“At the time all I could think of was my daughter’s happiness. Zack wouldn’t budge on becoming a cop. He was twenty. He was persuaded that it was the right thing. She wanted to get married right away. She didn’t even want to wait for him to graduate. He knew they were too young. He had to make a decision for himself. It took Patty a couple a years to get over it. She hated Zack.” Tyler pulled at the knot of his tie. “Of course I had to take her side.”
“Why did you have him put in your office during the investigation?” Mo had always been curious about the steps that had led him into her life. Hearing the mayor say he had actually liked Zack took the edge off her derision.
“Because I assured him if they did get married, though I was opposed, doors would open. I was DA, running for mayor. I knew I was pretty much stepping into the job being the first Mayor Tyler’s son. He’d be on easy street. Sounds counter intuitive, I know. I assured him that he would go through the ranks no problem. Just make Patty happy.”
Mo gave him a quizzical look brows raised. “And that was supposed to stop him?”
“I watched Zack grow up. Known him a long time. I saw the look on his face when I told him that and knew I’d won. No way was he going to pick the free ride. It tipped the scale. When he was put on suspension, I knew he wasn’t guilty of anything. So I intervened and had him put on my detail where I could keep an eye on him. I was afraid he’d take to drink like his old man if he wasn’t busy. Or meddle where he didn’t belong. I was probably wrong about the drinking but the meddling…” Tyler held up his hand with a so/so wobble. I just wanted to keep a friendly eye out though he would never believe that. I also wanted to show faith in the force. Funny how things turn out.”
“I’d laugh but I don’t have it in me right now. He doesn’t say so but I think he wasn’t exactly happy working for you.” Mo looked anxiously out the window. How much further?
“Almost there. Of course he wasn’t. He’s a cop. It’s his life. He’s come a long way as a detective. He made detective young by the way. He’ll be a great one someday. And he will have worked for it. I think he’d shrivel up and die if he couldn’t be a cop. “He annoyed the shit out of me because though he was professional, I could tell he hated being on my detail. Too bad ‘cause I’d trust him with my life. I’d love to have him stick. Pull up to the door, Mickey. Hurry along; I gotta deal with the fucking press.”
Mo evaded the press with Tyler’s help and ran to the front desk of the emergency room and enquired about Zack. The clerk had seen Mo and Tyler get out of the limo. He braced for demands. “They took him up to surgery, I have no other information.”
“Where’s surgery?” Then she saw Al Simpson. The hair stood up on the back of her neck at the sight of him. She curled her fists, digging her nails into the palm of her hands. He’d gotten Zack into this. Crazy mother… “Detective Simpson, can you tell me about Zack?”
“Ms. Whitman. I don’t know anything. He was shot. Twice. One in the shoulder and one in the side. There working on him. Lost a lot of blood. Don’t worry, he’s tough. Let’s get coffee and go on up.
Mo stared vacantly at the blood all over his shirt and pants as he got two coffees out of a machine. She felt as if she were in a dream. She couldn’t fly away in this one.
“He whined about coffee all morning. Okay maybe just once. Follow me.” He held out a cup of coffee which she just looked at. He set it down and led her to an elevator. They went up several stories and exited the elevator just in time to see a surgeon coming down the corridor pulling off a mask.
“How is he? What’s happening? When can I see him?” She rushed the surgeon.
“He? I’m sorry I just did Mrs. Canaria’s cataracts. Oh, you must mean the cop. Sorry, you family?”
Al flashed his badge. “She’s family.”
“I don’t know much but they had to give him a lot of blood. I heard them calling for more. I’m sorry I can’t tell you anything else. Look, I gotta get lunch before my next surgery. Go down the hall to the waiting room. I’ll tell the desk on my way that you’re here. Holy shit its Mayor Tyler!”
“Well, someone needs to tell us something, for crying out loud.” Tyler was berating the nurse yet again in his ‘Don’t you know who I am?’ tone of voice.
“I’m sorry but I don’t have any information to give you. They’re working on him.”
