Links to Parts 1.  2.  3. 4.

Chapter 14

Author Note: I would like to welcome a guest writer to this chapter. As I’ve mentioned before, Taffy is a character who belongs to my good friend and beta reader, katbybee. She offered to write the first draft of the scene for his trip to Washington, D.C., and I took her up on it! I edited a little bit so that it would fit with my style, but for the most part, it is as Kat wrote it. :) Thank you, Kat!

Disclaimer: Other than driving past, I have never actually been to Georgetown University Hospital. I found a map of the layout online, but I don’t know whether it is accurate for the time. I had to use some creative license on this one.

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Glossary

(Choctaw - English)

Tasembo - Crazy (the name of the Gages’ dog)

Miti - Come!

Ofi achukma - Good dog

(Spanish - English)

Mijo - a contraction of Mi hijito, which means My son.

Gracias a Dios - Thanks be to God

(French - English)

Adieu, ma chérie - Farewell, my dear.

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When Ken Johnson said “8:00 a.m. sharp,” Mike knew what he really meant was 7:45. He made a point of arriving early Wednesday morning, walking through the doors of HQ precisely at 7:30. He was still smiling about the previous evening with Beth.

He’d taken her to The Smoke House in Burbank. Though they couldn’t afford to make a regular habit of eating at the classic steakhouse, it had been one of their favorite restaurants ever since they got married just over 20 years ago, when one of their wedding gifts had been a certificate for dinner for two. The food was tasty and it was the best place for celebrity spotting. Over the years, they’d seen Bob Hope there and Bing Crosby and at least a dozen other stars.*

“It’s so good to see you smiling again,” Beth had said as she reached around the basket of cheesy garlic bread and rested her warm hand on his. Her eyes had sparkled and her soft French accent washed over Mike like a tide on the beach. At that point, he could hardly wait for their server to bring their prime rib, and he would happily skip dessert entirely. He just wanted to get her home so they could continue their date-night in the privacy of their bedroom.

But of course he had waited, and he enjoyed just sitting with her, gazing at her, talking with her, listening to her laugh. All the stars in Hollywood could have been at the Smoke House that night, but he wouldn’t have noticed. The only stars he cared about were in her eyes.

Eventually, dinner had ended. He’d paid the bill and they’d headed home and he’d swooped her into his arms and carried her giggling to their bedroom while the twins just rolled their eyes. And, though if anyone asked he’d make up some other excuse, the next few hours he’d shared with his wife were the real reason he walked into work with a dreamy smile stretched across his face.

He had barely settled himself at his desk when Chief Johnson peered around the door. “Ready to go, Stoker?”

Mike glanced at his watch and chuckled. 7:40. He closed the file he’d been about to study and grabbed his badge and keys from his desk. “Yessir, Chief. Let’s go.”

When he stepped into the corridor, he realized that the Chief wasn’t alone. Detective David Barstow served as the investigation team’s liaison with the police department. “David’s going to join us, Michael. And he has a warrant to help us get the information we need.”

“A warrant?” Mike’s eyes widened in surprise. “Already?”

“Yep,” Barstow said. “I shared your discovery with the District Attorney. We’ve had no luck tracking her down any other way, and he agreed with us that we need to find her. So he managed to fast-track a warrant to allow us to demand the information we need from the preschool. It was a great catch, Mike. Well done.”

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When they reached the preschool around 8:30, they had to make their way past parents walking their children across the parking lot. Mike chuckled to hear a couple of kids arguing about whether he and the Chief were policemen or firemen. Inside, they stepped into the office and asked to speak with the director.

“Mrs. Cassidy is in the classroom just now. Have a seat, officers.” The receptionist indicated a row of chairs along the wall. “I’ll just let her know you’re here.” She stepped away from the desk, looking back over her shoulder and aiming a demure smile at Detective Barstow. Mike swallowed a laugh. He’d heard Barstow had a reputation for… well… turning heads, in spite of his wedding ring, and he supposed he’d just seen the truth of it. Mike and David had a seat, but Chief Johnson stayed on his feet, pacing the length of the small waiting area.

About five minutes later, a slender, petite woman wearing a paint-splattered smock over her jeans and top came hurrying into the office area, a welcoming smile on her face. Her curly grey hair was caught up in a bun, but numerous unruly strands had managed to escape. “Hello, gentlemen. I’m Miss Julia…” She stopped and shook her head, then laughed. “Mrs. Cassidy, that is. Cassidy is a mouthful for the little ones, so we stick with Miss Julia. Pardon my appearance —we keep things pretty casual around here. How may I help you?”

Mike and Dave stood up, and Chief Johnson stepped forward and stretched out a hand. “Good morning, Ma’am. I’m Chief Ken Johnson of the Los Angeles County Fire Department. These fellows here are Fire Captain Michael Stoker and Detective David Barstow of the police department. We are investigating the recent fire that destroyed the Sunny Estates Apartment Building, and we understand that your employee Marita Jefferson was a resident there.”

Miss Julia’s smile faded and her blue eyes turned steely. Mike imagined she used that look to quell temper tantrums and arguments among the preschoolers. “Former employee. Marita stopped coming to work about a week before the fire. Never called, never gave notice, never asked about a sub. At first I worried about her, but then one of my teachers — Brenda —got a message that she was going to visit her sister out of state. I had to hire someone to take her place. If she ever does come back, I can tell you, she’ll be sent packing!”

“Did you try getting in touch with her emergency contact?” Detective Barstow asked.

“That’s the first thing I tried. But it turns out her mother died a year ago, and the phone number for her brother was disconnected. Then Brenda came to me with the message and I didn’t bother calling the third contact.”

The detective scribbled on his notepad, then looked up at the director. “We’ll need those phone numbers and any other information you have that might help us locate Ms. Jefferson.”

She frowned and shook her head. “Not unless I see a warrant. I may be through with her as an employee, but those are private records. I can’t just hand them over, even to you!”

By the time she finished her sentence, Barstow had pulled the folded sheet of paper from inside his jacket and handed it to her. “I think you’ll find that’s all in order, Ma’am.”

She studied the document for a moment, then sighed. “Well then...” She turned to the receptionist. “Sue, fetch Marita Jefferson’s employee file and give it to these gentlemen, please.”

Chief Johnson smiled and nodded. “Thank you for your cooperation, Mrs. Cassidy. Now… we’d like to speak to any of your employees who might have heard from Ms. Jefferson. Starting with Brenda, please.”

“Oh dear!” Mrs. Cassidy’s tone rose in irritation. “This is going to wreak havoc on our day! I’ll have to shuffle the children around, and that means several of them will be acting out. But I suppose it can’t be helped. I’ll fetch Brenda for you. Oh, hello, Mr. Duffy. Hello, Bella.” She nodded to a father and his little girl, who had just arrived. “Sue, when you’ve got that file, show them into my office. They’ll have more privacy there.”

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Two hours later, the men had completed their interviews and were packing up to go. A couple of the teachers admitted to recognizing their suspect from the photograph as Marita Jefferson’s ex-boyfriend, but no one would offer up a name. Mike wasn’t sure whether they just didn’t know or they were unwilling. He looked forward to asking Dave’s opinion. If Dave had any suspicions, he sure wasn’t letting on. The teachers had depicted Ms. Jefferson as a kind, caring woman, a loving mother who doted on her young son and his older sister, Emma. Mike doubted she could be involved in any arson attempt.

The only other potentially helpful information they’d received was that Marita’s sister Lavinia lived in Atlanta and her last name began with R. Or was it S? Brenda couldn’t be sure. Mike sighed heavily as they walked back up to the parking lot to the Chief’s car. He hoped the last emergency contact number in Marita’s file would pan out for them.

As they walked through the office, Sue sidled up to David and tucked a piece of paper in his shirt pocket. “Call me,” she said, batting her eyes.

Mike rolled his eyes, and once they were out the door, laughed out loud. “Rumors are true, huh? Your wife must hate to let you out the door!”

“My wife knows she has nothing to worry about.” Barstow pulled the slip of paper from his pocket and was about to crumple it and throw it away, but something made him stop and open it instead. He swiftly pocketed it again. “Come on, let’s get back to HQ.”

Once they were inside the car, Bowman pulled out the paper again. “Suspect’s name is Howard Evans,” he said. “And Sue says she’ll tell us everything she knows if we meet her at the Long Beach Public Library at 4:00.”

“All of us, huh?” Ken chuckled as he asked the question. “She’s not hoping for a date?”

Barstow snorted. “I doubt she’d expect a romantic interlude at a library. And I don’t actually know if she meant just me or all of us… it just says ‘you’. And it doesn’t matter anyway… no way I’m going alone!”

“Settle down,” Chief growled as he pulled out of the parking lot onto the street, headed for the highway. “We’ll go with you, Detective. Don’t want to give the Missus any cause for concern. Meanwhile, it’s lunchtime. Let’s head back to HQ and get something to eat, then take a look through that file and follow up on that contact info before we meet with Sue.”

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Johnny patted Minko’s neck and the horse nuzzled his ear. “Sorry, boy… can’t ride today. Tex’ll take you out later.” He had taken the day off and come back home for a while. He and Nita had been living up here less than six months, but the ranch had quickly become a place of refuge for him, and today he needed to clear his head. Ever since his follow-up with Dr. Valdez yesterday, he had felt as if a boulder had settled in the pit of his stomach. He needed to dislodge it, and he hoped a little time with his horses might do the trick.

Nita didn’t know he was up here. If he’d told her, she would have tried to stop him, worried he would get himself in trouble the way he did last time. Besides, she and Jo had their plans for the day, and he didn’t want to disrupt them. He chuckled and shook his head as he thought about it. The ladies were being awful secretive about something, and he sure was itching to find out what it was.

He gave Minko another pat and then produced an apple he’d brought out from the house and presented it to the horse. Minko thanked him with a twitch of his ears and a gentle snort, and Johnny chuckled. He sure wished he could ride, but that’s how he’d gotten into this mess in the first place. Then again… He looked up at Minko, who was staring longingly at him. Surely one little ride would be all right… I wouldn’t go far...

“You will not get on that horse.”

Johnny nearly jumped out of his skin. He had thought Tex would be out exercising Jesse for another hour or so, but here the man came, leading Nita’s mare into the stable. Tex walked with a slight limp, a reminder, he’d told Johnny, of the years he had spent in a Mexican prison many years ago.**

He had been completely open with the Gages about his history, how he’d killed a man for stealing his horse and been sentenced to 20 years in prison. But the man Tex had become was far different from the man he had once been. Released from prison early, Tex had rebuilt his life. Last year, he had risked that life to save Nita’s, which Johnny figured made him family. And two weeks ago, when Johnny learned that the older man had straightened out his status with the INS and been given permission to remain and work in the United States, he’d immediately offered him a job.

Johnny hadn’t expected to need a ranch hand when he bought the place. He and Nita were fully capable of most of the work, after all. But with his dominant hand out of commission for a while, it seemed like a good idea, especially since Nita’s cousin had to get back his life in Bakersfield.

“You heard me, yes? You will not get on that horse.” Tex began removing Jesse’s tack.

“Yeah, I heard you.” Johnny backed away from the stall and had a seat on the feed bin. “How’d you know?”

Tex raised an eyebrow as he reached for the brush and started grooming the mare. “You have not heard of ancient Kikapu telepathic powers?” Johnny’s brow wrinkled and Tex erupted in a belly laugh. “I am kidding you, Mijo. I just know how I would feel in your place… I was in the same position last year, after all.”

Johnny nodded, but his mind had stopped on Tex’s use of the term ‘mijo.’ Did the man really feel that way about him? Johnny had only been 12 when he’d lost his dad. He hadn’t known when he was sent away to school that his father was sick, and when his sole parent had died, Johnny’s world had fallen apart. His aunt and uncle had done right by him, but he had always missed his father —the man, definitely, but also simply having a father. His uncle had never been cruel, but he never wanted a paternal role, and he and Johnny hadn’t been close. But now Tex had called him son.

He swallowed the lump in his throat and turned moist eyes toward the stable door, away from Tex. How many times over the years had he longed for this? A father figure to counsel or comfort or simply hang out with? It’s just a word. I’m probably reading too much into it, he thought, but he couldn’t help thinking it felt right. He smiled and shook his head. He knew better than to actually speak of it to the old man. “You uh… want to walk up to the meadow with me?”

“Anything you say, Boss. Stock is fed and watered. Fence is repaired. A walk would do us both good.” Tex grabbed his cane from where he’d left it leaning against the stable wall. He didn’t always use the hand-carved staff Johnny had given him to replace the one that was destroyed when he fought off the men who would have kept him from helping Nita, but he said it steadied him on longer walks or when the terrain was uneven.

As the men left the barn, Johnny whistled and shouted, “Tasembo, miti!” The pup scampered obediently toward him. “Ofi achukma,” Johnny murmured as he bent to scratch the little fellow behind the ears, then straightened up and headed for the path.

They walked in silence for a while, and Johnny soaked in the peace of the place. He deliberately kept his pace slow to accommodate Tex, but soon realized he was the one struggling to keep up.

“You need to rest, Mijo?” Tex had stopped to look back at him.

“I’m fine.” Johnny shivered slightly, and he picked up his pace to catch up to Tex. The late morning weather was warmer down below, but up here in the hills, it was still cool. He was glad he had worn his jacket.

“You are troubled,” Tex observed.

Johnny looked over at him and shook his head as he started walking again, this time moving a little quicker. “I’m starting to believe in those ancient Kikapu telepathic powers, ya know.”

Tex just shrugged. “Power of observation. You were getting ready to ride your horse… you came up to the ranch without Nita… you are crawling along like a snail instead of taking the trail at a sprint. Something troubles you.”

“I had a follow-up with the surgeon yesterday.” Johnny glanced down at his arm resting in its sling. “He… wasn’t encouraging.” He sighed heavily. “Right after my surgery, he spent a lot of time telling me I had a good chance of getting full use back. Now he says the nerve regrowth isn’t progressing like it should… that I might not get it back after all.”

Tex kept walking, but he gave Johnny’s shoulder a comforting squeeze.

“I’ve been offered a new job… a good one… where my hand won’t matter so much,” Johnny went on. “I was already thinking of taking it, but… I liked the idea that I could go back to my old job if I wanted to.”

“What do the doctors know?”

Tex’s blunt question startled Johnny. The answer “Plenty” was at the tip of his tongue, but he bit it back. He had seen how much they knew. He had watched Brackett and Early and Morton for years now. They saved lives on a daily basis.

“Mijo, when my leg was injured, the doctors said I would never walk or ride again. But look at me. Gracias a Dios, I am able to walk. I am able to ride.” He reached for the cross he wore on a chain around his neck, raised it to his lips, and kissed it. “What I am saying is... there is only so much that doctors can do. Most of it depends on you and your will and your work.”

“Yeah, I know… I’ve heard that over and over from just about everyone.” Johnny sighed. “But I can’t will the nerves into growing back properly. And it doesn’t matter how hard I work if that doesn’t happen.”

Tex didn’t argue, and they walked on in silence up to the meadow. Johnny made for his favorite picnic spot, where he’d proposed to Nita. He could hear the rush of water over rocks from the nearby river… the chattering of birds… the whisper of a soft breeze through the trees. He closed his eyes and breathed in deep, absorbing it all.

“Does your Roy like to fish?”

Johnny shook his head, startled once again out of his reverie by Tex’s voice. “Yeah… yeah, he does.”

“You fish here?”

“Yeah.” Johnny thought back to their last fishing trip up here, just a week or so before Roy’s accident. “It’s a great spot to camp, and the river is full of trout.”

“The path is rough. It will be hard for Roy to get to the river. We should build a good path for him.” Tex stated the idea in a matter-of-fact way, as if they could build a pathway as easily as they could pour oats in Minko’s feeding trough.

Johnny shook his head. “Great thought, Tex… but we would need heavy machinery, wouldn’t we? And it would cost a fortune.”

“We could do it, Mijo! You and I, working together.”

“I’ve only got one good hand, Tex, and it’s my left hand. It’s a crazy idea.” But Tex had started walking the path toward the river, and Johnny followed him, trying to envision the sort of path that would make the river accessible for Roy. Could they really do this?

Tex turned and caught Johnny’s left hand, shaped it into a fist, and held it for a moment between his own hands while he gazed intently into Johnny’s eyes. “You must train this hand —make it strong, teach it to serve you well. And when your cast and sling come off, then you will do the same again with the right hand. The work will be good.”

Tex dropped his hand and let his eyes rove from the trees to the existing path and all around, and Johnny got the idea he was drawing up plans in his mind. “Your friends will wish to help.”

The old ranch hand’s excitement proved contagious, and soon Johnny was following him along the path to the river. They passed the next couple of hours making plans and deciding where they would start. By the time they headed back down to the ranch house for lunch, Johnny realized the boulder in his stomach had dissolved into nothing.

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One of the things Dixie loved about living in California was that even in October, she could often lie out by the pool and enjoy the sunshine. Of course, Sacramento didn’t have as many sunny days as LA, but today was beautiful, not a cloud in the sky and temperatures in the 80s. A perfect day for basking poolside with her friend and trying to forget her troubles. She stretched and yawned, then rolled over on her lounge chair to let the sun hit her back for a while.

“So, are you going to tell me what brought you up here?” Trudy asked suddenly from the lounger next to hers.

Trudy had welcomed Dixie warmly, of course, when she’d arrived at her apartment complex in Sacramento just after noon. It was a long drive from L.A., but she’d left before sunrise because she couldn’t sleep, and she’d managed it with only a few brief pit-stops.

Trudy noticed Dixie’s red-rimmed eyes right away. Dixie shrugged off her friend’s initial questions, sweeping past her instead to carry her bags to the apartment’s small guest room. “Is your pool still open?” she’d called down the hallway. When Trudy told her it was and suggested they sunbathe for a while, she’d changed quickly into a swimsuit and slathered on some sunscreen.

They’d been outside about an hour before Trudy asked her question. A bunch of kids were splashing in the pool, and a few adults sat at the scattered picnic tables, but Trudy and Dixie had their end of the pool area all to themselves.

Dixie sighed. “A wonderful man proposed to me yesterday.”

Trudy gasped in exaggerated horror. “Oh, that’s terrible. A real tragedy.” But when her eyes fixed on Dixie’s, she must have seen the hurt in them because she immediately clapped a hand over her mouth. “Oh, Dix… I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have teased.” She sat up on her lounger and rested a hand on Dixie’s shoulder. “What’s wrong, Hon?”

“It… it wasn’t Kel.” Tears started to spill over in spite of Dixie’s best efforts to blink them back. No… I can’t cry… not out here in front of people! She grabbed her towel and swiped at her face, then threw it down and ran to jump in the water. The cool liquid came as a shock to her sun-warmed body, but only for a moment. By the time she bobbed up to the surface, her tears obscured by the pool water dripping from her hair, it felt good. She swam a lap around the deep end of the pool, then climbed out and wrapped up in her towel. “Let’s go inside,” she told Trudy. “I’ll tell you the whole story.”

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Even though he had made his travel plans at the last minute, Kel had managed to get a seat on the red-eye to D.C. Normally, he preferred a seat on the aisle, but he had spent the flight crammed next to the window. Had he bothered to look as the plane descended over D.C. on approach to National Airport, he would have had a stunning view of the National Mall and the monuments, but he barely noticed them.

He picked up his suitcase at baggage claim, then hurried outside to the line of cabs. He tossed his luggage into a taxi, then climbed in the back seat. “Georgetown University Hospital please,” he told the driver, hoping the man wasn’t the chatty type —he didn’t think he could handle small talk at the moment.

The driver attempted to point out various landmarks as they drove past, but Kel did nothing more than grunt in response. Eventually, the man gave up and completed the rest of the drive in silence, depositing Kel at his destination about twenty minutes later.

