NIGHTMARE
Special Victims Unit
“Excuse me… Captain…?”
Cragen looked up as Fin came into his office. The detective looked even more intense than usual, Cragen mused silently.
“What is it, Fin?”
“Sir… I was just wondering, could I have permission to go to St Clare’s?”
Cragen raised an eyebrow slightly.
“Elliot and Olivia are already there.”
“I know, sir. I know that Olivia is there because Alex Eames is her friend…”
“What are you trying to say, Fin?”
“Sir, I’d like to go and see Detective Goren… if that’s okay.”
Cragen set his pen down on the desk, and sat back in his chair, eyeing Fin intently.
“Why?”
“He’s my friend, sir.”
That was news to Cragen.
“Your friend?”
“We were partnered together for two and a half years in Narcotics,” Fin said by way of explanation.
Cragen couldn’t contain the incredulous expression on his face.
“You say he’s your friend, but you’ve never mentioned it before now.”
“It wasn’t anybody else’s business before now,” Fin countered defensively. Cragen conceded with a nod.
“Fair enough. Look, head over to St Clare’s. I can only afford to have two detectives over there, though, so you can stay if you can convince Elliot to come back here. Okay?”
Fin nodded, grateful.
“Thankyou, Captain.”
St Clare’s Hospital
Olivia Benson and Elliot Stabler sat together in a far corner of the cafeteria, neither one speaking and both nursing rapidly cooling cups of coffee. Olivia had finally been permitted in to see Alex Eames briefly a while ago, courtesy of a special request to the nursing staff by her father John. It had been a painfully short visit that did little to alleviate Olivia’s fears for her friend.
Alex had not been awake at the time, and didn’t seem likely to wake up for a long while yet. At least, not properly. Olivia had left reluctantly, knowing it would be some time before being allowed back in.
“She’s gonna be okay, Liv,” Elliot said softly. “They’ll do the knee and shoulder reconstructions in a few days, when she’s recovered some, and then it’ll be all downhill from there.”
Olivia couldn’t bring herself to smile. Instead, fresh tears threatened to work their way out of her eyes.
“You know, when we were still in the Academy, we took a bet over which of us would get shot first. Looks like she won that bet.”
Stabler reached across and squeezed her hand reassuringly.
“She’ll be okay, Olivia,” he said again. Olivia wiped distractedly at her eyes.
“I know. It’s just… Even though we know we have to be prepared for this sort of thing, it’s still a shock when it happens. And I never really expected it to happen. Especially not to Alex.”
“Yeah, well… With that nutcase Goren for her partner, it was bound to happen sooner or later.”
Olivia looked up at Elliot, then, frowning deeply.
“That’s not funny, Elliot.”
“It’s not supposed to be. I know what the guy’s reputation is, Liv. Everyone does. He was a disaster waiting to happen.”
“You’d better start keeping comments like that to yourself,” a new voice said, and they looked up to find John Munch standing there.
“What are you doing here?” Olivia asked. “Cragen doesn’t want us back there, does he?”
Munch sat down opposite them.
“Not you, Olivia. He’d like you back there, Elliot.”
“How come?”
“I came with Fin,” Munch explained. “He wanted to see Goren. Captain Cragen said he could come and wait here with Olivia if you’re willing to go back to the office with me.”
Elliot regarded Munch with a mixture of curiosity and mirth.
“Now why would I want to do that? And why would Fin want to see Goren anyway?”
“You don’t know?” Munch asked. “Goren and Fin worked together in Narcotics. They were partners for two and a half years. From what I’ve heard, where Goren’s concerned, that’s the longest anyone’s ever worked with him for, after Eames. Rumour has it he went through ten or eleven partners at Major Case before Alex Eames came along.”
“So where’s Fin now?” Olivia asked.
“Up in ICU. Goren is still in isolation, but apparently there’s an observation room where visitors can see him…”
“Bet there’s a bucket load,” Elliot muttered, and Munch frowned darkly at him.