Mo sat with her knees pulled up to her chest and rocked in her chair. The nurse had gotten her a blanket since she was obviously freezing in the air conditioning. They had also gotten her some surgical booties since it was illegal for her to be in the hospital without shoes. The mayor and Al had a tacit agreement to forego discussing what had led them all there. Mo saw them exchange meaningful looks. It induced a horrible dread in her. Man speak for what do we do with her if… was in their eyes. Finally Tyler shuffled off to find the hospital administrator to make demands of.
“So Chicago’s superhero, retired. I hope you got what you wanted out of all this. Did you catch some bad guys? Was it worth Zack’s life? He told me he thought you had a screw loose when it came to drug dealers. How did you wind up in Greendale if you want to catch dealers in Chicago? If Zack dies because of some fanatical obsession of yours… It’s not even your jurisdiction is it? What gives you the right to drag him off to something that’s not even in your jurisdiction? Can you just waltz into this city and get into shootouts? What if he dies Simpson? It’ll be all your fault because you had to be a hero. You should be trying to catch Ling’s murderer instead of chasing drug dealers someplace you don’t even belong.” Mo finally had to stop and catch a breath. She needed to lash out at someone and this dislikable man seemed to be the one to blame. “You don’t like Zack, and he made no secret of the fact that he doesn’t like you. How do I know you didn’t set him up?”
Al Simpson stared at the nondescript shade of green on the wall behind Mo’s head. He seemed to have a range of emotions rapidly display on his wide dark face. First disbelief, then anger followed by a laugh that was partially a snort of disgust. He stared pensively for a moment into his coffee cup. His voice was even. “Ms. Whitman, I know you feel I was hard on you. I’m not gonna bullshit you, I thought, for a while, you were the most logical. Yeah, Burnham and I never cared for each other. But then we never had to work together. Let me tell you something…” he crushed the cup and zinged it into a trashcan across the room. “I didn’t drag him anywhere. We had a common mission and we took action. We caught a killer. He’s more than likely the one who killed Burnham’s partner. We took a lot of smack off the street. Maybe we didn’t go entirely by the book, but even your boyfriend could see we had to do what we did. Maybe you can’t understand that. I think you have to be a cop to understand a cop. No, we don’t like each other. But after today I think we respect each other. Can you respect who he is? He’ll be putting his life on the line everyday once he’s back to work. Where will you be? Nothing wrong with enjoying your selves but don’t even begin to think you can understand who he is. What he is. When you’re off being a star again, Burnham will be here. He’ll still be a cop.”
Mo stood and paced angrily. Her emotions went from fear to anger and back again. She glared at Al every so often as he sat expressionless. He sat still for her glares and questions and insults each time they were renewed. He gave a resigned sigh and leaned back in his chair. His sigh seemed to say, “Well, I’ve been reasonable.” She turned toward him and was about to lay into him yet again when the mayor came into the waiting room with a doctor in surgical scrubs. “How is he? Can I see him?” Mo rushed to the doctor who looked at her with tired eyes.
“Mr. Burnham lost a lot of blood.” His hand scratched bristles that looked a couple of days in the making. “We removed a part of his clavicle where a bullet hit it after entering from the outer back portion of his shoulder. Shattered that part. Just missed an artery. He’s a very lucky man. Dr. Guiterrez, an orthopedic surgeon was just about to leave. He put a plate and some screws in to support the clavi
cle but Mr. Burnham may need more surgery when he’s recovered from the blood loss. We’ll just have to see how it goes. This is going to take a while. The blood loss was primarily from a deep flesh wound that ran up his side with the bullet apparently ricocheting from his highest rib. The rib is fractured but not shattered. The bullet was not found… Ms.…”
“Whitman,” Al put in. He had come up behind Mo to listen.
“Ms. Whitman. It was a nasty bleeder and needed a lot of stitches but he’s going to be fine. He’ll need some physical therapy for that shoulder. Sorry to say there’s a good chance of permanent nerve damage. A specialist is coming in later to take a look at him but it’s hard to tell when his arm has been immobilized.
“Can I see him? Please let me see him.” Mo was frantically looking over his shoulder as if Zack might materialize there.
“He’s in recovery. Just a few minutes. He’s not awake yet. He won’t be entirely lucid when he is. He needs rest.”
“Thank you,” was all Mo could manage before she zipped around him.
