“Good. Let’s get back so I can bang out the paperwork.
The two men walked back towards the door when Doctor Kessel called out. “Sergeant Galvin, may I have a word with you in my office?”
“Sure.” Galvin reached his hands into his pants pocket and produced a set of keys for the department auto parked along First Avenue in front of the Medical Examiner’s Office. He handed them to Keegan. “I’ll meet you in the car.”
Galvin gave Keegan a pat on the back as they parted ways.
Keegan recognized that as a young police officer, he was lucky to have a supervisor such as Sergeant Galvin to teach and mentor him. He got the sense from Galvin that he had taken a special interest in his career. Not to say that Galvin didn’t care about all of his rookies, but Keegan felt that there seemed to be some sort of bond between the two of them. Maybe it was the notorious incidents in which they shared; most notably the suicide bomber and the taking down of the terrorist cell. Whatever the reason, Keegan knew he was indeed lucky.
Keegan stepped outside on the brisk New Year’s Day morning. He glanced up to see the sun low in the sky over a beautiful Manhattan skyline. Keegan understood that his transfer back to Brooklyn’s Six-Seven precinct would be coming down any day. He also realized that the JTTF was almost certain to retain Galvin. While he knew that he would be sad to have lost his mentor after such a short period of time, he was grateful for the time that Galvin had taken to start molding Keegan into the cop that he was becoming.
Doctor Kessel was waiting for Galvin at the entrance of his office. He was red in the face and Tommy Galvin already knew why. Kessel motioned Galvin inside the office and then closed the door. Kessel spoke in a voice just above a whisper. “That was Officer Keegan in there with you, wasn’t it?”
In Galvin’s mind there was no sense in denying it. “Yes, it was.”
Kessel flung his clipboard down on top of his desk. It skidded to a halt crossing the edge. He began the lecture. “Sergeant, I’m sure you know better than that. Keegan shouldn’t have been in there with you.” Kessel moved behind his desk and had a seat. The lack of invitation for Galvin to take a seat was not coincidental nor did it go unnoticed by Galvin. “I’m not going to have you, or anyone else, jeopardize the integrity of my cases by clearly violating policy. Sergeant Galvin, as the…”
Galvin held out a hand to settle the Medical Examiner down before he interrupted. “Doctor Kessel, with all due respect, Keegan being present can’t jeopardize the case. There is no case to case to jeopardize; the perp is dead.”
“Obviously!” Kessel shot back. “That still doesn’t give you the right to undermine the system.”
Galvin nodded. “Look, I’m sorry.” He motioned toward the empty chairs in front of Kessel’s desk. “Do you mind if I take a seat?”
Kessel shook his head. “No, go ahead.” Galvin could sense that the man’s disposition had softened just a bit after the apology; now for the explanation.
“Doc, Tim’s gone through a lot over the last few months…”
It was now Kessel’s turn to interrupt. “Yes, I do read the newspapers Sergeant.”
“Well then you know that since the week of Thanksgiving, Officer Keegan has been involved in a couple of very high profile cases. The press keeps comparing him to his father. It hasn’t been easy on him. They even wrote about him before he ever walked his first foot post; the pressure to follow in the giant footsteps of his father is quite encumbering. It’s taking a toll on him, but so far he’s living up to expectations—if not exceeding them. If there ever was such thing as a true legacy in the New York City Police Department, Timothy Keegan is it.”
Kessel seemed to be taking in what Galvin was saying. They sat momentarily in silence as Kessel relocated a pile of folders from one side of his desk to the other. Galvin scanned the doctor’s many degrees as they hung on the wall during the void in the conversation. He learned Kessel had graduated from Johns Hopkins medical school back in 1981—the same year that Galvin was born.
Galvin pressed on. “Honestly, Doctor Kessel, I didn’t mean to put you in a bad position. That’s why I never introduced you to him. I would never do such a thing on a case that had a chance of seeing the inside of a courtroom. It’s just that Keegan has gone through so much in such a short period of time that I didn’t think it would be a big deal. He really wanted to be here, so in my judgment, I didn’t feel it would be an issue. I shouldn’t have brought Keegan here with me without asking your permission first.”