“Knock it off, Elliot. You might not like the guy, but you ought to take a few things into account before verbally taking him apart. Firstly, he and Fin weren’t just partners. They’re friends. Secondly, you’re taking cheap shots at a guy who can’t defend himself. Thirdly, he’s a cop. Case closed.”
Elliot reddened noticeably at the admonishment, and returned his attention to his coffee, opting to stay silent. Olivia, however, watched Munch in wonder.
“Fin’s really upset, isn’t he?”
“I wouldn’t say upset as much as devastated,” Munch replied bluntly. “But yeah, he’s taking it pretty hard. Goren’s a really good friend of his.”
Within seconds, Olivia had made up her mind.
“C’mon,” she said, standing up.
“Where are we going?” Elliot asked suspiciously as he, too, got up.
“Back up to ICU, to see Goren.”
Elliot promptly sat back down again.
“Thanks, but no thanks. I’ll wait here.”
A second later, he yelped as Olivia hit him hard on the shoulder.
“What was that for?”
“For being an insensitive jerk,” Olivia snapped. “Now get up. You might not like Goren, but you can at least show a little support for Fin.”
Elliot didn’t dare argue further. Scowling, he followed his two colleagues out of the cafeteria.
ICU
“Detective Tutuola, isn’t it?”
Fin looked around to see a face that he didn’t recognise behind him.
“Yes. Sorry, you are…?”
“Jimmy Deakins.”
The men exchanged a cursory handshake.
“Pleased to meet you, Captain.”
“Likewise. Bobby has spoken about you a lot, Detective.”
Fin nodded wordlessly. In their many get-togethers, Bobby had talked a lot about his partner and his captain, but he didn’t particularly feel like sharing right then. Deakins went on quietly.
“He and Alex Eames have made damned good partners, but I think Bobby was always disappointed that you opted to apply for SVU instead of Major Case.”
Fin had to smile at that as he looked through the observation window at his incapacitated friend. He distinctly remembered that discussion from their last days together in Narcotics.
“We worked well together,” Fin said quietly. “But Major Case and SVU are a different ballgame. I wasn’t suited to Major Case. He was.”
Deakins was silent for a long moment, looking into the room in which Goren lay in his induced coma.
“I appreciate you coming, Detective,” Deakins said finally. “And so will Bobby. There have been plenty of cops through here, but none have come because they like him. It’s only because he’s another cop. It’s reassuring to know that he does have a friend who’s willing to be here for him.”
Fin glanced at Deakins.
“How long before he comes out of isolation?”
“They can’t answer that until they’ve operated to get the last bullet out.”
“So there really is a bullet still inside him,” Fin said softly, and Deakins nodded in answer.
“It’s pressing against his spine. They couldn’t do anything about it until the specialist arrived from Washington D.C.”
“So when’s this operation supposed to be happening?”
“It’ll happen in a few hours. The surgeon who’ll do the procedure arrived a short while ago.”
“It’s dangerous, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Deakins answered simply. He could see no point in lying.
“Do they think he’s gonna die?”
“It’s a risk. They’ll do everything they can to keep him alive, though. We just have to hope and pray that Bobby’s stubbornness goes in his favour.”
He decided against mentioning the risk of permanent paraplegia. They all had enough to worry about without adding that to the burden of stress.
“What about his mother?” Fin asked suddenly, unexpectedly. “Has anyone gone to Carmel Ridge yet to tell her?”
The look of surprise on Deakins’ face said it all. Fin smiled grimly.
“Yes, I know about his mom. I’ve always known. Bobby and I have been friends for a long time, Captain Deakins. We grew up together. We were neighbours when we were kids. I saw everything he went through with his mom, and how it just about killed him when his dad packed up and left. That’s why we could work together in Narcotics. I already knew all about his personal demons, and it didn’t bother me. If you’d like… I’ll go to Carmel Ridge to talk to his mother. She knows me… and I know how to talk to her. Especially if Bobby doesn’t… you know, doesn’t make it.”
