"The Miracle"
This is a work of fiction, and in fiction improbable things sometimes happen for all the right reasons. I have no medical knowledge, so please forgive errors.
Enormous personal thanks go to Savannah, without whose input, this tale would be dead in the water before it began
A freezing cold night in mid-February. Deputy Kenneth Lacos was reflecting on the bum rap fate had dealt him. A patrol car, on the edge of town, nothing to do and an over-excited rookie chattering in his ear.
Kenny tuned him out. He thought about Maxine, his wife and co-worker, he thought about a long leisurely hot bath, he happily began to combine the thoughts when he was interrupted.
The rookie, Davey Connor, fresh out of hicksville via the Academy and keen to make an impression, spotted the car coming towards them. It was moving at a reasonable pace, but one of the front spots was out.
"We should pull him over." The rookie, all excited, his first bust.
Kenny sighed. Three more hours to go.
They pulled the car over.
"Okay. I'll take a look. You stay with the car." He pinned the guy with an impressive glare. There was something about this that didn't feel quite right.
Kenny got out and walked towards the other driver, still seated in the car. It was really freezing, he huddled into his jacket.
Drawing level with the driver's window, he started to lean down to address the driver. He registered the gun first, then the finger on the trigger, then something slammed into him at waist height, followed by a second thud in his mid section.
Kenny's world turned slowly sideways. He had time to wonder at the strange sensations flooding through his body as he hit the ground. It didn't feel like he'd just been shot. Being shot hurts, this is kinda peaceful. He lay on the ground and gazed up at the night sky. I'll get up in a minute. The strangely peaceful feeling spread.
The car pulled away.
Davey Connor was beside himself, he scrabbled frantically for the radio.
"Somebody just shot Kenny." His voice disappeared in a bat-like squeak and dumping the radio he scrambled out of the car and sprinted towards the crumpled form lying in the road.
"Can you tell me anything about the condition of Officer Lacos?" Alyssa Carter shoved her microphone in Sheriff Jimmy Brock's face. Brock held his temper with an effort, the almost lascivious look on her face repulsed him. Goddamn vulture.
"I don't have any news at this time. Now if you will excuse me." He couldn't quite keep the frost out of his voice as he pushed past the reporter and her camera crew, in through the hospital doors.
Beckoning to Deputy Carmine, he jerked a thumb behind him. "Keep her out, and any of the others if they get too nosy."
Carmine nodded. This was one of their own, and he would defend their privacy.
Maxine Stewart Lacos ran the gauntlet of the clamouring reporters and sped into the hospital. Jimmy Brock caught her as she flew through the swing doors.
"Max,.Max" he gained her attention. "Take it easy, it's gonna be a long wait. They just took him down to surgery."
She turned terrified eyes up to his, searching for the truth. "How is he?"
Jimmy swallowed, this was the part he really hated. Especially as it was Kenny and Max.
"Max, it's not good. He lost a lot of blood." He couldn't lie, she could read him like a book; he just couldn't keep the fear out of his eyes.
Her hand flew up to cover her mouth, as if to hold in a scream.
Jimmy muttered a curse beneath his breath and pulled her into his arms. The strain of seeing Kenny, white-faced and lifeless, being prepped for surgery was too much; he leaned into Max, drawing some comfort from her presence as she broke down in his arms.
Dr Jill Brock was exhausted. She'd done everything she could. Removed the bullets, patched up his torn body. Now it was wait and see.
There was one more thing, but Jill hung onto that information for the time being. Scaring everyone when she was not sure would help no one. Especially not the patient.
She faced a terrified Max in the waiting area.
"I've removed the bullets, Kenny is young, strong and in good physical shape, given time he should heal well." She paused to give Max time to take in the information. The terror in the younger woman's eyes hurt, "Max, he will make it. Kenny's got everything to fight for. He's in recovery now and will be unconscious for hours yet."
"Can I stay with him?"
"Of course."
Jimmy Brock wearily let himself into the house. It had been a long wait, but Kenny was out of immediate danger.
Matt and Zach were watching television. Jimmy paused, the tinny disembodied voice of Alyssa Carter penetrated.
"This is Alyssa Carter for WRKO News, outside the hospital where tonight, Officer Kenny Lacos is fighting for his life."
Zach looked up at his father, with tears in his eyes. "Why does she have to sound like she's enjoying it?" His voice trembled. Kenny was his honorary big brother and Zach couldn't stand the thought that they might lose him.
Jimmy cleared his throat. "Ms. Carter has to report the news, that's her job. The public has a right to know what goes on." I'm defending her, a few hours ago, I was cursing her intrusiveness.
He tried to avoid his sons' twin accusatory glares.
"Ms Carter shoved a micro-phone in Max's face and asked her how she felt." Matt's tone was dry, his expression as cynical as it was possible for a seventeen-year old to manage. "How does she think Max feels?" The question hung in the air like a personal accusation.
Zach asked the question that they all dreaded. "Will Kenny make it, dad?"
Jimmy looked him straight in the eye. "If your mother has anything to do with it, son. He'll make it." Hope I'm right. The hollow feeling in the pit of his stomach returned, what if..Kenny dies.
Suddenly, Brock had had enough. He dropped the keys on the desk and walked away, gotta get a drink, hoping that his sons wouldn't see his grief.
Max sat by Kenny's bedside and waited for him to regain consciousness. She'd never been more terrified. She watched him like a hawk, one limp hand held between both her own. Only the regular rise and fall of his chest told her he was alive.
She slipped the fingers of one hand between his unresponsive fingers; still holding tight to his hand, reaching up with her free hand she stroked his cheek lovingly.
"Come back to me, Kenny. I need you." The words were faint and wobbled with suppressed emotion.
Why did it have to be Kenny? Why not one of the others? She stopped, ashamed at herself. But why? Please give him back to me.
Kenny lay flat on his back and contemplated his future. It didn't seem very bright.
Jill Brock paused in her rounds. She needed to talk to him.
"Kenny." She began.
"Doc, I know. You don't have to dress it up in pretty words." He swallowed, fighting the tears that threatened.
"Kenny, don't give up hope. Give your body a chance to recover. There is still time, it's only been five weeks."
Zach sat next to Kenny's bed. It was a school night, and very reluctantly Jill had given in. Zach missed Kenny so much, he'd begged and pleaded with his parents to be allowed to go to the hospital to see him.
Kenny was asleep. Zach had promised that he wouldn't wake him, so he just sat and waited. Watching over his friend and big brother.
Kenny shifted slightly and his eyes opened. Blearily he focussed, and smiled at Zach.
"Hey!"
Zach tried to smile, but it all came out wrong. "Kenny, I." He trailed off into tears. Kenny reached up to the hanging bar above the bed, and awkwardly hauled himself into a sitting position. He took hold of the weeping boy's hand and pulled him into his arms.
Zach leaned his head against his friend's broad shoulder and cried his fright out. Kenny held onto the kid, despite the considerable pain it was causing him, trying to support himself without leaning on Zach.
The youngster started to calm down, and take notice of what was going on. He eased back slightly, in time to catch the flash of real agony which crossed Kenny's face.
"Kenny! I'm sorry." Zach tried to help him lie down again. Kenny flopped back awkwardly onto the pillows.
"Nothin' to be sorry about. It's just my back hurts."
Zach watched Kenny pull himself further down the bed. Something's not right! Kenny eased himself with some difficulty onto his side, so he could talk to Zach.
"How're ya doin'?"
Zach grinned, "Shouldn't I be asking y'that?"
Kenny's answering smile was a bit forced. Once again, Zach picked up the idea that things weren't right.
Max stood in the doorway and watched her husband. Ever since he'd come round from the operation, he'd been different. The warm-hearted loving man she'd married had disappeared. He was turning into a cold, distant and suspicious character. Max wasn't sure she wanted to be with that version.
"Kenny, how do you feel?" She sat down next to him. Gently stroked his cheek.
Kenny gave her the impression of enduring her touch. He didn't actually flinch away from her, but the look in his eyes was colder than she could have thought possible.
"Okay." His reply was blunt and didn't invite further enquiry.
"I brought you some fruit."
"Thank you." So polite, so distant.
Max was desperate. She was losing him and that hurt. She gritted her teeth, no way was she going to give in.
"Kenny, what's the matter with you. This is Max here. Your wife. Remember."
Every fibre of Kenny's soul wanted to throw himself into her arms and cling to her. But that was impossible for several reasons, and Max was a young woman with her whole life ahead of her.