Kessel remained quiet for a short time. “No, you shouldn’t have. But I do understand what you’re telling me. Just please, don’t let it happen again.”
Galvin raised his right hand as if he was offering a boy scout’s pledge. “I promise that I won’t.”
“Good.”
Kessel stood up and extended a hand to Galvin which was immediately accepted. “Have a good day, Sergeant.”
“You do the same, doc.”
Tom Galvin walked out of the glass doors of the Chief Medical Examiner’s Office and immediately spotted the unmarked Ford Crown Victoria parked along First Avenue. As he drew closer, he could see Tim Keegan talking on his cell phone.
Galvin opened the door and took a seat just as Keegan had ended his phone call. Galvin turned up the heat and placed his hands over the Ford’s heating vents.
“What did the ME want to talk to you about, Sarge?” Keegan was obviously curious, if not concerned.
“He wanted to ask me a couple of questions about the serial killer case that I worked last year. He was the ME for that case as well and it could be going to trial in a few weeks,” Galvin lied.
Keegan, clearly skeptical, “So it has nothing to do with me being here for the identification of the body?”
Galvin kept looking straight ahead as he answered. “No. He has no idea who you were. He just thinks that you’re a rookie cop who wanted to witness the identification process of a homicide victim.”
Keegan changed the subject, a clear indication to Galvin that his lie had placated the rookie officer. “That was Cathy that I was talking to on the phone.”
“Really, how are things going with the two of you?” This time Galvin turned to face Keegan as he responded.
“Actually, really well Sarge. Thanks for asking.”
Keegan momentarily took his eyes off the road to look at Galvin before he continued. “She told me that I’ve been transferred back to the Six-Seven. It just came down as a telephone message.”
Galvin nodded his head. “Well that doesn’t really come as a surprise. We did know it was coming down.”
“I know. I’m not disappointed. I’m actually thrilled to have had the opportunity to do what I could and help in this case.” He paused. “There was another telephone message that accompanied the first one—your temporary transfer was made permanent.”
Galvin was excited, but was determined to remain stoic in light of everything which had happened over the past few weeks. He had a feeling they would retain him at the JTTF, but he would play coy. “They decided to keep me?”
“It looks that way, Sarge. Congrats!”
Chapter 30
Timothy Keegan sat at his computer desk reading through the sports section of the newspaper on line. He was looking forward to the NFL playoff games on tap for the upcoming weekend and was surprised to see the wildcard Buffalo Bills listed as only a three point underdog. As he read through the beat writer’s handicapping of the game, his doorbell rang.
The bare-chested Keegan looked down to the bottom right hand of the computer screen to see that it was only 9:26 am. He quickly grabbed a t-shirt from the couch and peeked out the window. It was a pleasant surprise to see Cathy Quinn standing outside his door. He looked left and right to make sure that she was alone before opening the door to allow her inside.
Quinn entered, holding a shopping bag in her hand which she set down by the door. She looked down at Keegan and smiled. “No need to put pants on, on my account,” she tea
sed.
Keegan looked down at his bare legs and black boxer shorts. “Well it’s not like you gave me any notice,” he shot back.
They shared a laugh as Keegan took her waist length Northface jacket from her and hung it on the black metal coat rack next to the door. Quinn hiked up her blue jeans and pulled down her sweater over the nine millimeter strapped to her right side. Keegan invited her to have a seat on the black leather couch after relocating a couple of throw pillows to the recliner opposite the entertainment center. He grabbed a pair of sweatpants from the floor and put them on before opening a blind to allow the morning sun to assist in lighting up the room. He took a seat next to her on the couch. “So what do I owe this unexpected surprise to?”
She offered a smile. “I just wanted to stop by and talk. Things have been so crazy since New Year’s Eve and I know we’re not going to get a real chance to talk tonight when you report back to work.”
