Part 5
Captain Simms stifled a yawn as she trudged up the stairwell at the 101st Precinct. Morning had come too early for her. After seeing Kermit off and going home, she looked at the clock on her VCR and was not shocked at its reading of 3:00a.m. She nodded her head to various greetings and ignored the cursing and complaining that went on at the front desk.
She stopped briefly as she walked past Kermit’s office, now dark, its door slightly ajar. She wondered how he was, and remembered the kiss he had given her before he had left. A promise of homecoming and the future had been in that one kiss.
Peter Caine’s desk was the last one she had to get around before entering the sanctuary of her office. The memory of Peter on the balcony, with tears streaming down his face, and of the voice he had used to plead for his safety had unnerved her and haunted her dreams.
“Kincaid, Skalany, my office,” Karen announced before entering her office.
Both detectives noted the haggard look on their Captain’s face. They stood together and entered her office slowly.
Hanging up her jacket, Simms sat in her chair, motioning for the other two to sit also. “Detective Caine has been found.” She held up her hand as Mary Margaret started to reply. “He’s in a safe house right now. Detective Griffin is his guard. There will be no communication between anyone but him and me. What I need you two to do is start combing the streets to find the people responsible for this before they find him again.”
TJ was the first to regain his voice. “What did they do to him?”
“What makes you think they did anything to him?” Simms asked, wondering if the whole station knew what condition they had found Peter in.
“Well, he hasn’t been seen in over 72 hours, so they had to do something to him. It’d help us to find these guys if we knew what we were searching for,” TJ reasoned, seeing the slight tremor in the Captain’s hands.
“This can go no further than this office. Do I make myself clear?” The unspoken threat came across to both detectives and sent a shudder of dread through Skalany. They both nodded and waited for the explanation.
Standing, Captain Simms walked around to the seated officers and proceeded to close the blinds that lined the window of her office. The task was largely to give her mind a chance to figure out how much to tell as well as to get rid of the excess energy the caffeine from the coffee she had drunk, both at home and in the car, had provided her. She knew each of her officers' personalities and their closeness to each other. Understanding the two seated in front of her now, she had no doubt they would not reveal what was said, they would not risk Peter’s reputation.
“Kermit believes a man named Larsen had Peter abducted. We know he was taken, held prisoner, and tortured…while being injected with heroin.” She let the words hang in the air, allowing the meaning to settle into TJ’s and Mary Margaret’s minds. “I want to find Larsen. No one is going to put one of my people through hell just to seek revenge on another. Not while I’m Captain.” Her voice finally showed the anger she had been holding back. Too well she remembered Kermit cleaning the burns to Peter’s hands before leaving, applying a cream to them as the young man fought to hold back his screams of pain. She had watched as fear and terror flashed across Peter’s face when she moved into his line of sight, and added to Kermit’s vow that she would get the persons responsible for this.
“We start at the usual places?” Skalany asked, her brown eyes flashing from TJ to the Captain. “I’ll bet Donnie could find something. Was Peter able to tell you anything?”
“Kermit has been in touch with Donnie. Find out what you can on a Maria. She’s a junkie. Donnie heard her bragging about turning a cop into an addict. She frequents the Shot Glass Bar. Lula can point her out to you. As for Peter telling us anything - no, not yet. Whoever had Peter intended for him to jump off Kermit’s balcony last night. We need to hurry up and find these people. Find them, and we can find Larsen.” Karen walked back around her desk and sat down in her chair.
Mary Margaret and TJ sat in the beat-up Chevy they had signed out of the motor pool. It blended well with the scenery around them. Most of the buildings were in varying states of disrepair, with bricks missing from walls and steps that were chipped and broken. The dismal scene reflected their mood as they waited for one certain person.
They both sat up when they saw movement. A thin man was leaving one of the buildings. He looked straight at them, then froze. Skalany got out of the car. She had known Donnie Double D for many years now, and had even been present at his wedding.
Donnie walked toward her, signaling to walk back to the recess of the closest stoop.
“Detective Skalany. How lovely to see you again,” he started.
“Cut the chit chat, Donnie. I need some information. Someone tried to kill Peter. We’re not sure that they still aren’t after him, so we need to find them, quick.” The urgency she felt in finding her partner was voiced.
“Though it is not uncommon for people in your profession to come up missing, I do, however, share your pain. Peter is a good friend. My ear is to the ground, Detective.”
Mary Margaret saw the concern on Donnie’s face. “Thanks. Let me know if you hear anything. We need to get Lula to introduce us to this Maria you told Kermit about. She could be the link to the man who was behind it.”
