Badge of Betrayal

"Wow. Thanks for the disgusting play-by-play. I'll stop by the supermarket on the way home and bring you one tomorrow. For now," she said leaning over, "I'll say good night with a kiss on your forehead."

I tried to maneuver for a real kiss, but I wasn't fast enough lying there in my bed. And just like that, she was gone.

I didn't have much time for self pity, thank God, because no sooner had Clarissa and the boys left when I was greeted with a surprise.

"Hey, stranger! You're looking better already!" Shannon appeared in my doorway. Boy, was she a sight for some ridiculously sore eyes!

"Hi, there," I said. "To what do I owe the surprise?"

"I told you that I was gonna come back and check on you regularly. I gotta make sure my buddy Brian is taking good care of my hero!" she said with her million dollar smile.

I couldn't help but become sheepish. "Ah, I'm no hero," was all I could come up with.

"Um, hello!" Shannon retorted as she put down her backpack and plopped into the chair next to my bed. "You're only the man who saved my daughter's life and single-handedly made sure that no harm will ever come to her again."

Suddenly, Brian appeared in the doorway looking worried and nervous. "Everything alright?" he asked as he made a beeline towards my heart monitor. "Your heart rate just went from about 70 to 130 just a minute ago."

I could feel my face turn bright red and I could barely catch my breath. Shannon just looked away from me, blushing herself, and smiling. Brian just stood there, trying to make sense of a suddenly awkward moment.

"Uh," he muttered, "I guess it, uh, looks like, um, everything is okay. So, I guess I'll, uh, head back to my station. Hit the button if you, uh, need anything, okay?"

I nodded and Brian sheepishly made his exit from my room. Shannon still smiled and looked down at the floor while I groped with something to say that would hopefully not sound too stupid.

"Sorry," I nearly whispered from embarrassment. "I guess you caught me off guard when you showed up like that. Must've startled me or something," I said trying to find some confidence.

"Right, right," Shannon said nodding while trying to find her own courage to look me in the face again. "I can be pretty scary sometimes," she said giggling.

God, she was cute when she laughed! I was totally busted and my obvious attraction to her was now completely exposed. And she knew it. Even the appearance of my own wife couldn't so much as cause my heart to skip a beat. But when Shannon showed up, my heart started racing like a Thoroughbred.

"So listen," Shannon said, forcing the conversation along. "I have a favor to ask."

"Yeah?" I was all ears.

"I was wondering if it would be all right to bring my little girl by some evening to say hello. She has been dying to meet her hero -- her words, not mine -- and I promised that I would talk to you to see if you would mind having a little visitor," she asked with anticipation.

I was dumbfounded by her even asking and blurted out, "Of, course! I would love to see her. I've been dying to meet her and get my own eyes on her to make sure she is okay. The last couple of nights since I've been out of intensive care I keep having these weird, freaky nightmares and each of them involve something bad happening to your daughter."

"Oh, my God!" Shannon said putting her hand on my shoulder. "That's awful! I'm sure you probably have post-traumatic stress from all of this. And the narcotic pain meds you've been getting can make it worse."

It was true. Since I woke up a few days ago, my sleep has been torturous with the repeated images of everything that happened along that highway. I was starting to relive it in my dreams and it was consuming my thoughts a lot of the time that I was awake, especially when I was alone.

We visited for a few more minutes before Shannon had to get home to her daughter. She said she would check on me again after her shift tomorrow and that she would bring Bridget by soon. I told her I would enjoy that very much and eagerly looked forward to the visit.

The next week went by a little quicker. They took me to the surgical suite to remove the chest tube that had been sticking out of the right side of my rib cage. The side of my chest was still quite sore, but it felt great not to have that giant tube tying me down like some sort of umbilical cord.

My day nurse, Brian, and his nurse assistant, Cherie, were getting me out of bed and actually taking me for 20 to 30 minute walks up and down the hallway of my hospital floor. I still had difficulty moving my right arm but was at least able to bear weight on the right leg and walk slowly. I was getting better at moving my fingers on my right hand and by the end of the week had actually been able to drink a small glass of juice using my right hand. A big accomplishment, considering that my right arm had taken the brunt of two shotgun blasts.