Keegan’s eyes widened and he shook his head emphatically. “Crazy isn’t a strong enough word for it. I’m just happy to be done with this to be honest with you. I didn’t belong in the Joint Terrorist Task Force—I still have to learn how to be a cop.”
“I wish Sergeant Galvin was coming back too. I really liked him.”
Keegan agreed. “Yeah, Sarge is great, but he does belong in the JFFT. He’s a great cop.”
She scowled at him. “Don’t sell yourself short, Tim. You’re a great cop, too. Look at everything that you’ve accomplished in such a short period of time. You’re without a doubt going to be given a medal at Medal Day this year. Do you know how rare that is for a rookie?”
Keegan felt uncomfortable with the conversation and redirected. “Do you want something to drink? I’m parched.” Keegan got up and walked into the attached kitchen as Quinn declined. He returned with a bottle of water in hand and sat with one leg on the floor and the other over the arm of the couch. “Believe it or not, I’m a little nervous about going back to the Six-Seven tonight. How’s the sergeant who took over as our training sergeant?”
“Sergeant Romanelli…” She bobbed her head back and forth fleetingly as she continued, “…he’s okay, but he’s no Sergeant Galvin. He tells us that we need to come in with summonses every single night that we’re on patrol…even if we’re on foot posts. He says it’s coming from Inspector Enton, but Andre spoke with the union delegate and the delegate said it wasn’t. I mean, he treats us okay, but he’s just a little shady with stuff like that.”
Keegan nodded his head. “Good to know. Thanks for the heads up.”
Keegan looked at the clock on the kitchen wall. He squinted to read the time in the distance. “Cathy, I have to take a shower and get dressed. I want to get to the hospital before I head in to the precinct.”
She stood up abruptly. “I understand, Tim. No problem.”
“You can come with me,” he offered.
She walked over towards the door and grabbed her jacket from the coat rack. “No, I’d be out of place, Tim. He doesn’t even know me; he’ll definitely want to speak with you though.”
“Thanks, Cathy. I’m really not trying to give you the bum’s rush.”
“Don’t be silly. I know you’re not,” she said with a comforting smile.
He walked with her to the door and gave her a kiss on the lips. “See you at work then.”
Cathy smiled at him. “See you at work.”
She turned to face the door and then back around to Keegan. “Oh my God, I almost forgot to give you something. She reached down and picked up the shopping bag she had carried into Keegan’s apartment and handed it to him.
He accepted, but instinctively asked, “What’s this?”
“You’ll know when you open it, won’t you,” she teased.
Keegan reached into the bag, removing the tissue paper which concealed the surprise item. He grabbed the top of the heavy book and released it from the bag. Even before turning it over to the front, he knew what it was. He looked at the front cover; his name and shield number were written in calligraphy. The gold lettering stood out beautifully against the dark blue scrap book. Keegan looked Quinn in the eyes momentarily and then back down at the book. He could see the love and excitement in her eyes as the recognition must have been clear on his face.
He slowly walked back over to the couch with Cathy Quinn in trail. He sat down and she joined him; practically sitting on top of him. “Go ahead, Tim, open it.”
He did. The very first article from March 20, 1995—the article detailing his father’s execution. On the page next to it was another article three days later after the funeral. A photograph in the lower right corner depicted a then eight year old Timothy Keegan at his father’s funeral surrounded by his mother and siblings; his older brother, Kevin and his kid sister, Kerry.
He looked back at Cathy. He knew there was no hiding the vulnerability in his eyes. He was choked up and could hardly get the words out. “I can’t believe you did this for me, Cathy. In all of my life, I’ve never received a gift of any kind more thoughtful or touching than this.” He looked deeply into her eyes. He could see that she was moved by the moment as well. “Thank you so much, Cathy. You have no idea how much this means to me.”
She rubbed his back. “I’m so happy that you like it.” She took the book from his hands and turned to the next page. It was the article in the newspaper from their graduation from the police academy. The next couple of pages had pictures of the guns from the gun arrests he had made.
