by James Hunt
Nate nodded, and then his eyes grew red, watery, and glassy. The eyes of a petulant child who didn’t understand that the world didn’t revolve around their desires. “They just couldn’t see it. I really was trying to help. So what if they had to die? People die all of the time. But do you know where they die? In the streets. Gutters, sewers, and filth. I gave them a choice!” He screamed the last word, and spittle flew from his mouth as his cheeks flushed red. “I gave them everything!”
“But they didn’t listen to you, did they?” Susan asked, taking another step closer. She wanted to remove the syringe before SWAT took their shot. She knew that all it would take was the slightest pressure on that thumb and the air bubble would kill Charlie, and there wouldn’t be anything they could do to stop it.
“No,” Nate said, his anger growing even worse than before. “They always chose the drugs. Every time. And I would have let them go! I really would have! Who were they going to tell if I let them free? They were all prostitutes and drug addicts. They weren’t adding anything to society. But I was.” He tilted his chin up in pride. “I would either fix them or get rid of them. I’m the one who should be rewarded, I’m the one who should be praised for trying to do such a thing. But that didn’t happen.”
“What about me?” Susan asked, taking another step as the radio notified her that she was less than thirty seconds from watching Nate’s brains being blown out of the side of his head. “What were you going to do to me?” She stepped within the line of fire for the nurse, making it difficult for Nate to shoot her.
Nate studied her, and she saw the conflict raging in his eyes. He wanted to take her. He wanted to prove to everyone that he could tame any woman. That he could fix any girl. So that’s what she used to prod him forward.
“Don’t you want to fix me?” Susan asked, goading him further.
Nate nodded. “I do. I’ve wanted to fix you since the moment I laid eyes on you. You’re in so much pain, Susie. I don’t think that I’ve ever seen a girl in more pain than you.”
Susan was within arm’s reach of him now, but he still hadn’t lowered the weapon, and the needle was still in Charlie’s neck. “I am in pain. And if you’re the only one that can fix me, then I want you to do it before it’s too late, Nate. They won’t let me back on the force. They know about Charlie and me now. I’ve broken too many rules. I’ll dive into a pit of despair, and I don’t think I can pull myself out. Not without your help.” She held his gaze as the radio counted down the last ten seconds. “Help me choose. Give me the same choice that you gave the other girls.”
Nate nodded, and his eyes watered. He aimed the pistol from the nurse to the dead center of Susan's chest. “Okay. Your life or his?”
Susan heard the countdown go to three, and she looked Nate dead in the eye. “How about your life?”
It happened quickly, but in the few milliseconds before the gunshots fired, Susan swore that she saw time slow. She knew she had to be quick, and she flung Nate’s body away from Charlie, making sure that he had zero momentum to add any pressure to the syringe full of air.
Susan remained conscious enough to know that she shoved Nate back, but she couldn’t be sure she had stopped Nate from pressing down on the syringe. She could only hope that he was too busy worrying about his own life than worrying about what would happen if he didn’t kill Charlie.
A sharp sting bit at her chest, and she dropped to the floor, her body rotating counterclockwise away from Nate and the bed where Charlie rested. She didn’t feel the contact between her body and the hard tiled floor of the hospital room, but she was aware of Nate’s body falling to the ground with her and the fact that the top half of his head was missing as blood poured from the top of his head.
Susan didn’t black out. She wished she had. That way she would have been able to ignore the pain and the shock from the bullet wound.
She had tried to stand after she was hit, but the pain from the gunshot had paralyzed her movements. She could only lie there, pressing her palm against the wound in the top left corner of her chest. The bullet had struck close to her armpit, and she knew there were essential arteries there. But while she watched the blood pour out of the lifeless head of Nate, she didn’t dare look at her own. She was too scared to know if she was going to die.
It wasn’t until the rest of the team rushed into the room that she was lifted from the floor. She tried to get a look at Charlie to see if he had survived the encounter, but there were too many people blocking her line of sight.
Hot tears filled her eyes and ran down her cheek. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words would come. Only the broken cries of a woman who was in pain.
Once she was out of the room, the pain intensified so much that it encompassed her entire world, pushing everything else from her consciousness. She thought that she had been in more pain before, but this was crippling, murdering pain.
Susan had always convinced herself that she wasn’t afraid to die. That it would finally be a way to end the painful memories that followed her like a shadow no matter where she went. But now, so close to the edge that she was falling off, she wanted to live.
Bright lights blurred her vision, and Susan realized that the room had changed, and she was in another place now. Muffled voices circled her, and she finally looked down at the wound on her body, then immediately wished she hadn’t.
Blood was everywhere. Even with her blurred vision, she could see the rich dark colors of the claret that had matted over her shirt. She rotated her hand, examining the blood that had transferred onto her skin. It was too much. She had lost too much.
