Part 2
The waiting room was busy with people coming in and out as they found information on their friends and loved ones. Many of the victims from the restaurant had been brought to Community General and treated. Some had been released; others, like Paul Blaisdell, were in surgery, the emergency room, or rooms on the floor.
Annie Blaisdell came into the waiting room, escorted by her older daughter, Caroline. Peter met her, took her into his arms, determined to never let her go.
"How's Paul?" She asked with a tremble to her voice. Having heard the news over the radio only minutes before Peter had called her from the hospital had left her worried.
"He's still in surgery. The nurse just came out a few minutes ago and said that everything was going well. Said the doctor would be out in a little bit." Peter towered over his foster mother by a head. He bent down and kissed her on the forehead, squeezing her a little tighter. He released one arm and used it to reach for Caroline, who had been talking with Mary Margaret, questioning the detective about what had happened.
"Excuse me. I am looking for the family of Paul Blazedale?" a man interrupted, pronouncing the name very badly.
Annie and Peter separated, though he kept holding Caroline's and his mother's hands.
"I'm his son. These are my mom and sister," Peter stated quickly, not paying attention to the fact that he had left off 'foster' to any of the titles. "I'm Doctor Earwood," the man introduced himself, shaking Annie's proffered hand. "Your husband is doing fine. The shard of glass went into his abdomen and sliced his stomach. We got the bleeding stopped and patched him up. He'll be with us for a few days, but he'll be fine." His smile was sincere as he squeezed Annie's hand, then released it to turn and go. "Oh, you can see him in a little bit. He'll be moving out to a room as soon as he wakes up enough to follow simple commands."
Everyone nodded their heads and let out a collective sigh of relief. "Thank God," Caroline said, as Frank took her into a hug.
"I have to get back to the precinct. Pete, don't worry about coming back in today. And get that head looked at," Strenlich growled as he left the waiting room, on his way to the elevator.
Annie let go of Peter's hand and grasped his arm, "What did he mean by 'get your head checked'?"
Peter leaned down and kissed her again on her forehead, trying to dispel her worry over him. "I just got knocked on the head. It's nothing, honest. Look, here's the nurse. We can go see dad."
The nurse led the way to a semi-private room on the same floor as the waiting room. She gently pushed open the door and allowed the visitors in. "He'll be groggy for a while. He needs his rest, so please, don't stay too long." Then she left.
Annie and Caroline went to one side of the bed as Peter and Mary Margaret stood at the foot of the bed. Peter knew how worried both Annie and Caroline were, and that he had been just as concerned for Paul's safety. "Pe...ter?" the baritone voice slowly sounded out.
Peter hesitated to come forward until he saw Paul open his eyes and Annie reached out for his hand.
"I'm right here, Paul." Peter answered coming to stand beside Annie.
"You all right?" Bruising accented Paul's right eye.
"Yeah, I'm fine. You need to rest."
Paul looked up at Annie's and Caroline's faces and smiled. "Don't think I want to eat there again." He smiled at his joke.
"I hear it's kind of spicy," Annie added with a smile of her own. "You rest, Honey, and I'll see you tomorrow." Annie leaned down and kissed her husband. Standing back up, she heard his breathing smooth into a regular pattern, and knew he was asleep.
"Peter, are you going to stay with Dad?" Caroline asked as her mother linked arms with her.
Peter looked at Paul. "Yeah. I want to go home and shower and change clothes first. He should stay asleep until I get back."
"Good morning," A cheery voice greeted them the next morning. Both Peter and Paul rubbed the sleep out of their eyes as the perky nurse's picked up Paul's arm to take his blood pressure. "You need to go ahead and wake up. Breakfast will be here soon."
Reaching for the bed controls after seeing Paul fumble for them, Peter raised the head of the bed. He looked into Paul's eyes and saw less grogginess than was there yesterday, but it would be awhile before Paul Blaisdell was back to his old self.
"You gonna need help feeding yourself?" Peter asked, smiling broadly.
Paul tried to glare at his impertinent son, failing in the attempt. "No, I think I can do that," he answered as the nurse's aide place a thermometer into his mouth, preventing any further talking.
"Now, Mr. Bluedell, I'll be back with your tray in just a bit. Do you need me to help you to the bathroom?" The aide asked as she went about tidying the room, not seeing the look on Paul's face at the butchering of his name.
Peter started to smile and comment on the name, but a stern look from Paul cut him short.
"No, I'll get my son to help me with that, thanks," Paul answered as the aide removed the thermometer, and replaced in its plastic box, and left the room.
"You know, it's not too late for me to adopt you and change your name," Paul threatened as Peter got up and headed for the bathroom.
"Peter Bluedell. Hmm, has a certain ring to it," Peter answered as he closed the door behind him before Paul could reply.
Moments later, the young man reappeared wearing the clean clothes he had gotten from his apartment, and rolling up the ones he had slept in. "Need me to help you with a bath before breakfast comes in?"
"No, Son. I think I can get up in a while and do that. Of course, I'll still be hooked up to the leash." Paul held up his arm that had the IV running into his vein.
Peter turned serious for a minute, wanting to explain what he couldn't ten years ago. The Blaisdells had offered to adopt Peter, telling the teenager that either way, they would still love him. "Paul, you know why I wanted to keep the name Caine, don't you?"
Something, or rather someone, was missing. Peter greeted his fellow employees, and those who knew of his relationship with the captain gave him well wishes to pass on to Blaisdell. Searching the open squad room, he realized who was not there.
"Where's the chief?"
Blake looked around. Everyone shrugged and mumbled 'I don't know' or 'haven't seen him.'