He made one final effort, throwing everything into the performance. He had to get her to leave and not come back.
"Face it Max. We're finished. It was a mistake in the first place."
Max stared at him as though he'd just kicked her guts out. The pain was so bad, she couldn't think of anything to say. She stared and stared as though she'd never seen him before.
Kenny summoned up the courage to do the hardest thing he'd ever done in his life; drive her away.
"It's been over a long time. There's someone else."
He rolled onto his side, away from her, so he wouldn't have to look into her eyes. So he wouldn't weaken. "I want a divorce." He lied through his teeth. Shit, this hurts.
Max couldn't think. Her mind had numbed into slow motion. She got to her feet and walked away. The strain was too much, walking faster, she pushed past Jill Brock, and then the tears fell and she fled.
Jill Brock stared at her patient as though she'd never seen him before. "Kenny, that was brutal."
"It's for the best."
"Kenny you have to let Max decide that. Look, I'll talk to her."
Kenny struggled to sit up, pulling on the hanging bar above his head. "No! You promised, no one's gonna know. I'll be gone in the morning."
Jill was taken aback by the vehemence in his tone. "You didn't have to be that cruel." She managed.
He turned his head away and sank back onto the pillows, so he didn't have to face the condemnation in her eyes.
"It's done. Now I can get on with my life."
Jill didn't miss the betraying sheen of tears in his eyes as he looked away from her. Her heart went out to him, young, fit and athletic, this thing had come upon him and he had no idea how to cope. Everything in her rebelled against what he was doing, but she understood why. Going against him could be worse than giving in; for now.
Silently Jill hatched a plot. Kenny, you need Max and she needs you, somehow I'm going to bring you back together.
Kenny clenched his fingers tightly into the pillow. Holding on until Jill left. He heard the door close softly behind him, and the tears came. He buried his face in the pillow and cried his heart out for what he'd just destroyed.
Brock walked slowly up to the cabin. Jill had been angry with him, and very reluctant to tell him where Kenny had gone. He'd asked her point blank what the problem was and had reeled from the explosion. His very angry wife had pointed to patient confidentiality, the hypocratic oath and even the constitution when he'd gotten too nosy. The whole thing had a strange, almost surreal, feel to it. As though Jill wanted him to know, but couldn't or didn't want to tell him.
Brock couldn't bear seeing the unhappy face of his deputy any longer. Maxine had fled from the hospital and by the next morning, Kenny had discharged himself and disappeared. It had been over a week now, and Max was getting more and more upset and angry, her work was suffering. Brock had to find her errant husband and beat the truth out of him if necessary.
He located the cabin and knocked on the door.
"Wait up." Kenny's voice. The door rattled and Brock readied himself to look Kenny in the eye and tell him exactly what he thought of him. He settled his feet and raised his chin. The door swung open.
Disconcerted, Brock looked down. And understood. A hundred tiny insignificant details reassembled themselves in his brain. A huge wave of sympathy surged within him.
Kenny had lost weight. The huge blue eyes held an expression of haunted agony and emphasised his thin face. The fear and pain Kenny was going through ate deep into Brock's soul.
"So now you know." The flat tone was too careful.
"Yes, Kenny, now I know. Now; I need to understand." Brock carefully kept his own voice level, too much compassion would push his deputy over the edge.
Kenny pushed the wheelchair back, manipulating the wheels with the awkwardness of inexperience.
"What's to understand. My legs are paralysed, I'll never walk again. So I'm gonna spend the rest of my life in this chair. And Max is better off without me, she'll find someone else then we'll both be happy." The last statement seemed to cause him physical pain.
Brock sat down on the bed and fixed the younger man with a hard look.
"Kenny, you married Max for better, for worse and so on and so forth. Or were you just going through the motions up there."
Kenny looked away, but Brock was relentless. He had no intention of letting Kenny's stubborn fears get in the way of either of his deputies' best interests. They loved and needed each other.
"Max loves you. She needs you to be there for her. Whether you can walk or not isn't the issue."
Time for some serious co-ertion.
"Kenny, you're gonna pack up here and come back with me. You still have a job, which I expect you to do. The back load of paperwork you ran out on two months ago will do for a start."
A bizarre mixture of hope, stubborn refusal and panic chased across Kenny's face.
Brock got to his feet and opened the door.
"Oh, and there's one other thing."
Max pushed past him and knelt by her husband.
The flare of joy in Kenny's eyes was all Brock needed to know. He walked out and left the young couple alone.
Max knelt next to the wheelchair. When Brock had insisted she join him on this trip, she'd been reluctant. Kenny's last words to her had hurt, part of her wanted him to feel as badly as she did. When she'd seen him answer the door to Brock, all the hurt had melted away, leaving just the pain for her injured lover.
"Oh Kenny." The love and sympathy in her voice finished him totally.
Kenny Lacos, tough guy, wrapped his arms round the wife he adored and wept.
Jill Brock arranged for Kenny to have regular physiotherapy sessions. Kenny hated them. It was humiliating and futile, Kenny's legs had no feeling in them. None of the exercises seemed to do any good.
Turning up to the office in uniform, in a wheelchair, did nothing for Kenny's morale either. Seeing Max and the other deputies going out on patrol drove him crazy. They'd shifted most of the furniture so that he could manoeuvre around, but he wasn't very good at steering the heavy chair. His colleagues' solicitude when he banged into the desk or trapped his fingers between the wheels and desk edges made him miserable.
The ultimate in horror was the swimming sessions. Jill had insisted, it would keep his muscles exercised. Kenny loathed it even more than physiotherapy or work. He shared a session with a younger man. Snide and cocky, Deke never lost an opportunity to point out Kenny's shortcomings.
Deacon Carter was Alyssa Carter's little brother, a journalist in his own right, campaigner for disabled rights, arrogant and tyrannical with a particularly savage tongue; he seemed to delight in Kenny's misfortune.
Kenny was having a really crap day. Deke had been vicious, Kenny had felt too miserable to fight back. Everything was getting him down.
The phone rang, Kenny swerved round the desk to grab it and trapped his fingers between the desk and the wheel. He yelped and Maxine came running, all concern and solicitude, which made him feel worse. Tears sprang to his eyes and Kenny pulled away from her, he was not going to let anyone see him cry.
Max stood up, hurt; she loved Kenny but this thing was driving them further and further apart, they couldn't seem to talk anymore. He was shut in his own little world of pain. She walked away.
The phone rang again and Kenny crashed into the desk, he leaned over trying to grab it. The phone was out of his reach and he slipped, striking his cheekbone on the edge of the desk as he crumpled to the floor.
"KENNY!"
Jimmy and Max raced to pick him up.
"You're going to have a real shiner there tomorrow." Jill Brock gently patched up the cut on Kenny's cheekbone. For a moment the big blue eyes looked up at her, glistening with the tears he was determined not to shed, then he looked away.
"Kenny, it's okay to be upset." Jill's gentle tone did for him. The dam broke and he turned onto his side and sobbed like a tired child. Jill sat on the bed and tried to calm him, stroking his back and soothing him as she would her own son. Gradually he regained control.
"Jill, ..this."
Jill couldn't deny that he was having problems. Watching Kenny suffer was like watching one of her own children in pain, unbearable. She thought about it.
"Now, why would I want to help?" Deke Carter sat across from Jill. For some inexplicable reason he flustered her. Long narrow eyes the colour of ice water held hers, something slightly feral in their silver depths.
Jill unconsciously smoothed her hands over imaginary creases in her skirt. This is ridiculous, I am a professional.
"Deke, you would want to help Kenny because you, of all people, can. He needs someone in the same position to get him through this."
Deke turned over the possibilities in his mind. A thought crept into his brain, he smiled, "Okay, in return for an exclusive..on the Sheriff's Department."
Jill was slightly taken aback, she hadn't expected it to be that easy; his smile was wolfish and it unnerved her. Pushing aside her fears, she accepted; Kenny needs him.
Kenny was less than enthusiastic. Deke Carter had rejoiced in making his life a misery.
They were outside the younger man's wheelchair manufacturer, waiting for the shop to open.
"Why you doin' this?" Kenny was suspicious.
"Well it ain't for the fun of it. Now, since we're waiting.pay attention." Deke's acerbic manner grated on Kenny's nerves.
"The rules are simple; you're a paraplegic, that don't mean you're deaf, or senile, or you've suddenly lost all yer faculties. It means yer legs don't work. Y'have to make them notice that y'independent. Y'drop something on the floor, pick it up y'self if y'can. If y'need help. Say so. Ain't no point in waiting around to see if someone notices."
