot
of intelligence hiding behind the pain in those eyes."
"Daddy, Daddy, Daddy!" A streak of lightning flew
across the room and into Steve's arms.
Swinging the child in a circle, Steve laughed, "Hello,
sunshine, how was the museum?"
Rocking dizzily on her feet, the child replied, "Great!
Grandma, Miss Martha says you've got a new elf. Did he
work for Santa? Why'd he quit? Can I meet him?"
"What? Oh, Peter. Katy, sweetheart, Peter's no elf.
Miss Martha meant that I had a new helper."
"Oh." The child's face was awash with disappointment.
She brightened suddenly, "Can I meet him anyway?"
"I don't think..."
Helen interrupted her son, "Katy, Mr. Peter's sleeping
right now but if you're very quiet you can do Grandma a big
favor."
"Sure!"
"Mr. Peter hurt himself by falling down the laundry
room stairs." The child's eyes widened at this. Helen smiled
and continued, "I need you to watch him and let me know
when he wakes up. Could you do that?"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Thank you darling. Mr. Peter's the only one in the
infirmary. Go on down there, and remember to be quiet."
"ALL RIGHT!" Katy Jones raced away down the hall.
"Mom!"
"You agreed with me that Peter's OK, right."
Steve reluctantly nodded.
"Then what's the problem? Katy really will be helping
me and somehow I think her presence will be good for him."
"You win, Mom. I've trusted your instincts for years and
I'm not going to stop now. Well, I'm off to work. The Captain
will be wanting my head if I'm much later."
"Be careful, my darling."
"Always, Mom, always." Steve vigorously hugged his
mother before leaving.
************************************************
Peter turned his head, opened his eyes and found himself
staring into two of the bluest eyes he'd ever seen. He was quick
to notice that the eyes belonged to the pretty little girl in Helen
Jones's photograph. "Hello."
She watched him closely for a moment, then very solemnly
asked, "Are you awake?"
Stifling a smile, Peter replied, "Yes."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes, sweetheart, I'm awake. Why?"
"Grandma said I was to tell her when you woke up. I
should go tell her now, shouldn't I?"
"I suppose so." Peter winced as the child flew out the
door screaming, "Grandma, he's awake now." at the top of
her lungs.
***********************************************
Helen entered the infirmary a short time later. To his
surprise, Peter was disappointed that Katy was not with her.
Instead she was accompanied by a haggard looking man.
"How do you feel?" she asked.
"Much better, Dr. Jones."
"Call me Helen. People who fall down stairs here get
to skip the title."
"OK ... Helen."
"Fine. Peter, I'd like you to meet Brandon Webber.
Brandon's going to help you with your shoulder injury."
Peter's smile faded, "There's nothing wrong with my
shoulder."
"Young man, let's get one thing straight right now. I
will not tolerate lying, nor will I put up with people denying
that they need help. Your shoulder bothers you. I saw that
yesterday. Today, Dr. Li tells me that your shoulder needs
therapy. Therefore you get therapy. Brandon used to be a
physical therapist before he developed a drinking problem.
He's going to work with you for an hour on your shoulder,
and show you exercises to do three to four times a day. Isn't
that right, Brandon?"
"Yes, Doc" He wasn't quite laughing but as far as
Peter was concerned Brandon might as well have been.
"Fine. Peter, once you've finished therapy, Martha
needs you in the kitchen. I'm afraid that the breakfast and
lunch dishes are both waiting for you. Now, have I made
myself clear?"
A weak, "yes, ma'am" was all the flabbergasted young
man could manage.
***********************************************
Annie Blaisdell stood forlornly in her kitchen. Mary
Margaret had just left and the house felt empty. Annie made
herself another cup of tea and started to sit at her kitchen
table. The ringing telephone drew her slowly across the room.
"Hello? .... Oh, hi baby. .... No, no word on Peter yet.
Mary Margaret just left.... Kelly, honey, I know you're worried
but you've still got another couple of months of school this
term.... No, baby, absolutely not. I will not hear of it. You
are to stay at school, young lady. No arguments..... That's
better. Our friends from the 101 st come around regularly
and Caine is here whenever I need him, usually before I know
I need him. I'll be fine. I love you too, sweetheart."
Hanging up the phone, she spoke to the empty kitchen,
"Peter Caine, you had better be all right. I can't lose you too."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 13 ↑
Kermit Griffin walked slowly up the stairs that led to
Kwai Chang Caine's apartment. He hated to be the bearer of
bad news. He cringed inwardly as he watched the hope rise in
the older man's face only to fade as the Shaolin mysteriously
picked up on Kermit's despair.
"There is no news." It was no longer a question but
a statement of fact, delivered without hope of contradiction.
"Not about Peter." Now that he was here, Kermit briefly
wondered why he'd volunteered for this duty. Then he remembered,
he owed it to Peter, and his father.
Caine's eyes spoke the question.
"Look, I just want you to know that the Captain's been
fighting this for a month. She just finally lost to THOSE people."
"Kermit, you have always been a good friend to my son,
and myself. Please tell me what has happened."
The ex-mercenary took a deep breath and removed his
sun-glasses. Wiping them nervously with a handkerchief, he
finally said, "The investigating team on Peter's disappearance
has been disbanded. They've all been assigned to other duties.
Peter's case is..is considered, damn it." He stopped, took a
deep breath, then went on, "They don't really think we'll ever
find Peter. They want his folder shelved." Kermit found he
could not meet Caine's eyes.
"But you do not believe this." Caine's voice was filled
with sympathy. Kermit suddenly realized that the Shaolin's
concern was for him, for what it cost him to deliver this news.
This time he met Caine's eyes, "No, I do not. The
Captain, bless her, managed to get permission for the file to stay
open and be worked, on a part-time basis. I'm the only one on
the case as of this morning. Caine, I promise you, I will never
give up until I find Peter."
"Captain Simms is a woman of much honor and great
compassion. I am deeply in her debt for allowing the official
investigation to continue, no matter how limited it may be."
Kermit laughed dryly, "Actually she said she didn't have
a choice. She told me she knew I'd work on it off-duty if I wasn't
allowed to on-duty. She, um, seems to know me very well."
"As do I, my friend." Caine place a hand on Kermit's
shoulder. The jaded ex-mercenary found his veneer cracking as
he realized the Shaolin's hand was trembling with suppressed
emotion. "Kermit, I truly believe you will find my son."
********************************************
The mood at Chandler's was grim. Rumbles of mutiny
ran through the crowd from the 101 st.
"I can't believe she'd let this happen. I know she and
Peter have had their differences but to let them close the case."
Jody shook her head in angry disbelief.
"Yeah, when the Captain told me to type my final report
I almost dropped my teeth. And stupid here didn't argue, just
said "yes ma'am" nice and meek as can be."
"Don't kick yourself so hard Mary Margaret. We all
did the same thing. Buckled under pressure just like she did."
Thomas Jefferson added his bit to the conversation.
"What do you mean 'just like she did'?"
"Well. Jody, when she told me to turn in my notes, I,
uh, did just that. Then I called my father."
"Good for you, TJ."
"Not exactly. Dad told me that closing the case was a
decision handed down to Captain Simms. Then he gave me a
twenty minute phone lecture on respect for my superiors. I'll
be lucky if he doesn't tell the Captain that I ran to him." TJ's
tone indicated that was a very real possibility.
"Ouch. You'll be doing file reports from now until
you die, if the Captain gets wind of that conversation." Mary
Margaret added sympathetically.
"Yeah, I know."
The grumbling and general complaining about life
under Captain Simms continued unabated as Kermit strolled
up to the bar. He listened to the innuendo's, half-truths and
outright idiocies for a while before commenting. "I thought
the 101 st was a precinct of adult detectives. It looks to me
like all its got is a bunch of childish paper-pushers."
Jody snapped, "What the hell does that mean?"
Kermit's voice was calm, too calm. "Just that if any
of you fine detectives had bothered to check, you would have
found that she's been fighting this every way she could for a
month now. You'd also know that even though THEY wanted
her to shelve the case, she convinced them to let ME work on
it officially part-time."
The rest of the detectives from the 101 st looked at each
other with decidedly sheepish grins.
TJ stood and raised his glass, "I vote we toast the Captain
for the fine woman she is."
Glasses clinked all around.
TJ went on, "and another toast to a fine group of idiots."
Glasses again clinked, but this time with added fervor.
*********************************************
A nondescript homeless man meandered his way toward
the Chinatown shelter. He'd heard you could a good meal and
a clean bed there. Helen Jones was a name well known among
the homeless in San Francisco. She was reputed to be a saint
among those who knew about such things. Among those of
more questionable character, her reputation as a 'damn fine
woman', was a major selling point.
Fear filled his being as three young thugs surrounded
him and forced him into a near-by alley.
"Where ya going, old man?" the smallest of the three
jabbed a finger into the man's chest as he spoke.
"To the s..shelter. Please, I don't got nothing."
"Yeah, you do. You got a message to deliver."
"W...What m...message?"
"Sell!" Turning to his comrades, he said, "Drive the
message home, boys, but make sure he can leave walking."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 14 ↑
A month after the 'stair' episode, Peter was getting
physical therapy on a daily basis. He'd protested strenuously
against it at first, but Helen's arguments to his heart, won him
over. "Peter, Brandon needs this as badly as you do."
"What do you mean?"
"You need it physically, he needs it emotionally. He
lost his wife and little boy to a drunk driver. Tragically he
took up drinking himself, and ended up losing his job and his
home as well. He's been sober for six months now but he needs
to work toward getting his job back. To do that, he needs to
heal emotionally."
He'd had no option then. Peter remembered that Brandon
had appeared as reluctant to do the therapy as he was to receive
it. He'd wondered what argument Helen had used on the man.
A sharp pain in his shoulder brought him back to the present,
"Ouch! Dammit, Brandon, are you trying to help me or kill me?"
"Help you of course. Doc wouldn't let me kill you. Says
you're the best all-around, fix-it man she's ever had."
"Yeah, but look what she's got to compare to. OUCH!
Stop! UNCLE!"
"Don't mess with the guy twisting your arm, my friend."
Peter rubbed his now free arm and decided to change
the subject, "Who's Helen got in with her?"
Brandon returned to manipulating Peter's arm and
shoulder, "Don't know. Three guys in suits is all I saw."
"Did they look OK to you?"
"OK, as in normal, clean business types or OK as in
not bad?"
An exasperated sigh escaped Peter's lips, "Brandon,
you are the most, OUCH!, wonderful physical therapist I've
ever worked with. OK, as in not bad."
Brandon's face look troubled, "I don't know, Peter,
they kinda looked too clean to me."
************************************************
"So you see, Dr. Jones, CLT International wants to be
a help to the community. We've been looking for the right
site and have narrowed the choices down to three, this one
and two others."
"Exactly what does that mean?"
"Well, unfortunately, it would mean moving the shelter
to another location. We'd have to demolish this building and
the ones around it to build the complex we have in mind."
"Where would the shelter move? This building belonged
to my grandfather. He ran a mission out of it before the 1906
earthquake. When that disaster happened, he added beds and
the shelter started."
"We're aware of that Dr. Jones. We'd assist the shelter
in purchasing a new site on the edge of Chinatown."
"But it wouldn't be home."
"No, but with the money from the sale..."
"Gentlemen, I'm sorry, but I love this place, my father
loved it and my grandfather loved it. Were you aware that the
city granted a special dispensation for Grandfather to be buried
here?"
"No, Ma'am, we weren't."
"I didn't think so. This shelter is not for sale. Please
thank CLT International for their generous offer but they
should select one of the other sites for their project. Have a
nice day."
******************************************
Helen sat and stared at her door. This was the second
unsolicited offer she'd received on the shelter in as many weeks.
Reaching for her phone, she quickly dialed her son.
"Hello, darling...Yes, I'm fine....No, nothing's wrong,
at least I don't think so... I know you're busy right now but
could you stop by on your way home?... Thank you Steve.
Yes, I love you, too... Bye." Returning the hand-set to its
cradle, she rose and headed for the kitchen.
Helen detoured around past the infirmary. "That's the
advantage to an old building." she thought, "So many, many
ways to get around." Helen paused outside the infirmary and
listened in delight to the banter between Peter and Brandon.
It was good to hear them laugh.
The past month had brought a number of changes to the
shelter, most of them for the better. Peter had been a God-send.
The young man could fix just about anything, and worked harder
than anyone she'd ever seen, other than Steve. She was willing,
however, to admit to some bias in that regard. Peter had recently
begun to open up and in doing so revealed a gregarious personality
that she suspected was the 'real' Peter. Whatever had traumatized
the young man had robbed him of his joy for living. As a retired
teacher, nothing saddened her more than seeing a zest for living,
and learning, die.
Helen had briefly considered having Steve run a check on
Peter a couple of weeks back. She and Peter had been walking
to the hardware store to barter for paint. A disturbance from a
nearby alley had caught their attention. One of her patrons was
being mugged. Helen had been about to rush forward, when
Peter seized her arm, and ordered her to stay where she was.
She'd stared after him in amazement as he dispatched the thugs
with moves straight out of a Kung Fu flick. The homeless woman
had fortunately been unharmed, but Helen only had eyes for
Peter. She remembered watching him closely as he stood glaring
after the fleeing men, absently rubbing his injured shoulder. He'd
flushed a variety of shades of red, then white with obvious fear
when she'd asked him about his skills. She had quickly changed
the subject back to paint, ignoring both the martial arts and the
mugging. The laughter now coming from the infirmary made
her glad she hadn't confided the incident to her son. She shuddered
at the thought of what the betrayal of a police check would have
done to her young friend.
******************************************
Peter watched through the infirmary window as the
three men left the shelter. There was nothing outwardly wrong
with their appearance, but his gut told him something was not
right. "I'll have to ask Kermit." He froze as he realized what
he'd been thinking. That life was over. He could never return.
A child's voice begged sweetly for his attention, "Mr. Peter?"
"Yes, Katy my love?" Peter unconsciously knelt to be on
eye level with the child.
"Grandma says if you and Mr. Brandon are through, would
you please go to the hardware store and ask Mr. Willis for more
paint?"
"OK, sweetie, go tell your Grandma that I'll bring back as
many gallons of paint as I can carry."
This statement was met with a puzzled frown, "I think we
only need three."
Peter stifled his laughter, "Then three it shall be. Now go
tell your Grandma." He watched lovingly as 'his' little angel ran
off at her normal breakneck pace.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 15 ↑
The man was there again. This time he sat on a bench
across the street. The day before he'd stood on the opposite corner.
Kwai Chang Caine had been aware of his presence for a couple
of weeks but had ignored him as no threat. As Caine started to
enter his building, the man stood and made his way across the
street.
"Mr. Caine?"
Caine turned.
"Sir, my name is Kyle Crosby. I'm a reporter for the
Daily Chronicle. May I have a moment of your time?"