Kel stood on the sidewalk for a moment, staring up at the imposing red brick edifice. Finally, he grabbed the handle of his suitcase and shouldered his carry-on bag and headed for the door.

At the front desk, he waited his turn in line, then asked the attendant for Dr. Dennis Schwartz. “I’m Dr. Kelly Brackett. He’s expecting me.” He had called Dennis last night — thankfully, the man was a bit of a night owl and was still awake — and his friend had been delighted to hear he was coming.

The desk attendant made a phone call, then looked back up at Kel. “He’s in a meeting right now, but he left instructions to send you to his secretary. Just head down the hall to your right. The door at the end will take you to the Administration offices.”

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“Kelly Brackett, as I live and breathe!” Dennis Schwartz came ambling into the Administration waiting area. His hair was silver now, and he’d put on a couple of pounds, but otherwise, he hadn’t changed a bit since Kel had roomed with him at Johns Hopkins more than two decades ago.

Kel stood and put out a hand to shake with Denny, but Denny pulled him into a hug instead. Kel clapped him on the back, then pulled away. “Denny. How’s Lydia?” Denny’s wife had been the only female student in their class at Hopkins, and she had put them both to shame.

“She’s in private practice now, a pediatric clinic a few blocks from here. She also volunteers at a charity clinic in Sursum Corda** a couple days a week.” A flash in Denny’s eyes alerted Kel that his friend wasn’t particularly happy about that last fact.

“Bad area?”

Denny sighed. “Lots of drug dealers lately; violent crime too… getting worse all the time.” He beckoned for Kel to follow him. “Listen, Kel. Have you had lunch?”

Kel’s stomach growled at the very mention of food. He’d slept through the breakfast served on his flight, and they’d arrived in DC before lunchtime. “Not yet.”

“Why don’t you put your luggage in my office. Then we’ll head over to Clyde’s and get something.” Denny unlocked his office door as he continued to speak and Kel followed him inside with his bags. “It’s not far. Come on… my car’s parked out back.” The two men headed to the parking lot.

Soon, they were settling into a booth at Clyde’s. After they had ordered their drinks and an appetizer, Denny leaned forward slightly, resting his elbows on the table. “So, you’re finally interested in taking me up on that job offer, are you? What brought that on? Every time I’ve tried reeling you in, you’ve neatly avoided the hook.”

Kel chuckled at the metaphor. Denny was an avid fisherman, and during their student days in Baltimore, the two of them had spent more than a few days off bass fishing in Conowingo Lake.

“I guess your bait finally looked better than what they were throwing out at Rampart.” Even though he considered Denny a good friend, he wasn’t ready to get into the details of why he wanted this change. “At least… if it’s anything like what you said last time we talked.”

Denny took a pen from his shirt pocket and scrawled something on a coaster. Then he pushed it across the table at Kel. “How’s that for bait?”

Kel looked at the figure, which was almost twice his salary at Rampart, and raised an eyebrow. “Pretty attractive, I have to admit. What exactly would the job entail?”

“Well, originally I was just hoping to bring you in as a new attending physician in our Emergency Department, but it just so happens our Chief of Emergency has announced he needs to take early retirement.” Denny frowned. “His health hasn’t been so good lately. I’d like you to take over his position, which I know is the same position you hold currently. You would oversee both residents and medical students, and you might be asked to teach one class a semester.

Given the caliber of our school, this would certainly be an upward move for you.”

Kel nodded slowly. “It sounds like an excellent opportunity, Denny, but it’s a big change. Can I take a few days to think it over?”

“Sure,” Denny agreed. “Tell you what… let’s eat lunch, and then I’ll give you a tour of the hospital and campus… see if we can make that bait even more attractive.” He nodded toward the menu as the waiter headed their way. “I recommend the shepherd’s pie,” he said. “Absolutely delicious.”

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Andrew Carter knocked lightly at the front door of the Hogan home. Galen was a small suburban community located not far from Washington DC, where both Hogan and Andrew worked at the Pentagon, though Hogan was nearing retirement. (Absolutely ungracefully, but that was another story.) Andrew had picked Taffy Matthews up from Dulles International Airport after his flight from Los Angeles. Carter noticed Taffy was unusually quiet and morose on the drive from the airport but had no chance to ask, because Taffy never offered any opening to talk, and Carter respected his apparent need for space.

Taffy was usually the only other person who could convince General Robert Hogan of anything, and General Hogan was badly in need of convincing this time. He had developed a severe lung infection which doctors had told him had morphed into pneumonia… double pneumonia to be precise. He needed to be in the hospital. Of course, being Hogan, he refused to go and insisted the doctors treat him at home with antibiotics. Insisted he would be fine. Doctors refused, insisting he would not be fine. So far, doctors and patient were at an impasse.

The door swung open and Anton stood there, a relieved smile on his face. He shook Taffy’s hand. “Boy, am I glad to see you! Come on in. Dad’s being a mule. Maybe you can talk some sense into him. God knows the rest of us have tried. He’s in the kitchen.”

Taffy nodded grimly. “I’ll do what I can. Though why a grown man should need anyone to point out something so obvious is a little beyond me.” He headed for the kitchen without even bothering to remove his jacket, and his words were laced with a bitterness he didn’t even bother to hide.

Carter stared at Anton in amazement. He didn’t think he’d ever heard Taffy speak even a cross word before. He started to follow the chaplain, but then veered instead to take a seat on the living room couch. Anton joined him. Tiger sat across from them in a rocking chair, quilting a patchwork square and muttering darkly under her breath.

She looked up at Carter. “Thank you for bringing him.” Andrew knew she had spent yet another sleepless night worrying about Hogan’s deep, watery cough and his wheezing, and Hogan had yelled at her to leave him alone about it one too many times.

Carter offered Tiger a reassuring smile. “He’ll get the General sorted if he has to knock the sense back into him.” The worried friends chuckled at the image, but soon grew silent again and simply waited.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Taffy strode into the room and spotted the ever-present old-fashioned percolator sitting on the stove and poured himself a cup. Hogan refused to use an electric coffee pot, preferring instead to make coffee over a burner. The resulting brew was the stuff of legends and probably should have been labeled a health hazard, but Taffy took no notice as he sat himself across from a now-scowling Hogan. Taffy sipped the evil brew and scowled back. The Welsh chaplain’s first volley set the tone for the rest of the battle. “Beggin’ yer pardon, sir, but ye’re an idiot.”

Hogan’s eyebrow raised slightly. Taffy watched him try in vain to stifle a cough, but it took hold of him anyway. “Thank you,’ he replied sarcastically once he had his breath back.

Taffy indicated their surroundings with a sweep of his hand. “No. I mean it. You have everything, sir. Everything we worked and fought for over there. Everything you always wanted! And you wanna give it all up because you are too stupid and too proud and too scared to realize you might be just a little bit mortal!” Taffy’s voice had risen steadily as he spoke and he had come part way out of his chair.

Hogan growled. “I am not scared to die. I’m not scared of anything.”

Taffy chuckled suddenly. “Of course you are, Robert. We all are. It’s natural. The bravest man in the universe would be lying if he said he wasn’t. Fear is what keeps brave men alive.”

Hogan cocked his head. “So, you think I won’t go to the hospital because I don’t want to admit I could die.”

Taffy shrugged. “It’s a possibility. It’s also possible you’re simply being a pain in the ass.”

Hogan blinked at the blunt statement. And laughed. After a while, he looked Taffy square in the eye. “True.”

Taffy stood and placed his now empty mug on the table. “I can’t stay, Robert. I have somewhere important I need to be. Will you go to the hospital?”

After a long pause, Hogan nodded. “Yeah.” He stared at Taffy for a long moment. Taffy offered a sad smile in response, but the glint of doubt he saw in Hogan’s eyes told him his friend was not convinced.

“Taffy, I’m sorry they dragged you all the way out here.” The concern in his tone touched Taffy’s heart and softened his response.

Taffy nodded. “Honestly, General, so am I. But perhaps it was for the best. I don’t know. For now, take care of yourself. Let the doctors take care of you.” He turned and left the room without another word. He nodded to the others, who waited anxiously in the living room. He smiled tiredly. “He’ll go.” He looked at Andrew. “Will you mind driving me back to the airport? I want to be on the first possible flight back to Los Angeles.”

Carter looked startled but said nothing as he nodded and reached for his coat. Tiger came over to Taffy and kissed his cheek. “Thank you for whatever you said to him, Taffy. I wish you would stay for a while, but I understand if you have to go back.”

Taffy took her hand in his. “I do, Marie. Perhaps I will explain it all some time. For now...” He kissed her hand. “Adieu, ma chérie.”

Carter and Taffy made the trip back to the airport just as silently as they had the trip to the Hogan house a few hours earlier.

The first possible flight was the red-eye, but Taffy didn’t regret spending the rest of the day waiting around at the airport. He didn’t feel like socializing or explaining, not until he’d had an answer from Dixie. He boarded his flight just before midnight and arrived in Los Angeles about four o’clock the next morning. Two hours later he checked into the same hotel he had checked out of less than 36 hours earlier. He was more exhausted than he ever remembered being, and he went straight to sleep. The “Do Not Disturb” sign on his door stayed there for the next two days.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 15

Author’s Note: When Mad Murdock from the A-Team first wandered into katbybee’s story Three Ring Circus, I should have known he’d eventually turn up in this story too. I’m glad he did, because I think Roy needed to hear from him. Thanks go to katbybee for helping me write that conversation — she knows Murdock better than I do.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Los Angeles, California

Murdock was not fond of hospitals… was far too familiar with them for comfort. But Doc D was hurt. So, he was here. He had no idea if the man would remember him, but that didn’t matter. They were brothers. They were all brothers. He pulled open the doors to Rampart’s Main Lobby and headed for the Information Desk.

The young woman at the desk looked up from her paperwork and smiled broadly. As he drew closer, her eyes settled on his t-shirt, the one that said Pilots do it on the up and up, and she started laughing fit to kill, but she quickly managed to compose herself. He thought she was awful pretty when she was laughing, kind of like sunshine lighting up the sky and chasing away the rain clouds, and he wished she would have kept at it. Instead she greeted him with a cheerful, “Good morning. How may I help you?”

He smiled at her, his chocolate eyes warm. Her name tag said Annie Howard. ”Well, Miss Annie,” he drawled as he regarded her intently. “I’m here to see one of your patients. Uh, we called him Doc D, but his name’s Roy Desoto. I dunno what room he’s in.”

“Of course, I can help you with that, Sir.” Eyes on the computer screen, she tapped on the keyboard to pull up the information, then she looked up at him again. “Room 235,” she said. “Go down that hall to your right and take the elevator up to the second floor.”

Murdock nodded. “I can find it, thanks. I’m pretty good around these places.”

He turned around and started for the hall, but stopped when he heard her call, “Excuse me, Sir?”

Murdock turned and made his way back to the desk, curious. “Have I broken a rule already?” he smiled. “It usually takes me longer than this.”

“No, Sir… not at all.” She flashed him a friendly smile. “It’s just… I saw the back of your bomber jacket — Da Nang 1970. My dad was at Da Nang. Were you a pilot there?”

H. M. couldn’t help it. His eyes grew a little guarded. They always did, always would. “Yeah. I was. Combat, medevac… whatever they needed.” It was partially true, and all he would ever tell any civilian, even the daughter of a brother. All he could tell her. He stiffened as he waited for the inevitable next question: If her father had died, or was missing, she would want to know if he had met him, or why he couldn’t have pulled him out.

Annie’s shoulders rose as she took in a deep breath and her eyes misted. “Dad missed my sixth-grade father-daughter dance because he was deployed… I was so mad at him for that… but when my best friend’s dad didn’t come home and mine did… I realized how lucky I was.” She smiled again. “I’m glad you made it home too, Sir.”

The veil fell from Murdock’s eyes as he visibly relaxed. He leaned forward, and though his brown eyes danced, there was still pain in them. “Lemme tell you somethin’ missee. Don’t let anyone fool you. Ol’ H. M. Murdock never did quite make it back, baby… but he sure has got some people wonderin’.” Suddenly, his eyes were serious and he was no longer smiling. “You pass something along to your father for me, will you?” He drew himself up to attention and snapped off a crisp military salute, then quickly turned on his heel and was gone.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

For a rare hour that afternoon, Roy found himself alone in his room. JoAnne had left after lunch to spend some time with DJ before the older kids got home from school. Johnny wouldn’t come by till sometime in the evening, if he came at all. Roy had heard he called out sick from work.

That left him some time he wasn’t sure he wanted for contemplation. Instead, he had turned on the television, though he wasn’t really focusing on the show. His gaze was fixed instead on the shadow the box cast on the wall behind it. In the shadows… lately he felt as if that was where he lived these days. Oh, his emotions were no longer on such a roller-coaster as when he’d first awakened, but he still had his ups and downs. This afternoon, he was feeling particularly down.

PT had left him sore and exhausted, and to make things worse, his doctors were making noise about sending him from Rampart to an inpatient rehab facility in a couple weeks.

Roy hated the idea. He just wanted to be home, sleeping in his own bed with JoAnne beside him. He wanted to try to get some semblance of normalcy back. Surely that would help him more than anything else. He really hoped Richardson would support him on this… the psychiatrist stood a much better chance than Roy did of convincing them to let him do his rehab on an outpatient basis. But Brackett was the main one he would have to convince, and Brackett wasn’t even here right now. Roy sighed heavily, but then was distracted from his dark thoughts by a knock on the door.

“Anybody home?” A familiar blue ball cap appeared at the door, but the man wearing it didn’t step all the way in.

The voice was familiar too. Roy hadn’t heard it for almost 20 years, but he had never forgotten it. He clicked off the television set with the remote and turned his head toward the door. “Mad Murdock… wow… c’mon in.” The pilot who had saved so many lives back when Roy escaped from Camp 208 had hardly changed over the years… a little older, maybe, but there was no mistaking him. “Is that the same ball cap you broke the commandant’s hand over?”

Murdock grinned as he stepped in and regarded the man in the bed. “Sure is! How ya doin’ Doc? Fancy meetin’ you here! You’re bunkin’ just a few miles down the road from me!”

Roy self-consciously adjusted the blanket he liked to keep over his legs. “Been better… but at least I’m alive. You live around here?”

Murdock shrugged. “Yeah… I have my own private suite at the Che’ VA Loony Hatch.” He grinned, but it didn’t quite meet his eyes.

Roy immediately regretted using the term ‘mad,’ but he didn’t say anything more about it. “It’s good to see you, Murdock. Have a seat.”

Murdock nodded and immediately levered himself onto the floor, leaning up against the wall near Roy’s bed, his arms behind his head. He stretched his legs out comfortably, looked up at his friend and grinned. “So, tell me about it. What’s goin’ on?”

For a moment, Roy just kept silent as he carefully appraised Murdock. He wasn’t all that surprised that the man had ended up in the ‘Loony Hatch’ as he called it. Most of the guys back in Camp 208 had considered him insane. But looking into his eyes right now, Roy couldn’t help thinking that for all his quirks, Murdock might be the sanest man he’d ever met. “Caught in a building collapse,” he finally grunted. “Don’t remember it… woke up here missin’ a leg.”

His eyes losing all expression, Murdock studied him for a long moment. “I’m sorry, Brother. That stinks.”

“Yeah… and ya know… I think the worst of it isn’t losin’ the leg, but now I’ve started havin’ the nightmares again… takin’ me back to the camp.”

“Not really surprising. That place would give anybody nightmares. I spent two different stretches as a prisoner over there. Part of the second stretch wasn’t in a camp, but that’s a different story. Anyway, I was in one of them damned tiger cages for nearly a year straight. Only time I ever got out was when I was guest of honor at one of Dao’s special parties.”

Murdock’s earlier flippant tone and manner had gone dark and brittle. His words became rapid-fire, spoken almost in a monotone. “Me, I was sittin’ on my ass in that tiger cage, waitin’. I had got myself captured on purpose. But I couldn’t make my move till I got the word, you see. An’ that word didn’t come for two long damn years. I got dropped in that camp and forgotten, dammit!”

Murdock turned desperate eyes on his friend. Roy had a feeling he was about to hear things he shouldn’t be privy to, but that wild light in Murdock’s eyes meant that the demon was loose and not about to be contained now. “Doc, did you ever wonder why I can fly pretty much anything, wings or no?”

“Can’t say I wondered much… but I sure was grateful you could… and did. You saved our lives, Murdock.”

The pilot dismissed the compliment with a wave. Without a trace of arrogance, he looked at Roy. “I am the best damned pilot ever born. I could fly a tank if I had to. There’s no reason for it. It’s just the way it is. I’m also a trained sniper among other things. All that adds up to bad news for me. Because the CIA figured it out. And when they want you, pal, you are in. Believe me. America may be the home of the free… but not if they get their hooks into you. Which is exactly what happened to yours truly. Camp 208. They dropped me in there and told me to wait for orders to assassinate Dao. Which I did. Eventually. But most of those two years didn’t go too well for me.”

He paused and his eyes narrowed. “I wasn’t crazy when I went into that place you know.” His voice grew very soft and tears began to track slowly down his cheeks. “They made me choose… jus’ like you t. I was there… one o’ the other cages. I watched you that day. Wished I had done what you did… but I couldn’t. I had my mission… I HAD to choose. I was the only one could take Dao out. I had to — an’ I just kinda — lost it, I guess. Never did find it again.”

Roy wanted to get out of his bed, get down on the floor next to Murdock and grab hold of him and cry with him. Instead he rubbed the tears from his face and awkwardly maneuvered himself around so he could put a hand on his friend’s shoulder. “I’m sorry, brother.” He wasn’t sure what else to say; the right words for this just didn’t exist.

Murdock scrubbed a hand across his face, snuffled a little, and looked directly at Roy, his eyes still bright with the tears. “Ah, hell, brother. Over at the VA, the shrinks, they keep tellin’ me I need to ‘deal with my issues’ and not let things ‘fall through the cracks.’ You ever hear that around here?”

“Plenty… but things keep slippin’ through. Murdock… I’ve built up so many walls inside me, tryin’ to keep those memories contained, somewhere where I don’t have to think about ‘em. But they find the cracks and they get through to haunt me… nightmares, flashbacks… I hadn’t had any for a long time, but since the accident, they’re back.”

The pilot nodded. “I get it… I do. Because same thing happens to me. For different reasons. But Doc, don’t be afraid of the dark, man. And you don’t have to be afraid of the cracks, either...” Murdock stood up and stretched. “See, if it wasn’t for the cracks, how else could the light get through?” And he smiled his loopy grin.

Roy nodded slowly as he thought about what his friend had said. “Thanks, Murdock. I… um… hope it won’t be another 20 years before I see you again… now that I know you’re nearby and all.”

“Por nada, muchacho. An’ I’m around… I’m always around… except when I’m not.” He grinned wickedly, turned to the door, and was gone as suddenly as he had appeared.

Roy watched him as he slipped out the door, then turned his eyes to his window. Before Murdock came, his mind had been fixed on the shadows, but now… now he focused on the sunlight instead… how it shone through a break in the clouds and illuminated everything. If it wasn’t for the cracks, how else could the light get through? Roy nodded to himself and smiled softly. Yeah… the rest of the world might think Murdock was a raving lunatic, but Roy disagreed. He might be a little broken, maybe a little crazy, but Roy knew for sure, he was definitely not insane.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Sacramento, California

Back in the apartment, Dixie showered, then pulled on her favorite silk pajamas and a terry cloth bathrobe. Trudy had her settled on the couch in short order, with a glass of White Zinfandel, a bag of Hershey’s Minis, and a box of tissues. Toby, meanwhile, had curled up next to her and rested his chin on her lap. As she stroked the pup’s ears, Dixie spilled out everything, from the years of wondering if she and Kel would ever rekindle their old romance, to Taffy’s arrival and how sweetly — but quickly! — he had courted her, and then his proposal and Kel’s subsequent declaration of love.