Kenny grudgingly accepted that Deke made sense. The way everybody leapt into action whether he needed anything or not, drove him crazy.
"Max wants to help me all the time, and I hate it." He admitted.
"So tell her. She ain't psychic, she don't know if you don't tell her."
"So what we here for?" Kenny was curious.
"Y'need some decent wheels. That thing's useless." Deke looked at him.
Kenny started to protest. "We're not rich, we can't afford it."
"Money ain't the object."
"It is to me!" Kenny was not going to be a charity case. He had his pride, okay a little bit trampled in the dust right now, but.
Deke sighed, "It ain't charity. I'm buying. Then you get this one, which is why we're here, they have to make adjustments."
"Huh!"
"What part don't you understand? Twenty words, all in English, most of em one syllable. I thought Deputies were supposed to be at least that smart!" Deke covered his charitable instincts with a layer of spiteful sarcasm.
Kenny scowled, Deke had a way of getting under his skin. He was just thinking about coming up with something suitably cutting when the door opened.
"How're y'doing, Deke." The large tattoo'd man standing in the doorway filled the frame. "Who's y'friend?" Curious. Deke was the least sentimental man Spiro had ever met.
"Spiro, meet Kenny." Deke made the introductions. "You got it ready?"
"Yup! C'm in and we'll get y'fixed up."
Deke tried out his new chair, while Spiro and Kenny watched. Kenny was surprised, there was something almost gleeful and childish about Deke's pleasure in showing off, which didn't jibe with the hard-nosed, arrogant journalist Kenny knew.
Spiro watched them both. "He wasn't always like that y'know."
Kenny looked up at the big man. "Huh!"
"Deke was a fun-loving kid, until his mother dragged him and his sister to England after the divorce. Couple o'years later, she crashed her car, killed herself an' paralysed Deke. Robert Carter brought the kids back here, for a while, Deke was the sweet kid he'd always been, then things changed. Something happened and he's been the same way ever since."
"Y'known them a long time then. Y'know his sister?"
"Alyssa. Sure. Real nasty piece of work. Puts the bish' in ambitious."
"I woke up and she was by the bed, shoved a camera in my face and asked me how I felt!"
"Don't surprise me. Deke's not like that."
Kenny looked sideways at the man. "Y'kidding! He annihiliates almost everybody in his path."
"That's just his way of keeping everyone at arm's length! He don't really mean it."
"Y'couldha fooled me."
Kenny watched his new-found "friend" closely. Deke seemed different to anyone he'd ever met. Sometimes there was a look in Deke's eyes which belied the acid tongue, almost a fear.
Kenny dismissed the idea as being fanciful. Deke was the most supremely confident person he'd ever met. It was just that he used his skill with words to be malicious.
Kenny worked laboriously through the huge pile of paperwork. He didn't remember leaving this much paper before the shooting.
Brock headed over, with a file in his hands.
"Kenny, sort this out, will you. We go to trial in two weeks and someone needs to go through the statements."
Kenny glared at the file; suddenly he realised where all the extra had come from. He glanced suspiciously at the filing trays around the office, they were almost empty.
"Oh, I get it. Kenny can do all the crummy jobs. Well, Kenny ain't gonna!" He scowled at Brock, challenging him.
Jimmy sighed. Always knew he'd spot it eventually. "Kenny, I" he trailed off, searching for the right words. Aware out of the corner of his eye that Deke had moved closer.
"Deke, do you mind?"
The reporter smiled..it wasn't a nice smile. "No."
Brock was just about to make it official, when the phone rang. Deke executed a neat back flip and grabbed it before the other two could reach it. Balancing his chair on its wheels.
"Sheriff's office
u'huh..TOUGH!"
He slapped the phone down and smirked.
Kenny eyed him crossly, his attention successfully diverted from the paperwork.
"Deke! Who was that!"
"Some old biddy, complaining about missing picnic furniture."
"Well, thank you for your warmth and understanding!" Kenny was sarcastic. He grabbed the phone and dialled.
Brock cast a quick thank you heavenwards, having successfully avoided the evil hour of discussing Kenny's future in the Sheriff's office. He slipped away before he could be drawn into the argument again.
Kenny made the connection and began to apologise, glaring over the desk at an unrepentant Deke.
"Ma'am, Officer Kenny Lacos here.No, Ma'am, it's no trouble." He scowled at Deke again. "Now what's the problemy'table and chairs..they've been stolen..Ma'am, I don't think..No, Ma'am we do take theft seriously. I'll be right over."
He put the phone down.
Max had never been so tired in her life. Kenny's new found independence was wearing her down. From pushing her away whenever she tried to help, now he was never around. He spent all day, driving round the country with Deke, investigating this missing plastic furniture thing.
She wearily hung her jacket and hat up, and walked into the utility area, which was now their bedroom. Jimmy, Carter and the boys had sweated and strained to get their bed downstairs. Until they could find somewhere all on one level, they were squashed into four small rooms and the kitchen area, getting on each others' nerves.
Max stopped dead, the wheelchair was by the bed, and he was sprawled across it still in his uniform. It was all too much. Max bent over him, pulled his tie off, unbuttoned his shirt, undid his belt and pants; Kenny slept through it all. Max tried to roll him onto his side, so that she could pull his shirt off more easily. He was very heavy and he slipped back, Max could have screamed in frustration. She sank down onto the bed next to the comatose form of her husband and cried.
"Kenny, I can't do this!!" she sobbed.
Jill noticed the strain between Kenny and Max. She regularly checked up on Kenny, concerned that he might not be able to cope. But it was Max who wasn't coping. Jill watched the young woman grow more haggard and tired.
Late one evening, she coerced Jimmy into doing the washing up, he went along with her gentle push willingly.
"I'm going to have Max and Kenny come stay with us for a couple of nights. It will give Max a break."
Brock looked at his wife sideways, "So I can talk to Kenny, huh!" He knew what his wife was thinking.
Kenny painstakingly checked and re-checked the information he'd been collecting for the past three weeks. Since Mrs Whiteman had reported her missing table and chairs, it appeared that half the community had lost something, the list was endless, tables, chairs, wastebins, door mats, benches. They all had one thing in common, they were all made of plastic.
Deke watched Kenny. It was one thing to make fun of the seemingly trivial case, but Kenny's warm, friendly approach to the people he met, and the gentle way he coaxed information out of them made a big impression on Deke. The fact that people genuinely loved Kenny was not lost on him either.
Deacon Carter had one thing in mind when he accepted Jill's proposal, a thrilling exposé of the Sheriff's office. A backdrop to incisive social comment about Rome and its people. He now found himself challenging his assumptions. The warmth and genuine care for the community that he saw in Sheriff Jimmy Brock and all his deputies came as something of a surprise to him.
The way they dealt with Kenny and with himself surprised him too. True some of the attempts to help Kenny were clumsy, but they sprang from a deeply felt care for one of their own. The whole office had accepted Deke, as Kenny's friend. Used to meeting with suspicion, the young journalist was taking time to re-think a few things.
Jill made up the couch bed in the utility room for Kenny. Max had jumped at her invitation with a gratitude that was out of all proportion to the offer. Jill was hoping a few days would put them both back on an even keel again. Max seemed to alternate between desperately trying to do everything for Kenny, which obviously depressed him, or trying to keep him at arms' length. He was alternately angry and upset, or puzzled by what was going on.
The thing that most worried Jill was this new found confidence of Kenny's. It had a certain bravado about it, and mainly seemed to hinge upon this mysterious case that he'd been chasing for several weeks. She'd tried to pry information out of Deke, but that was like trying to open a clam with your bare hands, he'd been quite rude. And protective of Kenny. At least one part of the plan works.
Kimberley was home from college, Zach and Matt were delighted to have Kenny and Max in the house. Jill was hoping that the unaffected good humour and care from the young people would go a long way to repairing the rift between Kenny and Max.
Jimmy watched his wife's machinations with a slight sinking feeling in his heart. He agreed that the young couple needed some kind of break, but a strange sixth sense warned him.
Jill prepared dinner. Matt had a new computer programme he'd written for school, and proudly wanted to show it off, so everyone went up to his room to look. Except Zach.and Kenny.
As they all mounted the stairs, Zach stopped. He looked back and realised what they'd just done. He turned round and walked back to the den, Kenny was sitting staring out of the window.
"Hey."
