What are Friends for?

I fired. The bastard's chest exploded. Blood, flesh and bits of bone went everywhere. He bounced back against the refrigerator, then slumped to the floor, the knife skittering away.

If the gunshot didn't wake up everyone in the building, Cindy's scream did. She didn't faint, just stood frozen against the wall, looking down in horror.

I stuck the pistol back into my pocket and went to Cindy. Her robe had been pulled open and slashed. There was blood spatter all over it, but it didn't look like she'd been injured. There was a visible bruise on the base of her throat. I pulled the robe closed and tied the sash, gently leading her to the couch and having her sit down. Then I went back to the kitchen.

I pulled the pistol out of my pocket, opened the cylinder and dropped the five shells into my hand. The revolver went onto the counter, cylinder still open. I set the four live rounds side-by-side and the one expended casing beside them. Then I went back to Cindy.

She wasn't in shock, which was great luck for me. I helped her to her feet and led her to her bedroom. "This place is going to be crawling with cops in a couple minutes. Put some pajamas on or something. Then come back into the living room."

I didn't want to go back into the kitchen, as it was now an active crime scene. Instead, I went to the bathroom to get her some cool water. I brought her a cup while I held a couple of damp washcloths. She took a few sips, then said that was enough. The cup was set aside and I started wiping her forehead, her face and her throat. I was still at it when the door opened further.

Lieutenant Davenport of the SO's Internal Affairs Division lived in the same building. There was no doubt the shot woke him up. He came in with his weapon in his hand but holstered it the moment he saw me.

"You okay, Kerry?"

"Yessir. Victim's shook up, but she looks to be okay. Perp is in the kitchen. He's 48. My weapon's on the counter, already broken down."

The Lieutenant walked into the kitchen. His face changed into a grim frown. "Jesus, what a mess! Did you use that damned.44?"

"First think I touched, sir. When I heard the noise, I just reached into the headboard and grabbed. I wanted to get up here."

"Yeah, okay," he allowed. "She alright?"

"I think so."

"Alright. Stay quiet for a minute. I've got to call this in."

I nodded, knowing what he had to do. All detectives carried portable radios and he had his with him. He took another look then keyed the mike.

"Radio, 301."

I could hear the dispatcher reply.

"301, go ahead."

"Do you have any calls at Moonraker Apartments yet?"

"Yessir. Multiple calls. Reports of shots fired."

"Alright. Show me on scene as acting commander. We have an officer-involved-shooting. HPD officer. Perp is Signal 48. Victim is shaken but appears to be okay. I need a Persons Detective, Crime Scene and a female deputy. Check with HPD and see if they want to send one of their detectives. Notify the ME, Public Affairs and the Chief. Send a Signal 4 and notify HPD that we're on scene. Scene is Code-4, so slow everyone down."

"Clear. Scene is Code-4. 0345."

"Radio, is 7103 on duty?"

"Affirmative."

"Is she available?"

"Affirmative."

"Send her."

"Clear. Dispatch 7103."

"Oh, Christ, Lieutenant," I objected. "Don't send her. Cindy's her best friend."

"Micah's been through this before. She's coming in as victim support, not an investigator."

We were starting to hear sirens at this point, but some of them suddenly went silent. Others kept coming. I was guessing HPD hadn't gotten the Code-4 broadcast out yet. Even as I was thinking it, those sirens went dead.

Lieutenant Davenport went back to the counter. He pulled a couple small bags out of his pocket. One of them received the five rounds, the other got the revolver. "I'm confiscating your weapon for a couple days."

"Yessir. Do you want my service weapon, too?"

"Nah, you hold on to that." He walked over to me and knelt in front of Cindy. She was staring sightlessly past him. "Ma'am," he asked, "did he assault you sexually?"

'Oh, Christ,' I thought, 'don't do a rape swab!' She had my semen in her and my DNA all over her. How was I going to explain that?

I heard a tiny voice come from her. "No, sir, he didn't. I'm okay."

I started breathing again. It was only then that I noticed the television was still on.

The Lieutenant stayed with Cindy while I walked over and turned it off.

Things started happening fast. HPD was first on scene, then an ambulance crew. There wasn't much they could do. The perp was dead and Cindy refused to be treated. They gave the Lieutenant their cards and went back in service. SO showed up next, along with a persons detective and Crime Scene. Then Micah walked in.