Caine's thoughts became chaotic. Mary Margaret had
told him that the vicious article and picture in this paper had
probably been the catalyst behind his son's disappearance.
Caine had been warned repeatedly by various members of the
101 st not to talk to reporters. He looked at the nondescript
man in front of him and his curiosity got the better of him.
Caine, the priest, wanted to discuss the paper's ethical behavior
with the reporter. Caine, the man, wanted to know why anyone
would go to such lengths to harm someone they didn't know.
Caine, the father, wanted .... The Shaolin hastily buried 'those'
feelings.
"Yes."
The simplicity of the answer threw the reporter. "Uh,
where?"
"Here."
"Yes, uhem, Mr. Caine, your son has not been seen in
town for two months. Our readers would like to know when
you last spoke with him."
"About what?"
"Sir? Oh, no sir. In general, when was the last time
you and your son talked."
"It has been some time."
"One month, two months?"
"Yes."
"OK, let's go to something else. How did your son feel
about feel about the botched hostage situation?"
"Badly."
"So he was aware that his actions were to blame for the
fiasco?"
"No."
"So, he was not aware that the entire thing was his fault?"
"It was not."
"Sir?"
"It was not his fault."
"Yes, sir, I understand how you'd feel that way, being
his father but the facts...."
"Facts?"
"About the hostages."
"You know them?"
"The hostages?' Kyle was growing confused.
"The facts."
"The facts of the tragedy have been reported in the
Daily Chronicle on several occasions."
"They have not. Why?"
"Sir. I beg to differ. We've left no stone unturned on
this story. The truth is there for the public to see."
"Ah. Truth."
"Yes, sir. Truth." Kyle tried to control his growing anger
as he thought, "Damn the man. What is he trying to pull?"
"The whole truth? All the facts?"
Kyle gulped and tried to regroup, "We've reported enough..."
"Enough to harm."
"We've lied about nothing."
"A partial truth is no better than a lie."
"Some things are not interesting to our readers. We
always leave that information out." Kyle was now actively on
the defensive.
"But those things change the, how would you say it,
slant?" Caine turned and walked into his home, leaving a
frustrated, angry and mortified reporter on the sidewalk.
*********************************************
Annie Blaisdell reached reluctantly for the ringing
phone. Her hand shook as she pulled the receiver to her ear.
"Hello?" A sigh of relief escaped her lips. "Oh, hello Mary
Margaret... No, I'm fine... No, this reporter from that awful
paper keeps calling here... Yes, I keep hanging up but I'm
becoming afraid to answer the phone. He keeps coming to
the door, too....Thank you, dear, but I don't think Captain
Simms would sanction your shooting him.... No, my attorney
is getting a court order to keep the paper away from me. He
says it will take a few days....Yes, Mary Margaret, I can hold
out that long. Is there... Oh, nothing new. I understand.
Thank you for calling." Annie replaced the hand-set and
sank down into her sofa, sobbing softly for her lost family,
and peace of mind.
*********************************************
Peter returned from the hardware store carrying three
gallons of yellow paint, a quart of white and a pint of hunter
green. He was met at the front door of the shelter by several
small children, led by Katy Jones.
"Mr. Peter, you're back." Katy wrapped tiny arms
around his waist and hugged tightly.
"Whoa, sunshine, I haven't been gone that long."
"I know, but I didn't give you your hug this morning.
Can I help?"
"Thank you, Katy. Just a minute." Peter placed the
paint on the floor and dug into his pocket. A mysterious
bulge was revealed to be a bag of bubble gum from the local
candy store. He handed the bag to the tallest boy in the group,
"Mark, please hand these out to the other kids, evenly. Don't
leave anyone out."
"Yes, sir." Mark's black eyes shone with pleasure.
"Here, Katy."
"No, thanks." Mark shrugged and ran off, merrily
playing Santa's helper in delivering the gum.
Peter was concerned, "Katy, you don't want any?"
"I got some at home and besides..."
"Besides what?"
"You always get just enough for all the kids. We got a
new kid while you were gone. She's over there with her
grandmother." The child pointed to an elderly woman and
fragile looking little girl. Katy tugged Peter down to eye level
and lowered her voice, "Her grandma's blind."
**********************************************
Two hours later, Helen found Peter sitting on the floor
of the large sleeping area, surrounded by small children. The
latest arrival, and Katy, shared his lap as he read a story from
a tattered book. Moving closer she was stunned to discover
that the book was entirely printed in Braille. He finished the
story, and sent the children off to play. Standing, he stretched
cramped muscles and smiled as he spotted Helen.
"Just Peter, you are a man of many talents."
The confusion on his face, caused her to laugh. "You
can fix just about anything. You speak Chinese like you're
from Beijing and now I find you reading Braille. Is there
anything you can't do?"
He flushed with embarrassment.
Helen laughed again, "Ooops, I forgot. You don't
handle compliments well. Never mind, son. Now the Chinese
I can understand. That's a second language. Care to explain
the Braille?"
Peter's face went white, "My, my Mom, is blind."
Helen looked grimly at her young friend, "'Is' is a
present tense verb, Peter."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Does she know where you are?"
"No, ma'am."
"Peter!"
He cringed but said nothing.
"Peter, she's probably worried sick."
The pain in his eyes cut straight through her heart. "She's
better off without me around."
"Peter..."
"NO. After what I've done, she doesn't need me around
to ruin her life. Excuse me. I..I've got work to do."
Helen Jones watched in dismay as the young man rushed
away from her, and any comfort she might have to offer.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 16 ↑
"I'm worried about Helen"
Steve looked up in surprise at his wife's comment,
"Where did that come from?"
"Oh, you were on the phone. I guess you didn't hear
Katy."
"No, what'd she say?"
"Only that three men in suits came and talked to her
for a long time today. Katy said Grandma looked upset when
they left... What's wrong, Steve?"
"Your husband is an idiot, that's what's wrong. Mom
called and I was supposed to stop by on the way home. She's
going to skin me alive."
"Then you'd better call her." Mandy handed him the
phone. "She'll be at the shelter."
"What?" He glanced at his watch then dialed, "It's after
seven." Slamming the hand-set down, he muttered to himself,
"Damn, it's busy."
"I know. That's another reason I'm worried. She gets
to the shelter by six every morning and doesn't leave until after
nine, sometimes ten."
"How do you know?"
"Peter told me. Bless his heart, he was very uncomfortable.
I think he felt like he was tattling on her, but he was very, very
worried."
"Nine or ten. Dammit. Mom shouldn't even be thinking
of riding the bus home by herself that late. Wait until..."
"Hold on Mr. Overprotective. You've met your match.
Peter goes with her every night then walks home."
"It's five miles from Mom's apartment to the shelter."
His voice grew suspicious, "I bet Mom doesn't know that,
she's probably giving him money to ride back with."
"Chill on the cop thing. Your mom did try to give him
money but he wouldn't take more than the fare out. He told
her he likes to walk, something about it running in the family.
He looked so, so sad when he told me that. Oh, and before
your cop instinct takes over, I got the same story from both
Mom and Peter."
Steve hung up the still busy phone, "I'm sorry, hon, it
was a long day. I like Peter and should never have said that.
Katy adores him and he's been such a help to Mom."
"You forgot me."
Steve looked confused as he once again dialed the shelter.
"I like Peter, too."
Steve swallowed his laughter as the phone call went
through.
"Mom, I'm so sorr... Yes, I... No Ma'am..., Yes Ma'am...,
I really am.... Uh, I'll be right there." He winced as he hung up
the phone. Turning to his wife, he sighed, "Why do I feel as if
I'm going to get spanked?"
"Don't ask me, she's YOUR mother."
Steve laughed and kissed his wife. Turning he swept a
wide-eyed Katy into his arms, "How long have you been there
pumpkin? Never mind, Daddy's got to go to the shelter." He
kissed the child goodbye and raced for his car.
Katy looked in amazement at her mother, "Grandma's
gonna spank Daddy?"
"What? Oh, no, baby. Not exactly."
"Then what xactly?"
"Let's get you in the tub and I'll try to explain."
***********************************************
Brad Jackson stared at the reports in front of him.
"You're sure."
"Yes sir. The new convention center will be located
here. The area surrounding it will be prime real estate."
"When will it be announced?"
"The actual selection will be announced in about six
weeks."
"Is there a chance they'll choose another site?"
"There's always a chance, sir, but I'd say not. You've
contributed too much money for them to go another direction."
"OK. I already own three of the four blocks adjacent to
the site. I need the fourth one. What's the hold up?"
"The Chinatown Shelter is located in the middle of the
fourth block. Helen Jones actually owns and supervises it. We
haven't been able to find her price. We offered her fair market
value but she wouldn't take it. Then we went back today as a
different buyer and even offered her a new site six blocks over.
She just won't sell. Sentimental reasons she says. I don't think
we can go over the current market value without someone getting
suspicious."
"Nonsense, everyone can be bought. Don't make the
mistake of thinking money is the only way to make a purchase.
We've still got time. Continue with the intimidation; beat-up
more people who use the shelter, vandalize it again, the usual.
By the way, did you ever find out who the guy was who walked
in on you last time?"
"He's just a vagrant the old lady took a fancy to. We
haven't tried to get a background check on him, though. He's
just one guy."
Brad narrowed his eyes, "One guy could ruin everything."
"Yeah, well, the incident never got reported to the police,
so I'm guessing this dude isn't going to interfere with us."
"It's your call - don't be wrong. Now is it safe to assume
that you're ready to escalate the intimidation phase?"
"Yes, sir. We've been 'interviewing' some of the shelter
patrons on a regular basis. Nothing serious, just bruises, but
the last one, well, we gave him a message to deliver."
"And what was that?"
"Sell. We kept it simple. Didn't want to confuse the
dummy."
"Excellent. Back to Mrs. Jones, I assume she has family?"
"Uh, there could be a problem there."
"Why?"
"Her son's a cop in the Chinatown precinct."
"Has he got a family?"
"Yes, sir. His wife is a nurse and he's got a seven year
old daughter."
"Then I don't really see the problem."
******************************************
Steve rushed headlong into back entrance of the shelter
and collided with a ladder. The wooden legs folded, sending
ladder, occupant and paint to the ground.
"Oh, God, Peter, I'm sorry. Are you hurt? Here let me
help you." Steve pulled the ladder off of Peter's legs. In his
haste to help the fallen man, the young San Francisco cop failed
to notice the puddles of paint. His right foot hit a small pool
and slid out from under him. The fall was spectacular. Peter
awkwardly tried to assist the man but to no avail.
"Steve, are you OK?" Peter's voice was full of concern.
"I have neither dignity nor tailbone left. Ouch." The
young man rubbed his seat gingerly. "Amanda's going to
kill me. These are, uh were, new pants."
Peter eyed his own paint-covered form, then looked at
Steve's ruined clothing, "Well, at least you look good in yellow."
The two young men were still laughing when Helen
found them. Noting the condition of the floor, she shook her
head and returned to the office. Once there she made a note
to get six more gallons of yellow paint.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 17 ↑
Steve and Peter helped each other to their feet and
glanced around, hoping to bring order to the chaos.
"Is there any paint thinner? Maybe we have time to get
it up?" Steve asked hopefully.
"I don't think there's enough paint thinner in the world
to help this mess." Peter scowled slightly at the floor.
"I am really sorry, Peter."
"It's my fault Steve. I could've sworn I locked the door."
Steve placed his hand on the knob. Looking puzzled, he
said, "That's odd, it acts like it's locked."
"Huh?" Peter knelt and checked the door frame. "This
is not good. Steve, look, someone's blocked the mechanism.
The knob will lock but not the door." He moved aside for the
other man.
Steve's face became grim. "I don't like this at all."
Peter simply nodded in agreement. Both men turned as Helen
returned to the scene of the calamity. They were quick to note
that she was carrying clean clothing.
"Thanks, Mom, you're a life saver."
"Thanks, Helen."
"You're welcome, boys. Peter, have you had supper yet?"
"No, ma'am."
"All right, you and Steven go clean-up and change, then
you go eat while Steven and I have a little chat. Then Steven
will help you get as much of this mess straight as you can tonight."
"Helen, I can manage this."
"Peter, my son cleans up his own mistakes. He's going
to help you. Aren't you darling?"
"Yes, Ma'am. Absolutely. No bones about it. We'll do
as much as possible tonight and tomorrow's my day off. I'll
come back early to help you finish and get the painting out of
the way."
"Fine. Now, boys, don't dawdle. Steven, we really must
talk." Helen turned and left.
"Steve, I really can manage alone."
"Are you out of your mind? In case you didn't notice,
Mom's a tad annoyed with me right now. I'm not risking a full
scale eruption."
"I thought there was frost in your direction." Peter smiled
at the young cop.
"Yeah, I promised to come here after work and forgot."
"Ooops."
"Yeah. Besides, I owe you big time for making sure Mom
gets home OK every night. You don't have to do that. "
"I don't mind. She's a terrific lady. Reminds me of ...."
Peter stopped suddenly.
Steve wisely ignored the other man's pause. Looking at
Peter thoughtfully for a moment, he asked "Peter, would you do
me a favor?"
"If I can."
"Would you check the other doors to see if any others
have been rigged like this one?"
"Consider it done."
"Thanks, lets go shower before Mom starts looking for
us."
"And after you and Helen talk, you'll tell me what's
bothering you about the shelter."
Steve stared at Peter for a moment. Realizing Peter had
not asked a question, Steve replied simply, "Consider it done."
****************************************
Kwai Chang Caine sat quietly in Peter's secret place.
He'd started going there two weeks after Peter vanished. In
this location, he found it possible to find some semblance of
peace. Caine had been unable to center himself anywhere else.
Peter's apartment carried too many physical reminders of his
only child. His own quarters were likewise filled, not with
tangible memories, but memories nonetheless. In the months
before he disappeared, Peter had gravitated toward Caine's
home, like a moth to a flame. His son seemed to have taken
a genuine pleasure in every new Kung Fu move that Caine had
introduced him to. Likewise, Peter had appeared to welcome
Caine's attempts to introduce him to new meditative techniques.
The hostage tragedy had shattered his son's soul as well
as his shoulder. "If, No! When," Caine thought firmly, "Peter
is found, the wounds may be too deep to ever be healed. Oh,
my son, I am so sorry. I should have known how much you
were suffering. I should have done more to help you." Sighing
in despair, the Shaolin climbed slowly to his feet. His clothing,
never tightly fitted, now flowed loosely around his thinning
frame as he walked toward Chinatown.
*****************************************
The next morning found Steve, Amanda and Katy at
the shelter at dawn. It'd been too late the night before to do
more than review what was needed. Peter had been unable
to catch Steve alone, and so had remained unsatisfied as to the
source of Steve's unease. Much to Peter's delight, Helen had
been forced home earlier than planned by her son's stubborn
insistence on driving her there. Peter had taken the unexpected
respite from his nightly walk and had gone to bed early himself.