Keegan—still in awe, “How did you ever come up with the idea for this?”
“Remember when you showed me your dad’s scrap book. I knew how much it meant to you. I saw the type of things your father used to put in his and I just copied his format basically.”
Keegan continued flipping through the pages, reading the articles from his more recent heroics. He thought back to the day when Nazeem al-Haq had tried to murder him and set the entire plot into motion. He silently thanked God that he, along with the members of the Joint Terrorist Task Force, were able to dismantle the cell and recover all of the explosives without a single bomb being detonated anywhere in the country. Unfortunately, the take down was not without casualty.
He closed the book and looked at Cathy again. “Cathy, this really means the world to me. Thank you.” He glanced again at the clock. “I really do have to get going.”
“I know you do; say hello for me. I’ll see you at work.”
Chapter 31
Jamaica Hospital
Queens, New York City
--------------------------------------------------
After four days in a medically induced coma, Louis Castillo opened his eyes. He was groggy and disoriented, but immediately saw Sharon and Jessica sitting at his bedside. He attempted to sit up, but the pain in his head rivaled the one in his ribs and he was quickly deflated.
Sharon stood up and took his hand. “Jessica, go get the doctor. Tell him daddy woke up?”
Castillo gently squeezed his wife’s hand and with a slight grimace, “I need some water.”
Sharon pressed the bed’s electronic controls to move the bed to an upright position. Castillo tried to mask his pain as the bed rose to a sitting position. He wasn’t so sure that he had been able to, as he saw a sympathetic look in his wife’s eyes. Sharon poured a cup of water from the mustard yellow pitcher on the nightstand next to Castillo’s hospital bed. He slowly drank it with Sharon’s help steadying the cup. The room temperature water was intrusive as it went down his throat; not soothing as Castillo had expected.
Castillo, although still not quite alert from the sedatives, understood that he was in a hospital. What was hazy to him was the reason for him being there. He motioned for Sharon to come closer and he whispered to soften the irritation in his throat. “Sharon, what happened? Why am I in the hospital?”
Before his wife had the opportunity to answer, Jessica Castillo rushed to the other side of his bed. “Daddy, thank God you’re okay. I was so scared.” She le
aned in and put her head against his chest giving him a heartfelt hug. Castillo felt the pain in his chest as she did, but he was able to tolerate the discomfort without any indication to his daughter.
Castillo glanced past Jessica, to the door of the private hospital room, where he saw a doctor enter the room and walk passed a uniformed officer standing guard outside the door. The doctor closed the door behind him after he entered. Castillo figured him to be in his early fifties. He was slightly overweight, had a ruddy face with light eyes and a head of white hair to match his lab coat.
“Hello Mr. Castillo. My name is Doctor Levine. I’m the Chief of Medicine. You gave us quite a scare.” After a slight pause, “How are you feeling?”
“I’ve been better,” whispered Castillo. He took another sip of the water this time it was a bit more soothing than the first. Castillo contorted his face. “I feel like I was run over by a truck.” Castillo reached up with his hand to feel bandages wrapped around his head like a turban. “My head is killing me.” He noticed the IV taped to his arm for the first time. Castillo followed the IV line with his eyes back to its source, where the saline solution hung. Next to the metal IV stand was a blue monitor, keeping track of his vital signs. Castillo then refocused back on Doctor Levine. Suddenly the events of four days ago started to come back to him; looking up at the doctor, “I got shot, didn’t I?”
Jessica moved from his side to allow for the doctor to come in and examine the wounds as Sharon continued to hold his hand. Levine examined the head dressing before he responded. “Well, Mr. Castillo, you did have some very serious injuries and you’re lucky to be alive. You have two fractured ribs on your left side and a badly fractured skull. You were brought in unconscious and unresponsive. There was significant swelling of the brain, and you had to be intubated. We placed you in a medically induced coma so that we could keep an eye on the swelling. Once the swelling subsided to a safe enough level, it was time to bring you out of the coma.”
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