Clarissa and the boys had visited several times, but never for two days in a row. It was really starting to piss me off. I could sense that the boys were having trouble with it, too, and repeatedly asked their mom if they could come see me every day. Clarissa always responded, "we'll see" but had yet to show two days in a row.

Shannon had several days off from work, but on that Sunday evening at the end of my 3rd week in the hospital, she had surprised me with a special visitor.

"Knock, knock," I heard as they entered the room. I had been watching a news program on the TV at the time and looked over at the door to see Shannon and her daughter standing there. The sight of the two of them together was a sight to behold and the first thought that came to mind was that they could easily win a mother-daughter look-alike contest.

"Well, hello there!" I said, smiling and doing my best to seem charming.

"Bridget? This is Patrick. He's the man who helped you the day you were taken from me," Shannon explained.

I expected Bridget to be a shell-shocked little girl who was still struggling greatly to come to grips with a terrifying and horrifying experience. What I found instead was an incredibly well-adjusted, intelligent and precocious little young lady.

"Hi, Patrick! It is very nice to meet you!" she said with a huge smile. I sat up on the edge of my bed to make myself a little more presentable.

"Well, hello Bridget. It is very, very nice to meet you, too," I said returning her smile. She was very bubbly and personable, even from the beginning and not at all reserved like you would expect most little girls to naturally be around strangers.

"I have something for you," Bridget said brightly. "I made a picture for you. Can I give it to you?"

"Oh, my goodness! I can't wait to see it!"

Bridget presented me with a colorful drawing of me with my green sheriff cowboy hat and a big star badge on the shirt. In the drawing I was holding hands with a little girl wearing the same color of shirt and pants as Bridget.

"It's a picture of you and me, Patrick. You can put it on the wall in here so you can see it all the time," she said proudly.

"Absolutely! I want it to be the first thing I see when I wake up in the morning. Thank you very, very much Bridget. You are a very talented artist," I said overly complimentary. Bridget soaked it up.

We spent the next half-hour or so visiting before my weekend nurse, Tonya, came in to inform me that it was time for my evening walk. Shannon was about to get Bridget and herself ready to go home for the night, but I spoke up before they could go.

"Bridget? It is time for me to get my exercise in for tonight. Usually, I use a cane or a walker to help me walk. But I think I can walk pretty well if I have someone's hand to hold. Would you like to take me for a walk tonight?"

Bridget literally beamed ear to ear. "Sure, Patrick! I'll take you for a walk and I won't let you fall down even once!" she exclaimed with determination.

"Whew!" I said, pretending to wipe my brow. "That's a big load off my mind! Now I won't be quite so nervous."

Tonya led us out into the hallway. I kept my left hand on the rail of the hallway and held Bridget's hand with my right.

"Don't hold Patrick's hand too tight, Bridget. That's the arm that got hurt very badly," Shannon cautioned her eager daughter.

"I won't, Mom. I promise," came the chipper reply.

We walked and visited for about 20 minutes or so, making several trips up and down the hall. Bridget looked as pleased as can be to be helping a grownup, as she put it. She felt very important. I couldn't get over how well-adjusted she seemed to be and wondered where the natural courage and strength came from in someone so young.

Shannon either walked behind us at times or stopped to visit with friends and colleagues on the Med/Surg floor. She kept a steady eye on us the entire time, occasionally smiling at me. I figured she was a tiger mom keeping close watch on her cub, but I couldn't also help but sense that she was keeping a close eye on me and my nurse, Tonya, to make sure I was being taken care of, too. I surmised that once you were a patient of any nurse, you were always looked upon as that nurse's patient, no matter the time or place. Kind of like the way your favorite grade school teacher is always going to be your teacher, no matter what.

I was pretty wiped out by the end of our walk, but even my nurse Tonya was impressed by how well I did. I gave all the credit for my progress to Bridget, which she eagerly accepted. I returned to my room tired, but grateful to have had the company. As Tonya helped me back into my bed, I wished that the walk could have lasted a little longer.