Katy assumed the role of drill sergeant for the adults,
taking an unholy delight in pointing out spots that they'd
missed with the paint. Helen came to their rescue, dragging
the reluctant child away to help serve breakfast. Amanda,
knowing Steve wanted to talk to Peter alone, also volunteered
for breakfast duty.
"I owe you an apology, Peter. I should have talked to you
last night but, well,..."
"That's OK, Steve, I'm glad you got Helen to leave early."
"She needed the rest, and from what Mandy tells me, you
needed the reprieve from that walk. So, thank you again."
"OK, now tell me what's bothering you? What's wrong
and how does it affect Helen?"
Ignoring the question, Steve painted a few more strokes,
"Did you find any more rigged doors?"
"No, but there was one window that had been jimmied
recently. The wood hadn't had time to discolor yet." Peter
put his brush down on the paint can. "Steve, please let me
help."
"Mom has had two offers to buy this place in the last
couple of weeks. That's more than she's had in the last year."
"Buy? But..."
"I know, I know. Mom runs the place but she doesn't let
on that she actually owns the building. It came down through
the family. Great-grandfather ran it as a mission then added
the shelter part after the earthquake. He's actually buried in the
old chapel under the alter." He hesitated for a moment, "Peter,
what I'm going to tell you is really police business and I'm not
even the investigating officer. I'm homicide. The only reason
I was told is that the team needed to ask me some questions.
Please don't let what I tell you leave this room."
Peter studied the worried young detective's face for a
moment before replying, "You have my word, Steve, anything
you tell me, stays with me."
"Thanks, my friend. There's been an increase in the number
of muggings in this district. The odd thing is that the increase is
among the homeless that frequent this shelter. The latest victim
told the team that he was supposed to deliver a message to mom.
It was the single word, 'sell'. Peter, I'm afraid the violence will
escalate until someone gets killed, maybe even Mom."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 18 ↑
"Muggings?" Peter's inner alarm was deafening. "How
long has this been happening?"
"The numbers started increasing about a month ago.
They've been climbing ever since. Then there's that laundry
room incident that happened to you. Combine those with the
rigged door and window frame. Mix in two very nice but odd
offers to buy and one assault victim with a message to 'sell' and
it's damn clear that something bad is going down. To make
things even worse, I'm not even allowed to investigate any of
this. I'm just a homicide cop." Steve slammed his fist into the
wall in frustration, "Peter, I'm terrified that something's going
to happen to Mom."
"I'll do my what I can to keep an eye on her." Peter's
voice was grim.
"I appreciate that, Peter." Steve replied, "Taking care
of Mom's sorta become second nature to me. I've been doing
it since I was ten."
Peter's curiosity got the better of him, "Ten, why?"
Steve looked down at the floor, "That's when Dad died."
"I'm sorry, Steve, I..I didn't mean to pry."
"It's OK, Peter, it was a long time ago. Did you know
my Dad was a cop and so was my Grandfather? It's a family
thing, I guess. At any rate, Dad was killed in the line of duty.
The last thing he said to me the morning he died was, 'Steve,
take care of your mother.' I never saw him again. I, uh, I've
been looking out for her every since."
"She's really something special."
"Tell me about it."
The two men returned to painting in silence. Peter
finally decided to ask his friend the question that had been
bothering him since hearing of the assaults. "Steve, did your
mother tell you about the mugging we witnessed?"
"WHAT!"
Peter winced, "I apologize, Steve, Helen said she'd tell
the authorities, and I never thought any more about it. I did
think it odd that no one ever asked me for a description but..."
"You thought the local police just didn't care about some
homeless woman."
Peter nodded and felt his face burning with embarrassment.
"If Mom said she reported it then she did, she just didn't
think it necessary to tell me. As for caring, some of them don't,
Peter. Most do but they can't be everywhere."
"I know that. It's like that back home. The ones that
don't give a damn...." Peter went white and turned toward the
nearest can of paint.
Steve misread his friend's reaction, "I'm sorry if some
bad cop has given you a hard time, Peter. It only takes one to
give a precinct a bad name."
Peter nodded and struggled to regain control. Thoughts
of home had been plaguing him of late. The nightmares that
controlled his sleep, now mixed the dying children with images
of Annie and Caine. Oddly in his dreams neither Annie nor his
father were as he remembered them. His mom had lost her smile,
and his father appeared to have become somehow smaller in
stature. His parents' faces appeared repeatedly as nightmarish
visions pleading with him not to abandon them.
"Peter?" Placing a hand on the young man's shoulder,
Steve could feel the tremors running through the slender form.
Peter had regained some of his lost weight, but his frame still
looked as if the slightest breeze would blow him over. "Look,
I just want you to know that if you ever want to talk. I'll be
here to listen."
"S..Steve?" Both young men turned toward the shaken
voice.
"Mandy, sweetheart, what's wrong?"
Her voice trembled as she spoke, "Steve, Don't worry
about Katy, she hasn't seen anything."
"Baby, you're not making sense."
"JUST let me finish, please. I'm sorry, but... Steve,
there's a body in the alley, Helen sent me to get you while she
made sure no one touched anything."
*********************************************
Six hours later, the shelter was getting back to normal.
Yellow crime scene tape marked off the alley, bearing silent
witness to the tragedy that had occurred there.
Amanda had finally been allowed to take Katy home.
She'd been furious at first that Steve would not let her leave
with their daughter. Peter had done the only thing he could
in the situation, he listened to her rant. As Mandy finally
stopped long enough to catch her breath, Peter asked, "Feeling
better?"
She stared at him for a moment before replying sheepishly,
"Yes, thank you. Uh, all that was pretty dumb, wasn't it?"
"Oh, I think I'd call it motherly, not dumb. You're just
concerned about Katy."
Amanda Jones planted a kiss on Peter's cheek. "You
are a darling, you know that, don't you?" Not waiting for an
answer, she went on, "Well, I've felt sorry for myself long
enough, I'm going to see if Helen needs any help."
Peter watched her leave, thinking that Steve was a lucky
man.
************************************************
"Captain, I don't want to argue about this but this is my
investigation." Steve Jones was not quite screaming at his
commander as the coroner's wagon pulled away.
"Look, Steve, I know you're upset about this but this is
your mother's place."
"Are you saying I can't maintain perspective on this case?
Dammit, Captain, we don't even know who the deceased is. The
poor man may have been killed in the alley outside Mom's shelter
but he's not connected with the shelter. Mom didn't recognize
him and she knows everyone who's ever been here."
"OK, Detective, you have the case, but the minute I think
its become personal, I'm pulling you and putting Sweeney on it.
Clear?"
"Clear, and thanks Captain."
*************************************************
"The body was found WHERE?" Brad Jackson was livid.
"In the alley behind the Chinatown Shelter. I..I thought
you'd be pleased"
"Not hardly. The goal was subtle pressure, random muggings,
that sort of thing. The Jones woman would've buckled. Now the
press will be snooping around along with the homicide cops. Who
was he?"
"I'm sorry, sir, I just don't know. Just another homeless guy
heading for Chinatown Shelter. Funny thing is, he wasn't beaten
as badly as some of the others. He was supposed to take a 'sell or
else' message to the Jones woman."
"We may be able to use this to our advantage. Get the word
out on the streets that the stiff would be alive if he hadn't tried
to use the shelter. If we can't buy her out, we'll drive her customers
away, or kill them off, whatever works."
"Sir, why not just torch the building? Then she'd have no
reason not to sell."
Jackson's voice was tightly controlled, "Because of the
intense investigation an arson would cause. Kinda like a murder.
Besides, the building's over one hundred years old. There's a
huge market for the various moldings, doors, etc, that are in it.
And the old chapel has some of the most beautiful stained glass
I've ever seen. Arson won't be an option until the last possible
minute."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 19 ↑
Three months - three months of waiting and hoping.
Three months and still no word. Forty-eight hours after his
apartment was found empty, Peter Caine was officially declared
missing. Days turned into weeks, weeks into months, with no
break in the case. His family and friends all feared they would
never see the young man again.
Kwai Chang Caine entered the 101 st precinct, and
patiently took his place in the line at the front desk. This
had become a weekly ritual for him, another in a stream of
rituals concerning Peter which brought him little comfort,
and even less hope.
Sergeant Broderick glanced around the rotund woman
filling out a complaint at the desk and noticed Caine standing
there quietly waiting his turn. Broderick quickly buzzed
Kermit.
"What."
Broderick turned away from the front room before he
answered, "Caine's here.".
The phone slammed down and the door opened almost
simultaneously. Kermit moved toward the front desk. Kermit
took careful note of Caine's features as he walked forward.
"Damn,", he thought, "he's fading away. If we don't find Peter
soon, we're going to lose his father too."
"Caine, come with me," Kermit deftly pulled the priest
out of the waiting area and into his office, "Have a seat, can I
get you something, coffee, whatever?"
"Nothing, thank you, Kermit." Caine looked expectantly
at the former mercenary.
"I'm sorry, Caine, there's still nothing." He turned
away, not wanting to look at the older man's pain any longer.
"It's almost as if Peter never existed."
Caine rose, and laid a hand gently on Kermit's shoulder.
"Thank you my friend. Peter will return. I am sure of it." His
voice lowered and Kermit had to strain to hear the rest of the
Shaolin's statement, "He has to return." Head bowed, Caine
left the precinct, seeming somehow smaller in stature than
when he arrived.
Captain Simms had watched the scene play out from
the safety of her office. As Caine left, she walked slowly to
Kermit's cave.
"Kermit, we're doing the best we can."
"Are we? Three months ago there were three, no four
detectives assigned full time to Peter's disappearance. Now
I'm doing what I can, part-time. Is that what you call 'best'?
I sure as Hell don't!" Kermit turned to remove his sunglasses
and wipe his eyes. He sighed before turning around. "I'm
sorry, Karen, that wasn't fair of me."
She had stood motionless, arms crossed during his
tirade, "No, it wasn't. It also wasn't fair that the powers
that be decided to pull the plug on the investigation." She
nodded toward the departing Shaolin. "How's he holding
up?"
"He's not. Karen, if, God forbid, we either don't find
Peter or find him dead, then Caine will die. I'm sure of it. He
lost Peter once. I don't think he can live through that again."
"No, I suppose not." She turned to leave. "No one
should have to bury their child once, much less twice."
***********************************************
"DAMN!" Steve Jones tossed his pen onto his desk
in frustration.
"What's wrong, Steve?"
"The last local lead on that John Doe found behind
the Chinatown Shelter just went bad. Jimmy Henderson's
dental records don't match."
"Tough luck, partner."
"Yeah, thanks Suzy, I was so sure. Everything fit."
"What are you going to do now?"
"Much as I hate to, I'll have to go to the national files.
Those searches can take forever." He looked hopefully at the
young woman.
"Nope, sorry, my own caseload is on overload. You're
on your own."
Steve eyed his phone with distaste. Reaching for the
handset, he said, "Well, I guess I better get started."
***********************************************
"I do not believe they'd do this. On second thought,
what the hell do they know about service and loyalty. They're
politicians."
"Kermit, calm down. Commissioner Kincaid is working
on it for us. Peter should have reported for work three days ago."
"But to FIRE him. Dammit, K..Captain!"
"It's called job abandonment, Kermit. It's written into
the city hiring rules. Miss work without calling in for three
days and your employment is terminated. The Commissioner
believes he can get the rule waved since there's a missing persons
report out on Peter, but he'll have to be on leave without pay."
"Great, just great." Kermit's voice had calmed somewhat.
"I should probably ask Caine this, but do you have any
idea how Peter's finances are? I mean does he need some help?"
Kermit looked slightly embarrassed, "Actually, Captain,
with Paul gone, I'm the one you should ask. I've got power of
attorney for Peter if he's incapacitated. As to monetary help,
no, he doesn't need it right now."
Karen Simms looked relieved, "That's good. I'd hate
to find him and have to tell him he's homeless."
"Peter homeless?" Kermit snorted with laughter, "That'll
be the day." His laughter suddenly died as he remembered that
they still had no clues to Peter's whereabouts and as time passed,
none were likely to appear.
***********************************************
Steve Jones' fears of increased violence had proven to
be a prediction. In the month since the unidentified body had
been found, the muggings and general crime rate around the
Chinatown Shelter had increased dramatically. As the violence
grew, shelter usage diminished.
Peter's nightmares had now expanded to include visions
of victims, past, present and future. Many times he'd been able
to stop a mugging in process, or by his mere presence, prevent
it altogether. For past victims, he persuaded many to file a police
report, thereby increasing the number of reported crimes, as well
as the amount of attention paid to them.
Helen watched her young friend with growing concern.
His physical condition was almost back to normal. Dr. Li had
kept track of his patient's shoulder injury and was well pleased
with its progress. The weight he'd regained had eliminated the
drawn features from his face, but the haunted look that had faded
from Peter's eyes over the past months had returned two-fold.
Helen was uncertain what had evoked the fear. She only knew
that it was real, and powerful.
***********************************************
Two hours of searching the first batch of missing persons
reports had turned up nothing. Steve Jones stood and was about
to call it a day when Sergeant Perry tossed another stack on his
desk.
"What the hell are these?"
"Those, Detective, are the repeats."
"The repeats? What is a 'repeat'?"
"A repeat is a missing persons report that gets resent
on a regular basis, daily, weekly, whatever. And you owe me."
"What the heck for now?"
"Most repeats are unfortunately, kids. Your John Doe
is not a kid, so I had 'em pull only the adult males for your
viewing pleasure."
"Thanks, Sergeant."
The older man nodded and walked away leaving Steve
absently flipping through the latest faxes. He was halfway down
the stack on his first pass, when he froze. Sitting down, he backed
through the pictures until he found one he'd not paid any attention
to earlier. Staring back at him from the paper was the smiling
face of his mother's pet project.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 20 ↑
Steve sat motionless in his chair for several minutes.
His head swam with the limited knowledge the photograph had
presented. 'Peter' was actually Peter Caine, a cop, missing for
three months. Steve knew that two of the months had been
spent as a 'guest' in his mother's care. He stared at the fax
and the phone. Lifting the hand-set, he dialed.
"Mom. I've got news about Peter. He's a cop who's
been missing for three months. I'm going to call his precinct...
What? ... Well, yes, I can get information on him without
calling his precinct first....No, it shouldn't take long. I'll do
it first th....You're coming where?...Mom?...Mom??" Dead air
now met his ears. "Dammit, Mother." Sighing in defeat, he
re-booted his PC and began the process of discreetly inquiring
about Peter Caine, missing cop.
