by Brian Ewing
“Sisto! Are you okay? I have been monitoring the scanner and it said they had an officer down and needed an ambulance.” The concern in Ama’s rant warmed Sisto’s heart.
“Ama,” Sisto started, “Do you want to go out to dinner with me this week?”
There was silence on her end for almost thirty seconds, then some shuffling, then another few seconds. “Fitz told you, didn’t he?”
Sisto could hear a smile in the tone but played it off, “What? That he is gay? Well, I kind of discovered it myself by walking into an unlocked room.”
“Oh…wow,” Ama said, trying to figure out how upset Fitz may have been at having his privacy invaded at that moment.
“Listen, I have always liked you. I have wanted to ask you out for a long time. I just never wanted you to feel like anything other than special. I never wanted you to feel like runner-up, or a rebound girl, or worse. You are too special to me and I was scared to put myself out there but after today and this whole week, I have learned a few things.”
“Oh, yeah?” Interest perked up Ama’s tone. “What have learned, Sisto?”
Sisto was now smiling in the squad car. “I learned that it’s okay to take your time and process your feelings. It’s okay to be in pain. What’s not okay is not moving on a good thing because you are scared. Fitz is gay but I didn’t know that. I thought I was losing you to some scary, bearded, biker man. The thought of someone else sweeping you off your feet killed me. I would never want to hurt you, but I would like the opportunity to fuck up once in a while and make mistakes in more than a friendship capacity.”
The phone was painfully silent. “Can I tell you something?”
“Of course, please, anything to keep the awkward silence away,” Sisto responded.
“You remember that night back at Corden Palisades when you thought I had been taken by Carson Vinnova?”
Not knowing why he had nodded, since she could not see him, he finally replied, “Yes, I remember.”
“I was insanely upset about what I found out that night but what hurt me more than anything, was how upset I knew you would be once you found out about Craig. My heart was broken because I knew your heart would be broken. I knew that you were someone special to me, the moment I met you in the stairwell. Sisto, I know why you waited, and I appreciate it. I would never want to push anything on you.”
“You aren’t at all,” Sisto interrupted. “Ama, I haven’t felt as connected or accepted by anyone since The Reels appeared in my life the way I have felt with you. The thought I almost lost you to Fitz was eating away at me.”
“So, where does that leave us?” Ama asked.
Sisto thought a moment. “Do you want to have dinner with me on Friday night? The Sear?”
“That’s a fancy place, Sisto. You sure you want to go sit with a bunch of snotty people eating hundred-dollar dinner plates?”
When she put it like that, it did not sound appealing to him. “Listen, they got some of the highest recommended steaks, good wine, and I would really like to expand my horizons, with you by my side.”
“Tom Sisto, there may be hope for you after all. It’s a date.”
“It is a date.”
He could hear her stifled giggle before she put her hand to cover the phone. She accepted him and his quirks. He was a person that would never have a normal life. He carried the burden of a spirit looking to right the wrongs in the world. The Reels would never turn its back on something, knowing Sisto would fix it. Sisto grew to accept it and even sided with that logic. He too wanted to live in a city where the good-hearted prospered. The lowlifes and criminals, stealing and cheating, raping and murdering, would not be tolerated from The Reels, nor Sisto.
He told her he would let her know when he got back to the station and explained he had to hang up to call Bell.
“Get home safe.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He said, before ending the call.
Luckily, he had Bell’s number programmed into the burner already, as he had not been so vigilant to remember the aging Detective’s digits. The phone rang once and right as the second ring was about to happen, it was answered.
“You moron. I heard you shot Norton.”
“I’m fine, thank you for asking.”
Bell, who normally would give an additional hit of smartass as medicine, replied softly this time. “I know you are. It was the first thing I asked when getting patched to one of the patrol cars after it came over the radio an officer was down.”
“I hate to be the bearer of bad news, Bell. But, from what I hear, there is a possibility I may be suspended for shooting Norton.”