“That’s good to know,” Deakins murmured. “He’ll be all right, though, Detective. I can’t accept any other outcome. While we’re on the subject of family, though, I don’t suppose you would know where we could reach his brother? I don’t even have a name.”
Fin sucked in his breath sharply.
“Frank. His brother’s name is Frank, and I wouldn’t bother if I were you, Captain. Bobby’s better off not having him around.”
Deakins was about to ask why when a voice spoke from the doorway, interrupting them.
“Fin?”
They looked around as Olivia, Elliot and Munch ventured in. Deakins smiled faintly. Though he didn’t know them personally, he’d heard plenty about the SVU team that got such good results. He suspected they were here not for Goren but for Detective Tutuola, but that didn’t bother him. Tutuola was there for Goren, and that was all he needed to know. Deciding to tackle the detective later about the subject of Goren’s older brother, Deakins moved towards the door.
“Excuse me,” he murmured, and left the room, leaving the four detectives alone.
“Christ, look at him,” Elliot muttered, his instinctive animosity towards Goren momentarily forgotten as he looked through the window at the injured man.
“Fin, you okay?” Olivia asked, quietly grateful for the opportunity to divert her attention from her own worries. Fin accepted a hug from her, then leant back against the two-way mirror.
“I guess so. Just never expected to see Bobby taken down like this.”
“None of us are invincible,” Munch pointed out. Fin frowned.
“I know that. But Bobby… He always had it totally together. You know, in all the time we worked together, he never had to use his fists? A couple of times we got into a bad situation, and he always managed to talk his way out of it. I always thought he was too damned smart to get himself shot.”
“Guess the guy isn’t Superman after all, huh?” Elliot commented flippantly. Fin looked at Elliot sharply. He’d heard that tone too often before to mistake it now.
“That’s a cheap shot, Elliot.”
Elliot shrugged.
“Sorry, but let’s face it. Goren has a reputation longer than most perps’ rap sheets. The guy’s a freak…”
An instant later, Munch was struggling to hold Fin back as the detective lunged furiously at Elliot.
“You wanna go wait for me at the car?” Munch suggested breathlessly to Elliot. “Now, Elliot. Before I lose my grip on Bruce Lee, here.”
Elliot went, quickly. Then, only when Munch was sure it was safe, did he let go of his partner.
“I’m sorry, Fin,” Olivia murmured. Fin scowled angrily.
“You don’t have anything to apologise for. But the next time I see Elliot, he’d better have a damned good apology ready. Bobby ain’t a freak. He’s a damned good cop who happens to be really smart. If Elliot could take his head out of his ass for five minutes, he’d see that for himself.”
Munch moved towards the door.
“I’ll get going. I’ll call you both later, okay?”
Olivia watched him go, then looked back to Fin. The detective was already turned back to the mirror, looking through at his friend in the next room.
“He’ll be all right, Fin,” she said, trying to reassure herself as much as him. “They both will be.”
“His partner doesn’t still have a bullet inside of her, though, does she?” Fin said. Olivia hesitated in answering.
“They’re supposed to be operating again tonight to get it out.”
“It could kill him, Olivia. He might not survive the operation.”
“He will. Be positive.”
Fin sighed, and slumped miserably against the thick glass.
“I’m trying. It just ain’t working.”
That evening
When Alex awoke next, she found she was considerably more alert than before. She lay still and silent for a while before deciding that the pain level was tolerable. Finally accepting that she was indeed awake, and reasonably alert, she opened her eyes.
The first thing she became aware of as her vision slowly came into focus was the tall metal pole, to which a drip was attached, steadily feeding a special formula into her body to keep her from dehydrating. There was a myriad of other machines around, most of which she had no idea of their uses.
“Alex?”
She looked around slowly in the direction of the voice, and felt a surge of relief and comfort to see not only her father, but also her two uncles, her older brother and her younger sister.
“Welcome back,” Marty Eames said with a warm smile to his niece. “How’re you feeling?”