Susan dropped her hand, and she grew short of breath. Some invisible force was slowly stealing the air from her lungs. It was like being choked, but she felt no pressure on her throat.
The voices around her raised in alarm, and then a mask was placed over her face, and a rush of air funneled through her nose and mouth, inflating her lungs and causing her chest to rise. And then the voices faded, along with the lights, and she knew that this was it.
After all of these years and all the times that she had come so close to death, never did she imagine that it all would have ended here. She just hoped that Charlie was still alive. And the nurse. Maybe she was able to save some people in her last moments. And despite the pain and the horrible memories that flashed before her eyes, it was that hope that brought her comfort, and she was thankful for it.
43
The dull ache started in Susan’s left shoulder and then spread to the entire left side of her body. But what was worse than the pain in her shoulder was the dull throbbing in her head. When she opened her eyes to find that she was immobile in a bed, she was surprised. Because even though she wasn’t moving, her mind sloshed back and forth like a sailor who hadn’t earned his sea legs during his first rough storm.
“You racked up quite the list of injuries.”
The voice came from the left and Susan turned her head on the pillow, one eye shut and the other squinting as she tried to steady her wandering mind.
Lieutenant Williams sat in a chair, his left leg crossed over the other, and a cup of coffee in his hands that was still steaming hot. He brought it to his lips and sipped.
“Did he make it?” Susan asked.
“Nate? No. A bullet to the head tends to make the medical team’s job slightly more difficult.”
“I meant Char—”
“Everyone is fine.” Williams uncrossed his legs and then leaned forward. “Charlie. The nurse. Even you. Though you might not feel fine.”
Susan groaned and then looked back up toward the ceiling. “That’s some Grade-A detective work, Lieutenant.”
“I like to think I can still work cases.” Williams leaned back and sipped from the cup again, this time making a slurping sound when he did it.
“And what about me?” Susan kept her eyes closed. “Am I still working cases?”
After everything that happened, she didn’t believe that she would. Even though the o
nly person who had died was the shooter, she had still revealed too much to the top brass. They had every right to fire her, and that’s what she believed they would do.
But when Williams didn’t answer, Susan opened her eyes and turned her head to look at the lieutenant, this time keeping both eyes open, and formed her brow into a single, prominent line.
“I haven’t been told anything that would suggest otherwise.” Williams leaned back a little to garner some momentum and then rocked forward and up out of the chair. He walked to Susan’s bedside, one hand holding the coffee while he placed the other in his pants pocket. “As far as the chief and the mayor are concerned, you’re a hero. Managed to talk to the killer long enough to give SWAT time to take him down. Although your role was downplayed in the media. SWAT will be getting the medals and the PR. But you get to keep your badge. I told the chief and the mayor that you should be able to return to your position once you’ve healed.” He sipped from the coffee, and then removed his hand from his pocket and placed something in her palm, closing her fist around it. “Get your rest. The sooner you’re cleared for active duty, the sooner we can put you back to work.”
Williams smiled and then turned to leave, Susan still in shock about what had just happened, but then Williams stopped at the door and then turned around. “You did good work, Officer. Thank you.”
Susan swallowed. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”
Williams smiled again and then tapped his knuckles on the doorframe twice before he disappeared down the hall.
Susan waited for a few moments after he left before she looked down at what Williams had placed in her hand. It was her badge. The same one she had been given at the academy. The one she had worked so hard to earn.
The tears came quickly and unexpectedly, and Susan was glad that she was alone. She wanted to talk to someone about this, and Charlie was the first person that came to mind. But she could talk to him later. There would be time for it. After they both healed.
Susan didn’t know what lay in store for their future, but she was thankful for the opportunity to find out.
Four Months Later
The slow clap was accompanied by more than a few grinning faces, and despite Susan’s groans as she walked through the bullpen of officers and detectives, the applause picked up momentum and was in full swing by the time she shook Lieutenant Williams’s hand outside of his office.
“You should probably turn around and take a bow,” Williams said. “I think it’s the only way they’re going to stop.”
Susan rolled her eyes, and she raised her arms to quiet everyone down. “All right, all right. I get it, I got shot. I remember.” The applause died down into laughs, and then she turned back to the lieutenant, raising her eyebrows when he didn’t move. “I’m not giving a fucking speech.”
Williams laughed and then entered his office and sat behind his desk. “The review board says you passed all your re-entry exams and physicals with flying colors.” He grunted with satisfaction when his ass touched the seat and then scooted closer to his desk with two thrusts. “Even better than your results in the academy. I don’t think the board has ever seen that before.”
“It wasn’t like it took me two weeks just to be able to hold a can of soda in my left hand again,” Susan said. “But I’m glad I did well.”
