Part 5

The Ancient remained for nearly an hour after they put Peter to bed. He meditated at the young man’s bedside, chanting softly in Chinese. When he indicated he was ready to leave, Jody gave him a ride home. Kermit remained behind, afraid to leave his friend alone.

The ex-mercenary heard Peter pad to the bathroom, then to the kitchen early the next morning . . . . just as he had heard his young friend toss and turn all night long. Keeping his eyes closed, the man on the couch decided that it would be better to let Peter think that he was still asleep. He could listen and perhaps get a handle on how the detective was faring this morning. Kermit’s plan of feigning sleep was shattered when by the smell of freshly brewed coffee and Peter’s voice.

"Don’t even pull that crap with me, Kermit," Peter called from the kitchen. He spoke softly, in case he was wrong and Kermit really was asleep. "I’ve never known you to sleep through anything, let alone fresh coffee and the sound of someone moving in your vicinity."

Kermit opened his eyes and reached for his sunglasses on the coffee table in a single instant. By that time, Peter was standing nearby with a cup of steaming brown fluid extended. The stiff, couch-weary detective reached gratefully for the brew with one hand. The other hand raked through his dark hair with the one starkly white shock over the right eye, in a very Peter-like movement.

"Thanks," was the sole word from his mouth before he put a single-minded lip lock on the coffee mug. A minute later, his caffeine need fed, he looked up at Peter. His friend sat across from him in a large, overstuffed chair dressed only in worn jeans. Taking a quick inventory, he assessed his fellow detective. Peter’s eyes were blood shot, probably from lack of restful sleep, but clear and focused. His shoulders still sagged a bit, from the weight of the world and the previous day’s events. The young cop sipped his coffee, not making eye contact with Kermit.

The pair sat in comfortable quiet, knowing that with conversation came conflict. Peter, never known for being able to maintain long periods of calm, broke the quiet.

"What the Hell did you hit me with?" his tone was not angry, only questioning.

"The Ancient gave you one of his Shoalin-nerve-pinch moves," Kermit informed the man, looking down. He thought back to the night before. He wasn’t sure he could have subdued the younger, Kung Fu-trained detective without injury to both of them if the old Chinese sage had not arrived.

"The Ancient was here?" Peter asked, more confused than ever.

"I sent Jody to get him when we got here. He walked in just as I tackled you."

"You always did fight dirty," Peter commented sourly, taking another sip of his coffee. "So, what’s the next step. Do you keep me here. . . safe. . until the case has been solved. . . or do all of you at the precinct get to take turns babysitting the poor little detective that can’t defend himself?" There was a bitter undertone to Peter’s comment. He didn’t want to be safe. He didn’t want to be protected. He wanted to get out there and find the bastard that had killed his young friend.

"Nope," came Kermit’s terse reply. He paused a moment to let Peter absorb the answer then continued. "You get dressed and we go to the precinct. That is if you think you can pull yourself together and be a cop, not that little boy’s big brother."

"Damn it, Kermit, don’t give me that shit. That is what Paul would say, not you. You are not Paul and you don’t have to replace him while he’s gone. Just be my friend and help me nail this guy," Peter retorted angrily. He hated it when Kermit tried to fill Paul’s too-empty shoes.

"No can do, Peter. You’re off the case, remember. Let Skaleney and Jody nail this guy. If you try to mess with it all you will do is screw it up. You know you’re way too involved to be objective."

Peter hurled the half-filled steaming cup of coffee against the nearest wall, bolting out of his seat. The mug shattered, sending liquid splattering out in all directions. Peter resumed his pacing of the night before.

"Feel better?" Kermit asked calmly, still sipping on the brew in his hands. Peter stopped and glanced at him with fire in his eyes, then a half-smile tipped up the corner of his lips. The sight of the brown streaks running down his wall diffused his fury.

"Oh yeah," he imitated Kermit’s oft-used phrase.

"Well, then get something to clean that mess up, get showered and let’s get the Hell out of here. I would like to change my clothes before we go in. I feel like I slept in these," the cop behind the green sunglasses commented. He was relieved that Peter had blown, at least a little. He would be cooler now, easier to get focused. The horrified friend-of-the-victim was moving back into the shadows and the hot-shot cop was coming forward.

[end part 5]

****************************************************************************

Part 6

Peter and Kermit arrived five minutes early for their shifts at the precinct. Brodrick and Strenlich refrained from comment, though each noted the occurrence in their private books of "Miracles Do Happen." Kermit looked normal, dressed in his uniform--black suit, narrow tie, sunglasses. Peter looked like Hell. His uniform of the day was black jeans, black T-shirt and grief. He appeared to be much more controlled than he had been at the crime scene, but that wouldn’t have taken much.

"Caine! My office, now!" Captain Simms’ command carried across the noisy bullpen, even though she had used a normal tone of voice. Dead silence fell upon the room. Peter’s face flushed bright red as he walked the million miles to the captain’s office.

Once he was inside the office, the Captain closed the door behind him and gestured toward a seat. He dropped into the chair, expecting the lecture he deserved on unprofessional behavior at a crime scene. He had no excuses. He was, in fact, uncharacteristically quiet. Karen Simms noted that fact as she leaned back against her desk, arms crossed across her chest.

