Deception

The Reds put two runners on base on walks and Scott Rolen, who lent a veteran presence to the team, laced a double to deep right center, scoring the winning run. Nigel and I gave each other a high five.

"Looks like you're my good luck charm Nigel. This is uncharted territory for them, getting a hit in the clutch."

He was smiling. "This baseball is fun. It makes the time go much quicker here. I'm becoming a Reds fan against my will."

"We all are," I told him on behalf of my fellow fans.

He bagged up my two pints of vodka and sent me on my way happy.

It was an interesting night seeing Alessandra and Lesley together. There was a near full house at the Royal Palms, and my usual parking space was taken by some fucking out of towner who didn't know that was my reserved space. All the locals respected that.

I cursed and parked just past the paved area on a strip of gravel, a darkened area beyond the reach of the overhead streetlights. I got out of the car and went to the passenger side, fumbling with the paper bag sitting on the floor of the car. Someone clubbed me on the back of my head. I fell face forward onto the passenger seat, woozy but not unconscious. I was dragged out of the car by my feet. My hands were scraped by the rough gravel. I was rolled over and stood up, the front of my uniform covered in dust.

Mr. Tattoo was with his sidekick, who was restraining me, and he was tapping the palm of his hand with the end of a two foot length of steel pipe.

"We thought you understood our warning," he said.

Maybe I didn't. That's why he was there.

"Maybe you not a fast learner."

He had that right.

"Maybe you go fuck yourself," I told him. He was going to hit me anyway. I thought I'd tell him off while I still had my teeth.

"You have smart mouth. I fix that," he sneered. I watched his muscles ripple under his shirt. This was going to hurt.

I squirmed out of the arms of the man holding me. The man lunged at me after I escaped, but I was deft enough to sidestep him and whack him over the head with the two bottles in the brown paper bag. The bottles shattered on his head and doused him with cheap vodka. He fell forward unconscious.

Mr. Tattoo took a swing at me with the pipe. I held up my arm and he connected with the fleshy part of my bicep. It hurt like a motherfucker and I staggered to the side, but didn't fall down. He was coming at me to finish me off when he suddenly wobbled forward and fell to his knees. Then he fell on his side, out cold. When he fell I saw that Lesley was standing behind him grinning from ear to ear.

"You taught me never to separate from my partner," she said triumphantly.

"You learned well, grasshopper," I told her in my Keith Carradine voice. I rubbed my arm. It didn't feel like it was broken, but I was going to have one hell of bruise the next morning.

"Honestly Max, when aren't you in trouble?"

Mr. Tattoo moaned and he moved slightly. Lesley gave him a swift kick in the ribs.

He groaned and passed out.

"I just had this sense that I should follow you home. I dropped Alessandra off and then came back to the Landing Point. I followed you to the liquor store and then here. Shit, I don't know how you didn't notice me parked in the liquor store parking lot."

I kicked Mr. Tattoo for good measure. Asshole.

Lesley called for a back-up unit, which arrived within minutes. The officers helped us drag my assailants to their squad car and then cuff them. They were going away for a long time.

"You should have that checked out," said Lesley, pointing to the ugly red and blue spot forming on my arm.

"No thanks. I'm not going to wait four hours in the E.R. so they can send me home with Tylenol." I hated the fucking E.R.

The back-up car left with the prisoners. We continued shooting the shit because we were too amped up after the confrontation.

"Max, why did you stop at the liquor store after you spent the night drinking with Alessandra and me?"

I knew it was on her mind. My drinking bugged her.

"It's who I am."

"It doesn't have to be."

"I've tried."

"Max, we've got to get you out of the Royal Palms. You're not going to get any better living here." As if to make my point, someone was shooting up out in the open next to the vending machines.

"I know."

"This is the second time you were assaulted here, and if I didn't happen to be here he would have crushed your skull with that pipe."

"I know I should," I reluctantly acknowledged.

"So you'll do it?"

"Do what?" I was dense on certain matters, like my personal life.

"Move out of here. You can move in with Alessandra and me while you're looking for a place."

"You don't mean that."

"I do."

"Does Alessandra know?"

"She'll be good with it. She loves you."

"Well, maybe not after she sees how I live."

"Promise me," said Lesley, giving me her Betty Boop eyes.