***********************************************
Kermit's PC at the 101 st began flashing a red warning
light. Someone, somewhere had taken an interest in Peter
Caine, missing person. Unfortunately, since the night shift at
the 101 st never dared enter Griffin's private domain, the
details on the inquiry would be ignored for a yet a little longer.
***********************************************
The basic facts on Peter Caine's career had printed well
over five pages before Steve had canceled the print and submitted
a new search with greatly narrowed search criteria. Turning
back to the phone, he said, "I'm sorry, Mandy. I know I missed
dinner, again. But Mom's on her way up here. You know she
doesn't respond well to 'no'. I'll tell her the public details, then
she'll be happy and maybe I can get home in time to get some
sleep. I know it's nearly ten." Glancing up, he said, "Let me
go. Mom's here. I love you."
"Hi, Mom. Couldn't this have waited until morning?"
"No. If my instincts are right, then no, it can't wait at
all."
"OK, OK, I surrender. Here's the first part of what I
printed. Let's see what it says." Steve's eyes widened as he
read the list of certificates, medals, and other honors that his
troubled friend had earned over the years. He looked at Helen
in confusion, "Mom, this doesn't make any sense. Peter's an
outstanding cop, if all this is true, and there's no reason for it
not to be. He's handled all sorts of really bad situations over
the years. What the hell happened?"
"I don't know. Steve, have you got anything yet from
just before we found him or should I say, he found us?"
"Actually, Mom, he'd been missing for a month then.
I put a four to eight month time frame in the search and it just
finished." Steve turned to his PC and pulled the information
up. He routed it to his printer then started to page through the
document on his screen. He froze when he found it.
"Steve? Honey, what is it?"
Steve Jones's face was completely drained of color as he
turned toward Helen. "Oh, God, Mom, I found it. Oh, Peter."
"Steven, son, you're scaring me." Helen was shocked by
her son's pale features.
"I'm sorry, Mom." Steve then told his mother the details
of the tragedy that preceded Peter Caine's disappearance.
***********************************************
Mary Margaret Skalany was the first detective to arrive
at the 101 st. She made a beeline for the coffeepot, and filled
her mug. The high pitched whine coming from Kermit's office,
caused her to shut his door. "Damned if I'M messing with his
PC. Let someone else die young."
Jody arrived a few moments later, verbally sparring with
T.J. "I'm telling you T.J., women are always better investigators.
It's a proven fact."
"Right, where are your facts?" T.J. asked.
Jody turned to Mary Margaret, "Skalany, help me here,
you're the one who found the article." Mary Margaret moved
to their side of the room to join the fray.
Strenlich stomped into the precinct, shaking rain off of
his umbrella. "Damn, it's bad out there. Glad you young folks
have to keep the streets safe." Noticing Kermit's door was shut,
Strenlich asked, "Is Griffin here yet?"
"Not yet, Chief, I closed his door." Mary Margaret called
from across the room.
A ringing telephone by his hand, prevented Strenlich
from asking why. He soon hung up the phone he'd been yelling
at, then glared at the closed door. "Griffin's never late."
"Unless he's not going to be here, Chief."
"What, Captain?"
"He's got jury duty this week, Chief."
"Damn," Strenlich grinned, "How could I forget that, the
idea of those sunglasses intimidating housewives almost caused
a riot the day he got his notice." Strenlich walked away chuckling
to himself. Kermit's PC continued to beep a request for input.
***********************************************
"Mom! You can't ask me to sit on this. Peter's officially
missing. He's got family and friends worried sick. For heaven's
sake, Mom, he's a missing cop!"
"Steven Michael Jones, you listen to me. Peter was
badly injured by the hostage event you've just described."
"I know that Mom, his shoulder..."
"Do not interrupt your mother. As I was saying, Peter
was hurt and I mean in more ways than physical. I've known
all along that something had traumatized that young man. If
you report this, his family, and probably someone he works with,
is going to come after him. He's got to contact them on his own
if he's going to heal from this. Give me some time to work on
him."
"I'm sorry, Mom, but I've broken enough rules just
telling you about Peter that ..."
"How would you feel if it had been Katy?"
"That's different, she's my daughter."
"Oh, so because the dead girl wasn't related to Peter,
he's got no reason to grieve? No hate and despair to resolve?"
"That's not what I meant."
"It's what you said."
Steve looked at his mother, "OK, Mom, when you're
right, you're right. I can sit on this for twenty-four hours, no
more."
"Thank you, sweetheart. I'd better get home. There's
not much sleeping time left tonight."
Steve rose and kissed his mother. "I love you, Mom."
"I love you, too, sweetheart."
"Come on. I'll take you home now. Do me a favor and
sleep late? Martha can handle breakfast without you."
"Any other time and I might do just that. I'll get as
much rest as possible, then head to the shelter. "
As Helen Jones walked out the door with her son, her
thoughts turned to the young man she'd come to care for very
much. "OK, Peter Caine, we must talk."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 21 ↑
"Sequestered? Detective Griffin's sequestered?" Karen
suppressed an urge to laugh as she took the news from the court
bailiff. "Do you have any idea how long...I see. Well, tell him
we'll try to, uh, never mind. Just tell him not to be too hard on
his fellow jurors." As she hung up the phone, she found she
could no longer contain the laugher.
********************************************
Helen sat miserably in her office. She'd gotten very
little sleep herself and suspected that Steve had gotten even less.
Normally not one to suffer nightmares, her dreams had been
unsettling, to say the least. Images of Peter and a faceless
dead child had robbed her of the rest she craved. She smiled
grimly to herself as she realized that however bad her dreams
had been, Peter's would be much worse. She'd known from the
beginning that he had nightmares. He'd shown almost the same
signs that Steve had as a child when his father had been killed.
She also knew they'd gotten worse. Brandon had confided this
to her after one particularly bad night. Thinking back she was
horrified to realize that it was the night the John Doe had been
found in the alley next to the shelter. She mentally kicked herself
for not attempting to discuss the dreams sooner.
Helen had tried to get Peter to open up on many occasions.
What she now realized to be perceived guilt on his part, had
thwarted her efforts. She wondered if she'd made a mistake in
not asking Steve to run a check on Peter from the start.
"OK, Helen, now that you're through with your own
self-recrimination, figure out what you're going to say to Peter."
She was interrupted in her mental gyrations by the ringing
telephone. Glancing at her watch she realized it was not yet
seven. "Who the heck, maybe Steve?"
"Chinatown Shelter, how may I help you?"
"Mrs. Jones?"
"Speaking."
"You will sign the papers for the sell of the Shelter by
the end of the day."
"Look, as I've told numerous people, this shelter is not
for sell. That is final."
"Oh, I think you'll change your mind. We'll call back
in three hours."
"Don't bother. Nothing you could say will change my
mind."
"Oh, I rather think you will."
Helen didn't bother to respond. She slammed the phone
down as hard as she could. She was still angry when she went
to look for Peter.
*****************************************
"Brandon, I've been meaning to thank you. My shoulder
feels so much better than it did. My mobility has increased and
I'm no longer dropping things like I used to. I think I'm about
back to normal." Peter slipped his shirt off as he spoke.
"Not quite, my friend, but you're getting there. A..and
I need to thank you."
"For what?"
"I've applied for reinstatement of my license. Steve Jones
sponsored my application. Helen would have but Steve said it
would look better if he did it."
"That's terrific. When will you know?"
"In about six weeks."
****************************************
Helen had calmed considerably by the time she located
Peter. She poked her head into the infirmary calling, "Everybody
decent?"
"Yeah, Doc. Come on in."
"Morning Brandon. Peter, when you're through here,
could I see you in my office, please?"
"Yes ma'am, I'll be there soon."
"Thank you." She left quickly before either man could
ask any questions.
Forty minutes later, Brandon put the finishing touches
on Peter's daily therapy and told him to get dressed. Peter
finished buttoning his shirt just as Brandon tossed a small
laundry bag at him. Laughing at his friend's expression,
Brandon said, "When you're through in Helen's office, drop
this in the laundry room, uh, please."
"No problem. Anything for a friend."
Brandon tossed a towel at him as he fled the infirmary.
*****************************************
Mary Margaret was the first to hear the news of Kermit's
jury status. She lost no time in spreading her knowledge among
her fellow officers.
"Kermit's where?" Jody face revealed her astonishment
when she heard the news. "I pity the other jurors."
Catching site of Kermit's still closed door, Skalany briefly
considered mentioning the beeping PC in his office, but Thomas
Jefferson had just arrived and the juror story had to be spread.
*****************************************
"You wanted to see me, Helen?" Peter slid quietly into
her office, nervously clutching the laundry bag under one arm.
"Sit down, please, Peter." She waited until he was seated,
then moved a chair as close as possible to him. Positioning herself
just in front of him, she forced eye contact. "Peter, we've got to
talk."
The nearness of her body unsettled the young man. He
tried to draw back but he couldn't stand without running over
the older woman. Dropping his eyes, Peter stammered,
"A..about what, H..Helen?"
"Your nightmares."
"W..what nightmares?"
"Peter, we've had the lying conversation before. I prefer
not to have it again."
"Yes, ma'am."
"It's been obvious since you got here that something very
bad had happened to you. You were underweight by at least
twenty pounds, withdrawn, guilt-ridden. Since your arrival,
you've relaxed, become more outgoing, which I suspect is your
real personality, and have been a major asset to this shelter. I
know you have a mother whom you refuse to contact but obviously
care deeply about." Peter's body stiffened at this statement.
Helen smiled, and touched his hand, "Son, it's not psychic
powers on my part. You think you're protecting her by running
from her." Peter slowly withdraw from her touch.
She moved her hand back to her lap and continued, "Peter,
I've known about the nightmares for quite some time. They were
bad when you first arrived, faded out for a while, now they're
back. I suspect worse than ever. You need to talk about your
problems, Peter. Don't let them eat you alive. I'm your friend,
Brandon's your friend. So are Steve and Amanda. If you don't
want to talk to me, talk to one of them. They'll all listen, anytime."
Unwilling to hear anymore, Peter shoved upwards, past
Helen and made a beeline for the door. From behind him a soft
voice said sadly, "It's time to come clean, son. You can't run
from dead children forever, Peter Caine."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 22 ↑
The laundry bag was welded into Peter's arms. He
could not free himself from it. It suddenly took on a life of
it's own as it changed in his mind from laundry bag to child.
He clutched it desperately to his chest. Moaning, he sank to
his knees. Horrified, Helen could only watch helplessly as
Peter cradled the bag to his chest and began to rock gently
back and forth. His mouth moved, but no sound came out.
Helen stood and slowly moved toward the stricken
young man. "Peter?"
So intent was she on reaching Peter that she failed
to notice the opening of the door. As she reached a hand
toward the ashen faced man, a strong voice said, "Don't!
Don't touch him."
Glancing up quickly, she said in surprise, "Brandon?
What?"
'I've heard the nightmares, Doc. I know the story. At
least the important parts. Let me try."
She nodded her consent and Brandon knelt beside the
distraught figure.
"Peter?"
"P...Pop?" His pain was evident even in that one word.
"No, Peter. It's Brandon."
"B..Brandon?"
"Yes. Tell me what you see." Brandon kept his voice
gentle, but firm.
"She's...she's just a baby. God, Brandon, she's so..so
scared."
"Is that really what you see?"
"She's so little, so fragile. I failed her, Father, I'm so
sorry. I didn't try hard enough." In that instant, Brandon's
face had been replaced with Caine's.
"Peter, look at me, my friend. This is Brandon. I'm asking
you again. Is that really what you see?"
"I...I" Peter looked around confused, "Helen? Brandon?
I..I'm on the floor?" He began to relax his hold on the bag.
Helen moved closer, "Yes, Peter."
"God, it was happening again. I saw it all again. Oh,
please, I don't w..want to see it. Make it s..stop. Mom? Pop?
Please, please make it stop." Trembling violently, Peter buried
his face in the bag for a moment. When he finally looked up,
he was torn between past and present.. His knuckles fisted white
on the laundry bag as the images assaulted his senses. "She
is...was so s..s..ss..scared! I can't...couldn't save her. Too late.
Always too late."
"NO! It's long past, Peter. It's in the past. You can't
change what happened to that child anymore than I can change
what happened to Debbie and Ryan. They were killed by a drunk
driver. She was killed by a madman. We, you and I, are not to
blame for their deaths. The man who drove the car, the man who
pulled the trigger, these are the ones responsible for their pain,
for our pain, not us."
Peter vehemently shook his head, "NO, I failed her. She
trusted me to save her and I screwed up. A talker could have
saved her."
Uncertain as to what a 'talker' might be, Brandon looked
helplessly at Helen.
Responding to his silent plea for assistance, Helen asked,
"Peter, did the man speak to you at all?"
"Y...Yes."
"Did he let you take the child?"
A silent nod answered that question.
"Could a talker have done more than that?"
"N...No, but..."
"Peter." Brandon tried to draw his friend's attention.
"He wouldn't have shot if..."
Helen interrupted this time, "Yes, Peter, he would."
Brandon quickly seconded Helen's opinion.
Peter scrambled to his feet and slowly backed away from
them across the office. Colliding with Helen's tattered sofa, he
collapsed into its cushions. His stranglehold on the laundry bag
began to relax. He looked from Helen to Brandon then back to
Helen again, "H...He would have fired no matter what, wouldn't
he?" Peter gazed desperately at his friends for corroboration.
Finding both the truth as well as compassion in their eyes, he
began to sob.
Helen Jones slipped to the sofa beside the weeping figure.
Wrapping her arms around him, she held him tightly as he
finally released his long pent-up grief, and anger.
****************************************
Helen's maternal instincts had proven correct. Neither
Steve nor Amanda had gotten much sleep. Amanda had met
her husband at the door fully intending to discuss his hours.
His overwrought appearance totally changed the inflection in
her voice as she asked the question she'd been practicing all
night, "What on earth happened?"
Steve silently drew her into a desperate embrace. Releasing
her, he moved swiftly into their home, followed by his puzzled,
and concerned, wife. Steve tip-toed softly into Katy's bedroom.
The child looked like a cherub in her pale pink nightgown. Her
bed overflowed with stuffed animals, and her 'little people'
blanket lay crumbled in a heap on the floor. While Mandy
watched patiently from the doorway, Steve knelt silently beside
his child and bowed his head in prayer. He stayed next to her
for a moment before gently kissing her forehead. He rose, picking
up the fallen blanket as he stood. Steve spread the 'little people'
blanket over his daughter, taking great care to position them so
that the 'blood would not rush to their heads' as Katy put it.
He gently stroked his daughter's hair, then turned and left the
room, grasping Mandy's hand as he did so. Guiding his wife
to their bedroom, Steve collapsed into the over-stuffed chair
that dominated their room. Drawing her into his lap, Steve
began to tell her what he and his mother had discovered about
their friend. Much of the night was spent deep in conversation.