“And I don’t know what to do, Tru!” Dixie sniffed. “I know Taffy would be good to me… that he genuinely loves me and would never hurt me… but he…”

“He isn’t Kel,” Trudy finished for her and handed her a tissue, then held up the wine bottle. “Refill?”

Dixie looked at her empty glass and nodded as she wiped her eyes, then blew her nose. “Yeah.” She held out the glass.

“Well then.” Trudy tipped the bottle and poured the sweet liquid. “If it’s Kel you love, what’s the problem? He just told you he loves you.”

“Trudy… I… Oh, I don’t know.” She sipped from the glass, then set it down on the coffee table. “Kel doesn’t want marriage… he just wants things to go back to the way they were… an occasional lunch, a glance across the room, a pat on the back. That isn’t a romance! That’s… that’s… well, it’s boring, Tru! But Taffy sends me flowers every day and he calls me ‘my dearest Dixie,’ and… well… there’s just something so right about him. He reminds me of —” She stopped suddenly and squeezed her eyes tight against a sudden flow of tears.

“You were about to say Adam, weren’t you?” Trudy sat down next to Dixie on the sofa and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. “Dear, sweet Adam.”

Dixie sniffled and nodded miserably. For a long time, she’d thought of Adam every single day, but over the years, she’d managed to bundle up those memories and store them in some deep recess of her mind. She hadn’t been prepared for them to resurface now.

All of a sudden, Dixie felt as if she had been transported back to Korea, to the MASH unit where she had met her mentor and best friend. She rested her head on Trudy’s shoulder and wept and remembered.

“Choppers incoming! Heavy casualties!” The nurses scurried to make ready, and soon Dixie and Trudy found themselves working triage. Dixie moved swiftly from patient to patient, then froze only briefly when she recognized a head of sandy brown hair.

Summoning all the discipline instilled in her by years of training, she forced herself to remain calm, to assess the young man’s injuries and then move on to the next patient when she realized he was beyond help. But inside, she felt herself breaking apart. She wanted to sit with him, to hold his hand, to give him a farewell kiss and promise that she would always love him. Adam deserved more than to be set to the side, abandoned.

Instead, she kept doing her job, keeping her emotions at bay for the sake of saving lives. She almost threw up when she glimpsed the chaplain giving him last rites, but she kept it together by reminding herself over and over of Rule Number 1. Only later, after the job was done, had she stolen a moment to bid her fiancé farewell before his body was loaded on the bus with all the others who couldn’t be saved.

Later that evening, she’d fallen apart in Trudy’s tent, sobbing out all the hurt and anger and sorrow she’d kept so carefully in check the rest of the day. And just as she had done then, Trudy held her now. “Let it out,” she murmured.

Dixie cried for a little longer, then pulled away and straightened up. She hated feeling vulnerable like this, even just with Trudy. It embarrassed her, and she couldn’t quite meet Trudy’s eyes for a moment.

Thankfully, Trudy seemed to understand. Instead of pushing Dixie to talk, she grabbed a hairbrush from her bag on the coffee table and gently maneuvered her a bit so that she could brush her hair. Dixie’s mom used to brush her hair when she was upset and needed to talk, but couldn’t manage eye contact. Had she told Tru about that? Or did Tru just know instinctively? It didn’t really matter. She closed her eyes and focused on taking slow, calming breaths as the bristles of the brush worked their way through her tangles. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

Once Trudy had set the brush aside and moved back to her armchair, Dixie felt she could speak without losing it again. “Before we went to Korea, Adam always liked bringing me flowers. The bigger the bouquet, the better.” Her lips turned upward in a faint smile at the memory. “When Taffy started doing the same thing, well… that endeared him to me. But it’s more than the flowers. We can spend hours talking without getting tired of each other’s company.” She chuckled, and the shadow lifted from her expression, though her eyes remained moist. “The other night at dinner, we talked for a couple of hours after we finished dessert. We only left because they needed to close.”

She reached for her purse and pulled out the ring box and opened it. “He gave me this yesterday.”

“But then he left right after proposing?” Trudy sipped her own wine and leaned forward as she listened.

“Well… that was strange, yes. He said one of his boys needed him, and that he would return as soon as he could.”

“One of his boys? He’s a father?”

“No… well… he has an adopted son from Vietnam, so I guess he is… but he’s never been married, and Phan is grown up now. Taffy was a POW in Germany during World War 2… then he ran an orphanage in Vietnam and at some point during the war there, he helped a whole camp of POWs escape. I don’t know the whole story, but I get the idea that he was involved in a great deal more than he admits to. In a good way, of course. Anyway… one of those boys he helped save was Roy… a dear friend and currently a patient at Rampart. Taffy considers Roy one of his boys and came as soon as he could when he heard about his injury. He still thinks of the men from the camp in Germany the same way.”

“World War 2, Dix?!” Trudy wrinkled her nose. “How old is this Taffy anyway?”

Dixie laughed. “He’s only about 15 years older than I am, Tru. That’s not too big a difference, is it… at least not at this stage of my life?”

Tru took both Dixie’s hands in hers and squeezed them tight. “No, it isn’t. And Taffy does sound wonderful. But you need to think about something… Dix… do you care for Taffy because he reminds you of Adam? Because no matter how they may be alike, he isn’t Adam, and sooner or later, you will have to face that.”

“I know.” Dixie snatched another tissue from the box and dabbed at her eyes. “He’s like Adam, but he’s very different too.” Eyes glistening, she looked up at Trudy. “I like… love… Taffy for who he is… not for who he reminds me of. Thank you, Tru.”

“For what?” Trudy patted on her knee. “I didn’t do much more than listen while you talked out your feelings.”

“Well, that’s exactly what I needed.” Dixie glanced down at the ring one more time, then back at her friend. “I guess I have just one more question.”

“And I may have an answer.” Trudy gathered up the wine glasses and bottle onto a serving tray as she listened.

“Would you be the matron of honor at my wedding?”

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Georgetown, Washington, D.C.

Kel sat in the small courtyard outside the university’s guest housing. The sunshine felt good. He hadn’t expected early October weather in DC to be as warm as back home; in fact, he had a feeling today’s weather was unusual.

The years had dulled his memory of how beautiful autumn was back east. The leaves were beginning to change color now. Denny said that the peak colors would come in a couple weeks, but what Kel had seen today sure impressed him.

After lunch and a walking tour, Denny had brought him to his room and helped him get settled, then left him to his own devices for a few hours. Around six, he was supposed to meet the Schwartzes for dinner at 1789 Restaurant. Good thing he’d packed his best suit and tie.

This late afternoon was too nice for sitting inside, so after getting ready for dinner, Kel had come out here to this bench to mull over the job offer, list out the pros and the cons. The pay looked great, but really, that wasn’t much of a consideration for him. He had never cared much about money. As long as his paycheck covered life’s basic necessities, that was enough for him.

More important than the paycheck was the question of whether he could get along here in Georgetown. He’d lived out here before, of course, when he’d attended Johns Hopkins in Baltimore. He was familiar with the area and would enjoy getting back to some of his old haunts. He knew a fair number of the doctors who would become his new colleagues, and he respected most of them. The position was not all that different from what he had been doing, but even so it was an upward move. After all, it was Georgetown! Accepting the job would be great for his career.

But he would miss California. He would miss Rampart. He’d been with Rampart’s ER from its beginning, built it up into one of the finest emergency departments west of the Mississippi. Leaving meant abandoning Roy and Johnny after he had offered them a new position under his supervision. Would the County let him choose his successor? Or would they hire some stranger who would come in and turn the whole program on its head?

The thought of leaving galled him. A week ago, he never would have considered it. But the idea of staying at Rampart without Dixie McCall… or with Dixie Matthews… well, he couldn’t stomach that.

He wished he knew what was happening back at home. Had Dixie returned? Had she made a decision? The song she’d played right after throwing him out taunted him. I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair, I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair. He sighed. Maybe he should just tell Denny yes tonight.

“Kelly Brackett!” The warm laugh that went along with the voice speaking his name pulled him out of his funk. He would know that laugh anywhere.

He turned around, and for the first time all day his smile reached his eyes. “Lydia Schwartz, it’s good to see you again! You haven’t changed a bit since med school.” His compliment was mostly true. Lydia was still the petite freckled ball of fire that he and Denny had both admired back in the day, but from the looks of the stray strands of hair that had escaped her head scarf, her fiery tangle of curls had faded to ash. But she was still his Lyddie.

His feelings for her had never been romantic the way Denny’s were. A good thing, too — Kel wasn’t sure their friendship would have survived such a rivalry, and Lyddie had only ever had eyes for Denny anyway. No, Kel’s admiration for Lydia had been purely brotherly — mostly friendly, protective, and mixed with a healthy dose of good-natured rivalry and plenty of teasing. While Denny had been his best friend, Kel had readily adopted Lyddie as the sister he’d often wished for. She’d become his confidante and his advisor and, academically, his chief competitor. If anyone else had beaten him out for top of the class, Kel would have been eaten up with resentment, but when Lydia snagged that honor by just a fraction of a point, he’d been as proud and pleased as if he’d earned it himself.

Lydia had never been a classic beauty, but she always cut a striking figure, and age hadn’t changed that a bit, even if crow’s feet crinkled around her eyes and her freckles had started to fade. That was to be expected. But one of the changes he saw worried Kel. Lydia had lost a lot of weight since he’d seen her last. She’d always been slender, but now she was gaunt. Her ankle-length emerald green dress with its long flowing sleeves did a passable job of hiding it, but her sunken cheeks and tired eyes were ample evidence that something was wrong. And then there was the head scarf. She had never worn those… she had always considered her mass of curls her best feature, though Kel thought her dancing green eyes a fair contender. What had Denny neglected to tell him? Kel glanced downward, attempting to master his reaction before meeting her eyes.

If she noticed — and she probably did, because those eyes rarely missed anything — she didn’t say so. “Flattery won’t get me to compliment your fashion sense, Kelly,” she teased, her nose wrinkling pleasantly. “Pinstripe suit with a checkered shirt… really?” She shook her head and clucked her tongue as she sat on the bench next to him and straightened his tie. “And this wide tie… well, at least it isn’t striped, but don’t you know narrow ties are coming back into style these days? Kelly Brackett, what were you thinking? You need a wife, my friend.”

Her comment made him wince, but he tried to cover it with a forced laugh. “Well, you were taken, Lyddie,” he quipped, “and I never could find another girl who appreciated my style.”

From the way those green eyes widened and then flooded with sorrow, he knew she saw right through his attempt at levity.

“I’m sorry, Kel,” she said softly, and she gave his tie a tug. “Something happened, didn’t it? And it had to be something big to make you consider Denny’s offer after so many years of putting him off. I was wondering. I told him I was going to come meet you a bit early so we could talk about it. Trouble in paradise, Kel?”

“Paradise?” he scoffed. “I’d hardly describe Los Angeles as paradise. But yeah,” he sighed. “Trouble fits pretty well.”

“Spill it, Kel. Right now.” Her tone was firm, but her eyes were soft. “I’m worried about you, Little Brother.”

“Little?!” he sputtered. “I’m a foot taller than you, I’ll have you know!” In spite of his indignant protest — the standard one he tossed out whenever she used that nickname — he couldn’t help laughing.

“And I’m three weeks older and therefore infinitely wiser. So, Little Brother… tell me what’s going on.”

“Fine,” he said. He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, and stared at the row of bright yellow elm trees at the far end of the courtyard. And he told Lyddie everything, from treating Roy at the scene of the collapse up to the moment he’d stormed away from Dixie’s door after hearing that song. Damn, but he hated South Pacific with a passion just now.

She was quiet for a long moment when he finished. He didn’t dare look at her. He couldn’t stand it if she told him he was an idiot, even though he had already said it about himself several times over the last few days.

She didn’t. She never would. Instead she laid a frail hand on his shoulder. “Kelly, have you ever actually seen South Pacific?”

What kind of a question is that?! Surprised as he was, he just shook his head. “No.”

She grasped his chin and gently turned his head so that he had to meet her earnest gaze. “Then you don’t know that five minutes after singing that song that has you all worked up, Nellie Forbush is singing her heart out about being in love with a wonderful man… and she’s talking about the same man!”

“Really?”

“Really.” She patted on his shoulder. “Listen, Kelly. Denny will be furious at me for saying this — he loves the idea of having you back with us. So do I. We’ve missed you. But you have to make sure you aren’t leaving Rampart for the wrong reasons. You’ve never been the sort to run away from a challenge, and you shouldn’t start now. Also, if your Dixie does marry this Taffy fellow, I think you’ll always regret it if you don’t make your peace with her before deciding whether to stay or move on. At least think about it, all right?”

He nodded and swallowed the lump in his throat. “All right,” he promised.

She patted on his knee. “Come on. Denny is meeting us at the restaurant. It’s a nice evening for a walk, and it isn’t very far.”

“Are you sure?” He worried about her. She looked as if a light breeze would blow her away. “We could get a cab.”

“I’m sure, Kelly. It won’t take more than fifteen minutes, and we could use a little more time to talk.”

“I don’t want to talk about Dixie any more tonight, Lyddie. She’s all I’ve been thinking about for the last few days and it’s going to drive me nuts.”

She giggled and punched him on the shoulder. “Well, that’s a short drive. Seriously, though… we don’t have to talk about Dixie. We have plenty to catch up on.”

He stood, then offered his hand to help her to her feet. “Thanks. What I want to catch up on is you.” He put an arm around her shoulder. “Lead the way, Big Sister. And then I think you have some telling of your own to do.”

“Who me?” She gave him a sideways glance.

“C’mon, Lyddie,” he growled, “don’t give me that innocent act. You’ve never been good at it.” His tone softened. “I can tell you’re sick.”

She sighed. “Hodgkin Lymphoma. I was diagnosed six months ago, but I’m taking part in an experimental treatment and my oncologist says I’m responding well.” She smiled ruefully. “I have good days and bad, but I have managed to keep working. Denny would like me to cut back my hours and give up volunteering altogether, but those kids need me. I would feel like I was abandoning them.”

“Lyddie… other doctors can do that work.” Kel stopped and turned her to face him. “Denny’s right. You need to take it easy, focus on getting better instead of spending so much time in such a dangerous p —”

Her eyes flashed as she cut him off. “Stop it, Kel! I am focusing on getting better. I know other doctors can work at the clinic; several do. I’m under no illusion that I am indispensable. But those kids do as much — maybe more — for me as I do for them, and they are just as important to my recovery as the chemotherapy. Every one of us has a hard road to walk, Kelly Brackett. Denny and I… those kids I work with… you… your friend Roy… Dixie... and even this Taffy Matthews who has you so riled. None of us should walk that road alone. Just like you and Denny, those kids are walking the road with me and we’re taking care of each other.”

She leaned against him and he tightened his arm around her feather-light frame. “Are you sure you don’t want to catch a cab? Isn’t Denny worried about you?”

She shook her head. “I’d rather walk while I can. It’s a beautiful evening and we have plenty of time. And yes, Denny worries. But he also knows better than to try to stop me from doing whatever I set my mind to.” She patted on his hand at her waist. “I’ll be all right, Kel. Whatever happens… whether the treatments bring me to remission or the cancer progresses and ends my life… I’ve made my peace with it.”

He couldn’t argue with her. Come to think of it, he’d never been able to. He bent to plant a kiss on the top of her headscarf and then straightened up, keeping his arm around her for support. “All right, then, Lyddie. We’ll walk it together. Let me know if you need a break.”

About ten minutes later, they arrived at the restaurant, where Denny was waiting for them out front. The two men exchanged knowing glances as Kel passed Lydia into her husband’s arms. He would talk about it with Denny later. For now, they would just enjoy being three old friends reunited for a little while and set all their worries aside for another day.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Los Angeles

The Chief ended up trapped by a pile of paperwork, so Dave and Mike made the trip to the library together to meet Sue Miller. Dave made Mike change clothes first, though. “We should consider it an undercover assignment,” he explained. “Sue clearly doesn’t want anyone to know she’s helping with the investigation. You have jeans and a t-shirt here?”

Mike’s duffel from his last shift at the station was in the trunk of his car, so he did have a set of clothes. He made quick work of changing and met Dave in the lobby. “You know where the library is?” the police detective asked.

“Yeah, Ocean and Pacific. My boys go there all the time.” Mike smirked as he added silently, Not to mention I know the whole area like the back of my hand after years of driving the engine on calls. Think we put out a trash fire back of that library once.

“Good. You drive.”

Mike led the way to his old powder-blue Dodge Dart. The guys liked to tease him about Hannah, as he’d christened the Dart the day he bought it brand new back in ‘69. They couldn’t believe he’d ever drive anything that wasn’t fire-engine red. Beth teased him too, calling Hannah the ‘other woman’ in Mike’s life. Mike loved Hannah like he loved Big Red, and he gave her the same care and attention. As he unlocked the door, he glanced across the hood of the vehicle at Dave, hoping to see a little admiration in the man’s eyes. “Wipe your feet before you get in.”

Dave laughed. “Um… sure.”

Mike slid into the driver’s seat, then leaned across and unlocked the passenger side door for Dave. He watched as Dave took his seat. If the detective had been one of the twins’ friends, Mike would have lectured him about keeping the car clean and not leaving any trash behind. He figured that might not go over well with a colleague, so he settled for an introduction instead.

“Dave, meet Hannah.”

Dave twisted around to glance in the back seat, then looked back at Mike. “Hannah? Who’s Hannah?”

Mike gestured with his left hand while the right turned the key in the ignition. “The car!”

“The car… you named your car Hannah?”

Mike caught Dave’s bemused smile out of the corner of his eye. “Well… yeah.”

“But why?”

Mike shrugged up a shoulder. “She told me.”

Dave just stared, then shook his head. “Dude… it’s a car.”

Mike grimaced as he patted lovingly on the dashboard. “Don’t listen to him, baby,” he crooned. “He just doesn’t get it.” He started up the engine and pulled out of the parking lot onto Eastern Avenue.

Once Dave had stopped laughing, he quickly changed the subject. “So… we had no luck with the final emergency contact. Number was disconnected. I don’t think the information has been updated since Marita filled it out when she was first hired.”

Mike flicked on the blinker, then took the ramp onto the highway. “What did you think of the ladies we interviewed at the preschool? Were they all telling the truth… they didn’t know the guy?”

“First tell me what you think… consider it part of your training.”

Mike considered for a moment before answering. “Well, Brenda wouldn’t look us in the eyes. That’s what my son Ian does when he’s lying. And Linda’s voice sounded… well… a bit strangled… when she said she didn’t recognize the guy in the picture. I think she knew who he was… and I think maybe she was scared of him.”

“Well done, Mike. You picked up on the same things I did about both of them. Now… did you notice Tina kind of pulled her shoulders in when she was answering our questions about the photograph and she kept looking to the left before she would speak? I think she was lying too. But Tara and Michelle both came across as honest to me. They were straightforward, didn’t fidget much, and maintained eye contact.”

“Tara and Michelle… they’re the new teachers — the ones who came afterMarita left.” Mike was quiet for a moment while he carefully merged onto the highway. “So why didn’t you mention any of this during the interviews?”

“The timing wasn’t right, especially with the director hovering. We need to talk with them away from the school.”

“You don’t think Mrs. Cassidy —”

“Well, she’s harder to read than the others. Mostly came across as honest and straightforward, but she had a couple of tells, too. I didn’t get the idea that she really wanted to deceive us… but it did seem she might be afraid of something —”

“Or someone,” Mike interjected.