"Peter. . . ," she began, not knowing how to be gentle with what she was going to say.

"Look, Captain, if this is about yesterday, I know I lost it out there. There isn’t anything you can tell me that I haven’t already said to myself," Peter interrupted with less than his usual unrestrained manner. He studiously avoided making eye contact with her. His gaze was fixed just above her right shoulder. The Captain cut him off with a wave of her hand.

"Stop. Detective Caine, this discussion is not a reprimand. I think that something a bit more serious has to be done than just tell you how unprofessional you were at the crime scene yesterday. . ." she spoke without pulling any punches.

Peter blanched. *Suspension?* he thought. *I’ll be totally cut off from the investigation. How can I get Billy’s killer if she suspends me?* His stomach bottomed out and threatened to revolt. Before he could protest, Karen continued.

"Peter, I am sending you to see Jessica LaKaison. We happened to meet in the lobby this morning and she mentioned she heard about the incident yesterday."

"The Department’s consulting shrink?" Peter asked, horror in his voice. "You want me to go get fitted for a rubber room and a white jacket with extra long sleeves?"

"Both you and I know that is not what I am saying, Peter. I think that you would benefit from discussing yesterday’s events with someone professional. You went into shock at a crime scene. You bolted from the room. You obviously didn’t sleep well last night. I can’t have one of my best homicide officers out there on the streets if he is on the ragged edge."

Peter started to protest, but Captain Simms silenced him with a look. "Normally, I would give you a couple of days compassionate leave and hope for the best. I don’t think that it would be doing either of us a favor if I let it go at that with this incident."

"Detective Caine, the appointment has been made for 2:35 today. If you don’t show, I will expect your gun and badge to be on my desk by 3:00, as per procedure for a disciplinary suspension." Karen gave no quarter. She knew if she gave the cop in front of her an option, he would avoid seeing the psychiatrist. She also knew that if he didn’t get some help in dealing with this latest crisis, she would be picking up pieces soon. . . of Peter. . . of Kermit. . . of herself.

"That will be all, Detective Caine. Now, I want you and Kermit to work on your old case files for the rest of the day. Someone is targeting you or the people around you. If it is related to an old case, I want to know about it. Do not, I repeat, do not act on anything you might find. You are to turn any discoveries over the Detectives Skalaney and Powell. This is their case. You, Peter, are not to get involved in any way." With that said, Captain Simms dismissed the disgruntled detective.

Peter’s expression, when he left the Captain’s office, left Kermit going for his coat, sure that he was in for another bout of babysitting. What Peter told him about the conversation in the closed office was the last thing he expected. His response to Peter was the last thing the young cop expected.

"She’s right, you know," Kermit agreed with the Captain "Maybe it will help you deal with some things and stop feeling guilty when you have no reason to."

"You, too, Kermit?" Peter asked, feeling slightly betrayed. "Isn’t anyone on my side? Would you go spill *your* guts to a shrink?"

"What I would or would not do does not apply in this case, Peter. You are not me. In case you haven’t noticed, I don’t always travel first class on the Guilt-Trip Express when something goes bad. I don’t happen to feel that everything that goes wrong in life is my fault," Kermit informed his friend. Seeing no help from Kermit, Peter changed the subject.

"She also said for us to go over my old case files. Maybe we could figure out who is trying to target me." Kermit nodded his agreement.

"Come watch and learn, Young Caine, my magic computer awaits."

***

The pair reviewed case after case. Disposition after disposition of the perpetrators eliminated people from the list. Steinmetz-- Prison. Hansen--Prison. Micheals--Dead. Randall--Dead in Prison. Terrance--Prison, paroled, in a nursing home. It seemed that most of Peter’s convictions drew hard time and were out of the picture for several years to come. The obvious choices, BonBon Hai, Jack Wong, and Clarence Choi had all been otherwise occupied. By 2:00, the pair had exactly nothing.

Kermit looked at the time in the corner of his computer screen and then at Peter. The dark-haired cop did not miss the meaning.

"Okay, I’m going. Her office is just two blocks away," he protested, not really wanting to go. The last thing he wanted to do was bare his soul to some head shrinker, reveal his tragic past to a stranger. He wasn’t sure if he was even willing to "let go of the anger" or whatever magic phrase they were using these days.

"Go, Peter." Kermit pushed his protege toward the door. "I’ll keep on looking."

Those two blocks were the longest Peter had ever walked. The elevator ride lasted longer than a torture session with Bon Bon Hai. By the time he entered the well appointed front office of Jessica LaKaison, his palms were sweating and his heart raced. The receptionist gave him a look that was calculated to be impersonal, and told him that Dr. LaKaison would be a few minutes late. She had had an emergency and would return shortly. Peter almost bolted for the door, but was stopped by the words Karen Simms had uttered earlier that day. "Disciplinary suspension" did not have a nice ring to it. He had been suspended before. It wasn’t pleasant. The fidgeting cop paced and waited.

[end part 6]

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