She nodded to Lieutenant Davenport before going to look at the kitchen.

Davenport looked at her and she just shook her head. "You know this guy, Lieutenant?"

"Yeah," Davenport frowned. "Damned maintenance man. No forced entry at the door. He must have used a master key."

Micah nodded, looking again before walking over to me. "You okay, Dean?"

"Yeah," I said. By this time, I was starting to wonder if I really was. I felt a little dizzy and more than a little nauseous. "He 48?"

She gave me an odd look, her eyes narrowing, and her forehead creased. "You just shot him with a.44 special hollow point and you don't know? You sure you're alright?"

I didn't answer. She called the Lieutenant over and talked to him for a minute, then she relieved me and sat down with Cindy. Her eyes narrowed as she looked at Cindy's pajamas, then she glanced toward me. I got a very, very cold feeling.

At the same time, a detective from HPD arrived. He was a friend of mine, Linc Carrington. Linc was rather unique. He was the youngest detective on the force and its only black detective. I heard the Lieutenant call him. "Linc, get Kerry's statement. He doesn't look too good. I want to get him out of here."

He pulled me aside and I gave him my report. Don't think I left anything out, at least not anything that related to the shooting.

When he finished, Davenport called me over. "Go on home, son. You look kind of sick. I'll contact your shift super tomorrow and get you placed on admin leave. You'll have to go into traumatic incident protocol, so don't go back in until they call you."

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The detectives pinned the perp down the next day. He worked for Moonraker. He had used an alias when he was hired, so they didn't know he had a record. He'd been busted for breaking and entering, home invasion and aggravated assault. He was about to graduate to something a lot worse when I stopped him. Detectives found that the attorney Cindy worked for had defended the guy in one of his assault cases, not very successfully. He was probably looking for revenge and didn't care who he got it from.

I ended up in mandatory counseling. I'd never killed a man before, and it didn't sit very well with me. Even with Micah's constant support, it was two months before they felt I was ready to go back on the street.

A few days after the incident, Micah asked me to sit down with her in the living room and talk. I hadn't been able to talk to her since that night. Couldn't even look at her. She had tried to seduce me once, but I couldn't respond. I was basically numb, a physical and psychological wreck. She was gentle and patient, but that only made it worse.

"Dean, please talk to me. You can't go on like this. I know what happened."

That snapped me out of my daze. I looked at her with fear in my eyes. Cindy had said she was going to tell Micah, but to be confronted with the reality of it hit hard. "Cindy told you?"

Micah closed her eyes and shook her head. "She didn't have to. You're lucky nobody else took a good look at her before I got there."

That worried me. Obviously, I'd missed something. What had she seen that I hadn't?

Micah saw my confusion and continued. "Her pajamas were wet. She was leaking. She said the guy hadn't raped her. Mike was out of town. That only left one other possibility."

My eyes closed and I looked down. My stomach knotted and my throat locked. All I could do was mumble "I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be," she replied. "Cindy told me that she seduced you. She wanted you to give her a baby."

"She didn't have to try very hard," I confessed.

Micah sighed. "Probably not. You two were an accident waiting to happen. You were drawn to each other the night they moved in. It was obvious. I'm surprised it didn't happen earlier."

I gulped, trying to get my voice back. She had told me that her family was traditional. Adultery was about as untraditional as you can get. It wasn't hard to make the obvious conclusion. Swallowing some saliva to loosen my throat, I told her, "Your parents are going to hate me. I don't blame them. Do you want a divorce?"

She turned to me in shock. "Hell, no," she cried. "What are you talking about? Snap out of it, Dean! We weren't virgins when we got married. Neither of us was naive. We both knew this was always a possibility. Why would you even bring that up?"

"I just cheated on you, with your best friend. I don't think this is a forgive and forget situation."

She looked at me with surprise, then with something I think was pity. It didn't feel very good. "Why don't you leave that to me? I'll decide what I will or won't forgive."

She shook her head and stared at her hands, twining her fingers around one another. It took me a moment to realize she was spinning her wedding rings. "Dean," she asked quietly, "do you still love me?"

That question hurt, really hurt. My eyes closed. I couldn't even look at her. "Of course, I do," I replied quietly. "That's why this feels so bad. I can't believe I did this to you."