Kenny rolled the chair back, "Hey yourself." His eyes met Zach's for an instant and then moved on, his voice wasn't quite steady.
Carefully steering his way through the potential minefield, Zach started to talk to Kenny about the case.
"So what's this guy's deal? A Rubbermaid fetish?"
Kenny took the line gratefully, "I don't know. Half the office thinks it's funny, but it adds up to thousands of dollars."
Brock came down the stairs in time to hear the tail end; it piqued his interest.
"Thousands of dollars, huh?"
Kenny looked up at his boss with a slight challenge in his eyes. "Yeah. Last time I added up, came to $23,500 or thereabouts. Most everybody's lost something. People don't bother to report it because they think, it's only a doormat or a waste bin' and they don't want to bother anyone" he let the faint accusation in his tone hang in the air. "Same M.O. every time. The stuff's there, next morning it isn't. No footprints, no fingerprints, nothing."
They were interrupted by Jill calling everyone to the table.
Zach got to his feet, and gave Kenny's chair a push. "C'mon." Took the opportunity to glare at his dad. That's for not noticing you left Kenny behind.
Kenny smiled at his young friend. "Hey, home cookin', race ya!"
Brock watched them go, with a pain in his heart.
A name kept coming up in Kenny's plastic furniture investigation. Lester Eames. No one knew very much about him, he lived a way out of town, on a scruffy small holding. He kept a few beasts, was surly and unpleasant to everyone from the post girl to the few people he did business with.
"Why don't we go and check this guy out!" Deke looked at Kenny. "We don't look, we'll never know."
Kenny threw caution to the wind, a bust; it was just what he needed.
Carmine looked up as they left, "Hey, Kenny, where'ya going?"
"Back soon, Carmine."
The older deputy shook his head. Plastic furniture?! But it was good to see Kenny interested in something. Carmine thought back to the night of the shooting, young Connor was still a mess, he didn't remember anything about the car other than it was a black sedan with a front light out. Too dumb to take the registration. He thought about what Kenny was going through and shuddered. Every cop's worst nightmare, coming out of nowhere like that. A minute and your whole world turned upside down.
It didn't occur to him to worry where Kenny and Deke were going in such a hurry.
Deke drove out to Eames' place. They'd taken to using Deke's car as it was adapted for a disabled driver, and the wheelchairs fitted in behind the front seats. Deke had a police scanner, which Kenny would have objected to, only it was useful.
Kenny was so keen to see this through that he didn't think beyond confronting Eames.
They arrived at the miserable scruffy farm. Kenny got out of the car.
"You stay put, I'll go have a look." He wheeled the chair over the bumpy ground with some difficulty. Deke sighed. He looked at the ground, it was bumpy and full of stones, for once he agreed with Kenny. Stay put, or have bruises on my ass for a month. Some choice! He stayed.
The house seemed deserted so Kenny headed for the barn. The door was enormously heavy and a real struggle to prise open. He was so intent on having a look he didn't see Eames come round the far side of the barn. The old man paused, watching.
Kenny finally managed to get the door partially open, he pushed the chair in for a closer look, the place was crammed with plastic furniture of every description. Kenny turned to yell back to Deke still sitting in the car and froze.
The shotgun pointed at his chest was unwavering. The cold eyes of the old man reminded Kenny of a snake watching its prey. He swallowed, tried to say something but somehow his voice refused to work.
Deke very slowly reached out to his radio. The old man was less than fifteen feet away and there was a chance he could hear. Deke did not want to do anything that might get Kenny hurt.
Cautiously he pulled the handset up. "Don't know if anyone's listening, but we gotta situation here, at Eames' place. He quickly snapped the receive to off, no sense in letting the thing start squawking back. "If anyone is listening, we need help." Keeping his voice as low as possible.
Kenny was frozen in utter terror. For the first time since the shooting, he was confronted with a gun again.
Brock cursed and pushed the pedal to the metal. Shit, damn fool, goes racing in and gets himself into these situations. He didn't pause to think of the reasons behind his panicked response. Bout time I straightened him out on a few things!
Brock and five deputies surrounded and drew down on Eames like lightening. The old man looked round at the sheer number of guns aimed at him and gave in. Old and cranky he might have been, but mad he wasn't; only meant to give the young fella a fright.
As Max dragged him away, he said as much. "Only meant to give him fright!" he whined.
Cold eyes looked into his. "You're talking to the wrong person. I'm his wife!"
Eames shivered. He'd heard about police brutality and this woman looked like she was capable of it. Max merely handed him over to Carmine and concentrated on her errant husband.
"What the hell do you think you were trying to do!?" she screamed at him.
Kenny looked up at her. "Max, I"
"Oh forget it!" Max burst into tears and fled.
Brock closed his office door and turned to face Kenny. The fright of the past hour caught up with him.
"What do you think you were trying to do? Get yourself killed." Brock's voice was low and dangerous.
"My job." Kenny was defensive, this was his case.
Nothing could have fanned the flames of Brock's terrified rage more than that.
"Your job! Your job!" he spluttered. "Your only job around here is dispatcher. You stay there, you don't move out of this office. That's your only future here. DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME!!" He bellowed, sheer fright overrode his control and it all burst out.
Kenny sat there, paling at the onslaught. It was one thing knowing deep down inside that his police career was finished, but a whole other thing coming from the man he loved and respected. Hearing it tore Kenny apart. The pain was excruciating. Kenny held on to one thought, don't break down, whatever.
Brock subsided, he looked at the white-faced young man in front of him, realising with a dawning horror exactly what he'd just done.
"Kenny, I." He trailed off. The great bruised blue eyes were staring at him in agony. Kenny couldn't even get the words out, he hurt so much. He just stared at Brock, then turned and left the room. Leaving the door open and Brock sitting there alone with the horrors of his conscience.
"Deke, I wanna go home. Now." Kenny managed that much. He couldn't think. Deke saw his friend struggling and for once held his peace.
He drove Kenny back to the house.
Jill took the phone call. She'd heard from several sources what happened at Eames' farm. She looked at her husband across the room.
"Kenny's sick." She'd never felt more angry in her life. "That was Maxine. He hasn't eaten anything in two days and this morning, she can't get him out of bed. You really did a number on him, didn't you. Yelled at him. Ripped what little confidence he has built up away from him." She paused for breath. "Why?"
Jimmy Brock looked down at his hands, a puzzled frown on his face, as though he couldn't remember having seen them before. Ever since Kenny had arrived in Rome, the impulsive, generous, warm-hearted young cop had wormed his way into Brock's heart. Seeing Eames' aiming a gun at him, had brought back the nightmare of seeing Kenny in the emergency room all those weeks ago. Brock had lashed out, out of love and terror.
The pain of the last two days was indescribable. He looked up at his wife, ashamedly acknowledging her condemnation. He should have put things right between himself and Kenny that afternoon, not left it.
"I'm coming with you."
Jill glared at him. "A little late, wouldn't you say!" She softened slightly at his crestfallen face. "Kenny needs you."
Kenny lay on his side staring at nothing. His temperature was way up. Jill looked down with concern at him. Eating your heart out, because the people you admire and look up to and love, are angry with you. Oh Kenny.
She finished her examination and left him. Facing Max and Jimmy in the kitchen.
"At the moment, Kenny's emotions are all over the place. Which is perfectly natural in his position. He had a bad fright on Tuesday, everybody's over-reacted and now he's making himself sick, because he thinks that he's let everyone down."
Brock moved to the door. Eager to try and help. "I'll talk to him."
Jill turned to Max. "Now what are we going to do about you?"
Brock sat next to Kenny and looked down at his young friend with compassion. All that stuff about eyes being the windows to the soul. Kenny's soul looks broke in pieces right now. He started to talk to him.
Until that moment of time at Eames' place, Sheriff Jimmy Brock would have said that Kenny Lacos was someone he was fond of. That moment when he'd drawn down on a man threatening Kenny's life, Brock realised he was kidding himself. Kenny was as dear to him as Matt and Zach, watching him suffer was unbearable. He thought back to all the times they'd had together. He realised how much difference Kenny had made to the lives of everyone around him. His impulsive nature, bravery, generosity and fierce loyalty to those he loved.
Kenny had always said that being a big city cop was impossible. Too many people to help, too many problems, so he'd moved to Rome to help people. Which was the kind of man Kenny was. Brock suddenly felt very humble, and very ashamed of losing his temper.
"Kenny, I'm sorry. Shouldn't ha' yelled at y'like that. But you scared me. And a lot of other people."