“Yeah, Someone… like Howard Evans, maybe.”

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

The trio sat on a bench at the park close to The Queen Mary. The pleasant park was a busy place on a warm October afternoon, but Dave seemed to think that would make it a good place for their meeting with Sue. “Two men, meeting privately with a female informant… and an attractive one at that? It’s best we stay somewhere public, Mike,” he had explained as they arrived at the library and glimpsed Sue waiting for them near the main entrance. “You and I both know we wouldn’t do anything wrong, but I’d like to avoid any suspicion… especially after the way she was flirting earlier. I wish Alvarez hadn’t called in sick this morning — normally I would have brought her along for this.”

They had walked the short distance to the park and found a bench situated near the western end. They were in plain sight of anyone else at the beach, but far enough away that they could talk without fear of being overheard.

“Thank you for meeting with me here… I couldn’t talk openly at the preschool. Mrs. Cassidy would be very upset if she knew I was meeting with you!”

Mike observed Sue carefully as she talked. Her eyes were darting around and her words came in a rush. Nervous, he thought. He knew those mannerisms could also be a sign of dishonesty, but he didn’t think she would have arranged to meet them like this only to lie to them. “Miss Miller, it’s all right,” he said softly. “Mrs. Cassidy isn’t here. You can talk to us.”

“She’s afraid of Howard. He’s her nephew and… well… he’s a really weird guy. I mean, he can seem nice on the surface, but when things don’t go his way he… well… he has a terrible temper. He met Marita when she started working at the preschool and at first he was real sweet to her… he sent her flowers and brought her candy and she loved the attention. But right after they got engaged, things changed. Marita started coming to work with… with heavy makeup on her face. I could see the bruises she was trying to hide and one day I asked her about it, but she just said she was clumsy.”

The fury burning in Sue’s eyes left Mike little doubt that she was telling the truth. In his line of work, he had seen victims of domestic violence too many times to count, but the thought of it still turned his stomach. He swallowed bile as Sue continued spilling out the story.

“One day I found her sobbing in the bathroom after the kids went home and so I took her for coffee after work and we sat and talked. But she would barely say anything and right at 5:00 she jumped up and grabbed Kirby out of his highchair and said she had to pick up Lynnie and get home or Howard would be mad. ‘Mad enough to hit you?’ I asked her while we walked back to my car.”

Stoker glanced at Dave out of the corner of his eye. The detective’s face was impassive, but his eyes had gone stone cold and Mike knew he was more determined than ever to get this guy.

Mike felt the same way. He was ready to lock Howard Evans up and throw away the key.

“What happened next, Sue?” Dave asked.

Sue shuddered slightly, but she went on without hesitation. “That’s when she burst into tears and told me everything. She was desperate to get away from him, but he had made a lot of threats, including against his aunt if she did anything. At one point when she said she would file for a restraining order, he started threatening the preschool. He… he told her he would burn the place down with all of us in it if she went against him. I didn’t take her home, I just couldn’t. I mean… I don’t want him coming to the school and hurting anyone, but I couldn’t let her go through that, could I? She refused to go to the police, though, so instead, we got Lynnie and I drove her to the airport and bought her a plane ticket to go see her sister in Portland. She called Brenda and told her she was going to Atlanta because she was afraid Mrs. Cassidy would tell Howard and he would go after her.” '

“And this was one week before the fire?”

Sue nodded miserably. “I know I should have come forward sooner. We all knew he was a loose cannon. But after Marita left, Mrs. Cassidy gathered us — except for the new girls — and told us we had to keep quiet, that Howard had been making all sorts of threats to her and he was sure one of us helped her disappear. She was terrified that he would come any time. But he never did. Instead…” This time her tears spilled over and Mike’s heart was breaking for her.

“Instead, Marita’s apartment building burned down and… and I knew it had to be Howard who did it and I should have spoken up then but… Mrs. Cassidy begged us not to. She said we had to keep quiet and protect the kids.” She was sobbing now. “But if I’d just said something when I first realized what was going on… I could have protected those kids in the fire, and that fireman!”

As true as her words were, Mike’s heart went out to the young woman. She’d been placed in a terrible situation, between a rock and a hard place as the saying went. And thanks to her, they knew they were on the right track to catching the arsonist. He lay a hand on her shoulder and he could feel her trembling through her blouse. “Hey, you did the right thing talking to us. Thank you, Miss Miller.” He gave her a couple of comforting pats and then pulled his hand away. To be completely honest, women (other than Beth) mystified him and he wasn’t sure what else he could say.

“Captain Stoker is right, Miss Miller,” Dave added. “Thank you for this information. We’re going to find Evans and put him behind bars and thanks to you, he won’t be hurting anybody else.”

Sue looked up, blinking back more tears. “You won’t tell them I talked, will you? I… I could lose my job… or even worse… he might come do something at the school.”

“We won’t tell them.” Dave promised, “but Sue… at some point, we may need you to testify. Are you willing to do that?”

She frowned and her forehead wrinkled as she hunched forward and squeezed her eyes shut. Mike watched, and he could practically see the courage flowing into her. He wondered where she had summoned it from. When she opened her eyes again, her forehead had smoothed out and that fury he’d see burning in her gaze had been replaced with peace and certainty. “Yes, Detective, I’ll testify. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

Mike knew they really needed Marita to testify, and maybe Mrs. Cassidy, but Sue had helped them immeasurably today, and while her word on the witness stand probably wouldn’t be enough, it would help. They walked her back to her car at the library, then returned to Hannah. After Mike dropped Dave back at HQ, he headed home. The detective could deal with tracking down Marita using the info Sue had given them. Tonight, Mike only needed one thing, and that need had him pressing the gas pedal to the floor, pushing Hannah harder and faster than usual down the highway — all he wanted was to walk in his front door and wrap Beth in his arms and forget for a little while that monsters like Howard Evans existed.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy sat by the window in his wheelchair. The chair itself — hospital issue — wasn’t all that comfortable, but it was better than the bed. Marco had rigged up a makeshift desk for him, a cedar wood tray that clamped over one armrest of the chair and then folded down to provide a smooth surface good for writing or playing cards or whatever he needed; it also filled the room with the rich fragrance of cedar, which Roy found soothing. At the moment, several sheets of plain stationery lay on the tray in front of him. He had filled two pages already with slightly slanting lines of his loopy handwriting. He wouldn’t win any penmanship awards, that much was certain, but it was legible. He wrote and wrote, but never permitted himself to look back over the words. No, his goal was to get them out of him; he didn’t plan to let them back in if he could help it. He would give this letter to JoAnne and she could read it and then save it or burn it or whatever she pleased.

The open window looked down over the courtyard and playground, a pleasant view. From time to time, Roy would blink away the memories and feast his eyes on the trees and shrubs and the little kids playing under the watchful eyes of their caregivers. He was especially conscious of how the fading sunlight cast a warm glow over everything it touched. The shouts of children at play kept him grounded in the present, even while he allowed his mind to delve back into the past, examining all the memories he hoped to expunge. Johnny, who seemed to have recovered from whatever illness kept him out of work, sat across the room, his nose buried in a book, but Roy suspected he was only pretending to read. Roy felt his friend’s eyes boring into him as if Johnny was afraid this writing exercise would push him over the edge. Roy had worried about that before he started, too, but strangely enough he found it cleansing… as if each word he wrote were a sponge that scoured away the mud and misery of Camp 208.

“Ya know, Junior,” Roy finally said as he sat back and lay his pen down. It rolled toward the edge of the desk, but he managed to catch it before it ended up on the floor. “I can feel you watchin’ me. It’s kinda creepy, actually.”

Johnny put down his book with a sigh. “Sorry, Pally. Guess I’m just worried… this has to be hard on you.” He indicated the pages Roy had filled. “You OK?”

“Yeah, I’m OK. Real good, actually.” Roy drummed his knuckles on the desk as he thought for a moment. “It’s good, gettin’ it out. You’ll sit with Jo when she reads it, right? She… uh… shouldn’t be alone.”

Johnny regarded him gravely for a long moment. “You know I will, Roy.”

Breathing a sigh of relief, Roy took up his pen again. Johnny returned to his book. Nothing more needed to be said between the two friends. An hour later, Roy folded the letter and slid it into an envelope, then handed it to Johnny. That night, for the first time in weeks, his sleep was peaceful and untroubled by nightmares.

Chapter 16

JoAnne sat on the edge of her seat in Dr. Richardson’s office, absently tugging at a hangnail. She wasn’t sure why he’d asked her to attend Roy’s session, or why Roy wasn’t here. Johnny sat next to her, drumming his fingers on his knee. Dr. Richardson had received an urgent phone call just as they were about to begin and had to step out, and they were waiting for him to return.

“Johnny… what is this about?” she finally asked. She lay a hand on his arm and could feel his tension. He knew something, and it worried her.

He shifted and rubbed at his neck. “Now, Jo. Don’t you think we should wait for the doctor to get back and explain that?”

“Johnny!” She bounced to her feet and started pacing. “I swear, sometimes you can be the most exasperating man who —”

“Jo.” He was by her side in an instant, pulling her into a hug. “It’s all right, Jo. It’s just… the doc thought it would be best if he was here first.” As she relaxed against him, he loosened his hold and let her go back to the chair.

She pulled a tissue out of the box on Dr. Richardson’s coffee table and blew her nose. Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. She managed to blink most of them back, but one escaped to slide down her nose. “You’re not going to tell me they have to take more of his leg?”

Her concern was valid. Between the field amputation and the surgery immediately after Roy arrived at the hospital, Brackett had been able to save a few inches of the leg below the knee, but the possibility always existed that the amputation would need to be revised and Roy would end up losing the joint. Having his knee meant he would have a better chance with a prosthetic, so everyone hoped a revision wouldn’t be necessary.

“Relax, Jo,” Johnny soothed. “You know Brackett said Roy was healing pretty well and he didn’t think they would have to do that.”

She nodded and sniffed and wiped away more tears. “I know. I’m sorry, Johnny. It’s just… I don’t know why I would be here without Roy, and I’m worried, and… well…”

“And you’ve been under a lot of stress lately?” Johnny knelt in front of her chair and grasped her hand.

She nodded. “Mostly I’m doing all right with it, but sometimes it gets a little overwhelming.” She met his eyes with a fierce glare. “And you won’t breathe a word of that outside this office — I don’t want Roy to know I’m struggling.”

“I won’t say a word, Jo. You know you never have to hide it with me or with Nita. And I know I don’t need to remind you that you’ve got a lot of other folks looking out for you and Roy and the kids right now.”

Jo nodded again. She and Roy didn’t have any relatives in the area — their parents had all passed on, Eileen’s family had moved to Seattle a couple of years ago, and Roy’s younger sister Marta was traveling in Europe on tour with the New York Philharmonic. But Johnny was right. Besides the help she’d had from the Gages, who really were more family than friends, the fire department families had been wonderful, especially those who had served with Roy over the years. Between the old 51 A-Shift, Roy’s current station, their church family, and dear Winnie Canfield, the DeSoto family freezer was full almost to overflowing with prepared meals, and the kids always had friends to stay with and rides to and from their various activities. Jo had been afraid at first to take advantage of all the offers of help, but after the debacle with Franny Davis — the thought of what that bratty child had said to DJ still made Jo’s blood boil! — she had finally swallowed her pride. What was it, she wondered, that made it so hard to accept the same help from others that she had given so freely to other families from the LACoFD over the years?

She swallowed hard. “Thanks, Johnny.”

To her relief, Dr. Richardson walked back in just then. With a quick apology for the interruption, he took his seat behind the desk, and Johnny returned to his seat as well. JoAnne watched the psychiatrist’s gaze travel from the tissue in her hand to her undoubtedly red-rimmed eyes. “Are you all right, JoAnne?”

“I’m fine,” she said, the words coming out more brusquely than she intended. “Sorry. I’m… just a little concerned about why I’m here.”

Dr. Richardson’s smile lifted her spirits a little. “It’s quite all right, JoAnne. Roy has written a letter for you, and he thought this might be the best setting for you to read it. He didn’t want you to be alone.” He nodded to Johnny. “Captain Gage?”

Johnny reached a hand into his inside jacket pocket and drew out a pale blue envelope. He held it out to her, and she took hold of it, but he didn’t release it right away. “Jo…” His voice was soft and steady, and she could hear a tangle of emotions in it. Concern and compassion and sorrow, and, woven throughout, the unwavering love of a brother. Like Roy, Johnny felt things very deeply, but unlike Roy, he was hardly ever quiet about it. Whatever that envelope contained had made him quiet, and she thought maybe that scared her more than anything else.

“Jo, Roy knows you need to know what happened to him in Vietnam, but… it’s just too hard for him to speak it to you, or to be here when you find out. So… well… he wrote it down for you.”

She drew the envelope closer and stared at it, running her fingers along the lines of her name, spelled out in Roy’s script. Suddenly, she wasn’t so sure she really wanted to read the letter. No… she knew she didn’t want to, but she also knew that she needed to. She slipped a finger under the edge of the flap and broke the seal, then pulled out the crinkly sheets of onion-skin stationery that were neatly folded inside.

Before she unfolded it and began to read, she glanced up at Johnny. “You’ve read this?”

He nodded somberly. “He asked me to.”

For a moment she felt like she couldn’t get enough air, like no matter how she tried to suck in a good breath, it just wouldn’t go to her lungs. Her fingers tightened on the pages and she squeezed her eyes shut. Did she really want to know what he had written?

Johnny’s arm came around her shoulders and she found she could breathe after all. “I’m all right,” she insisted, and she opened her eyes. “I’m ready.”

She unfolded the pages and her gaze went to the first line.

My Beloved Jo,

I hope you aren’t angry that Johnny is there with you instead of me while you read this. I have to tell you things that I know are going to break your heart and seeing that — well it would break mine beyond repair. You asked me once years ago why I wouldn’t trust you with what had happened to me over in Nam. It was back in that tough time when we weren’t sure our marriage was going to make it even though we loved each other like crazy. I got angry and stormed off and ended up going to sleep on the sofa that night but later I got up and went to our room and found you’d cried yourself to sleep. I’m so sorry, honey. Sorry for all the angry things I said back then… sorry for keeping a part of myself closed off to you for all these years… even though my reason was never a lack of trust. I couldn’t find the right words to say it back then because I hadn’t really figured it out myself. I just wanted to protect you. I wanted to have one part of my life — my family — untouched by the horrible things I’d seen… the things that happened to me.

Thing is, as long as I carried all those memories inside me, they were going to touch everyone around me whether I wanted it to or not, no matter how many walls I might build up to keep them contained. I thought I had them dealt with, locked away deep inside, but ever since the accident they’re wreaking havoc for me. I know writing this letter isn’t some magic cure-all. I’ve got PTSD. I’ll still have it when I’m done writing. But maybe I won’t have the nightmares anymore. And maybe I’ll be able to help you understand that you truly are everything to me.

Before I say anything else, I need to tell you, Jo — more than anyone, you are the reason I survived. Yeah, there were guys who risked just about everything to get me and the others out of there, and I am forever thankful to them, but you… you are the reason I lived long enough to be rescued. Dreams of you, plans for our wedding, imagining what our kids would look like, reading over and over that last letter you’d sent me, the one I had tucked in my pocket when I got captured and that by some miracle I was able to keep hidden. You don’t know how many times I was tempted to check out, but I would focus my thoughts on you and without you even knowing it, you pulled me back into living and got me through the darkest days. I heard somewhere once that the only remedy for death is life. For me, you were life and breath and my reason to keep living, my remedy for the death that was eating at me from the inside out — not just in ‘Nam, but also when I came home. I love you with all my heart, Jo. I love you and trust you and now I need to open up that part of my life I’ve tried so hard all these years to protect you from.

She stopped reading and looked up at Johnny, her eyes bright with tears. “I always thought he didn’t fully trust me,” she whispered. “But he really does.” Her first instinct was to push the letter into Johnny’s hands. She couldn’t stand reading any further. But Roy had entrusted her with those memories. At last he was willing to let her help him bear the crushing burden of his past. And so, after wiping the tears from her eyes, she focused once more on his words.

Halfway through the letter, she had tears streaming down her face. She didn’t bother wiping them away. She held the letter in one trembling hand while the other hand clung to Johnny’s arm. Only when he pulled away briefly to get her a tissue did she realize that he was fighting tears too. He handed her the tissue and she blew her nose, then gripped Johnny’s hand and continued reading.

As she came to the final page, her eyes were dry, but her cheeks were still tear-stained and a gnawing ache had settled in the pit of her stomach.

Jo, honey… please understand, I can’t actually talk about this with you yet. Maybe I won’t ever be able to. Writing this letter is about more than sharing with you… it’s my attempt at letting it out and letting it go, not allowing it to hold my mind and spirit captive any longer. I can feel that just the act of writing has had a cleansing effect on my heart. Do what you want with these pages… tear them up… burn them… save them if you want to… But whatever you do, know that I am always and forever yours, that I love you to the ends of the Earth and back again, that I spend every day hoping and striving to become the husband and father you and the kids deserve.

And Jo, even though I can’t talk about this, please don’t think that means you have to be strong for me. You can cry if you need to. You can yell. You can punch things (just not me, huh?). You think I don’t see it, but every once in a while, it creeps into your eyes — your need to be held and comforted and your fear to let me know. But then you blink it away and keep going. Jo, you are the strongest woman I know, but you have these needs same as anyone would. You shouldn’t have to be strong all the time. Let me be your shoulder to cry on. Maybe you and I could use a couple of Johnny’s “scream therapy” sessions up on the roof (though I can think of some other kinds of therapy I’d prefer with you).

That last bit brought a faint smile to Jo’s lips. He knew her so well, and she hadn’t fooled him no matter how hard she’d tried. And then, for him to outright flirt with her? Well, that was her old Roy coming back to her. She caught in a breath and then moved on to the final paragraph.

Thank you, JoAnne, for being patient with me. Thank you for loving me through it all. This road we’re on is awfully hard and long, but we’re traveling it together and that makes all the difference for me.

With love,

Roy

When she had finished, Jo briskly reordered the pages, then folded them up and gently slid them back into the envelope. She took a moment to examine her fingernails and dab at her eyes while she gathered up the strength to meet Johnny and Dr. Richardson’s frank gazes. “Thank you,” she whispered, unable to manage anything more at the moment.

“Would you like to talk about anything you read, JoAnne?” the psychiatrist asked.

Jo shook her head. “No… I... I just need to see Roy now.” She tucked the envelope into her purse, pushing it all the way to the bottom under about a month’s accumulation of receipts and other sundry. She would decide what to do with it later.

“Of course,” the doctor agreed. “Would you like me to have him brought down?”

“No. I’d rather see him… by myself… if you don’t mind.” She caught in a deep breath and then let it out slowly. “Thank you, both of you. This was… very hard, but also… I think… very good.”

When she stood, both Johnny and the doctor did as well. She shouldered her purse, then shook Richardson’s hand and gave Johnny a quick hug. Then, without another word, she hurried out of the office and headed for Roy’s room.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Roy sat by the window again, trying not to think about JoAnne reading his letter. He enjoyed sitting here because the window allowed him a glimpse of life in the “real world” he wanted so much to get back to. Ever since his talk with Murdock, he had been particularly attentive to light, and that had led to thoughts of his dad.