"Well, pumpkin," Shannon said, running her fingers through Bridget's hair, "we better get back home and let Patrick get some rest. You did a very good job helping him tonight. I'm very proud of you," she said, smiling at me.

"I'll come back another time and walk with you again, Patrick, and help you get better some more," Bridget said very seriously.

"That would be fantastic. I can't wait," I replied. And with that, Bridget proceeded to give me the biggest and tightest hug that I can ever remember receiving from a small child, even when my boys were little.

A very sentimental look came over Shannon's face and her eyes started to glisten with tears. She mouthed the words 'thank you' to me and I returned them as well.

"I work 7 am to 7 pm tomorrow. I'll try and sneak in when I get a chance, okay?" Shannon said as she got ready to leave.

"I'd enjoy that."

"Okay," she said. "I'll see you tomorrow." Bridget smiled and waved as they left the room and Shannon gave me one last glance.

I settled back into bed and flipped on the TV to try and make myself groggy so I could get back to sleep. But all I could think about was walking with Bridget and how peaceful and at home I felt in the presence of her and her mother. I wasn't sure what it was that made me feel that way but they had both charmed their way into my life and I was sure that I was going to be a part of theirs in some small way from this day forward.

I was in such a good mood at that point that it wasn't until later that I realized I wasn't even angry about the fact that Clarissa hadn't come to see me that day. Although, spending time with little Bridget made me miss my boys and I was suddenly angry that I hadn't gotten to see them today. It was a Sunday and Clarissa should have taken them to Mass today at St Matthew's. The church was only about 8 blocks from the hospital and there would have been no real reason not to stop by on the way home from Mass.

I picked up the phone and called our house so I could at least talk to the boys for a while. My son Nick picked up the phone and we chatted for about 20 minutes or so. He then let me speak to my youngest son, Jacob, who still isn't much of a conversationalist on the phone yet. When I finished speaking to Jacob, he put his brother back on the phone.

"Is your mom handy?" I asked Nick.

"She's here but she's on the computer right now. She told me not to bug her until she's done," Nick explained.

"How long until she's off the computer?" I queried.

Nick paused a while. "I dunno," he said. "She's been in there for a couple of hours."

"Can you tell her that I called and would like to talk to her?"

"Okay," he said. Nick put down the phone for a bit. About three minutes later he returned and said, "Mom said she's busy and that I'm supposed to talk to you. She said she'll see you tomorrow."

I could feel the blood rushing to my face as my anger started to build again. I was getting tired of being treated this way and we were going to have a serious come-to-Jesus meeting if it continued.

I said my goodbyes to Nick and Jake and hung up the phone. Instead of going to sleep, I spent much of the rest of the night flipping through channels on the TV and trying to formulate my thoughts and the words I was going to have with Clarissa the next time she came to see me at the hospital.

I finally fell asleep about 3 or 4 in the morning, after several mild admonitions from my nurse about how I should be sleeping instead of watching TV. I threw a couple of lame excuses her way but I think she could tell that something was bothering me. But she was kind enough to let it go and not press me about it.

I slept for a few hours and was greeted by Brian entering my room around 10 o'clock telling me I had a visitor. To my great surprise, it was my boss, William "Bud" Roberts, Sheriff of Mason County. Bud and I had been fellow officers years ago at Red River Falls PD. A few years after he became Sheriff, Bud invited me to apply for a job as a Deputy, which he told me would enable Clarissa and I to move out of Red River Falls and onto an acreage, which we had always wanted.

"By God, there's the hero!" Bud bellowed as he came into my room.

"Bud! I'll be damned! You're a sight for sore eyes, even as ugly as you are!" I joked.

"Yeah, well, we can't all look as pretty on TV as you do, superstar," he said slapping me on the left shoulder. Bud was an imposing man in personality. He was generally about my size but had always had a definite political streak in him, which he probably needed in order to be elected Sheriff. Bud was about 16 years older than me, in generally good shape for his age with a slightly heavier-than-normal runner's build and just a hint of a gut to show his 53 years of age. His salt-and-pepper hair was immaculately coiffed with a perfect part on the left side and combed to a razor's edge across the top of his forehead. He looked more like a TV anchorman than a Sheriff, especially since he preferred to wear a suit-and-tie with his badge on his belt and a mini badge pin on his right lapel and an American flag pin on his left lapel. Bud got serious for a moment and a look of concern crept across his face.