“Suspended? You’re damn near lucky as hell that you aren’t getting fired! Norton already called from the back of the ambulance and gave a verbal statement that you did exactly what was needed to contain the situation.”
“I knew that guy liked me.”
“Not a fucking chance. You should hear the names he called you in the background as a medic tried to clean his wound.”
Bell’s hearty cackle filled the line. Sisto pulled his phone back until he heard the older, overweight man resist the thought of Norton spitting out colorful obscenities.
“You still there?”
“I am here.”
Bell’s voice got serious again. “Listen, Kid, you did really good work. You stopped that putz from killing God knows how many more people. Don’t worry about the Norton thing. You will be cleared, and it will pass. Fitz is at Mustain General with someone named Pooka.”
“Púca, yes, one of Fitz’s contacts,” Sisto said.
“I called the Mustain PD desk sergeant and asked him to get one of the patrol cars to escort you there to meet up with him at the station. I got Mitchell and Wallace heading up there now to pick you two up.”
“Bell?”
“Yeah?”
“Thank you.”
Bell ended the call.
CHAPTER 36
Sisto was escorted into the ER waiting room, where he saw Fitz Ackerman sitting in a frantic state, zoning out and biting his fingernails awaiting information on how Púca was doing. Sisto sat next to the man, putting his hand on Fitz’s forearm to gently break him from his trance.
“How’s it going?” Sisto asked.
Fitz with bloodshot eyes, indicating he was recently crying, tried to reply but got a frog in his throat. After coughing something loose, “They were out here not long ago, said he has a shattered collar bone but no permanent damage.”
“That’s great news, man. Glad to hear it.”
“Sisto,” Fitz said, immediately letting Sisto know that he would not like what came next out of his mouth. “I’m done.”
“What do you mean?”
“I am done with the team. Once Púca is discharged I am going to help him get packed and we are heading to Oregon.”
The admission hit Sisto harder than he thought it would. Now, for a second time in the span of a year, he was losing a close friend.
“Why not just relocate here? Get a posh suburban home in Wadsworth or something? You think you got to go all the way to Oregon?”
“That was where I was when I first left 3S. That’s where I found myself and it’s where I think I have the best chance of making a real thing out of what Púca and I have. He agrees. We spoke about it earlier this morning. Hell, that felt like a month ago.”
Sisto understood the correlation. He was exhausted from the last few days. Sisto wanted to be selfish and tell his friend he was not allowed to leave but knew it was best for him and his lover to have a fresh start.
“I am really sorry that I was such an asshole to you all these months.” Sisto shamefully admitted.
“It’s okay,” Fitz said. “If you showed up right after Tommy died, trying to fill a void, I wouldn’t have liked it either. And, if you were gay and I thought you were trying to move in on Púca, I probably would like you less than you liked me. In fact, you may have acted more reserved than I would have if the roles were reversed.”
“No hard feelings?” Sisto asked for confirmation.
Fitz didn’t reply, just stood up and forced Sisto up for an awkward, waiting room hug. Sisto just smiled, imagining what it must look like to people passing the room to see two dirty, bikers hugging it out, but couldn’t care less. The two sat down and Fitz looked analytically at Sisto.
“That broken?” he pointed to his own nose to explain on Sisto what he was talking about.
“Nope, just naturally ugly,” Sisto replied. “Medic said it was just clipped at the right angle to break some nasal capillaries and cause a river of blood. Lucky me, I guess. Your vest took the brunt of the bloodshed. I’m sorry about that.”
Fitz shook it off. “You know, my cousin would have liked you.”
“Yeah?”
“Oh, yeah. He always had a knack for picking out idiots for friends…”
Mitchell and Wallace showed up on the first-floor Emergency Room waiting area about forty-five minutes later. They both smiled at Sisto in unison.
“Damn, Sisto, you are a true badass,” Mitchell said, giving her stamp of approval.
“Heard you popped Norton, then put a bullet in Wesley’s head,” Wallace added his two cents.