An artist — both potter and painter — Danny DeSoto probably would have something meaningful to add to Murdock’s comment about the cracks letting in the light. Roy fondly remembered long ago summer outings with his dad, visiting the art museum on a free day. Dad would make a beeline for the Italian masters and Roy would spend an afternoon listening to him go on and on about their use of light and shadows. His favorite was Caravaggio*. “Look at this one,” he would say, all excited as he lifted his son up on his shoulder so the child could see better. “They call it chiaroscuro… that means light-dark. Do you see how the artist’s use of shadows makes the light stand out more? Ahh, Roy… can you see it, son? Caravaggio was a rough man… shadowed… often dark… but he damn well knew what light could do.”

Danny was his adoptive dad, actually, but Roy hadn’t known anything about that until a few years ago, after his mom passed away and he’d spent a few days reading through her old journals. All he knew of his real dad, who had died several months before Roy was born, was his name, rank, and service number, and the description his mother had recorded in her journal: apparently, 2nd Lieutenant Royal Christopher Asbury was a tall, handsome ginger with laughing blue eyes and a smile that would melt your heart.

And yet Danny DeSoto was Roy’s real dad in every way that counted. The man had married Roy’s mother knowing that the child she carried in her womb really belonged to his best friend, and he had lavished Roy with the same love he’d given to his younger sisters. Never once did he give Roy reason to believe that they were not bound by blood. According to Mom’s journals, during the war Dad had held a dying RC Asbury in his arms and made him a solemn promise. “Take care of Harriet,” RC had pleaded with his last breath. “Tell her... I love her.”

Some might have considered such a promise unbinding, meaningless beyond the comfort it offered a dying man, but not Danny DeSoto. “When a DeSoto gives his word, that means something,” he’d always told his kids. Yessir, a DeSoto’s word was his bond and as far as it depended on him, he always kept it.

Like Roy, Danny DeSoto had lost a limb. The wounds he’d received trying to rescue RC had gone gangrenous, necessitating amputation of his right arm. The loss had meant giving up his dream of becoming a surgeon, but he didn’t really mind — as he later told Roy, he had seen enough injury and death in Italy to last him a lifetime and he would not have gone back to med school even if he had come home with both arms.

It took some time, figuring out what he was meant to do. Art hadn’t been his first thought. Without his dominant hand, he’d struggled to learn to write legibly. But one day his brother David showed up with a set of paints and brushes and a roll of butcher paper. As Danny practiced painting with his left hand, he steadily gained increased control, and before long, his handwriting also improved. By the time Roy was ready to start school, Danny DeSoto had moved the family from Sonoma to Norwalk to be close to Harriet’s parents, and he opened a small art shop catering to tourists in Long Beach. Between his veteran’s pension and his proceeds from the shop, he did a fair job supporting his family. They didn’t have money for a lot of extras, but there was always food on the table, a house to live in, and decent clothing on their backs. “I’m no Da Vinci,” he’d once told Roy, “but the world doesn’t need another Da Vinci. What it needs is a handful of DeSotos.” Then he’d glanced at Harriet, who was pregnant with her third child by that time, and grinned and waggled his bushy black eyebrows. “Maybe half a dozen DeSotos.” There had only been three DeSoto kids, not a half a dozen. And about six months after baby Margaret was born, it was just two again. Roy barely remembered Margaret.

“I wish you were here, Dad,” Roy murmured as he gazed out the window at an afternoon sky that the elder DeSoto would have loved trying to capture on canvas. About a minute later, a soft knock sounded at the door, and then the hinges creaked. Roy turned his chair, and his heart caught in his throat as he caught sight of JoAnne standing in the doorway. She hesitated for only the barest moment before crossing the room to wrap her arms around him.

His eyes welled up with tears as she ran her fingers through his hair and covered his face with her kisses. “Never forget that I love you, Roy DeSoto,” she whispered in his ear. “We can get through anything together.”

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 17

Feeling well-rested and eager to see Dixie again, Taffy stepped through the doors into Rampart Emergency. He noted the flowers he had sent earlier that morning sitting on the counter of the reception desk, the card still in its envelope, perched on the holder that stuck out of the arrangement. Dr. Early stood near the desk talking with a nurse. Dixie was nowhere in sight.

Must be in with a patient, he told himself as he approached the desk. Dana Cook looked up from her paperwork and her eyes widened, then settled into a frosty glare. Only then did it strike Taffy that his unusual proposal the other day must have set the rumor mill in motion. And if rumors ran through this hospital the way they did back at Stalag 13, embellished with every telling, there must be some real doozies going around.

He cleared his throat. “Good morning, Mrs. Cook. Is Nurse McCall available?”

“I’m sorry, Mr. Matthews. Nurse McCall is on vacation just now. I’m not quite sure when she’ll be back.” Though she remained professional, Dana’s cold reception made it quite clear to Taffy that at least one member of Rampart’s staff was not pleased with his presence.

Before Taffy could respond, Dr. Early sauntered over, greeting the Welshman with his equanimous smile and a hand on the shoulder. “Good morning, Mr. Matthews. I’ve got a few minutes. Why don’t I buy you a cup of coffee in the lounge?”

“Certainly, Dr. Early… but please, call me Taffy.”

“Only if you call me Joe.” As they made their way down the hall toward the lounge, Joe continued talking. “Dixie called in a week’s vacation, I suppose to think over your proposal. You know…” He chuckled. “You’ve really got the place hopping with rumors. Half the staff believe you challenged Dr. Brackett to a fistfight in the parking lot.”

Taffy shook his head. “I’m not surprised about the rumors, but a fistfight? Why on earth would I do that?”

“Well, I know you wouldn’t. But a number of the nurses are convinced that Dixie and Kel belong together, and they’re not exactly pleased to see an interloper competing for her affections.”

“Dixie and… Dr. Brackett?” Taffy’s eyes narrowed and he frowned. “I was given to understand that their attachment was a thing of the distant past.”

“Oh, it was.” Joe opened the door to the lounge and waved Taffy through ahead of him. “But you’ve got to understand… sometimes it takes a potential rival to make a man see what he’s missing.”

“True enough.” Taffy sighed. “Well, I suppose Dixie must decide for herself. But I don’t want to cause strife for Dr. Brackett. Perhaps I should go back to the hotel and let Dixie call me when she gets back.” He accepted a cup of coffee from Joe. “Um… do you know when that will be?”

“She took a week’s vacation, but she’s scheduled for a late shift tonight.” Joe poured himself a cup of coffee and took a sip. “That means she’ll be home sometime today.” He looked up and met Taffy’s gaze, his expression suddenly deadly serious. “You need to know something, Taffy. Dixie is a very dear friend to many of us at Rampart. We won’t stand for anyone hurting her.”

Taffy nodded. “Good. Because neither will I.” He was about to take a drink of his own coffee but stopped with the cup halfway to his mouth. “Tell me, Joe… do you disapprove of my proposal?”

Joe took another sip of his coffee. “Do you love her?”

“With all my heart,” Taffy said, quite serious. “And I’d like to spend the years I have left making sure she knows it.”

“Then no. I don’t disapprove. I just want Dixie to be happy. Kel too, of course — he’s my best friend, after all. But he’s resilient. If Dixie marries you, I imagine he’ll be morose for a while, but he’ll pull through.” Just as he took his third sip, a call came across the intercom, summoning him to Treatment Three. He poured out his coffee and set the cup on the counter with a chuckle.

“Three sips, never more. That’s always the way it goes. I’ll see you later, Taffy.”

Taffy raised his coffee mug in a salute as Joe hurried back to his work. With a long sigh, he settled himself on the sofa to finish his drink. Finally, he washed and dried both cups and set them back in the cabinet. He would go visit Roy for a few minutes and decide what to do from there.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dixie waved goodbye to Trudy as her friend boarded the train to head home to Sacramento. Instead of spending the entire week up north, they’d come back to Los Angeles together and had a wonderful time. They attended a jazz concert at the Greek Theatre and spent the next day at Disneyland. As they strolled through New Orleans Square, Dixie imagined bringing Taffy there and enjoying a leisurely lunch at the Blue Bayou. The last full day of Trudy’s visit, they spent shopping on Rodeo Drive. Trish had a day off and joined them, and they found Dixie a stunning brocade wedding gown. She tried it on and it fit perfectly, no alterations required, and Dixie found herself tearing up as she gazed at her reflection in the mirror. She had all but given up on marriage after Adam died. Her dreams had been renewed a couple of times… first with Raymond Boyd, and then when she was seeing Kel, but over the years, that hope had faded away and almost died. But now? Now she had Taffy, and she would finally walk down the aisle, bouquet in hand. “Are you sure I’m not dreaming?” she whispered.

“I could always pinch you to find out.” Trudy joked. Her grin softened to a dreamy smile as she trailed her fingers lightly along the length of the lacy sleeve. “You are going to be a beautiful bride, Dixie. I’m so happy for you.”

As Dixie threw her arms around Trudy and uttered a soft, “Thank you, Tru,” she felt a mix of guilt and sorrow surge through her on her friend’s behalf. Tru’s husband, Bill, had walked out on her about five years ago and neither she nor Trish had heard from the man since. Trudy refused to talk about him and showed no sign that Dixie’s joyous news stirred up any sadness in her at all.

In fact, Trudy had insisted on buying her the dress. Dixie tried to dissuade her, but Tru wouldn’t hear it. “You’ve been like a sister to me ever since Korea, Dix. Let me do this for you.” She’d purchased it right off the rack and even paid for it to be delivered to Dixie’s door, so they wouldn’t have to worry about carrying it around with them the rest of the day.

And now Trudy was on her way back home. Dixie watched until the train was out of sight, then headed back to her car. Her hand reached into her jacket pocket and her fingers wrapped around the ring box. She hoped she would see Taffy soon so she could give him her answer.

Back at the apartment building, when she stepped out of the elevator and turned down the corridor to her place, her heart beat a little faster at the sight of someone standing at her door. He carried a bouquet of flowers so big, it hid most of his upper portion from her view; she didn’t realize who it was until he shifted it around to free up a hand so he could ring the bell.

“Taffy!” She immediately regretted shouting his name down the hall — she could just hear her mother’s stern reprimand. A true lady never raises her voice, Dixie Anne, except when circumstances of great danger require it. From the look on Taffy’s face, though, he didn’t think any less of her. She had already broken Mother’s rule number one; why not break number two — A true lady never runs; she walks calmly and sedately, keeping a measured pace — as well? She quickened her pace, even as he set the flowers down and stepped toward her.

“My dearest Dixie,” he murmured as he caught her in his arms.

Dixie gazed into his eyes, entranced by the whole universe of love that shone in his expression. “The answer is yes, Valentine Matthews,” she breathed out. “Yes, I will marry you.”

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Kel checked his watch for the third time. He hated delays. His flight out of National had been scheduled for 11:00 a.m. They’d boarded on time, but here it was nearing one in the afternoon and they were still sitting on the tarmac, waiting for a repair to some minor mechanical problem. Every twenty minutes or so, the pilot would come across the intercom with a calm reassurance that they would be on their way as soon as possible.

The stewardesses had made their way up and down the aisle a couple of times, handing out packages of peanuts and pouring drinks. Thankful that for once no one was seated next to him, Kel had waved them by, uninterested in anything now but getting off the ground and headed for home.

He held a wrapped package that Lydia had pressed into his hands as he bid her and Denny farewell at the gate. He could tell from the shape and feel of it that it was a book. He tore away the paper and stuffed it back into his bag, which he placed under the seat again, then looked at the cover of the worn leather-bound volume: The Works of Alfred Lord Tennyson. Though clearly an older edition, it looked to be in excellent condition. With a wry chuckle, Kel opened the book. He’d never been much for poetry — at least not this kind; give him some Bruce Kiskaddon* and his Rhymes of the Range or Curley Fletcher’s* The Strawberry Roan, and he’d be a happy man, and Lydia knew it. But she must have had a reason for choosing this book for him.

Inside the front cover, she had scrawled a note. Kelly, wherever you may go, you are always in our hearts. Love, Lydia and Denny Schwartz. Under the message, she had written a page number. He flipped through the pages until he came to the poem she’d referenced: In Memoriam A.H.H. He read through a couple of stanzas, grimacing at the images they called up… a caged bird, a wanton beast… so the poet didn’t envy them. Kel didn’t either, but he didn’t see much point in rhapsodizing over it. What was Lydia thinking, giving him this? He snapped the book shut, but a moment later opened it and found the page again to read the rest of the poem.

With the final stanza, his scowl softened. The words were familiar, but he’d never seen them in their full context. He read it through several times, then reread the full poem, this time with an eye to seeking out the meaning Lydia wanted him to gain. When he had finished, he closed the book and put it in his bag, then glanced out the window just in time to see what looked like a maintenance truck pulling away from the plane.

A few seconds later, a staticky voice came over the intercom. “Ladies and Gentlemen, this is your Captain. I apologize for the delay. The repairs are completed and we are now cleared to get underway. Please stow your belongings under the seat in front of you, fasten your seatbelts, and give your attention to the flight attendants as they present our safety demonstration.”

Kel had watched the safety demonstration dozens of times, so he let his mind wander while the flight attendant went over the instructions about oxygen masks and emergency landings. The final stanza of the poem remained stuck in his mind.

I hold it true, whate’er befall;
I feel it, when I sorrow most;
‘Tis better to have loved and lost
Than never to have loved at all.

Tennyson’s words made him wonder, was he better off having loved Dixie, even if he had lost her? He supposed he was. The younger nurses — all suffering from what appeared to be terminal Bracketitis — might not believe it, but loving Dixie had developed in Kel greater patience and understanding. Without Lydia there to keep him humble, he had come out of his residency at Mayo a brash and arrogant man, fully convinced of his own superiority. He’d met Dixie when he moved to California to take a position as an attending physician in Rampart’s brand-new Emergency Department. She’d been brought over from Pediatrics to take over as head nurse in Emergency, and she had little patience for the know-it-all new attending. To say sparks flew was an understatement.

They had despised one another at first. Kel disdained the nurses; Dixie was determined to teach him respect. She had no qualms about taking him down a peg whenever he needed it — and he needed it often. Looking back, he couldn’t pinpoint exactly when his feelings had begun to shift from hostility to admiration, but sometime before the end of his first year they had called a truce and begun forging a friendship. In many ways, Dixie had taken Lydia’s place in his life. The difference was, Dixie had never felt like a sister to him. In fact, once they had become friends, it wasn’t more than a few months before he was absolutely head-over-heels in love.

Like Lydia, Dixie made him want to be a better man. When he got too sure of himself, she forced him to listen to the other side, and she never hesitated to let him know when she thought he was wrong. He’d have saved himself a lot of grief over the years if he’d been quicker to recognize that Dixie was almost always right, but even after he fell in love, he certainly didn’t want her to think he was a pushover.

Now he thought back to when their relationship had first begun to go off the rails… back when he was so damned opposed to that paramedic bill going through. He’d said things then that he still regretted, and he’d fought her tooth and nail on it, but she held firm and he quietly admired that even in the heat of the fray. And before long, there he was in Sacramento arguing in favor of the bill, convincing the state legislators to pass it through to the governor.

Kel frowned, his brow furrowing and his eyes darkening as the plane taxied down the runway. Had he ever apologized to Dix for those days, for all the trouble he’d given her? His anger and brooding? Or had he simply taken it for granted that she knew he was sorry? He hated to admit he was guilty of the latter, but he knew it was true.

Lydia was right. He needed to mend fences with Dixie, regardless of what she chose to do. And if she chose Taffy, well — then he needed to find the strength inside himself to let her go without rancor. He still wasn’t sure he could handle staying at Rampart in that case, but at least they needed to part as friends.

Not long after they were in the air, Kel was sound asleep. He hadn’t slept well since witnessing Taffy’s proposal, but now that he had things at least somewhat figured out, exhaustion overtook him. He didn’t stir until the stewardess gently shook his shoulder and informed him that they were preparing to descend into LA and he needed to put his seat back up.

They arrived at LAX about 4:30 in the afternoon. Kel could have gone straight home from the airport, but he’d been away from work for almost a week. No one expected him this evening, but he decided to make an appearance. Maybe Dixie would be back and he could talk with her. He didn’t want to put it off. He caught a cab outside the airport and about 45 minutes later, he walked through the doors of Rampart Emergency. Dixie wasn’t there, but he checked the schedule and saw that she would come on shift at 9:00 p.m. Eager to keep busy until she arrived, Kel pulled on his lab coat and went to work.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Later that evening, Taffy settled into bed at his hotel. He and Dixie had spent a wonderful afternoon together, walking on the beach, and then celebrated their engagement with an excellent dinner (at Miceli’s, of course) before she had to go to Rampart for the overnight shift.

As much as he enjoyed his time with her, by the time they parted, he’d been ready to turn in. He felt a bit under the weather. In fact, Dixie had remarked on how quiet he was during dinner.

He’d squeezed her hand and told her that he was just tired, that was all, but as he situated his pillow against the headboard and leaned back, it seemed like more than that. Maybe he’d picked up a bug on the plane. He was generally healthy and even back at the Stalag rarely ever got sick, but he was older now, so anything was possible.

He had gotten into the habit of reading and drinking a cup of tea before bed. He was reaching for the cup on the bedside table when the first vague twinge of pain skittered through his chest. He noticed it but ignored it. Over the course of the next hour, he felt it a few more times, the pain getting a bit more intense each time. Still, he wasn’t that concerned, thinking perhaps he had strained a muscle in his back. It wasn’t until he felt a tingling and pain shoot down his arm that he became alarmed, but not too upset. He still figured it was nothing terribly serious.

He thought about calling Dixie, but he didn’t want to worry her. Instead, he pulled Matthew Carter’s card out of his wallet. Matt had written his number at the station on the back of the card in case Taffy needed to reach him while he was on shift, which Taffy thought he was today. Better to be safe than sorry, he thought as he reached for the phone and dialed for an outside line.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Matthew Carter heard Cap groan when the phone rang around midnight. 51’s C Shift’s day had been long and grueling with a lot of responses, and they had all hoped for a quiet night even if they didn’t dare voice it. Their last response had hit Matthew especially hard, leaving him exhausted and a bit depressed. He and Bowman had been called to a nearby house for an infant girl who wasn’t breathing, and they hadn’t succeeded in reviving her. He hated those calls.

The phone call in the middle of the night made him catch in a breath. Most folks didn’t make calls at this hour unless there was an emergency, but if that was the case, why not just call 9-1-1?

“Station 51,” Cap said. “Captain Mike Stoker speaking.”

A moment later, Cap was calling Matt to the phone. He held the receiver out. “It’s a Valentine Matthews.” Matt knew that normally, Cap would have expressed his disapproval of one of his men getting a call at midnight, but this time he just said, “Hurry, Matt… it sounds serious.”

Matthew crossed the bunk room in a few quick strides and took the phone. “Is that you, Taffy? What’s wrong?”

“I’m fine, m’boy. Just curious about something. Havin’ a wee bit of pain in m’ chest. Wondered if you could recommend anything for it… bicarbonate or some such… maybe an aspirin, or a wee drop of brandy?”

Matthew frowned. Taffy’s voice sounded all wrong, like he couldn’t quite catch his breath. His mind went immediately to the possibility of a heart attack, but he wasn’t about to mention that on the phone. “Your chest? Taffy… are you at the hotel? I think we need to come check on you.”

“No, no, I’ll be goin’ to Rampart to see my fiancée tomorrow. I’ll have one of the docs check me out then. I just —”

The word fiancée only vaguely registered. Matthew filed it away as something to ask about later. “Taffy, tell me… does your left arm hurt?”

There was a pause. “Perhaps a wee bit, but —” Suddenly Taffy cried out as if in pain. “Dear God in Heaven!” There was a crashing sound… and then silence, except for an ominous buzzing tone from the phone. They’d been disconnected.

Matthew slammed the receiver down and ran to pull on his turnouts and boots. As he crossed the room, he called to Stoker. “Cap… possible heart attack. Call it in as a still alarm. Holiday Inn,** cross streets Vermont and Francisco. Can Dispatch get us a room number? C’mon, Bowman! We’ve gotta go!”