"Humph, must have worked late on that explosion," Peter answered himself then settled into his seat and shuffled through the folders that were piled up on his desk. "Skalaney, you have Nickie's report on Tucker?"
Skalaney rolled her chair over to his desk, file in hand. "Yeah, looks like he had a skull fracture first. Nickie said he was dead before the noose was put around his neck."
Peter's eyebrows raised, an 'I told you so' smile curling his lips. "And dead men don't hang themselves, do they?"
Mary Margaret shook her head at the young man, who looked like a small boy who'd just won a lollipop. She watched as he again shuffled through the folders on his desk, then vowed that for his birthday, she'd get him a desk organizer as one of them fell to the floor, the loose papers inside it flying out and slowly drifting to the floor. "What are you looking for now, Peter?"
"That drowning. I want to see what Nickie had on him again. Found it!" He said and started thumbing through the papers. "Look." He stretched across the desk, holding out a piece of paper for his partner to look at. "Remember, he had a fractured skull, too. They both had dog tags. I know it's grasping at straws, but it's the only straw we have."
Peter looked at her, then let his eyes roam around the bullpen, not really looking at anything, just giving his mind a break and hoping an idea would come to him. "CAINE! SKALANEY!" broke his concentration on not concentrating.
Desk Sergeant Broderick stood in the doorway waiting for the two detectives to answer him. It didn't take long. "Get over to the hospital. Strenlich was found with a gunshot wound to the head. He's on his way to the ER."
Both officers, as well as all the officers in the room stopped, stunned by the news. "MOVE IT!" Broderick, who was third in command, demanded. He watched as the two detectives looked at each other, then moved toward the door.
Frank had lived on the outskirts of their district since the new district lines had been drawn five years earlier. The push to have more white minority vote in the election had pushed the lines back to include half of the Irish-American inhabitants that lived just on the other side of Chinatown.
"Oh, Peter!" Molly Strenlich fell into Peter's arms, clinging to him and feeling his strong arms wrapped around her.
Peter stood a foot taller than the petite redhead. He bent his head over hers, enveloping her into the protective embrace. "Shhh," he whispered, turning his head, he gave her a kiss on the forehead.
She pulled back slightly, though not enough to break contact with him. "Why would anyone do this, Peter? He's a good man, a good cop."
Peter looked into her dark green eyes that were rimmed with red from crying. "What happened, Molly?"
Molly leaned into his embrace, unaware Mary Margaret was there. "He got up and left like he always does. I watched him go to the basement door as I went to take a shower. The boy next door broke the window out playing ball and Frank thought it was going to rain. So he parked his car in there last night." She gave a weak smile at the memory. "Since I didn't have to be at work until after 9, so I took my time." She paused as the scene in her basement came back in vivid color. "Oh, Peter. I walked down the steps and saw...and saw..." Her voice broke into sobs as her tears soaked into his shirt. "I saw a man run out of the garage and Frank was lying on the floor. He...he had blood coming from his head."
"Mrs. Strenlich?" a female voice asked, interrupting Molly's memory of the morning.
Peter gently pushed Molly to his side, continuing to hold onto her.
"Y-yes, I'm Mrs. S-Strenlich." Molly stammered slightly as she saw what the nurse was carrying: two clear bags, one larger than the other. The large one held Frank's clothes, while in the other she saw only bits of glitter.
"These are his things from the ER. I put his jewelry and wallet in this one." The nurse indicated as she handed them both to Molly. "I didn't know if you wanted to keep these," indicating the bag with the clothes.
Tears started running down Molly's cheeks again as she opened the bag of personal items. Mary Margaret reached for the bag of clothes and put them on the floor near Molly's purse. Together, the two detectives watched as Molly sat down, breaking contact with Peter as she removed Frank's wedding band from the bag.
Peter watched as she dove back into the bag, pulling out a silver chain. Attached to it were two dog tags that gently clanged together. The sound brought memories of wind chimes to Peter, but the vision of the tags brought him back to the present. "Molly, can I see those?"
"I-I was going to put his ring on it." She smiled then, not a joyful smile. though. "That's funny, how did he get these?"
Peter and Mary Margaret waited for Molly to continue, but she sat silently, turning the tags over in her hand.
"Molly, what do you mean?" Mary Margaret asked, gently placing her hand on Molly's. "About the tags. You said, 'how did he get these'."
Looking from one detective to the other, Molly realized that the question was important. "He kept these with his medals in a box. Peter, you remember the one. It had the flag folded in it and the medals were surrounded by the chain. He never opened it."
Peter took the tags and looked them over. "Yeah, I remember. Said it was a different life. He didn't want to wear the tags because they reminded him of that life." He handed them to his partner.
"My father had some dog tags. He lost them though, said he couldn't stand to wear them after the Vietnam War. He thought the way they treated the veterans of it was shameful." Mary Margaret read each line: Strenlich, Franklin D.; 555-12-3456; DL69851; Catholic; 121946.
"Molly?" another voice asked. Looking up, the threesome saw a man and woman standing arm in arm.
"Robert. Oh, I'm so glad you're here." Molly rose and went toward them. "Peter, this is my brother and his wife. Robert, Wendy, these are Detectives Peter Caine and Mary Margaret Skalany."
"Mrs. Strenlich?" Again they were interrupted. Turning around, Molly saw the doctor who had operated on her husband. He had talked to her briefly before starting surgery to remove the bullet. "He's all right, for right now. They are taking him to ICU. You can go see him in a few minutes; let the nurses get everything in place first. The bullet didn't go to deep in, so he was lucky in that respect. We should know more in 24 hours."
Molly nodded as fresh tears escaped. Her brother hugged her as Peter and Mary Margaret left the waiting room to check in on Paul.