********************************************
Peter Caine had finally cried himself dry. The exhaustion
that plagued his spirit, pulled him into a deep sleep. Helen gently
relaxed her hold on her young friend, allowing him to slide into
a reclining position on the sofa. Brandon slipped a small pillow
under Peter's head, while Helen covered him with an afghan.
Helen made sure she disconnected her desk phone as she and
Brandon quietly left Peter to sleep as long as possible.
********************************************
The lake was very still. Not even a bird was in flight.
The heat of the sun beat down on the solitary figure on the
shore. Huddled on the shore, Caine watched the water. Kelly
Blaisdell would return soon from school and he would then be
free to leave in search of his only child.
Hundreds of miles away, isolated from those who loved
him the most, Peter collapsed in desolate anguish. Simultaneously,
Kwai Chang Caine felt a grief so all-consuming he had no choice
but to weep himself. For a moment, Caine saw a dingy, ill-lit
room and a sad faced woman with graying hair. A younger man
was outlined but not entirely visible. Caine's tears continued
unabated as the grief faded and he realized that for the first
time in months, he had a tenuous connection with his only child.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 23 ↑
"Still no answer?"
"No."
"You're certain she knew you would call back later?"
"Yes, sir. I was quite emphatic but so was she - she
said she didn't care."
"Shit. I wanted to give her one last chance to sell." Brad
Jackson stared at the model of the elaborate complex he planned
for the Chinatown property. "Damn, it's a shame about the
moldings and stained glass. Oh, well, Maybe we can avoid too
much damage to them. Plan on making the warning call about
thirty minutes before the bomb's set to go off. If the bomb squad
gets it disarmed, fine. Otherwise, part of the shelter goes. Either
way the Jones woman gets the hint."
"Yes, sir. We'll set it to go off at eight tonight..."
"Tonight! No, that's much too late. Too many people
using the shelter at that time. I don't want anyone killed in
the explosion if we can avoid it."
"But sir, the homeless man..."
"The police still don't think the shelter and the dead
man are connected, except for Detective Steve Jones and he's got
no proof. If the bomb kills someone, then the connection is made
and the search intensifies the killer. No, it's better this way.
Besides, the two Mrs. Jones' and the Jones kid will be there
this afternoon. Grandma will know just how much she had to
lose by ignoring such a generous offer for the property."
*********************************************
"Mom, are you all right?" Steve's voice betrayed his
concern as he arrived at the shelter with Mandy and Katy.
"Yes, baby, I'm fine. I..I just finished...uh.."
"It's OK, Helen, Steve told me everything. How is he?"
"Sleeping, now. Katy, would you like some of Martha's
pancakes?"
"OH, yes, please."
"Well, head for the kitchen." Katy took off at her usual
fast pace.
"OK, Mom, now that she's safely out of earshot, tell us.
Is Peter OK?" Steve and Mandy watched her face closely.
"I really don't know, son. It was bad, worse than I ever
could have imagined. That boy's been through hell. Thank
goodness Brandon was here. I think between the two of us
that we may have gotten through to Peter a little bit. Bless
his heart, he kept talking about having failed that child. Why
would he think that?"
Steve face showed his anger, "Mom, I couldn't sleep so I
logged on to the Internet and did a search on newspaper articles
about that hostage mess. One, RAG," his tone was scathing,
"published a photo of Peter holding the child. They'd blocked
the child's features but it was apparently open season on cops.
The article was pure crap also. Basically called him a murderer."
Steve shook his head in disgust, "He's in the hospital, badly injured
trying to save that child, and those bastards are saying he botched
the rescue."
For once, Helen did not correct her son's choice of words,
"If he saw that paper, then that explains at least part of his reaction.
He's obviously guilt-ridden about the whole thing. What about his family?"
"The records are a little confusing. They say his father's
name is Kwai Chang Caine. He's a Shaolin priest in Chinatown."
"What about his mother?" Helen remembered Peter had
said she was blind.
"Here's were it gets weird. His biological mother died
when he was about two but he's got a blind foster mother named
Annie."
"They had to mean step-mother."
"Nope, definitely said foster mother."
"I wonder ...." Helen didn't complete her thought.
Mandy put her hand on Helen's arm, "Helen, are you OK?"
"Yes, I'm fine. Just tired. I unplugged the phone in the
office so he can sleep. I don't think he's had a good night's
sleep in months."
Steve glanced at this watch then hugged Helen, "I've got
to go to work. Mom, please call me when he wakes up, I've got to
talk to him about his missing status. Come on Mandy, I'll give
you a ride to the clinic."
"Helen, I'll be back after lunch. Keep Katy out of Peter's
hair." Mandy kissed her mother-in-law and followed Steve out
of the shelter.
***************************************
The window to the basement laundry room opened
slowly and a slender figure slipped in. Reaching up, he took
the box from his companion. Over-reaching he almost dropped
it.
"CAREFUL, you moron, you almost got us killed."
"Oh, shut up, we're still here aren't we? Now where's
the best place to put this?"
"Somewhere low, where it's less likely to be found."
***************************************
Katy had finished her late breakfast and was helping
Martha with the dishes when Helen got to the kitchen.
"Grandma, where's Mr. Peter? He usually helps me
do these."
He's asleep on my sofa, sweetie. Please don't wake him
up."
"OK, but why's he sleeping? Is he sick?"
Helen decided a half truth might be all right, "Yes, baby,
he wasn't feeling well this morning so I had him lie down in
my office."
"Oh.... Grandma, I'm bored, what can I do?"
"Well, how about watching TV for a while. Then when
it's lunch time, you can take Mr. Peter his meal, if he's awake."
"There's nothing on."
"I have some new tapes."
"With animals?"
"Yes, now go watch."
"Yes, ma'am."
*****************************************
Two hours later a bored seven year old wandered the
halls of the shelter. Her footsteps led her to Helen's office.
Katy paused only a moment before slipping quietly into the
room.
For once Peter slept without dreaming. The tears he'd
shed earlier had burst a small hole in the dam he'd placed in
front of his emotions and released some of the overwhelming
pressure he placed upon himself. His exhaustion was so deep,
that he never heard the child approach.
Katy stared at her sleeping friend. Disappointed that
he showed no signs of waking, she let her eyes wander around
the room. She picked up the laundry bag and looked inside.
"Dumb old dirty clothes." Tears filled her eyes as she realized
that everything was going to be boring today. She dragged
the laundry bag behind her as she headed toward the door.
She suddenly tossed the bag into the air and stifled a giggle.
There was always something to do in the basement.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 24 ↑
His vision clouded by thick smoke, Peter Caine fumbled
his way toward the center of the building. The acrid stench of
the burning plaster made him extremely nauseous. He dropped to
all fours in a vain attempt to find breathable air. Instinct urged
him to flee while he still had time but he could not. He had to go
forward, toward the center of the inferno. Somewhere, lost among
the smoke, huddled a sobbing, choking child whose screams for Mommy
and Daddy had long since died. Peter's every move appeared to him
to be in slow-motion. His breathing became increasingly labored
and he was finding it harder to focus on his goal. Through the haze,
he finally spotted the motionless, silent little girl. As his
consciousness faded, the only thought in his mind was that once
again he had failed.
Helen quietly opened the door to her office. Peter was
still sleeping. As she watched, however, she realized that the
young man was trapped in the throes of another nightmare. Soon
his movements and cries became too much for her to bear. Intending
to awaken him, she moved quickly toward the distressed man. Suddenly
Peter screamed and bolted upright on the dilapidated old sofa.
"Easy, Peter, it's just a dream. It's over. Wake up,
son." Helen kept her voice soothing but refrained from actually
touching him. His body shivered in reaction to the dream. Helen
carefully reached around him and draped the afghan over his shoulders.
"Peter, it's all right. It's over. Talk to me, please."
Peter looked around the room in a daze. Images from the
hostage tragedy merged with images from his dream. In his mind's
eye, Katy Jones was now the little girl dying in his arms. Frantic,
he started to rise. "W..Where's Katy?"
Helen barely managed to keep him on the sofa, "She's in the
main room, watching television. Peter, what's wrong? What was this
dream about?"
"I'm not...not really sure. It was all mixed up. I've never
had this one before." He sighed and attempted to make light of the
situation, "That's all I need, another nightmare to add to the
collection."
"That's enough, Peter Caine. Don't even think of trying
to charm your way out of talking about this."
Blushing, Peter replied, "I'm not trying to evade the issue."
Catching Helen's disbelieving look, he quickly added, "at least, not
this time. This really was a new dream and it really was very confused.
Katy was in it and there was lot's of smoke but I'm not sure what else
was going on."
Helen knew instinctively that Peter had not told her everything
but chose to ignore it. He'd confided so much to her in the last few
hours that a few secrets wouldn't hurt. Besides, she wasn't going to
let him keep them secret very long. She noticed that his breathing was
now back to normal and the tremors that had rocked his body were also
gone.
Watching her study him caused him to blush again,
"H..how long have I been sleeping?'
"Several hours. It's after one."
Peter jumped to his feet, "OH! I'm sorry. I was supposed to..'
"Sit down, Peter."
"But I've got...."
"To do as you're told. SIT!"
"Yes Ma'am." Peter reluctantly repositioned himself on the
sofa.
Helen took a deep breath. "We need to continue our talk
from this morning..." She held up her hand to forestall his interruption.
"OK. Steve found your photo in a missing persons report late last night.
Steve, Amanda and I all know about the hostages from the police reports
and newspaper clippings from that period." Peter's face lost all color
at the mention of 'newspaper'. Helen pretended not to notice and went
on, "Brandon knows some of it from your nightmares." Peter started to
push himself off the couch again. The older woman's compassionate
touch held him rooted in place.
"No, Peter. No more running. You made a good beginning
this morning with Brandon and me. However, you need your family
and your friends from home. Steve tells me that your photo is one
of those resent weekly to every major police department in the
country. You must be very loved back home."
"NO. There's no way they could still....not after what....
it was all...OH, DAMN!"
"Having trouble justifying your guilt, are you? Well,
you should be. Peter, you have nothing to be ashamed of. There
is absolutely NO reason for the guilt. You did the best you could
in a situation that was doomed from the start. YOU were as much
a victim as those who died. Now here's what you're going to do.
There is the phone. You are going to call your parents. You are
going to apologize for scaring the daylights out of them and tell
them that you will be coming home soon." Helen was in her very
best 'teacher to naughty student' voice.
"Pop doesn't have a phone."
"Fine, what about your mother?"
"M..Mom has a phone, but it's long distance."
"And this is important exactly how? Young man, I am
going to the kitchen to make sure Martha saved you some lunch.
YOU are not to leave this office until you have called your mother.
Clear?"
"Helen, I really..."
"PETER. Are you clear on what your instructions are?"
"Yes, ma'am." His voice was almost a whisper.
Picking up the phone from the desk, she carefully positioned
it in front of the young man. "Here's the phone. I doubt that you've
forgotten the number. Now DIAL!".
Helen stood and walked quickly from the office, glancing
back only long enough to see Peter reach for the phone.
Peter's hand sat motionless on the hand-set for an eternity.
Finally gathering his courage, he lifted the instrument and dialed the
familiar number.
"Mom?... Don't... Mom, I'm sorry...Don't cry... Yes Ma'am,
I'm fine...Mom, please..."
Outside the office, Helen Jones leaned against the door,
tears of relief streaming down her face.
*************************************************
Katy carefully maneuvered the basement stairs, dragging
the laundry bag behind her. Boredom had overridden the injunction
against playing in the basement. Grown-ups, in Katy's seven year
old opinion, really ought to trying doing some of the things they
kept telling kids not to do. There were all sorts of neat stuff to
find downstairs. Storage boxes were everywhere and some of them, she
knew, sometimes had old toys in them.
She reached the bottom of the stairs, and hesitated slightly,
"Daddy's gonna be mad." Katy briefly considered returning to the 0
television, then her stubborn streak took hold. After all, she wasn't
a baby anymore. Mommy and Daddy would just have to understand.
Picking up the small laundry bag which had served as the catalyst for
the sudden surge of disobedience in the child, she bounced off toward
the laundry room.
Behind the double doors, a nondescript box sat innocently
beside the laundry detergent. Its looks belied its contents as the
timer inside counted down the minutes that the shelter had left.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 25 ↑
Peter Caine sat staring at the phone on the table. He'd
spent endlessly long minutes speaking with Annie, most of it
begging her not to cry. Way before the end of the conversation,
Peter had also been reduced to tears. For her part, Annie
Blaisdell was alternately sorrowful, joyful and infuriated. Each
emotion cycled multiple times during the dialogue, utterly
exhausting the participants. Peter had refused to disclose his
whereabouts but had promised to call back soon. He'd also managed
to wring a promise from Annie to tell no one but his father about
their conversation. Sensing the tension in his voice, she'd
reluctantly agreed. She was terrified that a mistake on her part,
would send the young man she'd raised since adolescence into hiding
forever.
A gentle knock on the door was followed immediately by Helen
Jones. She carefully balanced a very old TV tray in one hand. The
other she used to manipulate the door. Shutting the door behind
her, she placed the tray of food on the table in front of Peter.
He stared unseeing at what was in front of him. Helen reached out
and touched his arm.
"Peter? Talk to me, son."
He shook his head to clear his thoughts, then wiped his eyes
with the back of his hands. Swallowing his sobs, he hesitantly
said, with a trace of amazement in his voice, "Mom still loves
me, Helen, she wants me to come home."
"Of course she does, baby, how could you ever think otherwise?"
Peter winced at the slight reprimand in her tone, "I don't know.
Mom always sees everything. I mean, not really, she's blind, you
know. But she always manages to know what's happening. I thought
she'd know how badly I messed up a..and wouldn't want me anymore.
Why would she want a failure for a son?" The self-condemnation in
his voice brought tears to the eyes of the older woman. Before she
could speak, however, Peter went on, "No. That's not right, Mom
doesn't care what I am. Neither does Pop. I..I..I wish I could talk
to Pop." The self-condemnation had turned in a matter of seconds
to a wistful tone that reminded Helen of Steve as a young boy.
"Perhaps," she thought, "That's why I like Peter so much. He is
so very much like Steve."
"I understand, Peter. But even if you don't get him on the
phone, you'll be going home soon and can see him then." Her voice
faded as he vehemently shook his head.
"NO. I can't go home yet." He was emphatic in his refusal.
"Why not?" Helen was puzzled and concerned.
Turning confused eyes toward his friend, Peter replied, "I..I
don't know."
************************************************************
Annie shakily poured the boiling water over a tea bag. Sinking
into the nearest kitchen chair, she sat aimlessly stirring her tea.
Peter was alive. His voice had sounded shaky and he'd cried much
more easily than before but he was alive. She still didn't know
where he was or when he might come home but he was alive. "Oh,
God, Caine. I've got to find Caine." Rising she fumbled with the
phone and pressed the speed-dial number for the cab company nearest
her home.