"All right. But only if Alessandra tells me that she wants me to move in."

"Deal," said Lesley. She held out her hand for us to shake. She didn't trust me. I didn't trust me. I shook with her anyway.

* * *

It was a hot summer morning, bright sunshine. I was chatting with Lesley in the break room. We were munching on some scones that Alessandra baked that morning. I'd been living with Lesley and Alessandra in blissful co-existence. I was a willing sous chef and dishwasher. I never ate better and cut down on my drinking. I'm sure part of it was because I was bored.

The duty roster came out, and my partner and I were tasked with the midnight shift, again, for the next week. We'd just finished our shift and were in the break room vanquishing the scones and other goodies Alessandra tucked away for us.

"We've got just another hour to fill in our reports and then call it a day," Lesley said to me. She was still bright and chipper. I was beat.

I was going to skip the reports and just veg out in the breakroom and drink coffee.

I was dawdling with the coffee machine when I heard a commotion in the hallway.

"Officer down," I heard someone shout. People were moving quickly in both directions. Some beat officers I recognized were running for their cruisers. They were on the midnight shift as well. I hoofed it to Lesley's cube, where she was diligently filling out her forms on the computer and listening to music. She didn't hear the shouting.

I shook her shoulder. She took out her earbuds and looked at me. Her eyes told me that she knew it was trouble.

"It looks like all hands on deck. There's reports that an officer is down, but I haven't heard if it's confirmed. We've got to get going."

Lesley checked her gun and followed me. I looked at the clock. Our shift should have been over in fifteen minutes.

"Where are we going?" Lesley asked me as we make it to the locker room.

"We're setting a perimeter around the shooting site. We think the shooter is still at large. Make sure you wear your vest."

We met at the car. I could feel my heart thumping in my chest. Lesley got into the driver's seat and patted the shotgun mounted in the front.

"I hope you don't have to use this," she said to me.

We were assigned a six block grid to patrol. Whoever was in charge of the operation assigned extra cars to areas where the shooter might have fled. We found out it was a routine traffic stop, and the officer was surprised when the driver pulled a gun out of the glove compartment.

We reached our area. Lesley started driving slower. We circled for about ten minutes when I saw movement between two buildings.

"Wait," I told her. She stepped on the brake.

"I just saw something," I said, spotting movement in the shadows.

"Do you know what?" Lesley asked me.

"Nope. It was too quick, but it looked like a man."

We both got out, guns drawn.

"Stay behind me till I see what's going on," I ordered her. "Call for back-up"

"OK," she whispered.

We crept along the sidewalk to the gap between two buildings that was wide enough to accommodate one person. I peered down it. Daylight to the other side. It was a good forty feet long.

"I'm going down this passageway. You wait here until I signal you."

I crouched and went the length of the passageway. I was scared shitless but I was certain I saw something. With all the police cars milling around, all the smart folk were hiding in their houses. I could go right or left and I chose right. Lesley could wait back there in case he came down the passageway.

There were a couple doorways, but they were locked. There were two echoing gunshots that reverberated from the passageway. One right after the other. I dashed over to the narrow passage, fearful of what I was going to see. A man was lying face down in a pool of blood, a gun clutched in the hand of his outstretched arm. My worst fears were realized when I saw Lesley slumped against the wall, blood gushing from her right arm.

"I'm hit. Fuck I'm hit," she cried to me.

I took off my shirt and ripped it into strips to use as a makeshift tourniquet. I had a pen handy to twist it tight. The bleeding stopped, but Lesley was losing consciousness and going into shock.

"Stay with me baby," I told her. I called again for an ambulance. Back-up was only two minutes away.

"I'm cold Max," she said in a reed thin voice.

I took what was left of my shirt and covered her with it. Shit, we could have waited, and now Lesley paid the price. Lesley started sobbing.

"I fucked up Max. You told me to stay put. I didn't listen. Oh God it hurts."

I heard multiple sirens wailing in the distance and coming closer.

"Help's almost here," I told her.

"So cold . . . " she said before she blacked out.

* * *

I was back in the county hospital emergency room. They had the best trauma center in the area and the doctors were finishing up after a four hour surgery. Billy Odette was sitting with me when the lead surgeon came into the waiting room to speak with us.