“Are you available to make a statement to the press?” Tyler asked the doctor. Al rolled his eyes and watched Mo hurry toward recovery. “I’ll be talking to you, Simpson. There’s some things we have to sort out.” Tyler called over his shoulder as he went in the opposite direction.
Zack lay on the hospital bed in recovery hooked up to various monitors. A sheet was pulled up to his waist. Mo could see his entire torso was wrapped in bandages. His right arm, shoulder and neck were elaborately bandaged together. Most of his upper body looked like he was being costumed for a bad mummy movie. He lay still with his eyes closed. His chest rose and fell. The monitors beeped. She approached his bed and looked down at him while a nurse checked connections. He looked at her and said, “He’s doing great. Lost a lot of blood but he talked and knows what’s going on. He’s was asking for Mo.”
“I’m Mo. Is he unconscious now?” Her eyes were large with fright.
“No, just sleeping. He’ll do a lot of that until the drugs wear off. No vomiting. That’s good. It would hurt like hell.” He finished his business and brought Mo a chair. He put the rail down on her side of the bed. “Let me know when you’re going so I can put the rail up.”
“Thanks.” She sat and took Zack’s left hand. She wished she could lay with him or hold him or something. Water filled her eyes as she looked at him. His skin was pale, almost gray. He had a large bruise on his cheek and a large bandage on his temple. She looked down at the hand she held. His knuckles were scraped. A bandage was wrapped around the upper part of his thumb. “Jesus…What the hell happened to you.” She leaned over and lightly kissed the top of his hand being careful of the scrapes. “I think I love you, Zack,” she whispered. Tears rolled down her cheeks but she forced herself to cry in silence.
Al Simpson watched Mo through the glass doors. He could see Zack was indeed breathing. Tough son of a bitch’ll be okay. I got work to do. He took a last look. This is the least of Burnham’s troubles he thought looking at Mo, with what for him was a smile.
Mo sat quietly and since she bothered no one and Zack was sleeping, no one bothered her. After some time her eyes got heavy. Emotional exhaustion was taking its toll. Her head dropped. She dreamed she walked high over a rushing river. She walked the thin edge of a red silk banner that disappeared into the distance. She breathed in a deep cool breathe that bolstered her self assurance. She could see sharp rocks in the river far below. The sky was gray and drops began to fall on her face and shoulders. Soon the rain fell hard and the wind blew. The banner swayed with the wind. The banner became saturated and started to sag. It became harder to keep her balance. She felt panic start to set in. She noticed the red dye running from the banner. It ran as if bleeding and she realized it was bleeding. It was turning to red liquid faster as it rained harder. Somehow she was still managing to stay astride the banner holding with her feet. Now the banner sagged so low she could not go forward or go back. She knew she could hold on only so long before she smashed onto the rocks. Her body would be swept down the river, broken. She saw a spot that seemed clear of rocks. It seemed like a pretty and calm spot where no red drops fell. She had no way of knowing how deep it was. Would she die? Would it save her? She looked one way then the other. She threw out her arms and sailed through the air.
Mo lurched up with a gasp at the sensation on her hand. She still had the blanket around her shoulders the nurse had given her. She felt as if she were rising up out of water gulping for air. It took her a few seconds to register her present circumstances. She looked at her hand and saw his finger rubbing lightly over the top of it. His eyes were closed. His color looked better and he had a calm contented little smile on his face. Mo pressed her lips to the finger stroking hers lightly and put her cheek to it. Her dark braid fell onto the bed as she absorbed the sensation of Zack’s minute movement.
“I dreamed that you and I were trapped in The Bean,” he whispered softly. “It was bean jail…jail bean, I don’t... It was so stupid. God, I love you.” Mo raised her head and looked at him. “You look like hell, Mo. I’m gonna have to try not to get shot too often.” He grunted a little with a grimace of pain. “Go home, baby. You look tired.”
“I’m locked out, I don’t have a key. So I guess I’ll have to stay right here. Do you need anything? Are you thirsty?” She stood up and looked for a call button.
“Jesus, Mo, you’re wearing my boxers.” Zack whispered weakly. He almost laughed but his face twisted with pain. He took a deep breath which created more discomfort. “Thanks for going all out to welcome me back to the world.” Another pained grunt.