************************************************************
Amanda Jones paused outside of her mother-in-law's office.
Hearing pieces of a conversation in the office, she called, "Helen,
may I come in?"
Glancing at Peter, who nodded his consent, Helen called,
"Certainly, dear."
Mandy opened the door and glanced quickly around the office.
Puzzled she asked, "Helen, Katy's not in here with you?"
"No, the little imp is in the main room watching tapes on
TV."
Mandy quickly shook her head, "No, Helen. She's not in there.
I just came through and no one in the main room has seen her in over
an hour. I..I was hoping she was in here."
"Don't worry, Mandy, she's probably down the hall. I'll go
check." Peter's words were calm but his gut was telling him to
panic.
"Yes, Mandy. I'm sure she's in the building. She knows
better than to leave the building without an adult. Peter and
I will search the back of the shelter. You go to the kitchen and
see if Martha's seen her."
Instinctively knowing that something was not right, Mandy
nonetheless did as Helen suggested. There was little else she
could do at the moment.
As Peter and Helen rushed down the corridor toward the back
of the shelter, Helen muttered, "The only problem with searching
this place is that there are so many nooks and crannies, not to
mention twists and turns. She could be anywhere."
"Helen, are you sure she wouldn't go outside?" Peter didn't
even want to contemplate a seven-year old alone on San Francisco's
streets.
"Oh, yes." There was no uncertainty in Helen's tone, "She
wandered outside about two years ago. She didn't get very far
before Steve found her but the lecture he gave her on why she was
not to leave the building was emphasized by her first, and only,
spanking. It about killed Steve to spank her, but he felt it was
the only way to get the point across."
Peter smiled, "I bet it did, but he was right. OK, well, she's
got to be in the building then. Where do we look first?"
"I'll check the infirmary area, you check the storage rooms."
"What about the basement?"
"No, that's the last place she'll be. Steve forbade her to play
down there about six months ago. She very rarely disobeys Mandy or me
and since the spanking, never disobeys Steve. Occasionally, we have
homeless people sneak into the basement through the windows rather
than come into the main room. I don't mind but Steve feels that if
they have a reason to sneak around, then the children in the shelter
should not be around them. He's probably right."
*************************************************
"71 st Precinct, Jones."
"STEVE, you've got to come to the shelter, now." Amanda's
voice was closer to hysteria than he'd ever heard it.
"Mandy, what's wrong? I..." The thought was never completed
as the next words froze his heart.
"Katy's gone, Steve, We've been looking for over an hour. I
can't find her anywhere. Please, please come now!"
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 26 ↑
The cab driver deposited Annie Blaisdell in front of Kwai
Chang Caine's brownstone. She wisely withheld both payment and
tip until she was safely inside the ground floor of Caine's
building. Once she was certain she had her bearings, she paid
the man and listened as his footsteps hastened away. Bracing
herself, she felt for the stairs. Annie had not been to Caine's
abode since Paul had said good-bye to Peter. There were too
many uncomfortable memories about that moment in time. Being
back, with Peter now gone, dragged them all to the forefront
again. She vividly remembered waiting in the corridor while
Paul 'explained' his leaving to their son. Paul had left the
building saying that Peter understood why he had to leave.
Annie grimly remembered thinking that the man was only fooling
himself. SHE didn't understand why he had to leave, how could
Peter possibly be expected to understand it? Equally heartbreaking
farewells had been taken of the girls, then he was gone. Annie
shuddered slightly at the memory, then gathering her courage
climbed the stairs. She was met halfway by the Shaolin.
"You have heard from Peter." It was not a question.
"Yes, just this morning but he didn't say where he is.
I came to you as fast as I could."
Caine took her arm and escorted her to his residence. "I
will make tea. Please be seated."
Annie carefully arranged her skirt around her and asked,
"Caine, has your link with Peter returned?"
Sadly the man replied, "Not entirely. I have been getting
fragments of information but never enough to tell where or how
he is. I..I was not even entirely certain these pieces were
from Peter, until now. Then there have been dreams." The way he
said dreams caused shivers to run up and down Annie's spine.
"I see." Annie gathered her thoughts, "Caine, he sounds
so sad, so very sad. He needs you very badly."
Caine gently placed a hand on her cheek, "He needs his
mother no less than his father."
Annie shook her head, "We both know that isn't true. Oh, I
can make him behave when he's being ornery better than anyone,
yourself included. I won't deny that, but you, Caine, you bring
a balance to his soul. I'm not quite sure how to say it. When
you are near him, his spirit is at peace. You don't just cover-up
his pain. You seem to be able to eliminate the reason behind it."
She noticed that his hand was shaking as she took the tea
cup. "Caine, are you all right?"
The whispered reply was so soft, she almost missed it.
"No, Annie, I fear for my son's safety and," a near-sob choked
his words, "and I do not know how to help him. I do not know
where he is."
***********************************************
Steve was out of his car almost before it stopped. His wife
and his mother stood outside the main doors to the shelter.
Helen had her arms around the distraught young mother's shoulders.
Peter and Brandon watched helplessly as Mandy collapsed weeping
into Steve's arms.
"Mom?" the fear in his voice was so real it was almost a
living entity.
"I..I don't know son. I told her to go watch videos and
apparently she did for a while. Then at some point she left the
main room but no one seems to have noticed exactly when. We've
looked everywhere. I even checked the basement but she's nowhere
to be found."
Mandy sobbed, "And I checked the attic and you know how
hard it is to get that door open."
"Mom, would you take Mandy to the kitchen and get her
something to help her calm down, tea, coffee, something." His
wife started to protest but Steve interrupted, "Sweetheart, I've
had a bulletin put out on her. Every police car in the city will
be looking for her. If she's on the streets, they'll find her.
Go with Mom, please." Mandy nodded and left, leaning heavily on
her mother-in-law.
Steve ran his hands nervously through his hair. "Brandon,
would you mind walking around the block one more time? I don't
think she's out there but she'll come to you before she will to
some stranger, even a cop."
"On it, Steve." Brandon walked away from the shelter.
Peter waited patiently for Steve to speak. The young man
had trouble with his words, "Peter, you're a cop. Do you think
someone g.g..grabbed my baby?"
"No. From what Helen's told me, I don't think she'd go
outside by herself and I think someone would have noticed her
leaving with anyone. No, I suspect she's in the basement."
"She's not allowed in the basement, and besides Mom searched
it."
"I know, but Steve, she's seven. If she did go to the
basement and Grandma came looking for her, what would her first
thought be?"
Steve sighed, "She'd think Grandma was going to be angry
and she'd probably hide. She'd hope to be able to sneak back
upstairs later without anyone being the wiser."
Peter smiled, "That's what I'm thinking. Only now she
probably doesn't know what to do since if she's down there I'm
sure she's heard us calling her. Hell, half the neighborhood
has heard us."
"Well, I guess I better go down and find her." Steve moved
toward the front doors.
"Uh, Steve?"
"Yes?" Steve turned to face his friend.
"Do you really think she'll come to you?"
The shocked look on the young detective's face caused
Peter to quickly explain, "I mean, she isn't in a strange place
so she won't be scared of that but she has painted herself into
a corner. She's knows she's in trouble but to her child's mind,
if she's not found by mommy, grandma or daddy she won't be
punished."
Steve stared at Peter for a moment, then started to grin,
"You're probably right, my friend, but she will come to someone
she doesn't think is mad at her. Like you. Peter, would you
please see if she's in the basement?"
"Certainly, Steve." Peter disappeared through the doors,
heading for the basement.
Steve mumbled to himself as he followed Peter into the building,
"I can only pray we're right."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 27 ↑
Peter Caine walked softly down the stairs into the shelter
basement. He strongly suspected Katy was somewhere in the
over-sized area. His main concern, however, was the black
cloud he 'saw' hanging, like a funeral shroud, around the Jones'
family. The dream of earlier that morning came back to him in
snatches. As he moved deeper into the basement, he realized that
this was where his dream had taken place. He stopped and sank to
the ground. Peter forced his breathing to relax and concentrated
on centering himself. He compelled his mind to reenter the dream.
He ignored the ending; experience in the Eagleton dreams had shown
him that endings were never absolute. The important piece was
the beginning, where he had caught a glimpse of Katy's location.
He focused all his chi on the little girl. Sweat was pouring
down his brow by the time he mentally found her. Taking note of
her location in the dream, he stood and went to get his little
angel.
********************************************
Steve entered his mother's office and quickly explained Peter's
theory to Helen and Amanda. At first both women were reluctant to
give any credence to the hypothesis. Additional arguments by Steve
finally brought them around.
"My poor baby." Amanda said, "Not wanting to come to us because
she thought we'd be mad."
Helen looked at her for a moment, "Well, we are mad, aren't we?
That little miss is in hot water with Grandma, at least."
"And with her father." Steve replied firmly.
"Well, yes, I'm upset with her too but to think she wouldn't come
when we called..." Amanda's voice held a sad note.
Helen started to reply but was interrupted by the phone, "Hello?"
... What?... Where?... When?... How do I know you're telling the truth?
Hello?...Hello?"
She was white and shaking when she turned to her son, "Steve,
that caller just sa..id there's a bomb in the shelter. He said we
had thirty minutes before it goes off.
Police instincts took over as Steve Jones called the bomb squad
and the fire department. He quickly ushered a stunned Helen and
Amanda out of the building. Brandon was just returning from a futile
sweep of the neighborhood when the trio exited the building. Enlisting
his aid, Steve began evacuating the shelter.
"Steve, what about Katy, and Peter?" Mandy screamed at her
husband.
"I'll get them." Steve left his wife, mother and Brandon to
organize the people now milling in the street. He raced toward the
basement stairs, praying there was still time to get to his daughter
and his friend.
********************************************
Peter knelt and watched the sleeping child. Tear-stains
visible in a dirty face, made it clear that she'd cried herself
to sleep. He gently reached over and brushed disheveled curls
off her face.
"Katy, baby, wake up." He spoke softly in order not to
frighten the child.
Tiny fists scrubbed eyes red from crying. Katy slowly sat
up and looked around, blinking in confusion at first. Peter
reached out and touched her hair.
"Mr. Peter?"
"Hi baby, you've had a lot of people worried about you."
"I have?"
"Yes, you've been missing for hours now. Your mommy, daddy
and grandma think something really bad happened to you."
The little girl frantically shook her head, "No, they're
not worried. They're all mad at me. They won't ever like me
again. I've got to hide here. I've just got to."
The child's words stunned the young detective. He'd opened
his mouth to deny her assertions as absurd when the reality
of the situation took hold. He'd been saying basically the
same thing as Katy for months now. He'd abandoned family and
friends in the mistaken belief he was not worth their love.
Tears welled up in his eyes as he spoke words to Katy that
applied equally well to himself, "Sweetie, your Mommy and Daddy
will always like you and love you no matter what. So will your
Grandma. Sometimes you'll do something they don't like and they
may get mad at you for a little while but they won't stay mad
forever. They..they really love you. It would break their hearts
for you to hide and never go h..home."
"Are you sure?" The little voice trembled as the words were
spoken.
"Yes, baby, I'm positive."
"But, but I'm not supposed to play in the basement. I don't
want to get punished." She sobbed openly as she threw little arms
around Peter's neck. He hugged her tightly for a moment then gently
pried her loose and pushed her back to where he could look into her
eyes.
"That's part of life, Katy. You do something wrong and you get
disciplined for it. There are always consequences for everything you
do. The important thing is to admit you've done wrong, apologize
for it and take whatever comes. Running never solves anything.
Running only hurts the people who love you."
"You think if I tell Mommy and Daddy I'm sorry that they won't
be mad anymore?" the child asked hopefully.
Peter stifled a grin, "Sunshine, I'm sure they won't be mad once
they see you, but I'm also sure that you'll still be in trouble."
"Oh." Katy sighed, "I guess we should go upstairs then."
"I think maybe so." Peter relished the feel of the tiny hand
in his as they walked toward the stairs. He paused as they approached
the laundry room. An ominous cloud of black hung in the doorway.
Looking inside, Peter saw flames rising to the ceiling and timbers
collapsing. A glance at the child beside him proved that this was
vision not reality.
As he watched, the cloud grew, threatening to envelop them.
Instinctively he drew back as the cloud blocked his path toward
the stairs. Gathering the little girl in his arms, Peter turned
and raced for the far end of the basement. As he dove for cover
behind a mass of storage boxes, the world behind him went up in
an eruption of sound and fury.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 28 ↑
The force of the blast hurled the basement door into the
kitchen, along with Steve. Only the heavy oak of the door,
prevented the young man from being injured. The dry timbers of
the old structure began to burn like kindling. In much too short
a time, thick smoke filled the kitchen area. The desperate father
choked on the vile air as he struggled out from under the heavy
door. His only goal was to make it to the stairwell. Steve's
forward motion was stopped by two suited fire-fighters. Forcing
an oxygen mask over his mouth and nose, they dragged the struggling
man away from the stairs, away from his child.
****************************************************
Many miles away Kwai Chang Caine gasped with pain. His
head ached and he could not catch his breathe. Caine went to
his knees, helpless against the agony in his head. Moaning,
he slid unconscious to the floor.
Annie heard the sharp intake of breathe, "Caine?" There was
no answer. She stood slowly, intent on the sound of labored
breathing. Moving deliberately toward it she reached forward,
groping in her darkness for her child's father. Finding his
recumbent body, she checked for his pulse. It was rapid but weak.
Shocked and dismayed, she moved her hands upwards toward his face.
Intending to check for fever, she instead noted the gauntness of
his features. She had not had a reason to touch his face since
Carolyn's wedding but Annie remembered that Caine had not been
this thin. The features she was now examining were almost skeletal
in appearance. For once she cursed the fact that she was blind.
A sighted person would have known how ill Caine had become and
perhaps could have prevented this collapse. "No," she thought,
"that's not true. Kermit, Mary Margaret, Lo Si, all his friends
would have tried to help him. They were just protecting me by
hiding his condition." Annie abandoned the self-reproach to focus
on the more immediate need, summoning aid for Kwai Chang Caine.
*****************************************************
Steve was unable to free himself until they'd gotten out of
doors. Ripping the mask from his face, he screamed, "My little
girl's down in the basement along with a good friend. I've got
to get to the stairs." He tried to shove past the firemen but
he was held firmly in place by a burly paramedic. One of the
firemen who'd pulled him to safety, seized his shoulders and
shook him slightly, "Steve! I'm sorry, Steve. There is no inside
stairwell. And the outside steps are also gone."
Gasping in horror, he collapsed backwards toward his wife and
mother. Helen held a weeping Mandy in her arms, ignoring the tears
streaming down her own face. Sobbing, he stopped just short of his
parent. Helen reached out and drew her only child to her. Arms
wrapped tightly around her son and daughter-in-law, she watched
helplessly as the firemen fought to bring the blaze under control.