Kenny eased himself onto his back, blinking to keep the tears at bay. He really hated this rollercoaster, up one minute, down the next, over which he had no control.
"Jimmy, I'm sorry. It was a dumb thing to do. I just." He swallowed. "I just wanted to." The rollercoaster plunged, suddenly, savagely and without warning. Kenny fell apart.
Brock sat on the edge of the bed and put his arms around Kenny like he would his own sons. Held him while he cried his grief and terror out. Tried to soothe him. "Kenny, you'll make yourself really sick. Don't cry like that." Finally the heartbreak died away into choking, hiccuping half-sobs.
Brock could have let go, distanced himself. He hung on, held the younger man in his arms and soothed him like a child. Finally, Kenny fell asleep. Brock eased him down onto the pillows, with some difficulty, Kenny was a heavily built six-footer; and went in search of his wife and Max.
He found them sharing a companionable coffee in the kitchen. His wife looked up at him, expectantly. "Well?"
"We talked. I think he understands now."
Max smiled at him, relief in her heart. "I think you're gonna get some real flak from Deke. He seems to have taken up Kenny's cause against all the odds."
"Oh, I think I can handle anything Deacon Carter can throw at me."
Brock thought ruefully about those words a lot over the next few days. Deke was more than usually savage, delighting in being as tormenting and argumentative as possible. Defending Kenny at every turn, which was very out of character. Which was the only reason, Brock didn't drive him out of the Sheriff's office.
Brock put the phone down. He was steaming.
"Lacos and Carmine, get y'butts in here right now."
They looked at each other. Huh!
Brock stared irritably at both of them. "This furniture thing. It won't go away. That's the fifteenth call I've taken this morning. People wanting to know when they can have their doormat back, or the Press" he glanced through the window at Deke, "wanting my comments on the Rubbermaid Thief. The town is becoming the joke of Wisconsin. Okay. You two sort it out."
"But.." Carmine spluttered, with a sideways glare at Kenny.
"No buts, sort it. The furniture gets catalogued and sent back to it's owners, I don't care how long it takes you. Just do it."
They left. Glaring at each other. Grumbling at the boring job. A few uncomplimentary remarks reached Brock's ears.
Brock cast his eyes heavenwards and thanked his lucky stars. That went some way to patching things up with Kenny.
Deke slowly swam the length of the pool. Enormously powerful arms and shoulders pumping, effortlessly making up for his useless legs. Kenny struggled a bit in his wake. Although reasonably used to the swimming now, Kenny still had problems with the uselessness of his legs. He pulled to the edge and heaved himself out of the water. A strange twinge tingled. He rubbed his palms on his thigh muscles. Deke swam back, moving to sit next to Kenny at the edge. He looked down and noticed Kenny was rubbing his legs.
"Whatsa matter."
"Dunno. Just feels funny."
Deke looked at him sharply. "How, funny?" He slid into the water. "Close y'eyes."
"Why?"
"Just do it, okay. Forget the dumb questions, just do it."
"Y'gonna do something!"
"Kenny, just this once. No supplementary questions. Do it."
Kenny sighed, then closed his eyes.
"Okay. Now what."
Deke cautiously put his hand round Kenny's leg. And squeezed. "Cut that out."
Kenny's knees were above the water. Deke gave his reflexes a quick test. The response was incredibly slow, but there was a response.
Kenny's eyes opened as Deke karate-chopped just below his knee.
"Whadd'ya do that for?" Eyes widened.
Deke's delighted grin was infectious. "Kenny, the feeling's coming back to y'legs."
Then a shade crossed Kenny's face. "But I still can't walk."
"Jeezus! The man wants it all at once. Y've waited this long, y'can wait a bit longer."
"Deke. Don't say anything to anyone just yet."
"Why not."
"In case it doesn't come true!"
"Oh, ye of little faith!" oozing sarcasm.
"Oh, ye of no faith at all." Kenny was catching on quick. Snap back, then Deke didn't walk all over you. Bad choice of words.
Deke grinned. He and Kenny argued over faith, a lot. Deke rejoiced in being an atheist, which was not at all understandable to a devout Catholic like Kenny. Winding him up was so easy. Then Deke dropped the subject. He was genuinely pleased for his friend.
It was Max's birthday. She decided that she wanted dinner at a restaurant and all her friends around her, the Brock family, Carter and Sue and several others. They decided to make a night of it. Max invited Deke and his father.
Robert Carter was a mystery to everyone. He seemed indifferent to his son and generally non committal about everything in the town. Max hesitated before asking him, but her conscience wouldn't let her leave him out.
She had no trouble leaving Deke's sister out of it. Alyssa Carter lived some distance anyway and Deke never mentioned her, unless forced to. Max thought about it. That seemed strange, particularly when she'd heard they were a close family.
They were just settling down to desert, when Alyssa walked in.
"Good evening," she breathed, a feline sharpness about her. "I hope I'm not intruding."
"You are, but then that's nothing new is it?" Deke was vicious.
Brock looked up sharply and saw a look in Deke's eyes which was all terror and loathing. It was gone in an instant, but the feeling hung about him.
Alyssa gasped in mock-horror. "I see I shouldn't have intruded." She bent over her father. He kissed her dutifully, without any real feeling. "I'll see you later, Daddy." Her sugary tone grated on everyone's nerves.
She leaned down, grasped her brother's chin in her hand and kissed him full on the lips, in anything but a sisterly fashion. Then an airy wave and she was gone, tension crackled in her wake.
"You okay, man." Kenny looked at his friend. Deke wouldn't meet his eyes.
"I'm fine." The clenched hand on the table cloth belied that, but there was nothing Kenny could do.
Brightly, Deke changed the subject.
Brock looked over at Robert Carter. The instant Alyssa had walked in the room, the atmosphere had changed. It was like the temperature had dropped to sub-zero. Brock had glanced at Carter and the impression of a very intense emotion had struck him so forcefully, that he had stared. Then Carter's eyes had met his, the bland neutrality back in place.
It was nothing Brock could put a finger on, not even a specific look, just the overriding impression of a danger. He shook himself mentally, this was Max's birthday. He joined in the conversation.
Kenny wondered at Deke's submission to his sister's behaviour. That wasn't right somehow, Deke was not the submissive kind. He'd asked and Deke had just brushed it off. "I didn't want to make a scene."
Kenny looked at him suspiciously. Making a scene had never bothered Deke before. Something wasn't right.
They were at Jill's office. Physiotherapy was over, and Kenny was going to try more than just exercises. He was scared witless.
Jill took his hand one side and Deke the other, and they helped him to stand. His legs shook and he was very wobbly, but he was upright on his own two feet. Jill's relief knew no bounds.
Kenny waited at home for Max. Through the last eight months, she'd stuck by him, he'd pushed her around, shouted at her for things that weren't her fault, ignored her and hurt her. Now, he was hoping and praying that he hadn't done permanent damage to their relationship. He needed and loved this woman.
Max dropped her keys wearily on the side. Turned and gasped. Kenny had really pulled out all the stops. Beautiful flowers, candlelight dinner for two, which he was cooking. Max raced upstairs to the other bathroom.
Emerging some twenty minutes later, she sat down to dinner.
They lingered over coffee, and then Kenny reached into his pocket. He was banking on this, everything riding on one throw.
He pulled the ring out. He'd taken a great deal of care in choosing it.
"Maxine Stewart Lacos. I can't go down on one knee. But do you think you could possibly marry me. All over again. Please."
Max stared at him for one long instant, then hauled him into her arms. He was precariously balanced leaning forward out of the chair, most of his weight against her. At that moment neither of them cared. The past eight months, the pain and heartache was worth it.
The kiss went on and on. Yes, Kenny, a thousand times YES. She pledged herself anew to him.
Kenny sat in Jill's office, looked up at her.
"Jill, I want to be able to walk by the wedding."
"Kenny!" Jill stared at him aghast. "Kenny, it doesn't work like that. It takes time and patience and physiotherapy, and there are lots of factors. Getting well isn't a precise science."
Deke moved in. "This is what the man wants. So why not give it a try." Once again, Jill saw the challenge and a faint stirring of something else in the hard silver eyes. What is it about him that riles me so much. The knowing smile did nothing to ease her anxiety.
She looked at them both in despair. The blue eyes pleaded, the silver ones challenged and she knew she had lost.
"As long as you understand there are no guarantees. If you are not absolutely ready, you can't do it. Agreed!" Jill had no intention of allowing Kenny to injure himself further. He was starting to recover and she was not going to jeopardise that, whatever he wanted.