“Nothing but the best for a hero. Twice in a week. You’re going to knock Al off his pedestal. “Shhh, be quiet now. Your hurt baby, but you’re going to be okay.” Mo stroked his head. “I buzzed the nurse. You rest. You’re going to be all right.”
“Mo?”
“Shhh.”
“Are you here alone?”
Mayor Tyler brought me here. He ran out of people to boss around and left. He said to call him and he’d get me home or whatever. He’s been very kind. Concerned about you.”
“Tyler?”
“Mmhmm, Shhh.”
“Now I know he’s got the hots for you.” Zack coughed and tried to breathe through a spasm of pain. The nurse came in and took a look at him, gave him some water and told him he needed to rest. He pursed his lips at Mo raising his eyebrows in a ‘naughty girl’ scold.
“They told me just a few minutes and I’ve been here for hours. You really need to rest and not worry about my hot date with Tyler.” She bent over and kissed his head.
“We did it Mo. We got ‘im. Al was with me in the ambulance. He said to stop being a wimp. That it was nothing compared to what he got in Viet Nam. He said, ‘Stop whining, you’ll live’. And I thought, yeah, he wouldn’t talk to me like that if I was dying. Right? I knew I was going to be okay. But when I thought I was going to die, Mo, all I could think of was you.”
“I’m right here.” She stroked his face. He sighed as contentedly as if they were laying under a tree somewhere, caressing on a blanket. “Al was here. He had to go get his car. He’s fine. It’s just like him to sound like an ass trying to comfort you. They really want you to rest.” Mo kissed his lips lightly and smoothed his hair until he closed his eyes and his breathing calmed into the even breaths of sleep.
With Tyler vouching for Mo she was able to get Zack’s keys. Noticing that Mo didn’t seem to have much in the way of clothes he offered to have his driver run her out to Greendale but she declined figuring she gone this long. Greendale coliseum and the show seemed far away. Yet the show would be opening for its extended run the next night. She thought about it and made plans to spend as much of the day as possible with Zack, do the show then return to Chicago. There was no way she could take the time off. Debbie was not ready and though she herself had not rehearsed in days she would have to do the show.
Relieved as she was that Zack
was going to live, a gnawing fear welled up in her. What if there were other drug dealers involved who would want revenge on Zack. What if Bull Shaughnessy got out on bail? But the deeper fear came from knowing she had gotten an early taste of the harsh possibilities of Zack’s job. She knew his job must mean as much to him and hers did to her. Not that he was the kind of guy who talked about being a cop all the time. He had not really talked about it much at all. He talked less about his job than anyone she knew. He’d told a couple humorous stories and of course about the situation with his partner’s death but he never mentioned his feelings about the job. He never talked about it in the day to day sense. Maybe he thought it was just too connected to murder and would be an unpleasant topic for her.
He certainly didn’t seem like the archetypal image of cops she had always imagined. Callous and tough. He was compassionate and kind. He had a gentleness dealing with people and had not developed a cynical world view one might expect, considering what he’d seen. There was a sensibility about him that she would never have expected from a cop. He had taken her completely by surprise with his open minded eroticism blended with tenderness and respectfulness. There was a fire in him that had threatened to burn her alive with the force of its passion. Yet he was a soothing balm who had appeared in her life at just the time she needed it. If she could keep the fears at bay and accept the present without thinking of the future maybe she’d be able to keep the memory of their time together unsullied by regret. For the time to return to their own worlds was going to close in on them. They couldn’t hold it back. They couldn’t deny who they were or the paths that had been set for them years before. They had a few weeks while the show did the extended run. Zack would need time to recuperate. She’d spend all the time she could with him. But in the end, they both knew, time was running out.
Mo took a shower and read the paper she found in front of Zack’s condo door. There was nothing about Zack or Al or anything pertaining to events that day. She figured it would be headline news the next day. She couldn’t bear to turn on the television. She’d seen enough. How did women or men for that matter live with someone who did what police do? Facing potential danger everyday might be something that a cop took for granted, but what about those waiting for them to return home?
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