"You try getting pushed down a flight of stairs and see how you feel," he groused.
"No, thanks. But you really are lucky."
"Yeah, lucky you and Pop showed up."
"Well, you know Caine. Always on the lookout for you. He'd drop anything and go to the ends of the earth if he felt you were in danger."
He hesitated. She would almost swear he was blushing, though the colorful bruise on his cheekbone did wonders to disguise it. "I hope you weren't... I mean, I know you had a date last night--I didn't interrupt anything...important...did I?"
She sat down on the edge of the bed. "Nah. At least, nothing that can't be continued later. I'm just glad we were close enough to reach you in time."
"You know, it's strange..."
"What is?"
"I was supposed to be meeting an informant. When I got to the library the door was open, so I went in--right into the waiting arms of that goon squad. What I don't get is how they could set me up so perfectly and make such a big mistake."
"I don't follow you."
"The guy who called me, he had to have done his homework. First, he knew about the Marion murder, which was strictly small time, not advertised. Second, he knew I was working the case, and he was able to call me directly." He shook his head. "If the guy knew all that, then why didn't he know that library was so close to my father's place? It isn't exactly a secret that we're something of a team."
She considered his points. He was right; something didn't fit. "That's a good question, Peter. Maybe he underestimated your abilities, thought his men could take you out right away?"
"But they didn't. Didn't even try, really, now that I think about it." His eyes unfocused as he called back the recent events from his memory. "None of them pulled guns. They surprised me, knocked me around a little, then pushed me down the stairs. I remember staggering into an alcove and hiding behind a bookshelf, then...nothing." He blinked and looked at her. "Next thing I knew, you and Pop were bringing me here."
"Hmm. That does sound odd." She pushed herself off the bed. "Speaking of your father, I should go see if he finished telling your doctor how to look after you."
Peter chuckled, then winced and rubbed his bandaged ribs.
She paused, hand on the doorknob. "Hurts when you laugh, huh?" she asked, feigning sympathy.
He nodded. "A lot."
"Oh, really?" She couldn't keep the wicked glint from her eyes. "In that case... Why did the Shaolin cross the road?"
She managed to scoot through the door before his pillow slammed into it.
She met Caine coming down the hallway. "He's doing fine," she informed him. "But you knew that already, didn't you?"
He ducked his head in a quick bow of agreement. She took his hand. "He's a little cranky. Just don't tell him any jokes, and you should escape alive."
"Jokes?"
"Okay, never mind." She gave him a peck on the cheek. "I need to get down to the precinct, see if they've gotten anything out of those men we collared last night. Peter says something's wrong about the attack, and I think he's right."
He gazed at her curiously. "In what way?"
She thought back to the events she had witnessed the previous night. The dark. The whisper. The gun. Her memory went into slow motion as her eyes instinctively tracked the path the bullet would take. The shooter wasn't there to rough someone up. He was there to kill. His finger tightened on the trigger.
"No!" she cried instinctively. She threw her arms around Caine, her hands searching desperately for any sign of injury from a bullet she knew had not reached him.
He held her quietly, waiting for the frantic edge to dissipate. Finally her mind convinced her heart that she really had prevented the gun from doing any damage, no one had been shot, and that wasn't about to change in the immediate future. She rested her head on his chest, anchoring herself against the chills that threatened to rock her after such a fright.
He stroked her hair gently, calming her. "What did you see?" he asked.
She swallowed. "The gunman--the one who got away--he said something to the one next to him. He said, 'I told you this would bring him.'"
Caine cocked his head and continued listening.
"That's when he pulled out the gun. But he couldn't have been aiming for Peter--from his angle, I doubt he could even see Peter, much less shoot him. Peter was a decoy. The only one in his line of fire was you."
He shrugged. "I have...many enemies."
"Enemies who set up your son through his police work to get to you? Enemies who have to sneak up behind you with a gun? If I'm not mistaken, your enemies are more like secret Chinese martial arts masters than hired snipers."
"Evil comes in many shapes and wears many faces."
She relaxed her hold on him and took a step back. "Well, I'm going to find this one's face and put it behind bars where it belongs. You may be content to let things happen, but I'll be damned if I allow some punk with a gun to kill you. Not now. Not when so much is becoming clear in my life."
He tipped her chin up. "You would take on this danger, when it is meant for me?"
"I'm a cop. That's my job. But...I'd do it anyway, for you." She kissed him again, lightly. "Now, go see your son. He's waiting for you. I've got work to do."
Skalany took a seat in front of the desk, opposite the captain. She had always gotten along well with Simms, but then she had never requested a case that wasn't hers. She knew Peter wouldn't hesitate to ask...on the other hand, Peter was Peter. And now he was in the hospital.
She gathered her initiative and plunged ahead. "Captain, I want you to put me on Peter's case."
Simms frowned and leaned back in her chair. "Your caseload isn't full enough already? I could speak to Strenlich about that."
"No, I mean I want this particular case. The Tortorici homicide is so old, putting it off for a while won't make any difference. I may even come up with new insights." She tried not to let her anxiety show in her voice to avoid bringing her own bias into it. She wasn't succeeding.
"I know it hits close to home when a cop is injured, especially a cop you work with as closely as you've worked with Peter. You have to trust that the officer assigned treats the case with as much care as you treat your own."
Skalany winced at the subtle rebuke, but she wasn't giving up so easily. Not when so much depended upon capturing the bastards who tried to kill someone for whom she cared deeply. "You don't understand. This isn't about Peter. I just want this one, and I'm not going away until I get it. I was there; no one else knows as much as I do except Peter himself, and he's in no shape to be out on the streets yet."
Simms picked up a pen from her desk and turned it over and over in her hands. "What aren't you telling me?" When she received no answer, she looked up from the pen and met Skalany's eyes. "This is personal, isn't it?"
"No, it's nothing like..." Skalany couldn't pretend she had no personal motive. Both of them knew it. She sighed and lowered her gaze. "You're right, Captain. It wasn't just some random shooting, it was an attempted assassination."
"What?" Simms leaned forward, the information making a blip on her internal radar. "They were trying to kill Peter?"
Skalany shook her head. "Not Peter. His father. Those men were trying to murder Caine."
"I see." Simms hadn't gotten to her position by ignoring leads. "Do you have evidence of this?"
"Nothing solid, nothing I can point to. But think about it--they had Peter cold and let him get away with a few bruises? Not likely. Then when Caine and I arrived, I heard one of them say, 'I told you this would bring him.' As if the whole attack were staged to draw him out where he would be vulnerable."
"Hmm. And you believe you can handle this professionally, without letting your emotions interfere?"
"Yes, Captain."
As Simms relented, Skalany hoped that her final assurance had been the truth.