At that moment, Kenny would have agreed to strip naked and sit in the town square. "Yeah, agreed." He couldn't help the beaming ear to ear grin.
Jill had to fight hard to keep Kenny's exuberant enthusiasm under control. He'd come along way since he first arrived in Rome, but essentially he was still the same impulsive character he'd always been. He had a goal in sight, and nothing was going to keep him from that goal.
He pushed himself too hard. Exercising his legs after long months of inaction was painful for him and an enormous strain. But Kenny kept at it. Jill could admire his courage, he never complained at the pain; but worried that he was exhausting himself.
She watched him struggle to force one foot in front of the other, leaning heavily on the rail supports.
"Kenny, I think that's enough for today."
Kenny wasn't about to give up. Very gingerly, he let go of the rails and stepped towards her. His legs felt like rubber, but he managed two or three steps before he had to grab the support.
Quickly Jill pushed the chair under him so that he didn't fall. He slumped into it gratefully, and looked up at her, flushed with triumph.
"I'm gonna make it for the wedding."
Jill didn't have the heart to dampen his enthusiasm.
The day of the wedding dawned. Perfect. Nearly half the town turned out to see Max and Kenny renew their vows.
Kenny sat waiting at the altar for his bride. He'd never felt this nervous before, even the first time. He glanced across at Deke, his best man, the slight challenge in the oblique silver eyes gave Kenny the courage he needed, as the change in the music announced their arrival.
Kenny looked up and saw her coming towards him, on Jimmy's arm, but he didn't notice Jimmy, his whole concentration taken up by his beautiful wife.
Kenny had wanted this moment, he had struggled with the pain and the frustration for over a month. Now the moment had come, he wasn't sure he could do it. Again, his slightly panicked eyes sought Deke's.
"Whaddya waitin' for." Deke muttered under his breath. "Go on. This is what you wanted."
"I don't think I can!"
"Crap. Nah get on y'feet and walk to her. Y'can do it." Deke's sibilant hiss was almost threatening. He held out his hand and Kenny grabbed it, Jill moved to help on the other side and together they gave him the leverage he needed to stand up.
Very shakily, he stood. Concentrated everything on Max and stepped cautiously towards her. Max faltered. Jimmy gracefully melted away, as she held out her hands to her husband, silent tears of joy pooled and fell. Kenny made it. She could tell from the way he grabbed her hands, hanging on for support, what it had cost him to do it.
Their assembled friends burst into a spontaneous round of applause, as Kenny leaned heavily against his wife. Jimmy moved in again, putting an arm round Kenny's waist, with Max supporting him from the other side, they managed to get him back to his chair.
Time passed. Kenny grew stronger and he no longer needed the chair to get around. His friendship with Deke seemed to increase rather than diminish. The journalist was warmer and less aggressive now.
There were days when he seemed almost on the verge of saying something. Kenny watched and waited, he didn't want to push Deke, but there was always something there lingering in the shadows.
Brock was worried. Kenny was strong and nearly fully fit again. After a cautious clean bill of health from Jill, he'd taken up his duties again. Still, they'd never found the shooter. Davey Connor had nearly turned himself inside out trying to remember. Putting in the time to search the files. But nothing.
It was February again, a full year since the shooting. Once again, Kenny and Davey were on patrol duty. It was a misty night, cold and miserable.
Deke Carter slammed the door. Rage, hatred and loathing burned in his eyes as he stared at his sister.
"Enough of this crap." He spat. "You've done your worst. There's nothing left that you can do to me." The oblique silver eyes narrowed to twin slits. "I'm going to tell them, it all, the truth. The truth about you, and me, and what happened in England; and every evil thing you've done since we were children."
"Oh, honey. Are you? I don't think so. What would your precious Kenny think of you then."
An icy grip seared Deke's heart. "Whaddya mean? Leave Kenny alone." He rolled towards the door. "Touch Kenny or Max, or any of the others, and I swear I'll see you in hell first."
He left. Missing the confident taunting smile on Alyssa's face. For a moment the cat like features took on an evil goatish cast, her giggle was not quite sane.
Deke pushed the car hard. The roads were icy and the fog was thickening. He had no choice, he had to get to the Sheriff's office. He cursed himself for leaving it this long. Yet, he had no evidence.
Oh I have evidence. But not the kind of evidence that can be used. He laughed humourlessly to himself.
A bend in the road loomed out of the dark murk, Deke spun the wheel and tried to adjust his speed, the hand lever on the steering wheel refused to work, he pushed the bar again in increasing panic. Shit. The car was going fast now, frantically he tried to keep control, he didn't see the patrol car as he passed.
The sedan went into a skid, fishtailing as Deke overcompensated and it slid off the road, hit a rock, bounced into the air and flipped onto its roof into the river.
"JEEZUS!" Davey Connor grabbed the radio as Kenny responded to the crash.
Kenny scrambled out of the patrol car, and ran towards the crashed car, ignoring the protests from his tired legs. His heart leapt into his throat when he recognised the car.
"DEKE. Dammit, answer me. DEKE." He inched cautiously round the front, the windscreen was shattered, half the driver's side was under water. Deke was semi-conscious, bleeding profusely from a cut on his head. As Kenny looked, he realised the car was sinking. He would have to work fast, or Deke would die.
The water was freezing, Kenny ignored it, reaching the driver's door, he reached down, realised that the door was stuck. The cold was penetrating, but Kenny knelt in the freezing river, and desperately tried to open the door.
He took out his nightstick, prayed that Deke was not in the direct line and smashed the window, risking his life, he took a deep breath and reached into the car. By some miracle, Deke had managed to free himself of the seat belt. Kenny grabbed him and, with the last of his strength, hauled him out through the smashed window, crying out in pain as a shard of glass left a long cut in his arm.
Kenny was spent, suddenly the bank seemed far away. There was a far off rushing noise in his ears, he was supporting the comatose body of his friend in his arms. The cold bit deep.
Connor scrambled down the bank and grabbed Kenny by his jacket. Sirens wailed all around heralding the arrival of the rest of the Sheriff's department. Hands reached out and hauled the pair to the bank. Deke was lifted onto the road. Kenny lay on his front, wheezing, trying to hold on. Jimmy and Carmine stripped his soaked jacket off him, he yelped as they manhandled his cut arm, then Max was there, wrapping blankets round him, scolding him and hugging him to her at the same time.
"You scared the shit out of me. Never, ever do that again." He looked up at her, a half smile on his face and passed out from shock and the cold.
The ambulance whisked them away to hospital.
Deke had got away with little more than cuts and bruises. Jill stitched Kenny's gashed arm, checked him over and announced that she would be keeping both of them for overnight observation.
Max radio'd the news back to Brock, still at the crash site. The excitement was dying down, and they were waiting for a flatbed to tow Deke's car out.
Davey Connor wandered down the road a-ways. He'd seen the car come at them, lose control and flip into the river. Then Kenny diving in to save the driver. Connor's emotions were all out of kilter, it brought the events of a year ago back in stark relief. He moved away so that the others wouldn't see his trembling.
Regaining control, he turned back. And stopped. Images flashed into his mind. Another car, another road, a year ago. That's why I'm thinking of a year ago.
Davey Connor stood and stared at the answer to the puzzle. Shit. This is gonna blow everything sky high.
Brock frowned. Young Connor was standing in the road, as though frozen. He walked back along the road to the younger man.
"What's on y'mind?"
Davey Connor took a deep breath. "That's the car from the night Kenny was shot. Sir."
"WHAT!"
"I saw that car, it was there in my headlights all the time. I didn't remember the license plate, but I remembered the shape and the headlight and something else funny about it. The wheelbase seemed longer than normal. That's the car." Absolute conviction in his voice.
Brock looked at Connor, saw the utter faith in what he was saying, knew with that instinct that had carried him through his entire career, that the young deputy was right. The person who had attempted the life of one of his deputies, was driving that car.
SHIT. What the hell's this gonna do to Kenny.
Robert Carter stood blandly to one side, while Brock and the deputies took the house apart. Carmine appeared, a gun in a plastic bag.
"Found it under the mattress in Deacon Carter's room. Hasn't been fired in a while, but" he trailed off. Everyone knew what Deke meant to Kenny.
"But it matches the calibre of the bullets removed from Kenny." Brock finished heavily. He suddenly felt very old, very tired and very out of control.
Robert Carter said absolutely nothing as they left.
Brock walked into the hospital. This was going to be one of the worst and hardest things he'd ever done in his life. Arrest a man for attempted murder.