Bowman was up and moving quickly, and in record time, the crew was climbing into engine and squad. Matthew hit the reds and they turned onto the street, on their way to Taffy.

When they reached the hotel, the night manager was waiting outside, ready to show them to Taffy’s room and let them in. Matthew pushed his way past his cohorts and was the first to see Taffy stretched out on the floor. The phone lay next to him, off the hook. Matthew went to his knees and began assessing the man’s condition. “Jim, get on the line to Rampart. Bowman, set up to send them a strip while I get his vitals.” He shook Taffy’s shoulder. “Taffy… Taffy… can you hear me?”

There was no response at all from Taffy, and his vital signs were very poor. Worse, he was cyanotic and diaphoretic. Matthew swallowed hard as the grim realization struck him that this close friend of his family was about as close to dead as he could get without actually dying.

While Bowman started chest compressions and Mike bagged Taffy, Matthew relayed the information to the hospital. “Rampart, we have a male victim, age 70. He collapsed after complaining of chest pain. He is not responding to painful stimuli. We are bagging him and doing chest compressions now.” He reeled off the vitals and visible symptoms.

Dixie responded. “Acknowledged, 51. A doctor is on the way.”

They waited less than a minute for Joe Early’s voice to come across the biophone. “51, send us a strip.”

“10-4, Rampart. This will be lead one.”

Thankfully, the hotel wasn’t far from the hospital. Once they got Taffy’s IV started and had him bundled into the ambulance, it took them only four minutes to cover the distance. Matthew insisted on riding with him, and Captain Stoker didn’t waste time arguing. Matt kept a hand on Taffy’s shoulder the entire drive, urging him to hang in there.

The first face he saw when they arrived and the ambulance doors were flung open was Dixie’s. Matthew was vaguely aware of the friendship between Dixie and Taffy, but hadn’t even thought about it until this moment, when suddenly Taffy’s meaning when he spoke of his fiancée struck him hard. He helped maneuver the gurney through the doors, then hopped down behind it. “Dix… it’s Taffy.”

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

“Valentine?” Dixie’s eyes widened in shock as she looked from Taffy’s ashen face to the diamond on her hand… the one she had been admiring every time she looked at it. The one several of her friends had been gushing over. Her Taffy? The massive MCI? That wasn’t possible… that was... obscene! She lifted pain-filled eyes to Joe. She knew he had spoken to her, but she hadn’t actually registered what he said.

She watched as Joe moved to the patient’s side. “Get him to Treatment One, and get Kel in there,” he barked, then fixed his gaze briefly on Dixie. “Let Betty help me with this one, Dix. We’ll take good care of him.”

Dixie stood rooted to the spot for a moment, watching as the team whisked Taffy away. She should move. She knew she should. She had to move. But… she couldn’t. Not a muscle. She felt as frozen as if she were encased in cement. She just stared at her diamond and cried silent tears.

An arm slid around her shoulders and she turned slowly to see Alex Bowman standing beside her. “Dix? You all right?”

“No. I… I really don’t think I am.” She swallowed a sob. It’s happening again… just like with Adam. I don’t understand.0

“C’mon,” Alex said, and he gently guided her toward the door. Unable to propel herself forward, she leaned on him and allowed him to maneuver her. “Let me buy you a cup of coffee,” he offered as he walked her into Rampart and to the nurses’ lounge.

After a long silence, Dixie looked over at Alex. “It’s usually me making the coffee. Somehow, it’s not helping right now. I’m sorry.” '

The young paramedic set the coffee cup he’d been about to fill back in the cabinet and turned to Dixie. “I’ve heard some rumors over the last week… never know quite what to believe, though. Is Taffy the one who proposed to you?”

Dixie drew a deep breath. “He is, and then he had to leave town before I gave him my answer. He came back and I answered.” She waggled her left hand. “I love him. And I am very afraid I’m going to lose him.” '

“Don’t lose hope, Dix. Dr. Early’s the best, and the cardiac team will take good care of him.” He pulled Dixie into an awkward hug, then stepped back. “We’re all pulling for him.”

“I know. And I appreciate it. But, if you don’t mind, I think I need to be alone right now.”

“You got it, Dix. And… well… I’m really sorry.” Alex ducked his head, then straightened up as the radio crackled to life.

“51, what is your status?”

“51, available at Rampart.” He shrugged up a shoulder. “Bye, Dix. We’ll be praying for him.”

And then he sprinted out of the room to find Matthew.

Dixie would thank Matthew later. Right now, she needed to get her emotions under control. She felt a powerful urge to talk with God about this, but at the moment she knew all she would do is bawl Him out. Suddenly, Taffy’s voice sounded in her mind. He can handle your anger, Dixie. He’d rather you let Him have it than not talk to Him at all. Well, she would let Him have it all right!

She stood in the middle of the lounge, noticing all of a sudden that it was a mess. Normally, she would be planning a stern lecture for the responsible parties, but she had always found cleaning therapeutic when she was angry or troubled. This mess was just what she needed. She could give God a piece of her mind while she worked.

“How dare you!” she seethed at the Almighty as she scrubbed a wet, soapy washcloth over a sticky stain on the table. “First Adam and now Taffy? I don’t understand! Such good men! What do you have against them?! What do you have against me?!” She kept her voice low, not wanting to attract attention outside the lounge. God was the only one who needed to hear her vindictive diatribe. Still muttering angrily, she moved from the now-sparkling-clean table to the dirty dishes in the sink. She ran the sink full of hot soapy water and began to scrub at the silverware, plates, and coffee cups. “And while we’re talking about good men, God,” she said as she finished rinsing the last mug and set to rubbing it dry with a soft towel, “what You let happen to Roy stinks. His leg and… in Vietnam… And I’m supposed to believe you love us?! And the one person who might help me understand it all… Oh, God… please, don’t let him die.” The mug slipped from her hands and she hardly noticed when it shattered at her feet.

“Dixie?”

She whirled around, startled by the familiar voice that had spoken her name. She knew Kel had come in tonight, but it had been a busy evening and she hadn’t actually seen him yet. Now he was kneeling in front of her, picking up the pieces of broken mug and tossing them into a nearby trash can. “Kel,” she said softly, her voice almost breaking. Mother’s rule number three… A lady never cries in front of people. She saves her tears for the privacy of home. But she couldn’t help it. The tears came in a flood, and she didn’t fight Kel when he stood up again and wrapped his arms around her and led her to the sofa.

“Taffy’s in rough shape, but for now he’s holding his own. Dr. Ferguson just arrived from cardiology to evaluate him. You know Don will do everything he can to pull him through. Joe… um… was called away to take care of a kid with a spinal cord injury, so… I said I’d find you.” Kel’s soft, earnest tone surprised Dixie. She could see the love in his eyes and that just about broke her heart, but he wasn’t pleading with her or trying to change her mind. He was just there, caring about her and trying to help her through this crisis.

Maybe he didn’t know about her engagement yet. But everyone at Rampart had been talking about it from the moment she arrived, wearing the ring, so there was little chance he hadn’t heard. Besides, he was holding her hands. He had to have seen the ring for himself, but he hadn’t said anything about it. She felt incredibly small, sitting there with Kelly Brackett, caring about him, hating that she’d hurt him, but also loving Taffy and longing to be with him. “I said yes, Kel. I… I’m sorry that hurts you,” she said, and she blinked her eyes to try to hold back a fresh wave of tears. “But I do love him. Can you forgive me?”

He smiled softly. “Dix, you haven’t done anything wrong. I’m the one who should be asking you that question. There’s a lot I need to apologize for, but maybe that should wait until a better time. Right now isn’t about me… it’s about you and Taffy. I want you to know, whatever happens… I respect your decision and I hope you’ll still consider me your friend.” He gave her hands a gentle squeeze. “Dix… I came in today because I wanted to talk with you tonight about a lot of things… but… well… I guess instead I’ll just ask what you need. The rest can wait for later.”

Dixie shuddered as she sucked in a breath. “Thank you, Kel. I... I need to stay busy until I can sit with him. And…” Her eyes met his as she pulled her hands away from him. “I need the best doctor I know in there with Taffy instead of sitting here with me. Thank you for coming to update me, but please… go back to him. I know Ferguson is good, but I’d feel better if you were in there. We will talk later, I promise.”

He reached a hand toward her face, but then pulled it away again, offering her a sad smile instead. “You got it, Dix. I promise, we’ll take good care of him. Tina’s on her way in to cover for you, but if you really need to keep busy, Joe’s in Treatment Three. I’m sure he could use your help.” He opened his mouth as if he was about to say something else, but instead he stood and hurried away.

She watched him go, her heart sinking as she fingered the diamond ring she wore. If… No, she told herself, Not if. When. When she married Taffy, she would move away to Paris and leave Rampart behind. She couldn’t stand the thought of being around Kel on a daily basis, seeing that hurt in his eyes and knowing she put it there. But she would always miss him, probably always wonder what would have happened if she had stayed. She sighed heavily as she moved from the sofa to the sink and washed her face, then checked her reflection in her compact. Her eyes were red-rimmed and puffy, but at least she had managed to staunch the flow of tears. She closed her eyes for a minute and sucked in a deep breath, then hurried out the door to meet Joe in Treatment Three.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 18

Roy sat in his wheelchair beside Taffy’s bed, his head bowed and his good hand resting on the older man’s arm. He felt awkward praying out loud, but it seemed like the right thing to do. “God… Jo’s better at talkin’ to you than I am, but here I am anyway. I don’t have lots of flowery words. I just… we’re not ready to let Taffy go, God. So, please don’t take him just yet.” He opened his eyes and glanced over at the spare bed in Taffy’s room. Dixie lay stretched out there, sleeping fitfully. Early and Brackett had both threatened to have her banned from Taffy’s room if she didn’t get a little rest. Roy had been in for a visit after his physical therapy and overheard the whole exchange. Only when he promised to stay for a while and wake her if anything happened did she finally relent.

He looked Taffy over with an appraising eye. Though not particularly tall, the scrappy Welshman had always been solidly built, and had boasted as recently as their reunion in Paris that he could still take Carter or Newkirk or even Anton in a wrestling match any time they cared to try. Today, though, he just looked old and frail.

In the two days since his heart attack, Taffy’s vitals had improved somewhat and he was breathing on his own, even if a bit roughly. An EEG indicated normal brain function, but he’d shown no sign as yet of regaining consciousness.

“I owe him a lot, God,” Roy said softly. “And I’ve never really thanked him. If You’d just give me the chance—”

“Well, who’s stoppin’ ya, lad?”

Startled, Roy sat up straight at the sound of Taffy’s voice — rough and raspy, barely a whisper, but stubborn as ever. “Taffy! You’re awake!” He grinned as he leaned forward slightly to press the call button to summon the nurse. “You sure gave us a scare!”

Taffy blinked his eyes open for a second, but they quickly sank shut again as he drifted back into sleep. Roy gently squeezed his arm. “Thank you, Taff,” he said softly just as the nurse stepped in.

“You called, Captain DeSoto?” she asked.

“Yeah… he woke up. Just for a minute, but he responded to something I said. Could you let the doctor know?”

“Of course. Dr. Ferguson is on rounds now, and will be stopping here before long. I’ll page Dr. Early.” She took a moment to check and record Taffy’s vitals before heading back to the nurse’s station.

“Thanks,” Roy said as she left. Then he turned to glance at Dixie, who was now sitting up.

“Hey, Dix. He was awake for just a few seconds. The docs should be in soon.”

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

“Thank you, Roy.” Dixie stifled a yawn as she crossed the room to stand by Taffy’s bed. “I appreciate you staying. How are you doing?” She dropped a kiss on Taffy’s forehead and stroked a stray hair from his brow.

“I’m OK,” he said. “Gettin’ better all the time.” Roy gave her a slow smile, and Dixie’s heart swelled. She really did care about all the paramedics she had worked with over the years, but Roy and Johnny were special. She knew the last several weeks had been beyond tough for Roy. She gave him a quick hug and a kiss on the cheek, then sat down in the chair by the bed.

“Roy, I…” She paused to consider her words. “Well… I have a confession to make. A couple weeks ago, when you were talking to Anton… well… I accidentally overheard what you told him. About when you were a POW, I mean.” Her eyes misted and she reached to grip his hand. “I thought you ought to know… I’m… so sorry.”

She sought his gaze for any indication that he was angry at her, but she saw none. Surprise, yes, and regret… sorrow. But no anger, no resentment.

“I’m sorry, too,” he finally said. “Sorry you were burdened with that. It’s bad enough it had to happen.”

“If you ever need to talk, Roy, you know I’m here.”

He nodded. “I know. I probably won’t take you up on it, but it means a lot, just knowing I could. Thank you, Dix.”

Their discussion was cut short by the arrival of Joe Early. He gave Roy a genial nod and Dixie a squeeze of the shoulder before checking Taffy’s chart.

“He’s looking much better, Dix.” Joe hung the chart up again at the end of the bed. “His vitals are much improved. I think we can safely say he’s out of danger for the moment.”

“Thanks, Joe.” Dixie glanced at her ring again, then reached for Taffy’s hand. She hoped he knew she was there, that he could feel her love, and she wished that somehow she could will him back to health. “Roy said he woke up for just a few seconds.”

“I don’t think it will be long before he’s awake again. As you know, though, right now rest and sleep are what he needs most. Listen, I need to finish my rounds.” Joe patted Dixie on the shoulder. “I’ll be back with Dr. Ferguson in a little bit.” He turned to Roy. “You’re first on my list, Roy… how about I take you upstairs and we’ll see how you’re healing. You can tell me about that new dog of yours on the way up… I hear she’s giving Jo fits.”

“Sure, Doc.” Roy chuckled. “And yeah… Jo says she seems to be on a mission to devour the world.”

With a wave to Dixie, Joe pushed Roy out into the hall, leaving her and Taffy alone.

Dixie sighed heavily. “Time to wake up again, my dear Valentine,” she said softly, and she squeezed his hand.

To Dixie’s everlasting surprise, Taffy blinked a few times and opened his eyes, though he seemed to have a hard time focusing on her at first.

“Dix… Dixie?” His voice was weak and raspy.

“Shh… you’re at Rampart. You had a heart attack, but you’re out of danger now.” She filled a cup of water and held the straw to his mouth. “Just a little sip.”

Taffy drank a small sip, then lay back. His brow furrowed. “I don’t remember… anything about it. I remember the hotel… coming back from Washington, and seeing you….” He smiled at her. “Your answer… but after that… nothing.”

“You called Matthew, told him you were having a little chest pain… then you dropped the phone.” Dixie had heard the story directly from Matthew when he’d come in after his shift ended. “And I don’t mind saying, Valentine Matthews…” Her voice turned stern. “It scared the hell out of me, seeing them bring you off the ambulance!” But then she softened. “God and I had a long conversation about that.”

Taffy smiled. “Well, He and I had a bit of a chat, too, I think.”

Dixie bent to brush her lips against his. “And now you have to get well so that we can start making our plans.” She checked her watch and sighed. “My shift starts in fifteen minutes, so I have to go, but first I’ll find Joe and let him know you’re really awake now, and I’ll be back to see you as soon as I can take a break.”

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Taffy watched as Dixie left the room. There was something he needed to discuss with the cardiologist before he would even consider making any more wedding plans, something he had not shared with Dixie, because it had simply never come up before. But now — now, it was something he couldn’t avoid any longer. And as happy as Taffy had been a few days earlier, at the moment, he almost wished he had never met Dixie McCall.

Joe arrived about half an hour later with a younger red-headed doctor at his side. “Taffy, it’s good to see you awake. I’d like to introduce Dr. Ferguson, our chief of cardiology.”

Taffy nodded as he studied their faces, trying to determine just what sort of news they brought. “Just the man I wanted to see. Let me cut to the chase here… how much do either of you know about the coal mining towns in Wales, say, 50 or 60 years ago?”

“Specifically, not a lot,” Dr. Ferguson admitted. “However, I have read about high rates of coronary and pulmonary disease among coal miners.”

“I’ve seen it firsthand,” Early added. “Not in Wales, but in West Virginia. I spent a few months there as part of an exchange during my residency. Supposed to give us big-city doctors a look at conditions we might not see otherwise. Pneumoconiosis was a real problem there, otherwise known as black lung disease.”

Taffy nodded. “Yes — black lung is the big killer.” He turned his eyes to Ferguson. “Heart problems are common too. My point is, I grew up in those mines, and I know my lungs are in bad shape. You’ve probably figured that out already. I have a great immune system, so I’ve stayed pretty healthy up to now, despite the fact I smoked like a chimney as a kid — we all did, ya know. But I was sent to the mines when I was seven.”

Joe’s jaw dropped. “Seven? They allowed a child that young to work the mines?!”

“Officially, no. It was illegal for children under 10,* but the wages we brought in kept our families from starvin’ so we figured lyin’ about our ages was better than dyin’. I worked underground till I was in my teens… not what me tad wanted… but not much else for it back then. When I was old enough, I joined the RAF and got out. Anyway, as I was saying… my lungs are lousy… and now with this heart attack, I figure my prospects aren’t likely all that good.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Joe had listened intently to Taffy’s story, nodding from time to time. “As a matter of fact, Taffy, we did discover just that. I’m surprised you’ve managed as well as you have, given the state of your lungs.”

“Exactly,” Dr. Ferguson chimed in, “and that is putting strain on your heart. Mr. Matthews, there is no cure for black lung disease. But with proper treatment and if you comply with our recommendations, we can slow the progression somewhat and ease the stress on your heart. It’s going to take time, though, and —”

Taffy snorted. “Time… there’s the rub. In case you haven’t read your actuary tables lately, Doctor, I’m on the downhill slide here. No insurance agent is gonna come knockin’ on my door to sell me a policy, if you take my meaning.” He turned to Joe, mindful of the brief discussion they’d had over coffee recently. “I have no business getting married when I’m looking at being laid up for a good part of the years I have left, or at least being severely limited during part of it. I know the routine. Limitations on travel… on diet...on exercise… hell, even on sex. That ain’t no way for a fella to treat his best gal, to put it in American terms. I am not gonna have Dixie worrying about me every time I walk out the door. I also know I’m at huge risk for another heart attack. I can’t do that to her. I won’t do that to her. I love her too much for that.”

Joe’s deep frown pulled his forehead into a mass of wrinkles. “Mr. Matthews, do you know that Dixie has barely left your side since you were brought in? She hasn’t even been home since that night!”

Taffy nodded and sighed. “I believe it. I know she loves me and I love her. And that is precisely why I have to let her go. You think this is something I want to do?” The pain in his eyes was terrible.

“No. I don’t think that at all.” Joe’s tone softened as he pulled up a chair and sat down. “Taffy, couldn’t having Dixie in your life help you recover? Loving her would give you something positive to keep you going.”

Taffy scrubbed a hand across his face. “I do not want her to be my nurse. I wanted her to be free of all of that… I wanted to show her Paris and Rome and Hawaii and all the other places we talked about. I wanted to take her all over the world… do things we’ve both only dreamed of. Skiing in the Alps, hang gliding… did you know she wanted to take me parasailing?

Something new she read about… they do it down in Acapulco. Now, Doc… you tell me. Do you think that’s something I will ever be able to do now? No. I won’t. I want Dixie as my wife… not Nurse McCall as my caretaker.”

Joe sighed heavily and glanced at Dr. Ferguson, who shook his head, his expression grave.

“Realistically, you’re right, Taffy. You can’t do those things. Your lifestyle is going to have to change drastically. But I can tell you this much — for Dixie, all of that is just icing on the cake.” He chuckled. “She would enjoy all that… I’d get a real kick out of seeing her parasailing. But Taffy, it’s you she wants… not the exciting destinations and the adventurous escapades. She loves you. At least think about it.”