"How are things going for you in here?" he asked.

I let out a long breath. "Well, things in here are progressing fairly well. I'm going to start the physical therapy on my arm tomorrow. I've already got considerable range of motion back in my arm that they thought wouldn't appear for several weeks or even months yet. So," I continued, "I still have hopes of being out of here in a couple of weeks."

"I'm glad to hear that," Bud said, smiling. "I want you to know how proud of you we all are over at the law center. Everyone has been praying for you and pulling for you. Hell, the whole Sheriff's office has looked like a damned greenhouse the last few weeks with all of the flowers and plants people have dropped off."

"Unlike my hospital room?" I said, gesturing all around me and chuckling. My hospital room itself looked like a small flower shop with all the well-wishes.

Bud and I spent the next 45 minutes chatting and updating me on the status of the investigation. He told me that the Department of Criminal Investigation had cleared me in the investigation and declared that the shooting was legal. There was some question on my tactics during the initial phase of the investigation, but the video from my cruiser's dash camera showed that the mini-van had begun to slow down, indicating that the driver and his associate were looking for a fight. As such, I had no choice to but engage at that point.

As far as shooting the woman, it was declared to be a "clean" shoot also. Even though I couldn't identify Bridget's location at the time, there was no way not to expect me to defend myself against a strung-out meth head wielding a 12-gauge shotgun. I did my best to identify my target and the results were self-explanatory and better than anyone could have hoped for.

Bud and I talked for a little while longer and he informed me that I had been officially on my 30-day mandatory leave since the shooting. All of that and more would be eaten up during my hospitalization. I was still entitled to full pay and benefits, though.

"Is there anything else you need me to take care of while you're in here?" Bud asked as he was getting ready to leave. I told him I couldn't think of anything. Before he left, he paused and asked one more question. "How is your family doing through all of this?"

I leaned back in my bed and let out a slow, long breath. "The boys are doing okay. They are excited about coming to see me and can't understand why they don't get to come more often."

"And Clarissa?" he prodded.

"Clarissa.....Clarissa and I aren't holding up as well," I finally admitted. It felt good to tell somebody and get it out in the open.

Bud sat back down and pulled his chair closer to my bedside. "Go on," he said.

I told Bud about all the emotional distance and frustration, the snide remarks and veiled ridicule and the total disinterest in me since the shooting. I ended up venting for almost another 45 minutes. Bud sat there quietly, listening intently and taking it all in. When I finally finished unloading, he looked down before speaking.

"You know," he began slowly, "it isn't easy being the wife of a law enforcement officer, no matter where you work. I know it's really tough for you right now with everything your job has put you through. But you also have to understand what Clarissa went through, too. All of a sudden she was faced with the very real possibility of being a widow and raising two boys on her own and trying to run a small farm, put food on the table...I could go on and on. I'm sure the whole experience just scared the hell out of her, Pat."

I kind of bowed my head in shame. I knew Bud had a point, but I also couldn't help but think there was more to it. Much more.

"I hear ya, Bud, I really do. But there are just some things that don't really mesh anymore - things that go back to before the shooting, even. Things just haven't been right for a long time now and I just don't know what to do about it."

Bud stood up from his chair and stood at my bedside for a few moments before answering.

"I'm no relationship expert, God knows that," he said sternly. "As I said before, it's a pretty damned tough job being the wife of a cop, no matter where you work, big city or small." He put his hand on my left shoulder, got very intense and serious and said, "As much as you are gonna hate what I'm about to say, I'm gonna say it anyway. Some women just aren't cut out to be the wife of a cop. And that's nobody's fault, either."

I was stung by the words, even though there was a lot of truth behind them. If things were this bad between Clarissa and I now, especially when I needed her the most, how bad would things get once I was out of the hospital and back on my feet.

"You know," Bud said turning at the doorway, "Floyd Franklin put in his retirement packet last week. I hadn't had a chance to tell you before now. With your resume, education and background, I think you should apply for his position when you're back on your feet."