“Sore,” she mumbled, her voice barely more than a whisper, her throat parched. Alison indicated to the water on the dresser by the bed.
“Get her some water, Dad.”
John filled a glass halfway and carefully held it to his daughter’s lips, allowing her take a tiny sip, enough to soothe her dry throat.
“Thanks,” she whispered. Frank leaned over, brushing his fingertips affectionately against her cheek.
“You gave us all one hell of a scare, little girl.”
A weak smile touched her lips.
“Just… keeping you on your toes…”
“Well, you’re going to be all right,” John reassured her. “That’s all that matters.”
She was silent for a long moment, staring up at the ceiling and trying to gather her thoughts.
“What about Bobby?” she asked finally. Silence met her question as her father and uncles exchanged grim looks. Her heart rate picked up slightly in reaction.
“What’s happened?” she asked hoarsely. John sighed tiredly.
“We were hoping we wouldn’t have to tell you until afterwards. Bobby went back into surgery about an hour ago. A specialist flew in from DC. They’re going to try and remove the bullet that’s lodged against his spine.”
Fear wrenched at her insides. Even in her semi-aware state, she understood the dangers of such an operation. She felt a hand grasp her own, and looked to see her father staring at her intently.
“He’s a fighter, Alex. Just like you. Have faith in your partner. Believe that he’ll be all right.”
Tears filled her eyes and overflowed before she could stop them. She wanted to believe that so much, but all of a sudden she was overwhelmed by the memory of watching Black fire four bullets into her partner’s body before she had even had a chance to draw her own weapon.
In her mind’s eye, she watched again as his body jerked involuntarily from the deadly impact, and collapsed helplessly to the floor, blood spreading rapidly out across his shirt. And she saw, again, the terrifying image of him slipping away into nothingness after shooting Black to protect her from further harm.
Guilt ground away at her. Had she been just a little quicker…
“Alex, stop it.”
She looked around in confusion, jolted out of her memories by the hard voice of her Uncle Frank. He watched her with a stern, yet understanding gaze.
“Don’t you dare let yourself feel guilty, Alex. Not for any reason. What happened was no one’s fault, except the scum that shot you and your partner. Neither of you has anything to be sorry about. Especially to each other.”
Slowly, reluctantly, Alex relaxed. She knew her uncle was right, and she had to get a grip on her emotions. Whatever else she might be feeling, guilt had no place among those emotions. Not for either of them.
Frank Eames smiled a little with relief, grateful to see her accept his words without a fight.
“How long before we know anything?” she asked, half-expecting them not to answer. To her surprise, her father answered almost straight away.
“We were told it would be at least three hours. So we won’t hear anything for a couple of hours yet.”
She sighed faintly.
“He’ll be okay,” she mumbled. “He has to be.”
John hesitated, and then ventured a question.
“Alex, do you remember much of what happened?”
She was silent for a long moment before speaking haltingly.
“We went to Black’s warehouse… We wanted a warrant, but Carver wouldn’t give it to us, so we went back without it. Bobby did what he usually does… He was in Black’s face, followed him all over the floor… It was when he started to back off… Black changed… One second he was a wreck, the next… He grabbed Bobby by the wrist… He grabbed him hard, broke it. I heard the bone snap… I think I remember Bobby crying out.”
John nodded. That fitted in with the injuries Goren had sustained. Deakins had told him on the quiet that photos had been taken by trained medical staff of finger-shaped bruises around Goren’s broken wrist. Black had to have had some phenomenal burst of rage-driven strength to snap the bone in such a way. It was also the only way they could see Black being able to divest Goren of his weapon.
“Black grabbed Bobby’s gun,” Alex went on softly. “He shot… shot Bobby four times… Then he turned and shot at me. I shot back at him, and I hit him in the arm… I managed to knock Bobby’s gun out of his hand. Then he came over to me… Kicked my gun out of my hands… He was going to kill me, then. Beat me to death, I think… But Bobby shot him. He’d dragged himself across the floor to where his gun had fallen. Even with a broken wrist, and four bullet wounds, he still managed to drag himself across the floor, pick up his gun and shoot Black…”
Tears were streaming down her face at the memories. John squeezed her hand reassuringly.