Taffy shook his head and then looked at Dr. Early. “I have thought about it. Dixie shouldn’t have to be a nurse 24 hours a day, seven days a week, for the rest of my life. That’s all.”

“Talk to her,” Joe suggested. “This should be something the two of you decide together. Now listen, we’re going to move you out of intensive care in a few hours and downstairs to the Cardiac unit. Do you have any questions for us, beyond what we’ve discussed?” When Taffy indicated he didn’t, Joe gave him another smile and a nod. “All right then, get some rest. I’ll see you later.”

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

“Callie!” JoAnne was so angry, she could spit. She stood in the living room, looking over the leather loveseat Roy had purchased just three months ago. They got new furniture so rarely, and she’d been so excited to have something that looked nice and was comfortable to boot. And now… a trail of stuffing had led her from the kitchen into the living room to discover that the sofa had three different holes, all of them created by the gnawing of sharp little puppy teeth. On the floor next to the sofa lay the chew toy she’d given Callie just that morning. Jo had hoped it would satisfy the dog’s chewing needs. Thanks to Callie’s teeth, she’d had to take DJ to buy a new pair of shoes last week, and just yesterday she’d found Megan’s favorite sandals under the dining room table, beyond repair. But Callie’s interest in the chew toy had lasted all of ten minutes. Then she was off pulling clothes out of the laundry pile and apparently, when that got boring, she’d decided to eat the couch. The animal was running Jo ragged!

“What am I going to do with you, Callie?” she moaned. She knew, of course — or at least, she hoped — that as the pup grew, her urge to chew on anything and everything would subside. But would they have any furniture left by the time they reached that point?

The puppy had trotted over in response to hearing her name and sat there, gazing lovingly up at JoAnne. Jo tried giving her a stern glare, but she was just too adorable to stay angry at. Still… I have to find a way to teach her.

Just then the front door opened and Chris and Megan came running in. “Hi Mom!” they called as they ran upstairs to put their things away.

A moment later, Johnny and Nita came around the corner into the living room. They’d picked up the older kids from school. “Everything all right, Jo?” Johnny asked.

“I hold you entirely responsible, John Gage!” Jo said, and she shook a finger in his face. She couldn’t stay mad at Callie, but she had to let it out on someone, and Johnny was the one who had brought them the pup. “Look at what this… this… monster you gave us has done to my new loveseat!”

Johnny bent down and scooped the pup into his good arm. She was growing fast, but was still just small enough he could manage her pretty easily. Callie barked and licked his face, then both Johnny and the pup looked at JoAnne, putting on their most contrite expressions. Johnny did a fair imitation of Callie’s puppy-dog eyes. Callie whined, and Johnny echoed her exactly.

Nita swatted him on the shoulder. “Ahattak okpulo!” she scolded, but her dark eyes twinkled with fun.

“Bad husband?! Hey, I didn’t chew the sofa!” Johnny retorted, suddenly indignant.

Jo tried her hardest not to laugh. She felt it building in her, starting in her tummy and making her shake and finally it burst out of her, and it felt good. She hadn’t done enough of that lately, ever since Roy was injured. “All right, all right,” she said when she’d gotten control again. “I’m sorry, Johnny. I’m just so frustrated. This pup is eating us out of house and home — literally!”

Chris came running downstairs, and Johnny handed him the dog. “Chris, why don’t you take Callie outside to play for a bit. I’ll see if there’s anything I can do about the sofa.”

“Sure, Uncle Johnny.” Chris patted on the puppy and kissed her nose as he carried her to the back door and slid it open.

When Chris and the pint-sized culprit were outside, Johnny looked over the sofa. “Well now, I think we can get one of those leather repair kits and take care of this. If I leave now, I’ve got time to pick one up on the way to HQ. Won’t make it good as new, but will at least close the holes so they aren’t too noticeable and it isn’t leaking stuffing.” He straightened up. “And then, maybe I should take Callie up to the ranch and spend some time training her. I’ve done it before, several times. The only reason I didn’t take it on yet is, I figured it would be good for Roy to do it when he comes home… help him bond with her and all. But he can take over when he’s ready. They’ll still bond just fine.”

“Thank you, Johnny.” Jo met his gaze with a rueful smile. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Aw, I don’t really mind. You’ve got a lot on your plate… last thing you need is Callie causing trouble.” He put his arm around her shoulders and gave her a quick hug, then turned to Nita and pulled her close for a kiss. “I’d better get going. You ladies have a good evening together.”

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Later that evening, Kel stood outside Taffy’s door for a long moment, gathering his thoughts before he knocked. Joe had spoken to him over lunch and, out of concern for Dixie, confided in him about the Welshman’s plans. On the one hand, Kel figured he should be elated over the news. He could swoop in and provide comfort to Dixie and perhaps even reignite her love for him. But on the other hand, all he could think of was her tear-stained face when he’d found her in the lounge, her anguish at the thought of losing Taffy. No, his love for Dixie wouldn’t let him be happy over this because he knew it would devastate her. He couldn’t just stand aside and do nothing. “Mr. Matthews? Mind if I come in?”

“Of course not. Have a seat.” Taffy waved him in and gestured to the chair.

As he proceeded into the room, Kel could see the uncertainty in Taffy’s eyes and wondered how much he knew about Dixie’s past relationships. “Joe persuaded Dixie to take a nap in the nurse’s lounge before coming back up to see you. The ER is pretty quiet at the moment and she’s exhausted. Anyway, I thought it would be a good chance for us to talk… not doctor to patient, but as two men who care deeply about Dixie McCall.”

Taffy nodded. “I’m glad someone finally talked some sense into her.” He tipped his head. “So… what’s on your mind?”

Wasting no time, Kel moved directly to the heart of the matter. “I hear you’re planning to break off your engagement and I’d like to know why.”

Taffy’s expression flashed between bleak and irritated for a moment. He sighed. “Of course Dr. Early discussed the situation with you. He did say you were his best friend. Well, if he told you my plans, then I’m sure he told you my reasons.”

“Yes, Joe and I are best friends, and yes, he talked to me. But not because we’re friends. You see, there’s one thing in particular we’re united on. We watch out for Dixie.” Kel glanced down briefly and rubbed at his neck. “So… yes, he told me why as well, but I wanted to hear it first-hand.”

Taffy rolled his eyes. “Straight from the horse’s mouth, as they say, huh? Well, watching out for Dixie is exactly what I’m doing. I don’t want her to end up nursemaid to an invalid, Dr. Brackett! It wouldn’t be fair to her, and I refuse to do it!”

Kel leaned forward, elbows on his knees. He kept his voice low and steady, but the tension in his tone was unmistakable. “She loves you, Mr. Matthews. To be completely honest, I wish that weren’t the case, but it is.” He sucked in a deep breath, willing himself to keep his cool. Dixie would never forgive him if he pushed Taffy to the point of another heart attack. “You’re going to break her heart if you leave.”

Taffy stared at the doctor, his eyes dark with pain. “That’s very likely true. And that is why I am counting on you to help her to pick up the pieces. You loved her a long time before I came along. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I don’t feel well. I need to rest.”

Taffy’s frank dismissal hit Kel like a ton of bricks. Maybe he should be thrilled with the idea of Taffy leaving, but instead he was furious. Hell, yes, he loved Dixie. But he didn’t want to win her this way. He wasn’t even sure he would win her — he was worried she would shut down completely. He couldn’t quite keep his anger out of his tone. “All right, I’ll go. You get your rest. If you’re really leaving, it had better be soon. You’re stable enough to be moved now. Let me know where you want to go and I’ll make the arrangements. But I think you’re making a big mistake and you’ll regret it the rest of your life. I speak from experience here.”

As Kel started to turn away, Taffy, his voice soft and sad, asked him a question. “Tell me something, and be completely honest. Put yourself in my shoes. If you were in this bed, at my age, with my prognosis, what exactly would you do? What would you want for Dixie then?”

Kel turned slowly to face Taffy again. “That’s a hard question. Honestly, I can see your reasoning, but I don’t really understand… Dixie wants to love you through this… she’s willing to put all her heart into it. If you were already married, would you send her away? Or if she were the one lying in that bed and told you she was breaking it off, would you be willing to walk away?”

Taffy smiled slightly. “Ah, but that is not the case. Of course it would be different if we were already married, but we’re not. And if she were in my place, I would not want to walk away, but if she wanted me to go, I would go. It would hurt, but I would go. I don’t expect or ask that you understand that. Perhaps that is the difference between a young man and an old man.”

“Perhaps. I just hope Dixie will understand better than I do. Good-bye, Mr. Matthews.” With that, Kel turned to the door and strode into the hall.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Taffy knew what he needed to do. If he didn’t do it immediately, he would never have the courage to do it at all. He pulled a sheet of writing paper and a pen from the drawer in his bedside table and began to write:

My Dearest Dixie:

I count myself the most fortunate of men

For I have been loved

by the most beautiful of women…

You, my love. It breaks my heart

That although my love for you

has not and never will change

Our circumstances most certainly have changed.

I cannot and will not see you chain yourself

To the bedside of an invalid as I have now become.

You don’t deserve that, and I won’t have it.

I love you far too much to allow it…

Kel Brackett and I talked.

He is a lovely man who truly loves you…

And cares very much about what happens to you.

Please don’t be bitter, love.

If you must hate me now, I understand.

But please, don’t close yourself away.

You are far too beautiful a soul to be alone.

He loves you and needs you.

My dear, I am dying.

I cannot bear to have you die with me,

Exhausted with the care for me.

If you truly love me, do this for me:

Go… and be happy… be loved.

Taffy

Broken-hearted and exhausted, he drifted off to sleep with the letter on the table in front of him.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

In the room next to Taffy’s, Dixie was trying to catch her breath. She had been about to walk in and surprise her fiancé, but instead she had overheard him talking with Kel. She hadn’t heard the entire conversation, but she had heard Kel tell him that if he was really leaving, he’d better go soon. Now she was seething. Furious. Taffy was planning to leave? How could he?! And Kel was encouraging him?! She waited a few minutes, then, hopeful that Kel had left, stepped back into the hallway just in time to see him turn the corner heading toward the stairs.

She stood in the hallway a moment, uncertain what she should do. Confront Taffy? Go in and pretend she hadn’t heard anything? She caught in a breath and let it out slowly. Best to wait, she decided. Right now she was fuming and would have a hard time controlling her tongue. She didn’t want to stress Taffy’s fragile heart, but she couldn’t just go in there pretending nothing had happened. And so she returned to the unused room and sat on the bed. She twisted her engagement ring around and around her finger as she tried desperately to gather her thoughts.

Once she felt she was ready to face Taffy without tears and without anger, she closed her eyes and took in a few deep breaths, then got to her feet and made her way back to his room. Her heart melted at the sight of him, sound asleep, looking so very frail. A sheet of paper lay on the table in front of him and Dixie couldn’t help noticing her name at the top of it. He clearly intended it for her, so she felt only a small twinge of guilt when she picked it up and began to read.

His words wrapped around her like a gentle caress, and yet they also felt like a punch in the gut. Taffy dying? No, the doctors hadn’t said that, at least not to her. They’d said it would be a long recovery, a difficult recovery. But dying? Had they told him something different when she wasn’t with him? Had Kel… he wasn’t trying to get Taffy to leave her, was he? She thought back on what she’d heard. Though she knew she lacked context, it was hard to dismiss his words… If you’re really leaving, it had better be soon. Uncertain her legs would hold her up, she lowered herself into the chair and read the letter again. By the time she reached the end, she was sobbing.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Taffy awoke with a start. He opened his eyes and looked over, startled to find Dixie there, not only crying but holding his letter. His heart broke all over again. He had meant for her to read that letter only after he had left Los Angeles, or at least, left Rampart. “Oh, my dearest!” His soft, anguished cry was barely more than a whisper.

“You’re… dying?” Her question came out rough and hoarse. Tears pooled in her eyes, and Taffy was struck once more by the thought that she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen.

His dark gaze steady, he patted the bed next to him, inviting her to sit near him. She slid from the chair to the edge of his bed, and he wrapped his fingers around her hand. He took a moment to gather his words before answering. “Yes, dearest. I am. Not immediately. Perhaps not even in the next few months or years. But I am dying, of that there is no doubt. I have an advanced case of black lung disease, along with the results of a severe myocardial infarction. As you can well imagine, my prognosis is somewhere south of poor. I will require nursing care pretty much constantly for the rest of my life. And I will not do that to you. I can’t. Please, don’t ask me to.”

Dixie gently stroked the back of his hand. “I’m a good nurse, Taffy. We could be happy together.” He could hear the longing in her voice, and he did his best to master his expression. He couldn’t let her see how very tempting it was to say yes.

He closed his eyes for a long moment. Finally, he opened them. “I have no doubt of that… at least for a while. But Dixie, I grew up in the mines in Wales. I watched the women around me nurse their men through black lung. I saw what it does. I saw what it did to the women, how exhausted they became. You are not just a good nurse… you are the best I have ever seen. And you would put your whole heart into it. Into me. And it would destroy you. You must not ask me to do that. Please.”

She sniffed and wiped away a tear. “Tell me the truth… did Kel put you up to this?”

Her question shocked Taffy to the core. “What? Why on earth would he do that?”

“I heard him… talking to you. Heard him say, if you’re going, it should be soon. I… didn’t hear anything after that.”

Taffy’s gaze narrowed and he allowed a hint of sternness into his normally gentle tone. “Dixie McCall, I meant every single word I wrote in that letter. Kelly Brackett is a fine man who loves you. He’s just a wee bit slow on the uptake. His biggest concern is seeing that you don’t get hurt. That was what he was most afraid I was going to do. And I believe he was warning me that if I was going to leave, I’d better go quickly and not come back, because he knew this would break your heart. He left here madder than hell at me, all because he cares about you.”

She gave a brisk nod and squeezed his hand. “I’m sorry. But who will take care of you, Valentine? I… don’t want you to be alone.”

His tone once again soft, he grasped her hand. He never wanted to let it go. “Dear one, I promise you, I won’t be alone. I made some phone calls after talking with Joe Early and Dr. Ferguson; Matthew has already contacted Andrew Carter. He apparently called Newkirk, who immediately headed for Paris to bring Phan here. I will be leaving the hospital in a few days and go to convalesce at LeBeau’s estate a few hours from here. I have many good friends who will see I am well cared for.”

Dixie nodded wordlessly. Then, taking care not to disturb the tubing of his IV, she lay down next to him and wrapped an arm around him. For several long minutes, she stayed there. Taffy didn’t fight it. It felt good — right — to have her there and he knew he would spend the rest of his life yearning for her, for another moment like this.

Finally, she sat up. She slipped his ring from her finger and pressed it into his hand as she lowered her lips to his in a kiss. “Good bye, Taffy,” she said softly. “I love you… always.”

Before she got all the way out the door, Taffy said one last thing. “Please let him love you.”

Dixie stopped at the sound of his voice but didn’t turn around. He could only barely make out her soft answer. “I… don’t know if I’m strong enough to risk that again.” With that, she hurried from the room.

Taffy debated with himself, whether he should interfere any further. He finally decided he would not be able to live with himself if he didn’t. He called for his nurse and asked to see Kelly Brackett immediately.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Dr. Brackett wondered why Taffy would be calling for him so soon after asking him to leave. He informed Joe that he would return to the ER as soon as he could, then hurried up to the Cardiac Care Unit. “Mr. Matthews?” he said as he stepped through the open door. “Brenda sent word you wanted to see me.”

Wordlessly, Taffy opened his fist and showed Kel Dixie’s engagement ring.

“Ah… you talked to Dix, then.” Kel had just met her coming out of the locker room with her purse, looking pale and exhausted. She’d brushed past him with only the briefest word of explanation. “She just told me she was going home sick.”

“We talked, yes. I had planned on leaving her a letter. I fell asleep just after writing it, and she came back unexpectedly and found it.”

Kel narrowed his eyes and frowned. “Wait a minute… you were just going to leave her a letter and disappear on her?”

“Look, she and I have talked. She has the letter. She understands now what my intentions were and why I was going to do what I did. The reason I asked you to come up here is that the last thing I asked her to do was to let you love her. She said she isn’t sure she can take that risk again. I can’t blame her for that. It’s my fault. I know that. But she is far too fine a woman to be alone. So I am asking you to fight for her. Don’t give up. Don’t give in to what she thinks she wants. She needs you. She loved you long before she ever loved me. And she will love you again. Fight for her and do not give up. If you ever loved her… don’t give up.”

Kel sank into the chair. “I apologize for my temper,” he said. “I promise you, Taffy. I won’t give up. I love Dixie, and I’ll make sure she knows it. And… you should know that what she’s feeling now… it’s not just because of you. Did she ever tell you about Adam?”

“No, who was he?”

“Her first love. She doesn’t really talk about him. I don’t think she even remembers telling me… one night when we were dating, I surprised her at her apartment because she had called in sick. I wanted to check on her, so I brought her some chicken noodle soup. Turns out I was the one who was surprised because I found her a bit, well… drunk. It’s not something she does often, but it was the anniversary of Adam’s death in Korea. She told me about finding him among the wounded at the MASH unit she was assigned to. She knew he wouldn’t live. She’s never spoken of him to me again, but every year she takes that day off and I bring her chicken noodle soup.”

Taffy sighed. “I am terribly sorry. This whole thing must be doubly hard on her then. I wish this whole thing had… well, I am too selfish to say I wish I had never met her. She is a most remarkable woman, and I only wish things had worked out differently. But… Kelly, please… take care of her. I will miss her for the rest of my life.”

Kel placed a hand on Taffy’s shoulder. “You have my word, Taffy. Now get some rest. This stress isn’t good for your heart.”

Taffy smiled sadly. “Don’t worry about me,” he assured Kel, his accent suddenly thickening. “Me mum had a sayin’. ‘‘Twill all come out in the wash, me boyo. ‘Twill all come out in the wash.’” And he sank back against his pillows and shut his eyes.

Kel watched Taffy for a moment. “Dixie’s not the only one who’s remarkable,” he murmured. “The two of you were good for each other, I have to admit.” He smiled softly as he moved toward the door. “Rest well, Taffy,” he tossed back over his shoulder. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

He checked his watch as he moved into the hall. His shift was almost over. As soon as he was finished, he’d head over to the Jewish deli down the street and buy a batch of their chicken noodle soup. If Dixie wanted to be alone, he’d just leave it with her. And if she wanted company, well, he had all evening. First, things first, though; Denny was still waiting to hear from him about that job offer, and Kel needed to give him a call and turn it down. Even if Rampart could get along without him, Dixie needed him, and that was more than enough to keep him where he was.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Chapter 19

Mike frowned as he turned the key in the ignition a third time. Nothing but a click. Hannah had been working just fine last night, but today the engine just wouldn’t turn over. His mind ran over all the possible problems, but he knew he didn’t have time to deal with it just now — he was already running late. He moved his gear to his pickup truck, climbed in, and soon was backing out of the driveway and on his way to meet Dave Barstow at ABC Preschool. Normally, Mike’s part of the investigation would be done by now and finding the arsonist would be left up to the police, but Dave knew this case was personal for Mike and had gotten permission for him to tag along.

Today they were set to interview Mrs. Cassidy again. Hopefully, she would give them the information they needed to figure out where they might find Howard Evans. They’d followed every other lead and turned up nothing. Marita Jefferson had been located in Portland, but she didn’t have any idea where to find her ex-boyfriend. He had been employed by a small hardware store in Norwalk, but his boss had fired him three months ago and hadn’t seen him since. They’d visited the address on file with the DMV, but apparently he’d moved out a day after the fire and left no forwarding address.