He pulled down his surgical mask. "She's stabilized and should recover. She's got a long recovery ahead of her."

"Will she recover fully?" I asked anxiously.

"That depends on her rehab. The bullet did extensive damage to her muscles and shattered the bone. She might not recover full use of her right arm."

Fuck. She was right handed. And the loss of either arm would end her career in the field.

"When can we see her?" Billy asked.

"She's in recovery now. I'd say later tonight. Give her a few hours to rest."

After the surgeon left, I was devastated. Billy consoled me, but I was beyond consolation. I should have held back until back-up arrived. Lesley wouldn't be in the hospital if I did. I forced myself to call Saul. It was a short conversation and he said he'd come with his wife as soon as possible. I apologized to him but he would have none of that. He told me I shouldn't blame myself, but I did anyway. My next call was to Alessandra. She was beside herself with concern. Even though they weren't married, she begged me to get the hospital to allow her to visit. I told her I'd do everything possible.

I hung my head dejectedly. Lesley was my responsibility and I screwed up.

* * *

We went back to the station to kill a few hours, but my mind wasn't on working so I spent the time in the break room drinking coffee and replaying the incident in my mind. I was told that the man Lesley killed was the person who shot the officer, and that he had multiple outstanding warrants. That information did nothing to quell the anger I felt towards myself. Was it worth it? In the quest of protecting our own, I got Lesley shot. It didn't seem like a fair trade.

Billy came to fetch me.

"I think we can go visit her now," she said. "C'mon Max, it's not your fault."

"It is . . ."

Billie cut me off. "Come with me. That's an order."

* * *

Lesley was propped up in bed. Her right arm was heavily bandaged and she was still pretty heavily sedated with painkillers. Saul and his wife Marjorie, along with Alessandra, were sitting bedside and there were already several bouquets of flowers on the heating register under the picture window of her private room.

"Max," she said in a whisper. She raised her left hand ever so slightly. I stood next to the bed and grasped her hand with both of mine.

"Lesley, can you ever forgive me?"

"Max, if I stayed put this wouldn't have happened."

"But I knew you. I should have known you couldn't resist the temptation to follow me."

"Max, what's done is done."

"I'm so sorry Lesley."

"I'll never be a concert pianist," she joked.

"We'll get you back out there," I told her. I saw Marjorie scowl at me. I'm sure she was never in favor of her baby girl going out on the mean streets, and the shooting vindicated her fears. Saul was much more reserved. He'd been through this many times before with wounded officers, though that officer being his only daughter was a new one.

The charge nurse came in. "All right, everyone needs to go. The patient needs her rest." She stood there with her arms folded until we left. Lesley raised up her voice.

"Max. It wasn't your fault."

"I know. That's what everyone's been telling me. But you know I don't listen to everyone."

"But you'll listen to me."

"I'm working on it."

The charge nurse crowded my space so I'd get the hint to leave.

"You're right about not listening to people," she told me. "Visiting hours are over."

* * *

I went back to the house with Alessandra. I drove, and we sat there in silence until we arrived at her house.

"Want anything to eat Max? I can make us something," she offered.

My heart wasn't in eating, or for that matter talking.

"I think I'll just call it a night," I told her.

She nodded, expecting my answer.

I went upstairs to my room. My first thought when I closed the door was that I had two pints stashed in my dresser drawer for emergencies. I wanted to not drink for Lesley. I wanted to drink to forget that awful day and the feelings I experienced. My inner demons prevailed. It was just one drink, but of course I couldn't stop at one drink. Before long, the first pint was gone, and the second helped me descend into a mire of self-pity.

I always loathed my inability to control my personal life, and my vices, but always took solace in the pride I took in my job. That night I had neither, and had only the cold comfort of the bottom of a vodka bottle.

* * *

The next morning I was finishing my second cup of coffee. Everyone wanted to know about Lesley, and I ended up telling the story several times, each time the emotional wound becoming raw again. To top it off, Amber, the Chief's administrative assistant, poked her head into the break room. I was on high alert right away. She never ventured into this part of the station so it had to be important. She scanned the room and I hoped it wouldn't be me.

"Pemberton!" she called out to me. "Chief wants to see you."

All eyes on me. Oh shit. What had I done this time?