“What happened after that, sweetheart?”
“Black fell next to me… but he got up again. He disappeared… I don’t know where he went. I managed to crawl over to Bobby… He was already unconscious by then. I radioed for help… That’s all I remember.”
“That’s good, honey,” John murmured, leaning over to kiss his daughter gently on the forehead, at the same time struggling to hold back his own tears. “And you don’t have to be afraid. The police are going to find Black. They’ll tear New York apart to find him after what he did to you and Bobby.”
Alex shut her eyes.
“He saved my life. Black would have killed me if it hadn’t been for Bobby. He saved my life, Dad.”
“I know,” John whispered, stroking her forehead lightly. “And you saved his. If you hadn’t found the strength to radio for help, neither of you might have survived.”
“If he dies…” she whispered.
“He won’t,” her brother Philip told her with surety. “Have some faith, sis. You’ll both go back to work together, I’m sure of it. Have some faith.”
Alex wanted to thank them for their support, but she couldn’t find the strength to speak. Fresh tears came in a flood, and in the end, all she could do was cry.
A few hours later
Deakins entered the hospital late that evening, feeling almost light-headed with relief. He had taken a call from Dr Fielding less than an hour ago telling him that the surgery had been a success, and Goren had come through it safely. As a result, his chances of survival had been boosted considerably.
He was still classified as critical and on life-support, and the next seventy-two hours would be touch and go, but Fielding was quietly confident that the real danger had passed. Over the next twenty-four hours, they intended to bring him slowly out of the induced coma so that, hopefully, he could finally start to recover.
There was a catch, though, Fielding had warned him over the phone, and it was a big one. They would not know with absolute certainty whether there had been any nerve damage until after Goren was awake. Only then they would know for sure just how successful the operation had really been.
As skillful as the surgeon was, and as careful as he had been, they all had to accept that there was a strong chance that Bobby Goren could end up permanently confined to a wheelchair.
Deakins refused to contemplate that. He wanted to believe that Goren was past the worst of it, and on his way to a complete recovery, the same as Eames. He wanted to believe that he would have his best team back on the job in no time, back to doing what they did best - bringing in the worst of New York's criminals.
He was almost to the lifts when a loud, angry voice brought him up short.
“Why can’t you just tell me where he is? Damn it, do I look like a threat? You’ve got so many damned cops here, even if I was here to hurt him, I’d be an idiot to try! I’m no fool; I know I’d never make it out of this building alive. But I’m not here to hurt him, I just want to see my brother!”
“I need to see ID, sir,” the duty nurse said calmly, unperturbed by the stranger’s outburst.
“I showed you my license!” the man exploded. “What else do you want? A birth certificate? Damn it…”
Instinct and a plentiful helping of curiosity drew Deakins over to the man.
“Excuse me, Mr…?”
The man looked around at Deakins, and Deakins immediately saw the family resemblance.
“My name’s Frank Goren,” the man said in a strained voice. “Bobby Goren is my younger brother. I just flew into New York this afternoon with my family, and I saw on the news about Bobby. I just want to see him, but no one will tell me where he is!”
“I’m Captain James Deakins,” Deakins introduced himself. “Detective Goren is under my command. I was aware he had a brother, but I didn’t even know your name…”
“Doesn’t surprise me,” Frank said wearily. “Bobby never did talk openly about family. And we were never exactly close, either. I haven’t seen Bobby for nearly nine years, since our father passed away.”
“You said you’re here with your family?” Deakins asked, and Frank nodded.
“My wife Emily, and our seven year old daughter, Sophie. We came for a holiday, and I was hoping to catch up with Bobby, and spend a bit of time with him. He’s never met his niece, you see. I didn’t expect to get here to find all of this, though. Captain Deakins, what happened to him?”