Fitz looked over at Sisto, “You shot Norton?”
Sisto shrugged.
“Let’s get going guys. We can have Mustain PD transport your cycle, Fitz.”
Sisto looked back at Fitz, letting him know he would take care of everything.
“Guys,” Sisto started, “It’s just you two and me on this trip. I will explain on the way.”
Mitchell and Wallace looked back at Fitz, who had not moved.
“Sisto, rules are rules. We have orders to bring you both back.” Boy Scout Wallace stated.
“You know, rules are rules, Officer Wallace. Pretty sure there is a rule that there are not supposed to be any fraternizing in the sheets with co-workers unless documented, either.”
Wallace darted his eyes at Mitchell, who shook her head as she lowered it to the ground.
“Detective? Officer? Shall we?” Sisto asked two bashful employees of the Saratoga City Police Department.
Sisto turned around and extended his fist to Fitz. Fitz bumped it back and gave a look of thanks.
“Keep in touch.”
“You know I will,” Fitz said sincerely.
An hour drive felt like moments, as Sisto passed out in the backseat before even leaving the hospital parking lot. Mitchell and Wallace must have taken the time to talk out their game plan from getting made with their extracurricular activities. They pulled into the SCPD lot and alerted Sisto to wake up. Sisto yawned and stretched, feeling surprisingly refreshed for being a man that took an hour nap in the back of a police-issued SUV. He had to wait for Mitchell to open the door for him since the back seat locked by default. She would not make eye contact with him, as if she were shamed in a moment where he may have physically walked in on her and Wallace in bed or something.
The three entered the lobby of SCPD, heading down to the Detective’s Hub. The old, crotchety man behind the pane glass, that buzzed them in and always gave Sisto an unwanted result when it came to showing his identification, simply nodded to Mitchell and let them all pass. They walked down the hallway to the Detective’s Hub but cut right, towards the interrogation rooms. Sisto wanted to avoid any unnecessary attention upon himself, as he wanted to recap with Bell and the team in Caden’s Den, then head out before Captain Jenkins got wind that he was in the building. He grazed his fingers over the chiseled plaque with Caden’s name on it. He felt warmth as he touched the words. He was heading in a good place in his life and felt Camille Caden would be happy for him if she were still among the living.
Bell had already been at the end of the long conference table, face buried in papers. Sisto caught a glimpse of the man before Bell had realized he had company. It looked like he was a newspaper editor with thick glasses on, reviewing something on his laptop. There were files and folders spread all around him and for some reason, was holding a blue Bic pen in his mouth. Mitchell cleared her throat at the doorway. Bell looked up, removed the pen from his mouth, and motioned for the three of them to enter. Wallace was last and shut the door behind him. Sisto walked around the table and sat at the seat closest to Bell. Bell assessed Sisto to determine if he looked like muddled shit or just regular shit.
“You okay?”
“Yeah, I will be,” Sisto said. “I need to get food, take a very, very long shower, and sleep and I will be as good as new.”
Bell looked around the table, “Where is Fitz?”
Sisto spent the next twenty minutes explaining a condensed version of the events that unfolded behind the renovated business complex. He explained about Mason Wilcox, Morris Tearney, and Andrick Wesley. He also explained in very vague terms about Fitz Ackerman’s involvement with Púca on a personal level and how Púca was willing to help capture the man who had been killing up and down the I-83 the last few years. Sisto figured any good words could only help the sketchy businessman as he was interviewed in the hospital. Sisto wanted Fitz to be happy and didn’t want him and Púca to get bogged down by a trial or incarceration for past indiscretions.
“So, bottom line, Fitz is fine, but he won’t be coming back to the team.”
“I had no idea Fitz was gay,” Wallace said. “How come The Reels never told you that, Sisto?”
Sisto shrugged. “The Reels only shows me the horrors of the world. Being gay doesn’t make Fitz a bad person. I guess The Reels has a certain level of respect for privacy as well.”