“You did more than well. You went above and beyond.” Williams opened a file and then scribbled his signature on some papers and then flipped them around for Susan to sign.
The paperwork was a formality. The department loved ceremonies, like all of the meetings Susan had with both the mayor and the chief after she was out of the hospital. But there was something else hidden beneath those meetings, something that she just couldn’t quite put her finger on.
Susan had thought those were tests as well, probably more so than the actual tests that mattered and went into her file. She knew that either the mayor or the chief could have blocked her return to the department. And she suspected that it was more the chief’s doing that she was still around.
After the meeting was over, Susan had a brief moment alone with the chief, just the two of them in the elevator on the ride down to the first floor after the mayor had gotten off on his own office floor. She had asked him why she was still being allowed back to work, and the answer he gave only reinforced the truth that no matter what happened, she was still part of a family.
“You’re a good cop,” Chief said. “Anyone with a brain can see that. You’re smart, you’re dedicated, and you’re skilled. But above all of that, the one quality that you have, which I think is your best, is the fact that you have compassion. That’s why I made the decision to keep you on and bury all of the press. Most cops lose that after a few years, but I know you won’t.”
The elevator doors opened, and the chief stepped out. Susan followed. “How do you know that?”
“Because you know what it’s like to lose,” Chief said. “You’ve been losing all your life, so much that you’ll spend the rest of your life making sure others don’t fall into the same pit you did.”
After that, Susan was cut off from the chief by his staff, leaving her alone in the big hall, his words lingering in her head long after he was gone.
“So you’re sure that I can’t convince you to take that desk seat?” Williams asked. “It comes with a raise and a title change.”
Susan finished signing the paperwork and set the pen down, shaking her head. “I can do more good working the streets with Vice than I can behind the desk. It’s where I belong.”
Williams leaned back in his chair. “You’re one of a kind, Susan. You know that?”
“Anything else, sir?”
“No. Get to work and stop wasting the department’s payroll.”
Susan smirked and nodded. “Yes, sir.” She returned to her desk, thankful that there was no more fanfare, but was surprised to find a box of frosted strawberry Pop-Tarts on her desk. She picked it up, smiling.
“I heard you’d gotten addicted to those.”
Susan turned around and saw Palmer. She set the box down. “They’re tastier than they look.”
“I’ll have to take your word for it.” Palmer leaned against her desk and crossed his arms. “I heard you turned down a promotion.”
“News travels fast,” Susan said, opening the Pop-Tart box, crinkling the wrapper as she removed one of the pastries.
“Why didn’t you take it?” Palmer asked. “It’s a raise, and you could be moving up the ladder. Isn’t that what we’re all after?”
Susan chewed on the pastry for a minute, mulling over Palmer’s question. She already knew what she was going to say, but she wanted to wait until she was finished with the bite. She swallowed, wishing that she had some coffee to wash it down. She glanced past Palmer and saw that the pot was empty. “I have time.”
Palmer laughed. “You really are cocky, aren’t you?”
Susan didn’t smile. She set the Pop-Tart down and only shook her head. “No. I’m not cocky. I just know where I can do the most good. And right now that’s here in Vice. I won’t be here forever. I don’t think I want to be here forever. But it’s where I want to be right now because I still have things that need to be finished.”
When Palmer didn’t reciprocate the playfulness, he blushed red. “Sorry. I just thought—”
“It’s fine,” Susan said. “Four months ago, I probably would have gone tit for tat with you but… I guess getting shot changes your perspective a little bit.”
“I guess so.” Palmer pointed to the treats. “Don’t eat too many of those. Fat cops don’t tend to last very long on the streets.”
Susan glanced down at her thin frame. “I could probably use a couple of pounds.”
“Yes, you could.” Palmer held out his hand. “Stay safe out there, Officer.”
“You too, Detective.”
Once Palmer left, Susan walked over to the coffee pot and started a fresh batch, then returned to her desk to get caught up on her inbox. While
she worked, she munched on the Pop-Tarts, and a file flopped onto her desk. It was from Sergeant Hayes.
“Welcome back.” His arms bulged from the tight fit dress shirt and tie that hung loosely around his neck and stared at the Pop-Tarts. “A little early for a lunch break, don’t you think?”
With her mouth still full, she opened the file. “What do we have?”
“We’ve got word that some dealers are targeting schools on the south side,” Hayes answered. “We need someone to take a look around, see what we can find. You game?”
Susan flipped through the rest of the folder, committing it to memory, then grabbed a pack of Pop-Tarts for the road. “Let’s go.”
A part of her thought that she might regret turning down the promotion, but deep down she knew she wasn’t ready. The streets were still dirty. She was still dirty. And she needed to clean both of them up.
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