"Well, I still love you. And I don't want to lose you. I don't want a divorce. I just want you."

This was not what I had expected. I couldn't imagine how she could be so understanding, why she wasn't furious with me. But she wasn't. It told me again what a gem I had married.

"Okay," I said unhappily, "So where does this leave us?"

Now it was Micah's turn to not answer immediately. She closed her eyes and lowered her head to her arms, which were crossed over her knees. In a soft, sad voice she replied, "I guess this leaves us even."

I wasn't sure if I'd heard her right or what she was saying. It didn't make any sense. My mind was stuck in a 'does not compute' loop. "What do you mean, even?"

"Dean," she replied, sounding miserable, "you weren't first. I was. I'm the one who should be sorry."

It took a moment to sink in, but now it did make sense. I probably should have seen it coming. "You and Mike?"

"Yeah."

Micah was a beautiful girl, and Mike was a good-looking man. Cindy and I had noticed the occasional exchange of glances between them, but we'd been too self-absorbed to give it any thought. Maybe we should have paid more attention.

I didn't feel angry, not even hurt. If anything, a little confused. Strangely, with this revelation, I felt even more ashamed of myself. "Well," I admitted, "I can't blame you. It's not surprising that you got together." I paused for a moment, thinking about it before asking the obvious. "What happened?"

"Just after Cindy got out of the hospital," she explained, "he came down one night. She was asleep and he asked if we could watch a movie. You were working a double that night, evening and mid. He looked so sad that I wanted to try to cheer him up a little. I gave him a hug. It got out of hand."

I nodded. It was just like Micah. She was a caring person and I knew she really liked Mike. I wondered if she'd been trying to do the same thing I was. "Were you hoping to give them a baby?"

She shook her head, sniffing. "Nothing so noble. It was pure sex. I don't even know how it started. One minute I was hugging him, the next we were in bed screwing like rabbits. I'm so sorry."

I couldn't help myself. I moved close against her and pulled her into my arms. "I don't care, Micah," I told her. "I love you. It doesn't matter."

She started to cry and burrowed deep into my embrace, rolling her forehead against my chest. Her wracking sobs were almost heart-breaking. "Please, love," I soothed, "please don't cry. It's alright."

It took a little time but she got her breathing under control and the tears subsided. I lifted her chin and kissed her gently. "So, where do we go from here?"

The smile that touched her lips was weak but hopeful, still a little shaky. She looked at me with uncertain eyes. "To bed?"

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

The following weekend, Micah asked Cindy and Mike to visit with us. It was an awkward reunion. They entered the apartment and stepped to the side. Everyone was nervous. Micah broke the ice by taking Cindy in her arms. The girls hugged tightly and started to cry.

Mike and I felt helpless. We looked at our wives then at each other. Finally, Mike offered his hand. "I'm sorry, Dean. It won't happen again."

"Yeah," I agreed. "I guess we both screwed up."

Mike winced. "Not a good choice of words," he chuckled. His eyes moved toward the TV set and the bookcase that held my DVD collection. I could see the wheels turning.

"What are you thinking about?"

"You wouldn't have a copy of "Bob and Carol and Ted and Alice" in there, would you?"

Now I laughed. "No, and I'm not about to get one, either."

We both started laughing. The girls looked at us like we'd lost our minds.

Shrugging a little sheepishly, Mike explained the plot of the old counter-culture film. Cindy blushed and started laughing.

Micah looked at me with a disapproving frown. "Not a chance. Ain't happenin'." I agreed with her.

She suggested that we relax and get a pizza, so we ended up in a booth at D'Angelo's. Even there, things remained a little tense. Mike and I got a tentative little giggle from Cindy by ordering green olives on our pizza. As usual, it ended up being half-and-half. Finally, Micah spoke up. "Look, this isn't us. We're friends. Even now we should at least be able to talk to each other. If I can get an appointment with the Chaplain, will any of you come with me?"

Cindy chewed at her lower lip for a moment, then nodded. Mike and I decided it might be best to let the women call this shot. We both nodded as well.

I thought about our Department Chaplain for a minute, then smiled. "I think you'll like him," I informed Mike. "He likes green olives, too." We both started to laugh.

Micah reached into the pizza, pulled out a slice of olive, and threw it at me.

- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -

Due to our schedules, Chaplain Schmidt scheduled us for an evening session. He listened quietly as Micah and Cindy described the situation and what had happened. Mike and I didn't have much to say. The Chaplain asked a few questions but mostly just nodded as the story unfolded. His eyes narrowed a few times but he didn't look overly concerned. When the women finished, he took a deep breath and started to speak.

"Alright, to get started, I want you all to relax. This is not a unique situation. What you are doing about it is a little unusual, but the situation itself isn't. Sexual sin is common in this day. Yes, it's serious and I'm not downplaying it, but it's not the end of the world. The four of you have already laid the groundwork for getting through it. The fact that you're here is very encouraging and tells me that you're committed to repairing the damage. That's more than half the battle, a lot more.

"I'm going to put on my 'Man of God' cap now, but I'm not going to preach to you. We're just going to talk. A lot of what I'm going to say is very important so, if you have a question, just interrupt and ask it. Okay?" He paused for a moment, looking at each of us until we nodded agreement.

He had given us coffee when we first arrived and I started sipping at mine. I was very uncomfortable with the meeting, but I would have done anything for Micah at this point. I think Mike felt the same.

"When the Lord created us and placed us on this planet, He gave us one crucial but dangerous gift. That gift was the ability and the right to make our own choices. He didn't do that on a whim and he didn't do it in a vacuum. He knew we would make mistakes, some of them serious, but that's one of the ways that He teaches us. That's also why He gave us a conscience.

"Contrary to what many people think, it isn't the job of the conscience to torture us or make us feel miserable. The job of the conscience is to get us to remember our mistakes and to help us not repeat them. The tool the conscience uses is remorse, not guilt."

"What's the difference?" I asked.

"Guilt is simply acknowledging a sin happened with no intent to do anything about it. Remorse is the regretting of that sin and taking steps to undo damage. Guilt tends to lead to destructive behaviors while remorse leads to constructive actions."

"Then why do we feel so miserable and guilty?" Mike inserted.

Schmidt rewarded him with a gentle smile. "Guilt is Satan's favorite weapon. If he can make us feel guilty rather than remorseful, he will try to convince us that what we have done is so terrible that not even God can forgive us. You would be amazed how many people fall for that trick. Once he has someone convinced they're beyond forgiveness, they give up. That's when he wins. They don't dive headlong into a life of evil, they just stop trying to lead a life of good. What's even more damaging is that they stop feeling good about themselves or, for the most part, about anything. Basically, they become robots. They don't live, they just exist.

"We don't have to be preachers or scripture experts to be witnesses of God. All we need to do is live a happy life. By doing that, we show others that it is possible. If they should ask us why we are happy, we can explain what works in our lives and why. If they don't, it's not a problem. If they see enough happy people, they're going to ask someone. That's the last thing Satan wants."

"Then how do we get past the guilt?" I asked.

"By believing what God has told us. The holy scriptures are His word, and He is as bound by His word as we should be by ours. Forgiveness isn't that hard to obtain. It's just a three-step process. The first step is confessing our sin to God. All that means is telling him that we recognize we made a mistake. The second step is deciding never to do the same thing again. That's called repentance. The third step is both the easiest and the most difficult. That is just believing that He will forgive us.

"The scriptures tell us that if we do those things, He will forgive us. That doesn't give us a get out of jail free card so we can go do it over. We must sincerely intend to never make the same mistake again.

"The scriptures tell us that, if we do those things, He will forgive us, not He might forgive us, not He'll think about it, and not He'll get around to it. He will forgive us.

"I believe all four of you have already reached this point, although you probably don't realize it. However, the final step is where most people fall short. You have to learn to forgive yourself. Look at it this way; if God has told you that He has forgiven you, who are you to not forgive yourself? Do you have more authority or more power than God? Of course not.

"From what these two lovely young women have told me, you've already forgiven each other. The fact that you're telling me shows that you've confessed the sin. Believe me, if I've heard you, He's heard you. So, you need to do two things, Mike and Dean especially. One, stop beating yourselves up. You're human. You make mistakes. That comes with the territory. Some of them, like this one, are serious. Sexual sins are the most prevalent among young people of your age. But none of them is beyond the Lord's forgiveness. Keep that in mind.