They were sharing a room. Deke was in his chair, impatiently badgering Kenny, who was sitting on the edge of the bed half dressed, to get a move on. Kenny was buttoning his shirt, in no particular hurry. After the horror of the crash, a good night's sleep courtesy of some sedatives and they were ready to go.
Brock slowed, as his instincts fought against his reason. All the evidence was there, the car, the gun, Deke's aggressive attitude; yet some corner of Brock's reason urged caution. Something still did not fit. If Deke had shot Kenny; why? And then why all the months of help and encouragement. He steeled himself for what he must do.
"Deacon Carter, you are under arrest for the attempted murder of Deputy Kenneth Lacos."
The total stunned silence that followed almost finished Brock. He pulled himself together with an effort and began to read Deke his rights, as Kenny gathered his scattered wits and protested.
"Jimmy, Deke would never have done that. You can't arrest him."
Kenny's hand was on his arm and Brock looked him straight in the eye.
"Kenny, we found the gun. Connor made positive i.d. on the car."
Deke looked up at him. He saw the look in Brock's eyes. And he folded like a wet paper towel.
Kenny saw Deke's mental collapse. Drained of colour he gazed at his friend.
"Deke, tell me it isn't true." Voice scarcely above a whisper.
Deke's face was a blank, his eyes held a defeat that Brock hoped never to see again.
"Tell me it isn't true." Kenny repeated, scarcely audible. The pain in his heart was dragging on him like a lead weight.
Brock pushed Deke's wheelchair out, as Max came in. Pushing the door to behind them, Brock's last drowning view of his deputies was Kenny subsiding into his wife's arms.
Alone with her husband, Max held him close. He didn't cry or give in to his grief, somehow he couldn't. The enormity of what had just happened was overwhelming. That somehow, the man he'd placed his trust in, who had helped him to cope with life in a wheelchair, the man who'd helped him to walk again and given him back his life; this was the man responsible for putting him through all of that in the first place.
Kenny sat on the bed, wrapped his arms around his wife and leaned into her. Trying to make sense of any of it. Confusion clouded his brain and left him struggling.
Max had no idea what to say. So she said nothing. She didn't know if that was the right thing to do, or the wrong thing, she was as confused as Kenny.
They just sat and held each other, and prayed that things would come right.
Deke sat alone at the window. Brock had pleaded bail for him, an act of kindness, and it had been granted.
Deke was finished and he knew it. She had won. She always won. He had nothing left inside, he could no longer fight.
Robert Carter watched his son. Twelve years. For twelve years he hadn't known. The knowing made no difference. The terror remained. And the certainty that whatever he did would be too little, too late. He thought of all the other things, the cruelties, the evil. None of it obvious, always beneath the surface. Conditioned to hide, Robert Carter did nothing.
Someone else saw. And acted.
Sheryl Webster pinned her brother in law with a glare of outrage.
"Robert Carter, you're a fool. Allayne was stupid and weak and vicious. You allowed her to walk all over you. And now you're going to stand aside and let Alyssa destroy Deke."
"Sheryl, you have no idea. Twelve years. Twelve years of watching over my shoulder and not knowing. And being certain. But having no proof."
"What proof could you possibly want. Alyssa is a monster. She was an evil child. And now she's an evil adult. Quite possibly she's also a dangerous adult."
"I still can't be certain."
"Well, since you will make no effort to save your son. And Deacon has obviously no intention of trying to save himself. I have hired a lawyer, from Boston. Someone capable of empathy. Ally McBeal will be here in the morning, she has seen the case notes and I have briefed her fully, on everything." She pulled Carter round to face her, to look her in the eye. "I expect you to help me with Deke. This has gone on long enough. God knows, I was a fool not to do anything years ago."
Carter tried to stem the tide. "But Alyssa."
"Alyssa nothing. Remember this, Robert. Miss McBeal knows EVERYTHING."
Carter swallowed nervously, he could feel the terror closing in around him.
Ally McBeal sat in the Carter's front room and stared at her client. Everything about the young man in the wheelchair screamed innocence. Ally's instincts, so often confused, were straight on that point. Deacon Carter had no more shot Officer Lacos, than she had.
"Mr Carter, I can't begin to help you, if you won't talk to me."
No sign he'd even heard what she said.
"Mr Carter."
The chair turned slowly. Silver eyes, the colour of ice water, looked up at her; more pain than it should be possible for one human being to hold on to glittered in their depths, along with a hopelessness that tugged hard at Ally's soul. Whatever she did, she was going to see this man go free.
Ally sat down and read the case notes again.
Officer Lacos had been shot. Officer Connor had identified the car as being Deacon Carter's car. The Sheriff had obtained a warrant and searched the Carter home. A deputy had found a gun under the mattress of Deacon Carter's bed. Subsequent forensic tests proved beyond reasonable doubt that this was the gun, the bullets dug out of Officer Lacos were a perfect match.
All very cut and dried.
Ally thought about it. Okay, step one, go and talk to Officer Lacos.
Ally sat across from Kenny Lacos in the local café. As she talked to him, she could see the bewilderment and hurt in his eyes. He desperately wanted to believe that Deacon was innocent.
She didn't get much of any use. Kenny couldn't remember anything about the driver, or the car, he only remembered the gun and hitting the road, and then waking up in hospital being unable to move his legs.
"Will you tell him something?"
Ally stared at the handsome young officer, something stirred in the region of her heart as the earnest pleading blue eyes looked into hers.
"Yes." Ally didn't qualify her assent.
"Tell him, I believe he's innocent." Kenny couldn't care less if he compromised the case.
"I will."
Wambaugh was exasperated. The whole case seemed to hinge on whether Kenny could identify the shooter. They had someone for the shooting, so why couldn't Kenny just co-operate and they'd lock him up. Carter was a nasty piece of work anyway.
The wily old lawyer couldn't understand it.
Brock felt angry and guilty at the same time. He also hurt for Kenny.
During the opening arguments the entire courtroom seemed ablaze. The entire town seemed ranged on the side of law and order, emotions ran high.
Except for the two men at the centre of it all, each seemed locked into their separate and shared private hell.
Late evening, once again Ally was alone with her client. Deke was coming apart at the seams. He couldn't hold on to it any longer, retreating further and further into a monstrous pain that no one could penetrate. Ally doubted very much whether he would make it through the trial.
She went over and over the arguments, hoping desperately for something to latch onto.
There was a knock at the door. Deke didn't seem to even be aware of that, so Ally went to open it. Kenny Lacos stood there.
"You shouldn't be here. The case" Ally trailed off. The intensity of the emotion burning in his eyes told her he didn't care.
"Forget the case. This is between me and Deke. I know he don't wanna see me, but I have to know."
He pushed past her and walked into the front room, closing the door behind him.
"Deke, before you tell me to go to hell. Tell me one thing. The truth."
For a moment, Kenny wasn't even sure if Deke heard him. Then Deke turned. He couldn't hide any of it any longer, especially not from Kenny. For the first time in his life, Deke had met genuine trust and caring, Kenny had given him that. What had started out as a way into the Sheriff's office, was now the most important thing in the world to Deke.
The oblique silver eyes looked up at his friend, filled with terror and self loathing. In a choked voice scarcely above a whisper he told Kenny the truth. All of it.
"After Mom won custody, she got a job reporting in England. So she just took us. She stuck us both in Boarding Schools. I was eleven. Things went right for about a year, then she lost her job, they found she'd lied about her experience, and she wasn't much good at it anyway. She got another job, was fired from that after a month, then a third job. By now she was drinkinga lot. Alyssa was expelled five times in two years. She hated me and she hated Mom. Mom crashed the car and Dad brought us home." Slowly the nightmare unfolded.
Kenny listened with a growing rage and horror at what the younger man had been through. The strain on Deke was too much, and he fell apart. Kenny stepped forward, knelt by the chair and hauled his friend into his arms holding on tight. Deke made the supreme effort, he felt safe with Kenny, and somehow regained control.
"Dad was really weird about it. He didn't seem to want us here. Then I figured out why. He didn't know which one of us had done it."
Kenny pulled back slightly and stared at his distraught friend. "Done what?"
"Fixed the car. Caused the crash."
"WHAT!"
The bitterness surfaced. "Yeah. It wasn't an accident. For a while things were fine. Then one night when I was fourteen, Alyssa came into my roomshe said she wanted to talk to meso she slipped into bed next to me. God help me, I was so naïve." He choked and the tears fell again.
