Circle, Full Circle
NYC, 1989
Two bullets to the chest, a routine traffic stop gone bad…
EMTs doing their best to keep a dying Rookie Cop alive, pumping oxygen into his lungs, keeping precious brain cells alive as they fought to restart his heart…
It was wrong, what everyone said about your life flashing in front of you. It wasn't the life Rick Stetler had already lived that he saw. It was what he hadn't lived yet that he saw.
A life of disappointment and shattered dreams; two ex-wives, and a slow slide into corruption.
And crime…
…Eric Delko, dark eyes accusing…
"All of these years, Stetler, you were trying to pin something on one of us. You were the dirty one. Stealing evidence…cars, drugs, diamonds…
Rick Stetler, frozen knows only one thing. It's over…
"It started with one car," he finally says. "One stupid car. Carmichael…He took a Porsche out of Impound for a case. Carmichael disappeared. Nobody cares…nobody notices. Hundred thousand dollar car…gone. Hundred thousand dollars… That stuff just sits in Asset Forfeiture, just…forgotten. So I made a trip to Impound…"
"That's where you got the car for the bombing, right?" Delko asks.
Stetler sighs, pinches the bridge of his nose.
"The diamonds…" he says, at last. "They were going to be it. I just needed a few more weeks, because I couldn't let all those years of work go to waste."
Horatio Caine stirs, censure in his eyes.
"You planted the diamonds in Wolfe's apartment to buy time," he says. "But that is all…"
"Twenty years," Stetler looks at him. "I gave my life for this? I've got high blood pressure, two ex-wives, and a pension that ain't worth spit."
"We all do," Caine cuts him off. "That's the nature of the sacrifice."
Pure fury jolts through Stetler.
"Cut the self-righteousness, Horatio," he snaps. "You know, better than anyone, that this place chews…you…up. What're you gonna get at the end, Horatio? You're gonna get an Exit Interview, and a cheap watch. So I stole from some thieves. Big deal…"
"Rebecca Nevis was one of us," Horatio Caine matches Stetler glare for glare. "And you had her killed."
Hauled to his feet, wrists pulled behind his back, handcuffs snapping shut. Then…
Everything goes away in a blinding flash of light…
HR
"He's back!"
It's too bright, too loud, the wail of sirens dominating everything. Rick Stetler can't move his arms or legs, and everything…everything, hurts. There's a mask over his face, covering nose and mouth, and he can hear the rasp of his own breathing in his ears. An EMT looms over, says something, but Stetler can't hear him over the roaring in his head.
A blink later, and its Officer Horatio Caine bending over him, red hair a brilliant halo.
"Easy, Rick," he lays a hand on Stetler's forehead. "We're almost at the hospital. Hang on, you'll be fine."
Officer Caine's face blurs into brilliant haze…
HR
Officer Horatio Caine was right…
Officer Rick Stetler made a complete recovery from his near-fatal shooting, was out of the hospital in less than two weeks.
He told no one about that…dream.
Not even the Mandatory Psychologist he'd had to see before being allowed back to work.
Stetler had been clinically dead-no pulse, no respiration-for about five minutes, and in those five minutes, he had lived an entire life.
It had felt so…real
Was it?
Was it real?
Was it a warning?
All Rick Stetler knew was that he would do whatever it took to keep…that…from happening.
It was his life at stake, his soul…