*****************************************************
"Katy, baby, are you all right?" Peter was gasping as he tried
desperately to breath. The storage boxes which had shielded the pair
from the explosion, now buried them. The force of the blast had blown
the stairwell door off its hinges. The air currents flowing upward
into the main floor of the shelter, dragged the worst of the smoke
toward the kitchen upstairs. Still, Peter was having difficulty
breathing and the pain in his head didn't help.
"Y..y..yes." came a frightened little voice, "That was LOUD."
"Yes, sweetie, it was. Can you move?" Peter had covered her
small form with his own as they fell. He was now supporting the
weight of the storage containers with his body, but knew he could
not do that for long.
"Yes, uh huh."
"OK, Katy, I want you to crawl out that hole in front of you
and wait there for me. OK?"
"'kay" The child quickly slid through the hole. "Now what,
Mr. Peter?"
"I'll be right there, sunshine." Peter slowly lowered his body
to the floor, repositioning the storage containers in the process.
It took all the strength he could muster to push forward, out from
under the weight that was attempting to bind him in its grasp.
"Mr. Peter? Y..Your head's bleeding." The terror in the child's
voice was obvious.
Peter forced his exhausted body to stand. "It's all right,
Katy, it's just a cut."
His calm voice eased the child's fears, "Grandma can fix cuts
good. Let's go find her. Can we go up the slide?"
"That's a good idea. Slide, what slide?" Peter had positioned
his body so that the child would not see the flames.
Pointing toward the far corner of the room, she replied, "The
one over there."
As Peter looked in the direction she indicated, he praised the
powers that be for old, historical buildings.
*****************************************************
Brandon felt completely helpless as he watched another tragedy
unfold before him. There was nothing he could do... Katy and Peter
would perish as surely as his family had died. His thoughts spun in
random patterns. Suddenly he snapped his fingers, "Helen, Helen."
She inclined her head slightly toward him. "Helen, the coal chute.
It's still there. The coal chute Steve."
The words penetrated the fog that had settled over Steve. He
pushed away from his mother and ran toward the firemen. He arrived
just as two very depressed men were explaining to their chief that
they'd rechecked and the basement was definitely unreachable.
"Chief Hendricks?" Steve called to the familiar figure.
The tall, thin man turned sympathetic eyes toward his young
friend. Steve was well known to his unit and knowing that it was
his child that was trapped in the inferno was making a horrible
situation even worse. He opened his mouth to speak but Steve
cut him off, "Chief, there's a coal chute on the back side of the
building. It's never been shut off and it's big enough to get
through."
"Amick, Chin, Rogers, coal chute in back. Go with Steve. He
knows where it is. Pierce, you're with them too."
The four firemen could barely keep up with the panicked father
as he raced around the building. The coal chute was concealed from
view by industrial trash cans. Steve lunged toward the hatch and
started to pull it toward him. A firm hand from Chuck Rogers stopped
him, "Steve, it's our job now. I know it's Katy down there. We'll
get her, son."
"C..Chuck, There's someone else down there, too. A friend who was
helping us look for Katy. His name's Peter, Peter Caine. I don't know
if they're together or not. P..please, Chuck, find my baby, a..and
my friend."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 29 ↑
Peter couldn't believe his eyes. The vague outline of an old
coal chute was visible through the smoky haze. Praying that the
outside access had not been shut off, he seized Katy's hand and
quickly made his way toward the rusting ramp. The pain in his head
was growing steadily worse and he was finding it increasingly
difficult to induce his body to do anything. Fearing the old ramp
would not support his weight as well as hers, he lifted Katy onto
the chute. Peter coughed violently, and weakly said, "Katy, I want
you to climb up the slide, sweetheart and try to open the door up
top."
The smoke was beginning to thicken in this area of the basement.
Katy was now coughing hard and the tears that had been threatening
to break free, began to slide down the dirty face.
"I..I..I c..can't." She once again tried to grab hold of his
neck.
"No, baby. You CAN. Look at me." Sobbing she lifted her
head to meet his eyes.
"Do you trust me?" She nodded. "OK, then I want you to believe
me when I tell you that you can get to the top. OK?"
The complete faith the child had in him showed in her eyes as
she nodded and started to climb.
Calling after her, Peter said, "Katy, hold on tight and keep
on climbing. Don't let go until you're safely outside." His pain
had intensified, accompanied by dizziness and nausea. As the child
climbed higher up the chute, Peter sank to the ground. His breathing
became increasingly labored but he continued to offer encouragement
to the child he could barely see. He kept calling, urging her
upward, even after the smoke finally obscured her from his vision.
Only when the smoke overcame his senses, did he cease speaking. As
he unwillingly surrendered to the darkness, he prayed that he had
not failed this child.
Outside the basement, Chuck Rogers pulled the handle on the
coal chute door. The heavy door swung open with a groan. To his
absolute astonishment a small form was barely visible, tiny hands
clinging tightly to the edge of the chute. As he watched, stunned,
her grip loosened and she started to slide backwards into the smoke.
Without thinking, the fireman flung himself head first down the ramp.
Grabbing both her hands with one of his, he used his other hand in an
attempt to stop his downward motion. He felt strong hands on his
ankles and breathed a sigh of relief as the other men hauled them
out of the chute into the alley.
Katy was sobbing hysterically by the time Steve had her in his
arms. Between sobbing and coughing, she was unable to speak. Steve
had barely begun to hug the child when the female paramedic started
to pry her from his grasp.
Furious, he protested, "What the ..."
"Smoke inhalation. We need to get her on oxygen, get an IV
started and transport her NOW. Please let go of her, sir."
As Mandy and Helen rounded the corner, Steve reluctantly released
his child to the expert's care. Katy reached for her mother's hand
as the gurney was wheeled toward the waiting ambulance. The oxygen
mask over her face smothered the little girl's cries. Steve touched
his daughter's hair one more time as Mandy clambered into the ambulance
with Katy. Helen put her hand on her son's shoulder as the vehicle
sped away.
"She'll be ok, Steve." Helen hugged her child then asked, "Son,
what about Peter?"
Horrified that he had forgotten his friend, Steve turned and
ran back toward the coal chute, Helen on his heels. As they turned
the corner into the alleyway, they froze. Peter Caine was being
lifted out of the basement. It was obvious to the frightened onlookers
that the young man was unable to help himself.
"Chuck?" Steve's voice was shaky.
The fireman shook his head, "He's got no pulse and he's not
breathing, let's move."
It was Steve's turn to wrap strong arms around his mother. Both
of them wept as two firemen frantically began CPR on Peter Caine.
********************************************
Annie Blaisdell finally reached the street. It had seemed an
eternity since she had left Kwai Chang Caine unconscious in his
workroom. In her haste to get downstairs, she'd stumbled and almost
fallen. It had taken her a moment to recover and regain her bearings.
She'd planned on screaming for help once she made it outside but
the fates, for a change, were kind to her. Mary Margaret arrived
just as Annie found the door. Dropping the take-out dinner she'd
brought in hopes of enticing Caine to eat, she rushed to Annie's
side.
"Annie? What's wrong? Why are you here?"
"Mary Margaret? Please, Caine's..Caine's collapsed. I don't
know what happened. Please, get help."
As Annie returned to Caine's apartment, Skalany wasted no time in
radioing for the paramedics. She then took the stairs two at a time
up to her friend's quarters. Annie sat beside the senseless man,
holding his hand. Mary Margaret dropped to the floor and carefully
slid Caine's head into her lap. She reached over and took Annie's
other hand. The two women offered comfort to each other and their
unconscious friend as they waited impatiently for help to arrive.
******************************************************
The fire was almost under control by the time another ambulance
arrived at the Shelter. Helen and Steve watched helplessly as the
paramedics fought to bring Peter back. Neither mother nor son
noticed their own breathing relax when one of the paramedics called,
"We've got a pulse."
******************************************************
A young paramedic attached the IV to Kwai Chang Caine's arm.
The older female paramedic finished recording his vitals and
tightened the strap on the gurney.
"How is he?" Mary Margaret could not hide the fear in her
voice.
"Dehydrated and his blood pressure is way too low. We're
going to transport him now."
******************************************************
Twin ambulances, hundreds of miles apart, sped their way
toward hospitals, their unconscious occupants bound together
by more than blood.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 30 ↑
Captain Karen Simms was not in a good mood. The district
attorney had informed her earlier that morning that due to technical
errors in the O'Brien drug case all charges pending would be dropped.
She'd spent most of the morning arguing her staff's competence in
an effort to prove the case solid. As she returned to her squad
room, Broderick interrupted her long enough to pass her the morning's
messages. Wisely recognizing her foul humor, he did not even make
an attempt at normal good morning pleasantries.
Minutes later, Kermit Griffin stalked across the squad room.
The jury he had been trapped on, had been officially declared hung
a little before noon. The staff quickly shifted aside to allow him
safe passage. The stern set of his features brooked no questions.
As the door of his cave slammed shut behind him, the 101 st breathed
a collective sigh of relief. It was short-lived. Less than a
minute after entry, a scream of pure rage froze the blood of
everyone on the floor.
**********************************************************
Katy Jones was kept overnight for observation. As she was
released the next morning, the pediatrician in charge commented,
"She's a very lucky little girl. No burns and there doesn't appear
to be any damage from the smoke. She'll be hoarse for a few days
but her lungs have cleared already. Keep her as quiet as possible
for the next few days but barring truly unforeseen circumstances,
she'll be fine." The grateful parents and grandmother gathered
their bundle of love and went to check, again, on Peter's condition.
**********************************************************
Kwai Chang Caine regained consciousness and found himself
facing an irate Lo Si. The elderly Shaolin took the lead in the
conversation, "Well, old friend, you have proven that the primary
Caine family trait is recklessness." Caine started to protest
but the older man's glare effectively silenced him. Lo Si continued,
"Kwai Chang Caine, this has gone far enough. Your friends have much
to complain of in your behavior, the least of which is that you have
neglected your duties as a Shaolin far too long. In mourning your
son's departure, you have also neglected your health. You have badly
frightened your friends with this collapse."
Caine's voice betrayed his resentment as he responded, "I have
neglected nothing. I am still available to those who need me."
Lo Si carefully moderated his tone, "My friend, I do not wish
to belabor the point. Technically you are available to the people
of Chinatown. In reality, your grief over your son's disappearance
is so overwhelming that your patients do not wish to intrude on
you. And as I have told you before, should your son need your aid,
in your present condition, you would be unable to assist him."
Caine remained stubbornly silent for a short time, then replied
unwillingly, "There may be some truth in what you say. Perhaps I
have been negligent in some things."
The elderly Shaolin stood with crossed-arms and scowled at the
younger man, "Perhaps?"
The younger Shaolin glared back for a moment before giving up
the battle. "I apologize, my dear friend. I have been neglectful
of many things of late."
Lo Si's expression softened, "But something has changed, has
it not?"
"Yes, my friend. My son is alive. Annie has spoken with
him, albeit briefly."
"There is more..."
"Yes, my link has almost been completely restored. I still
do not know where my... Peter is but I know he lives." Concern
masked Caine's tired features, "But, Lo Si, I do know that he has
once again been injured."
****************************************************
Amanda Jones steered her little girl to a seat in the waiting
area of the Intensive Care Unit. She settled in beside the still
sleepy child while Helen and Steve went to check with the duty nurse.
"Steve, haven't you been able to reach either Mrs. Blaisdell
or Mr. Caine yet?"
"No Mom. There's no listing for Peter's father and no one is
answering at Mrs. Blaisdell's home. The answering machine keeps
picking up but this is not the kind of message you leave on voice
mail. I've left a message for Captain Simms at the 101 st to call
me as soon as possible but according to her Sergeant Broderick she
has been meeting with the district attorney all morning."
***************************************************
As the sound of the scream faded, the 101 st nervously awaited
further activity from Kermit's office.
Gulping, Jody whispered to TJ, "Do you think he heard about
Caine's collapse?"
TJ Kincaid did not have time to reply as the irate Detective
Griffin jerked open the door of his office, stormed down the aisle
to Karen Simms' office and entered without knocking, slamming her
door shut on his way inside.
The officers of the 101 st exchanged horrified glances. They
quickly returned to their labors as Frank Strenlich recovered
from his shock long enough to bellow, "What, did crime take a
holiday and no one told me?"
**************************************************
The duty nurse informed the Jones' that Dr. Emerson was in
with Mr. Caine and would speak to them as soon as possible. Barely
had Helen thanked her than Dr. Emerson emerged from Peter's unit.
Steve quickly cornered the physician, "How is Peter, Doctor?"
"Has his family been located yet?"
"Not yet, but we're working on it. Now, please give us an
update on Peter."
The middle-aged doctor looked at the concerned pair for a
moment, then replied, "In general, his back and shoulders are
heavily bruised. The blow to his head required eighteen stitches
and resulted in a severe concussion. He's apparently got a very
tough skull, that blow could have killed him. But my primary
concern is his lungs. He inhaled a great deal of smoke but we've
gotten him off the respirator."
"May we see him?"
"Not just yet. I am concerned that he may develop pneumonia.
I've ordered X-rays of his lungs. As soon as those are taken,
you may visit for a short while. With the concussion, though,
don't be surprised if he doesn't know you're there."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 31 ↑
Karen Simms exploded the moment Kermit slammed her door.
"You had better have an outstanding explanation for your behavior,
Detective." The heat in her voice would have reduced most of her
staff to ashes immediately. It only served to antagonize Kermit
further.
"Outstanding Explanation! Is that what you want? Well, CAPTAIN,
you're damn right that I have a good reason to be here. A remarkable
reason, Captain Ma'am! Look at this." He tossed a massive computer
printout onto her desk.
"Enough, DETECTIVE Griffin! I do not have time for games.
Just tell..."
Kermit leaned over her desk and lowered his glasses. In a
calm, smooth tone he simply said, "'LOOK' at it."
Karen met his glare without flinching. Through clinched teeth,
the ex-mercenary added a brusque "please". She held his gaze for a
moment longer, then picked up the report. Her eyes widened with
astonishment as she saw the words on the paper.
Before she could reply, Kermit spat furiously, "That's right,
Captain. Someone inquired about Peter the very day I was put on
that damn jury. And no one here ever bothered to check my office.
It's a good thing I wasn't working on anything important, like a
serial killer, or maybe a missing person."
The sarcasm in his voice stung Karen Simms deeply. "That
will be quite enough Detective Griffin. If you didn't intimidate
half the staff, perhaps someone would have checked your PC. And
I certainly don't have the time to keep up with things you leave
only half-done."