“I knew he was gay.” Bell chimed in.
They all looked at the veteran detective knowing couth was not his primary skill and cringing at what may escape the man’s mouth next.
“Just like I know you two are bumping uglies, too.” He said, pointing over to Mitchell and Wallace. “Fill out the proper paperwork and don’t let it get in the way of the team, please.”
Sisto looked over at the two and was surprised at how red the dark-mocha cheeks of Dakota Mitchell started to turn. Bell told Wallace to take Sisto back home but Sisto declined the offer, telling them he texted Ama and she was heading over to pick him up. Tail between their legs, both Wallace and Mitchell congratulated Sisto on a job well done and exited the conference room. Sisto looked over to Bell, who was rubbing his eyes as he removed his coke-bottle thick glasses.
“You said you were going on a diet a few months back. How’s that going?” Sisto asked.
“How does it look like it’s going, numbnuts?”
“You miss being on the street, don’t you?”
“A little. I am an old man, and I am exactly where I should be right now. But, I do feel bored.”
“You should use the department gym. Get some energy out. You will probably feel more energetic after a few weeks.”
“Who are you, my mother?”
“I’m just looking out for you. You don’t want thirty years on the streets to get shadowed by having a heart attack behind a desk in your office.”
Bell had no retort and just nodded. “Don’t you have somewhere to be right now, instead of pestering me?”
“I don’t want to get caught on the floor and get stuck here another hour talking to Jenkins.”
“You don’t have to worry about that. Jenkins has a meeting with the Mayor at City Hall today. Maitland couldn’t get away from back-to-back meetings, so Jenkins had to go to him.”
Sisto lit up at that realization and stood. “Well, in that case, I am going to get a coffee. You want one?”
“Yeah, please. None of that hazelnut bullshit you add either.”
Sisto, shocked that his stash was not as discreet as he thought, left the Interrogation room and headed to get two cups. Sisto took his time and reappeared in the office ten minutes later. Ama was in there sitting next to Bell. The two were engaged in small talk and didn’t notice him at first. Sisto had two cups of coffee in one hand and had just ended a call, closing his phone
in the other hand. Both Bell and Ama looked back at him.
“You trying to call me?” Ama asked, looking at the phone in his hand.
“No, I just got off the phone with Rock Springs General. Wanted to let them know an orderly named Phil was going around fondling people in the coma ward. Fucking prick, I knew that was a good stomping ground if you were a dirty pervert.”
There was a look of confusion on both faces but Bell and Ama both learned to expect the unexpected out of Sisto and chose not to dive too deep into why or how he knew a tit-tickler named Phil was out there groping the unconscious.
“I thought you could use this,” Ama turned back to grab a greasy paper bag, that looked heavy.
“Is that what I think it is?” Sisto asked, excited that he already knew the answer.
“One Smokey Robinson at your service.”
Sisto walked up and hugged Ama. She may have thought he was just excited about the food, which he was, but Sisto missed her, too.
“Thank you,” Sisto said, more meaning behind it than simply the sandwich.
“You are very welcome, Officer Sisto.”
“You can call me SWAT Officer Sisto if you please?”
“What?” Ama asked.
“Yeah, apparently you shoot your team leader, they pass you automatically,” Bell spoke, rolling his eyes.
Sisto just smiled back at the man, then turned back to Ama. “Let’s go home.”
She handed him his fast-food bag and as they were leaving Sisto looked over at her, “Did I tell you I tried the armpit uppercut and made some big mongoloid shit himself?!”
EPILOGUE
A lot had changed over the course of the following weeks for Sisto. He started his return from Mustain by receiving a paid six-week leave while being investigated for improper action in the line of duty. The Mayor was looking to squeeze any publicity he could out of the situation, trying to get a press conference and award Sisto with a commendation medal. He was under the magnifying glass with Internal Affairs and decided to wait until he could be sure it wouldn’t come back to bite him in the ass. A good choice, Sisto thought.