Deke was spent, he couldn't cope anymore. Kenny got to his feet and picked his shattered friend up in his arms, carrying him like a child. The pain of the abuse Deke had suffered at the hands of his sister made Kenny want to beat her senseless. He'd never felt such hatred towards a woman in his life.
Ally stood aside as Kenny carried Deke to his room. It was quite a struggle as Deke was heavy, but Kenny didn't care about that. His friend needed him and that was all that mattered. He managed to get the covers back and laid Deke down, the journalist's fingers gripped the front of his shirt.
"Please don't go." The silver eyes were wide with terror again. So Kenny stretched out on the other side of the bed, put his arms round his young friend and held on. Emotionally drained and exhausted, they fell asleep.
Kenny was wakened by a rustling movement. He looked towards Deke, but the journalist was still asleep, worn out by his horrific revelations. Kenny's eyes adjusted to the darkness and he could make out a figure, and then the gun in the hand.
Slowly he raised his hands.
A gesture with the gun. He eased off the bed. Gotta get her away from Deke.
"Turn around." The voice was unsteady, and had all the deadly quality of a hissing snake. Kenny complied. "Put your hands behind you." Hesitantly he gave in, a loop of something slid over his hands and was pulled tight, binding his wrists.
He was pushed back round to face her. And realised he was in deep shit. The small fabric of sanity had vanished forever, her eyes were wild and there was this strange goatish cast to her features. Kenny felt the presence of pure evil. She looked towards the bed, moving over to shake her brother awake.
Deke woke in a hurry. His eyes opened and the first thing he saw was Kenny. And then Alyssa. Shit. Deke shivered in terror.
Kenny tried again to distract her. "You were the one that shot me." The truth of the statement was blindingly obvious.
"Of course."
"Why?" Kenny couldn't help himself. He had to know what was in this woman's mind.
The silver eyes turned his way. So like her brother's, yet unlike any human eyes he'd ever seen. Where Deke's eyes could snap and twinkle, and convey volumes of emotion, Alyssa's eyes were cold and dead, like a statue.
"It was a slow month. Ratings were falling."
JEEZUS.
"Now, the ratings are down again. So move." She gestured with the gun.
Kenny tried to play for time. Deke was a quivering wreck, fear in every line of his body.
Something woke Ally. The case itself bothered her in ways she couldn't explain. This wasn't a simple jealousy or open and shut anything, this had weird overtones, and an undercurrent of brutality that she wished she wasn't involved in.
Sheryl Webster's revelation that Deacon Carter had been sleeping with her that night, shocked Ally. Even more so, that Deke should have sought out his aunt, to prevent his sister raping him again.
Ally sat up. The pictures in her brain clamoured at her. Shut up. Shut up. Go away, I don't want to see you.
Then the noise again, voices, low and threatening. Voices, why me, why voices again. I hate voices. It took a moment to click that the voices came from down the hall. She slipped out of bed to take a look.
The door was only partly open, so she could see Kenny's back, his hands were tied behind him with some kind of plastic loop. She could hear Deke's voice raised in fear, and the sibilant hiss of evil, which didn't quite sound human.
Ally sped back to her room on wings of fear. She reached for the phone, cautiously. It was dead. She scrabbled in her bag for her cell phone. Frantically she dialled.
"Sheriff's office." She was whispering. "I need the Sheriff.now. No, I can't speak any louder. We need help.Where am I? Where am I?..oh yes, the Carter farm. You need to come with shotguns..or somethingI don't know. Only come now." She was babbling at him.
Alyssa had pushed Deke into his spare chair. She forced them out ahead of her. She was no longer rational, driven by the need to kill both of them. She stopped them at the head of the stairs.
"I can see the headlines now. Carnage at the House of Carter. All reported by me, Syndicated Network here I come." She gestured with the gun. "So which of you will it be first?" the gun waved back and forth between them. And paused at Kenny.
Deke found the strength from somewhere, he hurled himself forward and she fired. His eyes widened in shock and he fell, down the stairs. Kenny collapsed to his knees.
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!! DEKE!!!" He screamed. The click from above his head stopped him and he looked up.
The blast came out of nowhere, it caught Alyssa straight through the middle and hurled her backwards before she could pull the trigger. Kenny scrambled to his feet not even noting the source of his salvation, he ran down the stairs and collapsed onto the floor next to his friend. Deke was conscious, barely breathing, blood bubbled out of his mouth as he struggled to inhale.
Hands scrabbled at the plastic binding round Kenny's wrists, finally freeing his hands and he gathered the young journalist into his arms.
The light was fading in the silver eyes. A supreme effort of will, fingers closed again on the front of Kenny's shirt. Kenny pressed a hand over the wound, but it was too big. He knew that the end was close, the silver eyes held an expression of peace. As the welcome sound of sirens screamed down the road, Deacon Carter died quietly in Kenny's arms.
Salvation had come too late. Kenny was aware of nothing at all but the lifeless body cradled in his arms. He just sat on the floor and held Deke. Voices came and went above his head. Kenny didn't even notice. Some hands came down and tried to make him let go, but he shrugged them off.
Jill Brock knelt next to Kenny. He was in deep shock, skin cooled and clammy. His grip on Deke hadn't slackened.
"Kenny" She said gently. "Kenny, let me have a look at Deke now. You have to let him go." Very carefully she pried the strong fingers free, Max was on the other side and she gently pulled her husband into her arms.
Jill checked for signs of life, but he was gone. Probably within a few moments of being shot. She looked up at Max, their eyes met over Kenny's bent head. Jill gently shook her head, the negative. Max's eyes filled with tears and she clutched her shell-shocked husband closer to her.
Brock removed the shotgun from Robert Carter's hands. The man seemed in a dream somehow. He looked up at Brock.
"For twelve years, I haven't known for certain which one of them did it. Finally tonight I knew."
Brock stared at him in disbelief. An outrage building deep within him as he realised what the man was saying. He'd cut his son off from any love or help or care because he'd believed in the slight possibility that Deke might have been guilty of killing his own mother and crippling himself. The enormity of what Carter was saying was unbelievable.
The tragic results of Carter's indifference were stretched on the floor at the foot of the stairs.
Max and Jill took Kenny home. Reaction had set in, and he was almost catatonic. Between them, they got him out of his blood stained clothes and into bed. Jill gave him a strong sedative.
"Max he should sleep the clock round with this. I'll come check on him tomorrow night." She paused. "I'll give you something too."
Max looked at her. "Jill, I.." she pressed her hand to her lips as the tears started. "Oh God, Jill..I saw Deke lying there..and all I could think of..that Kenny was safe." She wrung her hands in distress.
Jill put her arms around the younger woman. "Max.right now, Kenny needs you more than ever..whatever you feltit was not your fault."
They buried Deacon Carter in the town cemetery. Most of the town turned out for the funeral. The unnecessary death of a young man, and the vile whispered revelations about his sister shocked the community.
Max and Kenny laid flowers on Deke's grave. Deke's editor had published the article on the Sheriff's office and neither young deputy really wanted to be around to hear their colleagues' outrage, the wound was still too open and painful for that.
Kenny smiled ruefully at his wife. "Deke had a wicked tongue, so I expect his ears are burning right about now." Max looked up and caught the flash of pain in his expression which he couldn't control.
She patted his hand. It was hard for him to come to terms with what had happened. The decision not to prosecute Robert Carter had come down from the Judge. It was felt that to pick over the remains of the tragedy would serve no purpose, especially as the people at the centre of it were dead.
Reluctantly they returned to the office. It was strangely quiet, people were moving around in an almost reverent hush. Brock waved them into the office.
He handed the paper to Kenny. "You might like to see the article." His voice wasn't quite steady.
Kenny sat down and read. He didn't get very far, the page began to blur before his eyes. Max perched on the edge of the chair and began to read over her husband's shoulder. It was a powerful reflection of Deke's skill with words. Unqualified praise and genuine emotion sprang from every line. It talked about the love and care for the community which was typified by the Sheriff's office.
Max's own eyes blurred as she read Deke's final personal tribute to Kenny.
I came into this with one agenda, to find out what beat at the heart of a community. I expected to find the usual evils of the human condition, the Five Deadly Sins if you will, indifference, over indulgence, waste, stupidity, bureaucracy. Kenny Lacos showed me something very different from that, through his warmth, generosity and genuine care for the needs of others, I learnt more about myself than I did about the Sheriff's office. May God go with you, Kenny, and Thank you for being my friend.