"Half-done, half-done! The reports were there days ago for
anyone with half a brain to see. But no one looked. The first
lead we have in months on Peter and no one looks. If anything has
happened to..." Kermit stopped shouting as he belatedly realized
that Karen was no longer paying attention to him. Puzzled, he looked
at his Captain, "Uh, Karen, what are you doing?"
She had stopped listening to his outraged diatribe and had begun
pulling through message slips on her desk. Finally finding what she
was searching for, she thrust the message slips at Kermit, and reached
for the phone, "Check out the requester name on your report. It's
the same as the one on these. Looks like Detective Jones wants to talk
to me. He's left seven messages since midnight."
***************************************************
Steve's cell phone went off suddenly causing the three waiting
adults to start violently. Only the sleeping child was unaffected
by the noise.
"Jones, here... Captain Simms? Thank God... Yes, ma'am, I've
been trying to locate Mrs. Paul Blaisdell or Mr. Kwai Chang Caine.
Can you tell me how to get in touch with either of them? Yes, ma'am
it is in reference to Peter Caine... No, ma'am, I'd really prefer
to... but, ma'am. Uh, yes, ma'am, but... Yes, ma'am. Well, Captain,
Peter's in San Francisco General Hospital with smoke inhalation, a
concussion and stitches. He's in ICU right now but latest reports
indicate he'll be moved to a private room soon. They're monitoring
him for pneumonia. He'll be in the hospital for a while yet... No,
ma'am, I don't mind telling you. My friend was injured saving my
little girl's life. Now about... What! Is he in any danger? ... I see.
Yes, ma'am, you can reach me at this number. I always have this phone
with me." Steve remained silent for several minutes, "Yes, ma'am.
That will be fine. Just let me know who's coming and I'll see they're
met at the airport. Thank you, Captain."
As he hung up the phone, Steve muttered, "Damn, that dominance
thing must be a job requirement for police captains." Turning to
his wife and mother, he continued, "Peter's Captain will take care
of notifying his family. She's also making arrangements to send one
of her officers, a Kermit Griffin, out here. From the background
noises in her office, I think the man was in there with her."
"What about his parents?"
Steve frowned grimly, "His father collapsed yesterday and is
in the hospital himself. Mrs. Blaisdell has been at the hospital
since the man collapsed."
"Heart attack?" Helen whispered her fear. She prayed fervently
that there would be no more bad news for Peter.
"No. According to the Captain, the man's been despondent since
Peter left. Apparently the two are very close. Mr. Caine's going
to be hospitalized for several days yet. He's suffering from severe
dehydration, and influenza. He also has not been eating properly.
Captain Simms' comment was that he looks like a walking skeleton,
but that with care he'll be fine."
"Thank God, Peter doesn't need any more tragedy." Helen smiled
at her son and daughter-in-law, "I suggest that we surprise Peter
with Mr. Griffin, was it? Emotionally, I'm not sure he wouldn't
turn and run again otherwise, even as sick as he is."
*********************************************************
Annie Blaisdell waited impatiently with Mary Margaret and
Lo Si as the doctor examined an exhausted Kwai Chang Caine.
"Annie?" A familiar voice cut through her thoughts.
"Kermit? It's Peter. You've found him." Her face betrayed
her anxiety.
"Yes, Annie. The kid's in the hospital in San Francisco.
He's gone and played hero and hurt himself again but it looks
like he'll be fine."
Tears of relief streamed down Annie's face, "You're going
out there, aren't you?"
"Yes, I've got tickets on the red-eye tonight."
"I'm going with you."
"I know. Uh. Caine's going to want to go too."
Lo Si's voice was firm, "He is too ill and his son does not
need to see him like this. 'I' will keep him here."
"And 'I' will help you." Mary Margaret's voice was equally
determined.
*********************************************************
Helen quietly surveyed Peter Caine's pale features. His
long lashes fluttered slightly as his eyes struggled to open.
In his haze of vision, he mistook her for Annie, asking weakly,
"Mom? Where's Pop?"
"No, son, it's Helen."
Confused for a moment, the injured man struggled to
concentrate, "Helen? ... Oh, God, Helen, Katy, is Katy.."
"She's fine, Peter, just fine. You saved her life, son,
but we almost lost you." She began stroking his hair gently,
easing him back into sleep. "Rest now, Peter. You've done a
fine job here but it's time to go home."
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 32 ↑
"I must go to my son." Kwai Chang Caine's voice trembled with
weakness and despair.
Lo Si eyed his friend sympathetically, "Kwai Chang, you are too
ill yourself to be of use to your son. It is my understanding from
Kermit, that Peter is in good hands."
Stubbornly, the younger Shaolin attempted to get out of bed.
Dizziness overwhelmed him as he collapsed back onto the pillow.
"Perhaps you will be willing to listen now?" Caine scowled at
the older man, as Lo Si continued, "Had you heeded my wisdom before,
you would now be accompanying Annie and Kermit to Peter's side.
Rest easy, old friend, they will ensure that he is properly cared
for. As soon as he is able to travel, they will bring him home.
YOU must concentrate on healing yourself. Peter should NOT see
you like this."
"I will heal better at home."
"Not this time, my dear friend. Mary Margaret and I have sworn
that you will remain in the hospital until you are well. Or perhaps
you wish to also debate the issue with HER?" The discussion came
to an abrupt conclusion with a knock on the door.
"Knock, knock." TJ Kincaid poked his head around the door.
"Well, Master Lo Si, second shift has arrived."
"Second shift?"
"Yes, sir, Mary Margaret said baby sitting Peter's dad was
too big a job for even a Shaolin Master such as yourself so she
recruited volunteers from the 101 st. Jody's got the next shift."
Lo Si's eyes sparkled with suppressed laughter as Caine struggled
to maintain his Shaolin demeanor upon hearing TJ's next remark.
"Oh. By the way, don't know why, but for some reason, Mary Margaret
chose the night shift."
****************************************************
Steve and Amanda Jones stood in the San Francisco terminal
building and watched as the huge jet taxied to the gate. Mandy kept
a tight grip on Katy's hand as the size of the crowd began to grow.
"There, Steve, the gentlemen with the sunglasses with the lady
holding his arm. That's got to be them."
"Yes, they match the description Captain Simms provided. You
stay here with Katy and I'll go get them."
Soon introductions were being made all around. Katy stared
at Annie and Kermit for a moment before asking, "Are both of you
blind?"
"Katherine!" the name came from her mortified parents.
"No, sweetheart." Annie laughed, "Only me."
"Then why's he got on sunglasses indoors? Mommy won't..." The
rest of the child's statement evaporated as Steve firmly covered
her mouth with his hand. Ignoring the squirming child, he quickly
said, "Let's go see Peter."
******************************************************
Annie Blaisdell sat quietly and listened to Peter's breathing.
The doctor's report indicated that Peter had so far shown no signs
of pneumonia. His lungs were still congested, but with the addition
of antibiotics to the IV, the prognosis was good. It was odd, she
thought, that for the second time in less than a week she wished for
vision. She longed to see her son, but the only way that would be
possible would be for her to touch him. Annie'd ventured a feather
light touch to check for fever but that had not given her the
information she sought. She did not dare do more for fear of waking
him. Helen recognized her dilemma, and softly urged her from the
room. In the hall, Helen described Peter's current condition to
Annie in great detail, granting the woman some small measure of
peace. Guiding her new friend down the hall, they joined Steve
and Kermit in a small waiting room. Amanda had taken her daughter
home. Katy had been reduced to tears when told she would not be
allowed to see 'Mr. Peter' just yet.
Kermit quickly hugged Annie as the women walked up. Steve
likewise embraced Helen.
"Annie, Steve's been telling me something of Peter's doings
while he's been here but I think you need to hear everything from
the top. Steve?"
As the foursome waited anxiously for word on the last round of
tests run on Peter Caine, Steve and Helen related their part in
Peter's life, beginning with his latest hospital stay and working
their way back to his arrival at the shelter.
Two hours later Annie once again sat beside her son. She leaned
forward as Peter began to stir. Reaching out, she gently touched
his face.
"Mom?"
"Yes, Peter, How do you feel?"
"Well, my head hurts and the room is spinning and that little
voice that you and I used to talk about when I was a kid is yelling
at me that I've been really stupid. I'm sorry, Mom."
"As well you should be, Peter Matthew Caine. We'll discuss
this further when you're better."
Ignoring the nurse injecting something into his IV, Peter asked,
"Mom, Where's Pop?"
Annie hesitated a moment, then took the plunge, "He's in the
hospital himself." She placed a hand on his chest to hold him in
place and a finger over his mouth to forestall his protest. "He's
got the flu and Lo Si is making him rest." Feeling his tension,
she added, "He'll be all right, sweetheart, I promise. He just didn't
need to travel right now. You'll see him soon enough, when we go
home."
"Mom, I have to go home now. Pop's sick. I have to get to..."
Annie smiled as the narcotics fed through the IV took hold. His
voice faded away and Annie felt the tension relax in his face.
The doctor had said he'd need to stay in the hospital for at least
seven days. Experience told her that it would be a long week.
*******************************************************
Kwai Chang Caine sat quietly in Peter's secret place. Vaguely
familiar footsteps came toward him.
"Am I invited?"
Caine closed his eyes in thanksgiving, "Always, my son." The
arms of the father ached to hold his child, but the priest in him
warned that Peter must make the first move.
The younger man sank to the ground beside his father. The two
sat silently for a few moments. Inevitably it was the son who
broke the silence.
"I had to leave, Father. I had no choice."
Caine said nothing as Peter continued, "I had much to think
about when I left. I was blind to your love, and Mom's, a..and
that of my friends. A large part of me believed that I was unworthy
of love. That everyone I held dear would grow to hate me. That
horrible, hateful article in the paper, I believed every word. I
should not have, I know that now, but I did. I ask your forgiveness,
Father."
Caine turned to face his son, "For what, my son?"
Peter locked his father's eyes with his own, "For being a coward,
for running. It was wrong of me to abandon all that I hold dear. A
man of more courage would have fought to keep the life that I tried
to throw away."
Caine reached out and gently touched the bandage encircling
Peter's head, "A man of less courage would not have returned to
reclaim that life."
Peter took his father's hand in his, "Am I forgiven, Father?"
The older man smiled sadly, "You have always forgiven me, my
son, how could I do less for you?"
Peter's eyes never left his father's thin face as the older
man finally spoke the words his son desperately needed to hear, "Yes,
Peter, you are forgiven."
"Thank you, Father." The younger man moved swiftly forward to
embrace the elder. The elder met the intensity of that embrace with
a fervor of his own. The tears of both men merged in a small pool
at their feet.
----------------------------------------------------------------------
part - 33 ↑
Six weeks later Caine's weight was back to normal and Peter
had returned to work. He was unaware of the battle that Karen
Simms' had waged, and won, over his employment. She'd managed to
get him reinstated with no blemish on his permanent record but
had been forced to call in several hefty favors to do so. Kermit,
somehow, knew what she'd done for his friend and had expressed his
gratitude to her appropriately.
*******************************************************
Kwai Chang Caine was preparing dinner in Peter's apartment
when his son arrived.
"Sorry I'm late, Pop, I had to go to the post office to pick
up a special delivery from California."
"From your friends in San Francisco?"
"Yes, Pop. I'll only be a minute."
Caine watched in silent amusement as his son settled himself
on his sofa and eagerly removed the bindings from the shipping box.
Inside was a smaller package, labeled 'OPEN LAST' and four letters.
Tearing into the letter from Brandon, Peter was relieved to find that
his friend was now officially employed again as a physical therapist
and had moved into his own apartment.
Helen's letter was longer but revealed that the shelter was
being restored with the aid of the local historical societies. She
had been baffled, but relieved when the offers of purchase suddenly
vanished as quickly as they'd arrived. She had not really wanted to
sell but admitted that had the offers stood she might have taken the
easy way out. Steve had talked her into hanging on a little longer
and with the widespread community support for the shelter, she'd
regained her perspective. Helen went on to say that she truly missed
Peter and expected him to visit her whenever he found himself in
California.
The letter from Steve and Amanda contained notes from both.
Mandy once again expressed her gratitude to him for her child's
life. She also made it clear that Helen was not the only one who
expected a visit from Peter. Steve's note was far more detailed.
It read in part, 'My friend, words cannot express my appreciation
for all that you did for my family while you were living in the
shelter. Mother desperately needed more help than my hours at
the precinct would allow. And Katy, God - Peter, the mere thought
that if not for you I would have buried my baby, well, I cannot
begin to repay the debt I owe you.
Mom has I'm sure already told you that the shelter is being
restored. For your information only, we know who was behind the
bombing but have no proof to tie the SOB to it. I did get a large
thrill upon hearing that a certain someone, who will remain nameless,
lost a bundle when a land deal fell through a few weeks ago. It's
rather interesting that all the purchase offers that Mom received
vanished about the same time.
Oh, Peter, Katy got the collector Barbie that you sent her but,
please, do limit your presents. You're making Mommy and Daddy look
bad. I realize that you're new to the godfather routine so I've
checked my sources and found that even godfathers should restrict
their gift-giving to birthdays, Christmas, that sort of event. And
the small box is a gift from Katy. I have been instructed to tell
you not to open it until after you read her letter.
I'm now adding my expectation of a visit from you. Perhaps you
can vacation out here sometime. We can do the tourist thing.'
Peter smiled as he placed the letter on his coffee table. He
glanced at the box on his bookcase. Sighing, he said to himself,
"Sorry, Katy, looks like this Barbie has to stay with me awhile."
He once again smiled as he opened the last envelope. The
childish print was remarkably easy to read. 'Dear Uncle Peter,
Thank you for the Barbie. She is very pretty. I made something
for you. I hope you like it. Mommy, Daddy and Grandma liked
what I made them. I love you. Katy'
"I love you too, Sunshine." Peter worked to undo the heavily
taped package. Laughing, he commented, "Pop, you got any Shaolin
tricks for tape? I think Katy used the whole roll."
"Actually, yes, my son." Peter looked up in astonishment then
grinned as his father handed him a large kitchen knife. Taking
the knife, he made quick work of the tape. His eyes clouded over
as he lifted out Katy's present, a fired clay circle about eight
inches in diameter. A small hand-print appeared in the center of
the clay. A typed label on the back identified it as belonging
to Katy Jones, age seven. Caine watched as his son wiped his eyes
then stood and placed the plaque on his bookcase, amid his trophies
and other awards. Moving forward, the older man placed his arm
around his son's shoulders.
"Peter?"
"I'm fine, Pop, I..I just thinking that if that other little
girl, you know, Kimberly Thomas, hadn't been killed, Katy might be
dead now." Caine nodded and waited for Peter to continue. He didn't
have to wait long. "I guess the circle of life really does continue
doesn't it, Pop?"
"Yes, my son, it does."
Peter hugged his father, "You game for a trip to California
sometime?"
"Any time, my son, but Peter, this time when we leave, let us
formally announce our departure."
The End