“We would be very glad to help. Though I do not know if the lady in question will be there. Meet us at the Shot Glass tonight at 7.”
Larsen’s thin form stood tall in the doorway as Maria slumped to the ground. Her cries for more heroin in exchange for sex went unanswered as Larsen had continued putting pressure on her throat.
Her accomplice and pimp watched with uncaring eyes as her struggles became slower, then non-existent.
“Too bad. She was a good screw when she was high,” George said as he walked over to Larsen. “What do you want me to do with her now?”
“I don’t care,” Larsen answered as he moved into the next room. “Dump her out with the trash. What I need now is to find our would-be jumper and his friend.”
George followed his current employer. He’d never done drugs, just given them to his girls so they’d be more compliant with paying customers. “Cops must have him hid somewhere.”
“I didn’t see Griffin return, so he had to have switched cars. Find out where he’s taken him or you’ll receive the tramp’s fate,” Larsen threatened. He watched the smile on George’s face disappear.
Realization finally sank into the two-bit pimp that he was now playing in the big league, and he desperately wanted out.
Waking up, Peter found his right wrist handcuffed to the bedpost and the bed pushed against the wall. He lay on his side, curled in a fetal position, a position that did little to ease the pain that came in waves through his abdomen. Sunlight streamed in through the window, the dust motes danced in the morning light without an audience.
Dreamless sleep had graced Kermit after he watched the 5 o’clock news. Vomiting from Peter had awakened him hours later. Getting up, Kermit sat beside Peter, placing a cool cloth from a basin he had set near the bed earlier, on Peter’s forehead. When Peter shifted, Kermit pulled a blanket up around his friend’s shoulders. The shoulders showed signs of poor health, the skin pulled tight over bones and translucent from poor blood flow. Another round of vomiting followed, though little came up this time.
Peter fell back onto the pillow after his stomach had emptied all its contents, ignorant of the chills and perspiration that ran through his body. Kermit sat vigil, ready to summon help or wipe Peter’s face and help him through the dry heaves when needed, his cellular phone never out of his reach.
“I-I’m cold, K-Kermit,” Peter stuttered, his body alternating between hot and cold so rapidly that the constricting and dilating blood vessels of his intestines sent waves of pain through his belly.
Positioning a small garbage can within hand's reach, Kermit refused to turn his head when Peter vomited. Instead, he wiped his friend’s face with another cool rag.
“D-David d-died alone.”
“Yeah, he did. But you’re not going to.” Kermit tried to reassure Peter while attempting to keep his voice from quivering.
“Untie me, please.”
“No.”
“Please?” Peter’s eyes were no longer glazed. His pupils were dilated, fear replaced by cold fire that ignited in the hazel eyes.
“No,” Kermit repeated, ready for the fight he knew was coming.
“Then leave me the fuck alone!” Peter kicked out, overturning the garbage can at the foot of the bed. The handcuff prevented him from getting off the bed. The other hand struck out.
Kermit blocked the punch, the padded glove landing with a soft thud against Kermit’s forearm. But the hatred in Peter’s eyes stabbed at Kermit, injuring him more than if Peter had hit him in the gut.
“J-just st-stop the pain. Please?” As quickly as the heated words had sprung out, they were followed by the pleading voice, begging for relief.
Kermit reached for a cup of chocolate milk and turned Peter so he could drink. “This is good for you. Drink a little, OK?” Peter took a sip, strangling on the liquid. “It-it’s not cho-colate. Ta-tastes like B-Blake’s coffee.”
Kermit couldn’t help but smile. “I didn’t think it was that bad. You want some ice cream?”
Peter nodded; the fire had died as quickly as it had flared up to consume him. His eyelids felt so heavy he could no longer fight to keep them open. He didn’t feel the next wave of pain, though Kermit saw the grimace cross Peter’s face.
Walking into the kitchen, Kermit couldn’t stop his hand from striking out at the basket of silk flowers sitting on the island. “Damn it, Griffin! Couldn’t lose yourself without getting attached to more friends.” Kermit squeezed his eyes, unable to block out the self-accusing stare that looked back at him from the glass doors lining the cabinets.
He didn’t hear the front door open as he reached into the freezer to get the ice cream. He only felt the touch to his shoulder and reacted to the surprise by gripping the hand and twisting it. Turning around to face his attacker, he came face to face with his captain.
She was startled by the quick movement and took up a defensive posture. Relaxing as she saw the look on his face, she couldn't resist the temptation to touch his cheek, a touch that broke the man's already crumbling barriers.
Karen Simms gathered Kermit into her arms, stroking the back of his head, feeling the small wavelets of hair and the trembling of pent-up emotions in the man she had grown to love.