I rolled my eyes and then followed Amber's massive tush towards the executive offices. What more could possibly happen?

Chief Anderson was sitting behind his desk with his hands folded.

"Take a seat Pemberton," he told me.

"This Groesbeck situation is regrettable. I've read the reports and I can't fault you for your actions. Officer Groesbeck disobeyed your order to stay put. But it's Saul's daughter we're talking about. I know we're not supposed to give her special treatment, but what the fuck Max?"

"It was an officer involved shooting and I was too determined to catch him," I answered, trying to explain.

"But waiting would have been the better option. Even if he got away."

"I know discretion is the better part of valor, but it's never been my strong suit."

"It's one of those split second decisions. The department won't take any action against you."

"Thank you sir for that."

"Don't thank me. You followed department procedure."

"I still feel terrible," I confessed.

"Well maybe this will make you feel better. Special Agent Banks called me earlier and told me they're going to file a federal indictment today."

"That's good news sir."

"And that's not all. DaVanna was suspended, and her successor has also filed state charges against her. You've done it Max, and for that I'll say a job well done."

"I don't feel like I've won."

"How's Groesbeck?"

"Recovering. Though we're not sure she'll be able to use her right arm again."

"That's a tough break for her."

"The toughest. I'll do everything in my power to help her get better," I promised

"And we will to," the Chief confirmed.

"Carry on Max. Go celebrate if you can."

"I think I'll wait to celebrate with Lesley."

"Good work Max. Your hunch and your hard work paid off. You took a big chance and I'd appreciate it if you would trust us to do the right thing," the Chief said. I deserved the compliment and didn't believe the "do the right thing" claim. There was a good chance my case would have been killed if I asked him first. He knew it and I knew it.

* * *

I left my meeting with Chief and dialed up Lesley in the hallway outside April's cubicle. I was sure she'd listen to my conversation but I didn't mind because it was good news she already knew.

"Hello?" Lesley asked. Her speech was a bit slurred from the painkillers.

"Lesley, it's Max. Good news. DaVanna's been formally charged. It looks like the FBI has a solid case."

The was a pause on the phone. "We won?"

"Of course we did. We knew we had a good case. Now tell me, how are you feeling?"

"Max, it hurts. They've got me on some kind of drip and it's not helping enough."

"Lesley. I'll be there in fifteen minutes."

"Max?"

"Yeah?"

"I miss you."

"I miss you too partner."

* * *

I went into the room, hoses and beeping machines everywhere. Somewhere under that morass was Lesley. Her arm was heavily bandaged and immobilized. Her face was heavily bruised from the fall after she was shot. The bed was raised up so her head was above her body. She was by herself. Her parents and Alessandra had left a half hour ago.

I wanted to cry.

"Les . . . "

I'm not sure I was successful in stopping myself. If there was a God, I prayed to her for Lesley's full recovery. I so worried she'd lose the use of her right arm. I wondered if she knew.

"How are you?" I asked.

"I've been better. It's a constant pain. I haven't been able to sleep, with the pain and all this racket around me. The nurses are taking blood samples every two hours. I'm kind of fucked."

"Lesley. I'm so sorry." I know I did cry then.

"We'll get through this, won't we Max?"

"Of course we will Lesley."

"Are we still partners?"

I started to sniffle. "Of course we are. Partners for life."

"I hope it's a long friendship," Lesley mused, wondering about her own mortality.

"It will be a long friendship, but we first have to get you through this. How can I help?"

"Max. The pain. I don't think I can take it."

I knew Lesley was tough. I saw her getting knocked about. She could take it. But this was pain at a new and higher level. I was afraid of the pain management. The stuff they were giving her was kept under lock and key, and higher doses were likely not recommended due to their addictive nature.

"I'll talk to the doctor and see about what she's giving to you." Her family doctor was in the hospital managing Lesley's case. Saul's name still carried a lot of weight, and the man managing Lesley's care was the head of clinic funded by the police union. Dr. Vidmar was head of the hospital's surgery department, and a world renowned thoracic surgeon, before taking the top position at the clinic. The clinic was known for outstanding care for the union's members. Dr. Vidmar was short, slight of build, and attractive. She was businesslike when she showed up on her rounds, though the first thing I noticed were the beautiful heels she was wearing.