When Mike reached the preschool and pulled into the parking lot, the detective was just climbing out of his vehicle. Mike parked next to him.

“Hannah leave you for another guy, Cap?” The police detective quirked his mouth up in a lopsided grin as he eyed Mike getting out of the pickup.

Mike rolled his eyes. “Real funny, Barstow.”

Dave chuckled. “I have my moments. Well, come on… Mrs. Cassidy is waiting. And let me tell you, she was not pleased when I insisted on another interview.”

As they crossed the parking lot toward the entrance, Mike noticed out of the corner of his eye a grungy little Toyota. One window was broken out, with a large trash bag taped in place of the glass, and the rear license plate was muddy and unreadable. He elbowed Dave and nodded toward the vehicle. “Take a look… seems out of place, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah, sure does. Let’s check it out.” He changed his path slightly, heading toward the car instead of the building. After they had determined that no one was in the vehicle, Dave crouched down to get a closer look at the license plate. But before he could brush the mud away, a shrill alarm sounded from inside the building.

“Fire alarm! Call it in, Dave!” While the detective ran back toward his car, Mike whipped around to see a fellow in a Raiders jacket jumping through a broken window and running into the parking lot. “That’s our guy!” Stoker shouted. The suspect stopped, hesitated briefly, and then ran the other way, pitching something through the air toward Dave. A flash of sunlight reflected on glass, and suddenly it dawned on Mike exactly what he was seeing — a Molotov cocktail! “Dave! Watch out!” The bottle fell short, shattering as it landed in the bed of Mike’s truck. With a whoosh, the truck ignited. Thankfully, Dave had managed to get away in time and appeared to be unharmed.

Mike’s instincts screamed at him to run after Evans and take him down, but his sense of duty overpowered those instincts. There could be people inside the school and they were in danger. The fire alarm was still shrieking and he could see smoke billowing from the window. He left the detective to deal with Evans and hurried toward the building.

Covering his mouth and nose with a handkerchief, he went in through the window. The smoke was already thick. He didn’t think he saw anyone in the classroom, but he could sure hear a ruckus not far away — sounded like crying and pounding. Across the room was a door, and from the looks of it, it was barricaded. He would bet anything Evans herded everyone in there before setting the fire. He couldn’t get to the door, though, because the flames blocked his way.

He glanced upward at the sprinklers that had been installed in the ceiling — none of them had activated, and he figured Evans must have disabled them somehow. The fire itself wasn’t huge yet, but it was big enough, and from the smell of accelerant it would be getting bigger fast.

Wishing with all his heart that he had Big Red and his crew there right now, he peered through the smoky air for a source of water. He hoped to hear the sirens announcing an engine’s arrival any minute now, but there was no time to wait. By the wall, close to the flames, stood a large fish tank. Mike cast about for something solid, settling on a child-sized chair. He lobbed it across the room at the fish tank, breaking the glass and spilling its contents to extinguish the fire. “Sorry, little guys,” he murmured to the flopping fish as he stepped across the sodden mass to reach the door.

Pulling away the furniture that had been used as a barricade, he yanked it open. “Fire Department!” he announced as he walked into the small washroom. Five children huddled together near the far wall, crying. Sue and several of the teachers were there as well. The ladies had been tied together with their hands behind their backs. The kids all held wet paper towels over their mouths and noses. Mike figured the teachers had told them to do that to protect them from the smoke. He pulled out his pocket knife and cut the women free. “Is anyone hurt?”

“We’re all right,” Sue answered. Mike was impressed by her steady voice. He had to admit, she sure had guts. Actually, all of the teachers were doing a great job keeping calm and comforting the children.

Mike hoisted two kids in his arms and directed the teachers to get the others. “Follow me. We’re going out through the window.” At the sight of the broken fish tank, the little girls Mike was carrying both burst into fresh tears, and one hid her face against his shoulder. Mike hugged them close. “It’s OK,” he murmured. “Everything’s going to be OK. C’mon, we’ve gotta get out of here.”

Just as they reached the window, a loud explosion set the kids off shrieking again. So much for my truck, Mike thought. Fire must have reached the gas tank. He steeled himself against showing any emotional reaction, instead turning to Sue. “Is anyone else in the building?”

Her eyes got big and Mike was pretty sure they weren’t just tearing from the smoke. “Just Mrs. Cassidy. She was in the lobby… I… I think she’s —” She glanced at the children. “I mean… she tried to stop Howard, but he had a knife and a gun. He… he...” She swallowed hard, and Mike could see she was struggling to keep her composure.

Knife and gun and a Molotov cocktail… damn, but that guy’s a walking arsenal! I wonder what else he’s got on him. But all Mike said aloud was, “I have to go back for her.”

He set the girls down and helped Sue through the window, then passed the kids through to her one by one. Finally he helped the rest of the teachers out. He surveyed the area around the building and could see that the playground looked clear. He could hear sirens headed their way. “Ladies, take the kids away from the building to the playground. Do not go up to the parking lot until you’re told it’s safe.” The ladies acknowledged his instructions with nods and then hurried away with their small charges, and Mike turned to the interior door and made his way toward the lobby.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

While they waited for Nick to fetch Roy for therapy, Johnny busied himself flipping through the channels on Roy’s television set. He’d just settled on a soap opera he liked to make fun of when the Channel 5 news logo flashed on the screen, then faded to live footage showing several fire trucks and police cars. Something — Johnny figured it was a vehicle — was ablaze in the middle of the lot and firefighters were busy dousing the flames. Paramedics were gathered around a victim who lay stretched out on the ground. The deep voice of anchor Hal Fishman intoned, “We interrupt this broadcast to bring you breaking news. You are watching live footage filmed from our eye in the sky over Southeast Torrance. Frank, tell us what we’re seeing.”

“Hal, this is ABC Preschool, where police are reportedly searching for the Sunny Estates arson suspect. They have established a perimeter bounded by —”

“Hey, Roy!” Johnny called to his friend, who had his nose stuck in a book. “Get a load of this. It’s about the arsonist.” He turned up the volume and turned his attention back to the set. Roy set down his book and, using his foot and his good hand, he managed to maneuver his wheelchair so he was facing the screen.

“Folks, we recommend that you avoid this area if at all possible,” the reporter continued. “We don’t have full details at this time, but the suspect allegedly took several people, including children, inside the school hostage and set a fire in a classroom. He then broke out a window and attempted to flee, but was seen by a firefighter and a police detective who were on site. The suspect hurled an incendiary device into the back of a pickup truck, resulting in an explosion which destroyed several other cars in the lot as well.” The image zoomed in on the charred shell of a burned-out vehicle. The flames had been thoroughly doused “The few teachers and children who were inside the building are safe, but there is at least one injured victim inside, and it looks like we’ve got an injured man outside, as well. Hal, according to my sources, this is a police detective who was injured as he attempted to subdue the suspect. Both Adams Elementary, right next door, and Wood Elementary are currently on lockdown. Parents are asked to stay away for the time being. You will not be allowed to drive into the neighborhood.”

The scene of the parking lot faded to solid blue and a photograph of Roy in his turnouts and captain’s helmet came up. “To provide some background,” Fishman explained, “the Sunny Estates arsonist struck just over a month ago, killing five and seriously injuring L.A. County Fire Captain Roy DeSoto, pictured, who heroically saved the lives of three young children before he was trapped in a building collapse. Now let’s return to our eye in the sky. Frank? Can you tell us more?”

The photo faded and the live footage resumed. Johnny and Roy both leaned forward and listened to the continuing report. “Hal, we now have a ground crew on the scene and Sandra Bailey is with LA County Fire Chief Ken Johnson. Let’s hear what he has to say.”

The feed from the helicopter faded out, replaced by a scene of a tall, slender woman holding a microphone. She stood next to Chief Johnson, one hand to her ear as if she were waiting for word to go ahead.

Finally she nodded and then began. “Chief Johnson, I understand that two members of your arson investigation team were on site this morning. Was their presence in relation to the Sunny Estates fire?” She thrust the microphone in the chief’s face.

“Well, obviously.” Johnny rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, but he can’t tell her that,” Roy responded.

Indeed, Chief Johnson demurred. “I’m sorry, Ms. Bailey. I cannot comment on an active investigation.”

“Can you confirm that the suspect is Howard Evans of Long Beach?”

Johnson looked mildly perturbed as he repeated, “Once again, I cannot comment on an active investigation.”

Johnny’s brow furrowed. “Howard Evans, huh? Has Mike mentioned that name to you?”

“Nope. Hasn’t said a word to me about the investigation, other than that he was part of it, and I haven’t asked.”

Bailey must have realized the chief was not about to break, because she did not pursue her questions about the investigation any further. “Can you tell us who the firefighter was who got the children and their teachers to safety?”

“That I can answer, yes. Fire Captain Michael Stoker rescued the victims and put out the fire before the engine ever arrived.”

“That’s our boy,” Johnny said proudly. He glanced at his friend, curious about what he was feeling. Roy didn’t seem agitated, but his emotions had to be running high.

“Roy? Johnny?” Nick stuck his head in the door. Apparently, they’d missed his knock. “You’ll never believe why I’m late today.”

“Oh… hi, Nick,” Roy said, his eyes never leaving the TV screen. “Let me guess… explosion and roadblocks?”

“How’d you…” The therapist’s incredulous response faded to a brief silence as he stepped in and focused on the television. “Ah… it’s on the news.”

“Yeah, sure is. Um… could we put off PT today?”

“I guess so.” Nick moved in closer to watch the broadcast. “Wow… no wonder I had to go the long way round China to get here. I wonder who dunnit.”

“The arsonist,” Johnny kicked in. “The same idiot who set the fire that put Roy in here. This time he tried burning down a preschool. Our friend Mike Stoker is there.”

Nick let out a low whistle. “Wow,” he repeated. “Yeah, PT can wait. I can take the Dawson kid first and come see if you’re ready later.” He clapped Roy on the back and then slipped out the door.

The TV image shifted to Hal Fishman once again. “If you are just joining us, here’s a brief recap of events.” As he continued, Johnny sat on Roy’s bed. “Well, Roy… ya ready to testify when they catch ‘im?”

“Heh… may not have to.”

“What do you mean? There’ll be a trial and everything… they’ll definitely call you to testify. Even if you can’t remember, the jury needs —”

Roy gave a wry chuckle. “If Mike gets ahold of him first, I don’t think there’ll be anything left to try. C’mon… let’s keep watchin’”

“We now take you back to Sandra Bailey, on the ground at ABC Preschool in Southeast Torrance, where I understand the situation is escalating,” Fishman said. “Sandra, tell us what’s happening.”

The scene faded in on the reporter, now standing behind a line of police officers. “Hal, the suspect was flushed out of hiding, but is now holding officers at bay with a hand grenade. He has pulled the pin but is holding the safety in place. He has threatened to throw the grenade if anyone attempts to approach him. As a precautionary measure, police are beginning an evacuation of everything within a 165 foot radius, and —”

“That includes you and your crew, ma’am.” A police chief approached Sandra Bailey. “I’m sorry, but you’ll have to do your reporting from a distance. It isn’t safe here.”

“Chief… could you please…” Sandra’s protests fell on deaf ears and the picture went black.

An instant later, Hal Fishman’s form filled the screen again. “I’m sorry, viewers. For their safety, our ground crew has had to move away from the scene. The lethal damage radius of a hand grenade is about 15 feet, but serious damage can reach to a radius of about 50 feet. Of course, you have to factor in the potential throw radius. Dangerous fragments can travel as far as 750 feet from the blast zone, so this threat is nothing to kid around with. We’ve got a map of the affected area coming up now. If you are in the area shaded red, you should get out now.

Viewers in the blue-shaded area should shelter in place and stay away from windows.” The map remained on screen for several seconds and then disappeared as the aerial image faded in again. “And now we take you back to Frank Madison, our eye in the sky. Frank? What do you have for us?”

“Oh man, Hal. As if things weren’t interesting enough already… well… take a look. This fireman just came out of the preschool with the paramedics, who were bringing their victim to a waiting ambulance, and… well… let’s just watch how things unfold.” Johnny bounced to his feet and started pacing as he watched, and Roy leaned forward, his intense gaze fixed on the set, because the camera now followed Mike Stoker. He moved stealthily, approaching the suspect, who stood across from the police in a pitcher’s stance, from behind. Mike must have been keeping really quiet because the guy didn’t seem to notice him at all.

Johnny gawked at the screen. “What are you doin’, Mike?! Don’t be an idiot! Why aren’t they stopping him?!”

“Too big a risk,” Roy answered. “If they move toward Mike or draw attention to him, this guy’s liable to lob that thing. But if Mike can get close enough, there’s a chance he can clamp his hand on the suspect’s and keep him from releasing the safety and then police can move in.”

“A chance?” Johnny grunted. “More likely he’s gonna get himself killed.” He fell silent and the two friends watched intently as Mike drew closer and closer to the arsonist. All they could hear from the television was the sound of the chopper as it hovered over the preschool. Johnny wondered vaguely if Hal Fishman and Frank Madison were on the edge of their seats like Roy was.

As Mike drew closer to the arsonist, Johnny caught in his breath and held it, exhaling only when his friend had successfully clamped both his hands over the suspect’s from behind. They got a brief view of the arsonist struggling to get away before the picture went back to Hal Fishman in the studio.

Johnny roared in disgust. “What’s that about?! They’re just cutting it off there?!”

“Calm down, Junior.” Roy waved Johnny over to the chair. “Could be technical problems, or maybe they had to cut out — a little too intense for a general audience, whether police take the guy down or he manages to blow the place up.”

“I suppose.” Johnny folded his lanky form into the chair and gave his attention back to the news anchor.

“Ladies and gentlemen, I’m sorry, but we have lost our video feed. We are going to cut to a commercial while we deal with our technical difficulties and will return momentarily with a full update.”

Johnny was up and pacing again, muttering under his breath, while Roy just sat staring out the window as they waited to learn the rest of the story.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

Mike could hardly breathe. Howard Evans was trying desperately to pull his hand free. Thankfully, he didn’t seem to have any skill in martial arts, or Mike would have been in big trouble. Instead of effectively fighting the fireman off, Evans just worked with his free hand to pry Mike’s fingers up, but Mike was stronger and kept a good hold on him.

“Let me go!” Evans growled.

Mike just snarled and tightened his grip even more. “No way.”

At that, Evans cussed up a storm, calling Mike every name in the book as he attempted to wrest himself free. Before the idiot could remember he had a gun, Mike planted a foot against the back of his knee and pushed hard, forcing him to the ground and pinning him there. “Come on, you guys! A little help would be nice!” he shouted at the police, who were standing by, watching, their guns trained though they couldn’t risk a shot.

Vince was the first one over, with Eddie Ramer only a couple of paces behind him. The two men got control of Evans so Mike could slip the grenade from his hand and carefully replace the pin. “Good job, Stoker,” Vince said. “But you had us all plenty worried for a moment.”

“You’re not the only ones,” Mike observed weakly. As the adrenaline drained out of him, his legs began to tremble and he went into a cold sweat. Suddenly he became conscious of a burning pain in his right arm. He looked down, surprised to see that his sleeve was torn and blood-soaked. Must’ve cut it goin’ in the window. He hadn’t even noticed. He took a step forward, watching Vince and Eddie as they tried to get Evans’ hands where they could cuff him.

Things happened fast after that. Mike’s vision got fuzzy and he blinked a couple times to clear it.

The second time, as he opened his eyes, he saw a flash of silver and realized Evans had managed to get to his knife. Vince cried out a warning and about the same time Eddie fired off a shot. Mike wasn’t sure what happened after that because suddenly he was waking up on the ground with paramedic Al Borgmann looking down at him and taking his vitals. “Headed for Rampart?” he murmured.

“Yeah, you are.” The burly blonde flashed him a jaunty grin. “They’ll probably throw you back pretty fast, though… some IV fluids and about twenty stitches and you should be good as new.”

Above them, a helicopter hovered. Mike could make out the Channel 5 logo on its side. “Why don’t you wave to your fans?” Borgmann quipped. “They filmed every second of your daring maneuver. I bet all of Los Angeles is talking about you now.”

“Just what I need.” Mike rolled his eyes, then closed them as Borgmann started the IV. He wondered whether Evans was alive or dead, but he didn’t have the energy to ask. He was awfully tired, and a little sleep sounded pretty good just about now.

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•

“All right, folks,” Hal Fishman said. “We’ve got our problem fixed and will now return to the live feed. Frank, what are you seeing from up there?”

Johnny and Roy both snapped their eyes back to the screen. Roy’s eyes roved the image, looking for Stoker. Finally he found him — Mike lay on the ground covered by a yellow emergency blanket while Al Borgmann of 6’s worked on him. Borgmann’s partner, Jay McGuire, bent over the suspect.

“Hal, the fireman — who we’ve now learned is Captain Mike Stoker of the LA County Fire Department — managed to subdue the suspect, allowing police to approach safely. The grenade has been neutralized and the bomb squad has already taken it away. From this distance, it’s hard to tell exactly what happened, but both Captain Stoker and the suspect appear to be injured.”

Johnny thumped the television as if it would speed things along. “C’mon, Mike… give us some sign you’re all right.”

Roy wished they could get a closer view, but now Frank Madison was signing off and Hal Fishman was talking about the five o’clock news and then telling viewers that they were “now returning to the regularly scheduled broadcast, already in progress.”

Johnny switched off the TV and sat silently for a moment. Finally he shook his head and said, “Looks like you might have company tonight, Roy. Think they’ll let Stoker bunk in with you?”

•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊•◊-•

Notes

Chapter 14

*The Smoke House: I’ve never been there, but this steakhouse is indeed a favorite of Hollywood celebrities. Bing Crosby and Bob Hope were both frequent customers.

**Sursum Corda is a neighborhood of Washington, D.C., so named for a low-income housing cooperative that was developed there by a Georgetown alumnus in the late 60s. Students from Georgetown spend time tutoring the residents, and I didn’t think it was a stretch to imagine a medical clinic there as well. During the 80s, when this story takes place, the neighborhood declined due to drug dealers and violent crime.

Chapter 16

*Michelangelo Merisi da Caravaggio was an Italian painter who lived from 1571 - 1610. He was noted for his style which employed dark shadows and bright shafts of light. Caravaggio preferred to present his subjects realistically, with all their flaws, rather than idealizing them. He was known to have a violent and tempestuous personality, spent time in jail for brawling, and went into exile after killing a man in a duel.

Chapter 17

*Bruce Kiskaddon and Curley Fletcher were 20th century cowboy poets. I thought including them would be a nice nod to Robert Fuller’s penchant for acting in westerns.

**I don’t know whether the Holiday Inn currently at this location existed in 1983, but I decided I could take a little license and imagine it did.

Chapter 18

*In early 19th century Britain, it was common for children as young as five to descend deep into the mines and spend long hours working. Many served as ‘trappers,’ meaning they would open and close a door that helped keep air flow going in the direction needed. Others were responsible for pulling the coal carts through tight spaces that pit ponies couldn’t manage. In 1842, legislation was passed to make it illegal for women and for children under 10 to work underground, but apparently this law was easily evaded as there were very few inspectors and they had to give notice before visiting a mine.

Chapter 19

*When I chose the 7th Engineer Support Battalion for Mike, it was because they were based in California (I wanted him living there) and they deployed to Vietnam in August 1965, which was perfectly timed for the backstory I had developed for him. Only when I went back a third time to the article on this Battalion did I notice their nickname was Big Red. That just seemed like confirmation that I was on the right track!

To be Continued

Posted to Site 1/27/19

 Links to Parts1.  2.  3. 4.