Deakins hesitated, then ushered Frank across the floor into a waiting lift.
“Your brother and his partner went to talk to a suspect. That suspect turned violent. He shot your brother, and then he shot his partner, Alex Eames. They’re both in ICU at the moment.”
“They’re going to be all right?”
“Eames is out of danger…”
“But Bobby isn’t.”
“He just came out of surgery about an hour ago, Mr Goren…”
“Call me Frank, please. I know you guys call each other by your last names. It’ll save confusion.”
Deakins nodded in acquiescence.
“I’ll start from the beginning. Goren was shot four times, at point blank range in the chest and stomach.”
“God almighty…”
“The surgeons here got three of those bullets out yesterday morning, when Goren and Eames were brought to the hospital, but one was pushing against his spine. They had to wait for a specialist to arrive from DC before they could attempt to get that fourth bullet out.”
“And they did?”
“Yes. It was a dangerous procedure. There was no guarantee that he’d survive it, but he did. Thank God.”
Frank was silent for a long moment, staring intently at Deakins before speaking again.
“What else is there, Captain Deakins?”
“They had to remove his spleen. One of the bullets virtually shredded it. Because of that, they’ve had to keep him isolated to prevent infection. At this stage, any infection would probably kill him.”
“Hell… And I suppose they don’t know whether that last bullet might have caused any nerve damage or paralysis?”
“Not yet,” Deakins confirmed. Frank smiled faintly at the mildly puzzled look on Deakins’ face.
“I’m not a doctor myself, Captain, but my wife is. You don't stay married to a doctor for long without getting to know some things. But... I guess the really important thing is that he came through the surgery. Please, is it possible to see him?”
“I can take you to the observation room. That’s the closest any of us can get at the moment.”
Frank nodded.
“I’d appreciate it. Thankyou.”
They arrived at the observation room to find John Eames there with his brother Marty. John looked questioningly at the stranger with Deakins, and Deakins introduced them quietly.
“John, Marty, this is Frank Goren, Bobby's older brother. Frank, this is John and Marty Eames. John is Alex Eames’ father. Marty is her uncle.”
The men shook hands, and John spoke wryly.
“You have good timing, Frank.”
Frank looked towards the observation window.
“So I hear.”
He walked over and looked through the window to his comatose brother. The tears came in a flood, before he could stop them.
“Oh god… Look at him…”
“He’s going to be all right,” John said quietly. “We’re all confident of that.”
Frank continued to stare through the window, almost blinded by his tears. The last time he had seen his brother had been almost nine years ago, at the funeral of their father. While not unfriendly, nor had their reunion been exactly jovial. They had gone for a drink together after the funeral, and had ended up sitting next to each other at a bar, neither one knowing what to say or do.
He had never imagined, though, that the next time he saw his brother, it would be within the sterile confines of the ICU in hospital. Abruptly, Frank wanted nothing more than to go into that room, sit down next to the bed and simply hold his little brother’s hand.
“How long before he comes out of isolation?”
“We’re not sure yet,” Deakins answered quietly, Fin’s words of warning from earlier ringing distantly in his mind. “He’s been in a drug-induced coma since yesterday morning to keep him stable. They’ll start to bring him out of it over the next twenty-four hours. Hopefully by then the danger of infection will have passed, and they’ll be able to remove the oxygen tent.”
“I hope they get rid of that thing before he wakes up,” John said tightly. “I know it’s been crucial to keeping the environment sterile, but I’d hate for him to have to wake up to that sort of isolation.”
“How long are you going to be in New York for?” Marty asked, opting to change the subject.
“We were only planning on being here for five days, but when I saw about Bobby on the news, I extended our booking for an extra two weeks. I contacted the company I work for, and my boss told me I can stay for as long as I need to. Tell me, what happened to the son of a bitch that shot my brother? Do you have him in custody?”
“Not yet,” Deakins admitted with reluctance. “It’s only a matter of time, though. We know he’s injured. Both Alex and Bobby managed to shoot him at least once, so he’s not going to be able to stay off the radar for long.”
“That, and the fact that every cop in New York is on the lookout for him,” John added with grim satisfaction. “If the bastard has any sense, he’ll go to his lawyer, and turn himself in.”
Frank looked back at Deakins.
“Is there any chance that I’ll be allowed to stay here tonight?”
“That could be arranged,” Deakins agreed. “But there’s really not much point in you staying here tonight. He’s not going to wake up before tomorrow. You’d be best to go back to your hotel, try and get a good night’s rest and come back tomorrow morning.”
Frank sighed faintly.
“I suppose so.”
“Let me have your contact details,” Deakins told him. “If anything happens, I’ll contact you straight away.”
Frank nodded. “Okay.”
Emily Goren was waiting in growing anxiety for her husband to return to their hotel room at the Plaza. Far from being a fun, relaxing holiday like they had planned and hoped for, she suspected they were in for a fairly rough ride. It had started upon checking into their room. Frank had been enthusiastic. He planned on taking them to Central Park Zoo the next morning, and then he intended to contact his younger brother, and try to arrange a time to get together.
Emily had only ever met Bobby Goren once, and that was at their father’s funeral. She knew the relationship between the two brothers was civil, at best, but she also knew how much Frank really cared for his little brother. He still suffered intense guilt over all that had gone on during their childhood, with their mother’s illness and their father’s desertion. Frank had been the one to knuckle down and get the good grades, and excel at sport, while it had fallen to Bobby to get a job to try and support the family. It had been Frank who had received what scant attention their father afforded them, while Bobby had been pushed back into the shadows. And while Frank had gone on to college, and a degree in science, Bobby had spent his teen years struggling to balance a desire to fulfil his own dreams and having to stay grounded to support their mother.
From all that she had heard about Bobby from Frank, prior to the funeral, she hadn’t really known what to expect. She had been more than a little surprised to be introduced to a man who, by all appearances, was very polite, quiet and shy. She suspected there was a tremendous intelligence behind that reserved personality, but she’d never had the opportunity to find out. She had returned to Connecticut with Frank two days later, and he had rarely spoken about his brother since.
For some unknown reason, though, over the last few months Frank had started talking about his brother again and, finally, began to express a wish to see him again. Finally they had decided on a trip to New York, planning a holiday for them and their young daughter to coincide with a reunion between the two brothers.
Sophie, in particular, had been highly enthused at the prospect of meeting ‘Uncle Bobby’. She had a sky-high intellect and an insatiable curiosity for arcane knowledge and unusual facts, something that Frank fondly claimed was very reminiscent of his younger brother.
And so they had arrived in New York and checked into the Plaza Hotel, with their first day already planned out. Frank had just been scrolling the phone books to find his brother’s contact details when Sophie had screamed for them from her room.
They ran to see what was wrong, half expecting to find her cowering from a spider, or something similar. Instead, she’d been pointing to the television, tears brimming in her big brown eyes. It had been a news update. Two New York detectives had been shot on duty the previous day while investigating a multiple homicide. Emily and Frank had stood and watched in numb horror as a photo of Frank’s little brother Bobby was flashed onto the screen along with one of his partner, Alex Eames.
The two detectives were at St Clare’s Hospital, the report said, and were both in critical condition.
Any ideas of dinner were immediately forgotten, and Frank had immediately called the front desk and asked them to summon a cab for him so he could get to St Clare’s straight away to see his brother. Now, Emily anxiously awaited either a call from her husband, or his return to the hotel room. She could only hope and pray that they didn’t end up attending a funeral.
“Mommy?”
She looked around to see her daughter standing there, watching her with big, questioning eyes.
“Sweetheart, you should be asleep. What are you doing up?”
Sophie Goren walked around and sat down on the sofa next to her mother.
“I couldn’t sleep. I keep thinking about Uncle Bobby. Why would someone want to hurt him like that?”
“I don’t know, baby. I wish I did. I’m sure he didn’t do anything to deserve it.”
“Do you think he’s going to die?”
“I hope not.”
“Me, too.”
The door of the suite suddenly opened, and Frank walked in, looking thoroughly exhausted. Emily and Sophie watched him with open fear. He stopped, took in their expressions, and then spoke gently.
“It’s okay. He’s still alive. The kid’s a fighter.”
Emily breathed a long sigh of relief. Frank poured himself a drink, and then joined them on the sofa.
“He’s in a pretty bad way, though. He was shot four times, and one of the bullets was pressing against his spine. They’d just finished operating to take it out when I got there tonight. He survived the operation, but they don’t know yet whether there’s any permanent nerve damage. They won’t know until he wakes up.”
“And when will that be?” Emily asked softly.
“Hopefully in the next twenty-four hours. I was told he’d been placed in an induced coma to keep him stable until they could operate. Now that they’ve got that last bullet out, they’re going to start gradually waking him up.”
“Did you want to be there?” Emily asked. “At the hospital, I mean…”
“Yes, but the truth is it’s not going to matter much either way at the moment. Even if he does wake up in the next few hours, I can’t be with him. Not properly. He’s in isolation to keep him from picking up any infections.”
“Do you think he’ll pull through?” Emily asked softly. Frank contemplated that for a long moment in silence.
“I don’t know, he admitted finally. “From what I was able to find out, it’s going to be touch and go for a while yet, and if he picks up any infections, it could be disastrous. We can only hope and pray, Em. Can’t do much more than that for now.”
Dylan Black had gone to ground very quickly after taking out the two cops in his warehouse. Despite two bullet wounds of his own, he’d dared not go to any clinics or hospitals. He knew damned well that as soon as he set foot anywhere in public, he’d probably end up with about fifty cop bullets pumped into his body. Though he hadn’t killed either of those cops outright (he had a small radio with him and had been listening intently to all news updates), he knew they were both in a pretty bad way.
Not that he felt the slightest bit guilty about that. Hell, no. They’d deserved what he’d dished out to them, especially that arrogant, know-it-all, in-your-face asshole. And as for his bitch partner…? He would have finished her off for sure, except the asshole hadn’t been out for the count like he should have been.
Black shuddered a little, and winced at the fiery pain in his shoulder as he tried to move into a more comfortable position. The bullets were gone, removed by a buddy of his who had gotten himself a medical degree of some sort in some pissy little country that he couldn’t pronounce the name of. He didn’t know how good a job his buddy had done, and he didn’t really care, either. All he cared about was that the bullets were gone. Beyond that, he could deal.
Taking a swig from a water bottle that his buddy had left behind for him, which contained something considerably stronger than water, he reached over and switched the radio back on, just in time to catch an update on the very subject that interested him the most.
‘…manhunt is continuing for the individual believed responsible for gunning down two New York City detectives two days ago in a Manhattan warehouse. Descriptions have been circulated state-wide for a man that is wanted for questioning by police in regards to the shooting…’
“Questioning,” Black muttered, uttering a short laugh. “Yeah, right.”
‘…In related news, at an earlier Press conference, Captain James Deakins of the Major Case Squad reported that Detective Robert Goren’s condition has stabilised sufficiently for him to be brought out of isolation…’
Black snapped off the radio and sank back into his chair.
So the asshole was going to live. The asshole and the bitch were both going to live. He’d pumped four bullets into that son of a bitch, and it still wasn’t enough to bring him down permanently!
Black stared at the floor, seething. The asshole and bitch were both going to live, where he was likely to be fatally shot the instant any cop in the state of New York laid eyes on him. He was a dead man, he was positive of that. A fucking walking dead man.
Okay, if he was a dead man, then he had nothing to lose. He would do one last thing before death claimed him, and that was to finish what he’d started. He was going to kill Detective Goren and Detective Eames, and this time he wasn’t going to fuck it up.
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