Faith of a Father
By
Rebecca S. Smithey
and
Nora Lou Wilson
A note to the readers: This story was produced in a twenty-four hour period just after viewing "The Job", and was inspired by the hesitant, doubtful look on Frank Reagan's face after his father's speech about God's plan. I, Nora, would also like to point out that, while this story may be linked to our others through my first name for expediency's sake, this story was thought out and fully planned by my co-creator, Rebecca. I was simply her willing passenger on this ride. (She is being much too modest, she wrote or helped write some of the best parts – Rebecca).
Blue Bloods is the sole property of CBS and no copyright infringement is intended.
Erin Reagan closed the file folder with a tired sigh and locked it in her desk. She glanced at the clock, and for the first time she noticed the ominous quiet of the building she occupied. What should I expect at 10:15 at night? She hated working this late, especially since Dick Reed had attacked her in these halls. Putting on her jacket and grabbing her briefcase, Erin left her office and cautiously checked those very same halls as she quickly exited the building. Greg Moser, the night shift police officer on duty, was manning the security desk near the metal detectors and Erin smiled at him as she left.
She pushed open the door and took a deep breath of fresh air. Well, at least as fresh as it gets in the city….finding a cab at this time of night will be a nightmare…at least it isn't raining…Erin made this observation and started down the stairs to test her luck with the cab situation, and her real nightmare began.
Diane Lawson watched as Assistant District Attorney Erin Reagan stood at the top of the huge staircase leading up to One Hogan Place, just as she had watched the building for the last several days. That's where that bitch works…the one who got Daddy sent away for life with no possibility for parole…What he done wasn't even all that bad. It wasn't as if those whores hadn't deserved it…sniffin' around Daddy like a bunch of bitches in heat…They deserved to die…everyone of them…Daddy is MINE! Just like he has been since my bitch of a mother walked out on us when I was eight years old…Then it was me and him, traveling around the country in his big rig. When the law got onto him about me not going to a proper school, he bought me a bunch of books to read in the cab and told those piss-ant truant officers I was bein' 'home schooled'…showed those bastards, aw'right!
It had been an education for sure…I was right there, watchin' him at truck stops all over the country, makin' those whores pay…I even helped him bury a couple of 'em…
Movement on the stairs brought her back to the present, just in time to see Erin Reagan reach the sidewalk and turn in her direction. She reached into the dirty rucksack at her feet and pulled out the .22 her daddy had given her when she started helping him. She slung the bag over her shoulder and started walking toward the woman who had ruined her life. I gotta get close, because the range of this little .22 sucks…but let me get close enough and those little long-nosed, hollow points could really do some damage to the soft insides…I heard all about it at the trial…
Diane Lawson got as close as she could, the little gun hidden in the long sleeves of her Daddy's favorite sweater. She stared into the eyes of the bitch in front of her and as she slowly pulled the stiff trigger said, "I've waited two weeks for this, you bitch!"
As Erin reached the sidewalk she saw the homeless girl start toward her. Since this sort of thing was not uncommon around the courthouse, she reached into the pocket of her jacket for the five-dollar bill wrapped in a sort of pictograph that showed the way to the nearest shelter. She always wished she could do more and wondered what had brought the girl to these circumstances. She could be pretty under all that neglect…she doesn't look all that much older than Nikki…
Erin wasn't going to make her beg. She started to bring the prepared money out of her pocket just as the girl spoke. But instead of the usual plea for cash, what Erin heard was, "I've waited two weeks for this, you bitch!" Then she heard a muffled bang…then she heard nothing.
As Erin Reagan lay on the sidewalk bleeding from massive internal injuries from a bullet designed to do just that, Diane Lawson scuttled out of sight, avoiding the notice of Officer Moser. He had heard the shot. But if he had not been making his way to the door Erin had used, to make sure it closed and locked properly, who knew how long Erin would have lain there, bleeding out her life's blood.
He used his shoulder-mounted radio to call the shooting in, and when he gave the address, it was only a matter of seconds before police and E.M.T.'s arrived. Moser stood just inside the doors, going over the event with the lead investigating detective. He also kept watching the paramedics frantically working on ADA Reagan. As they bundled her onto a gurney and into the back of the waiting ambulance, Moser remembered how she had always been very friendly to him. As the ambulance roared off, he thought he would probably never see her smiling face again. Suddenly, another anguished thought hit him: God, what is the Boss gonna do?
At that moment, Moser's boss, Police Commissioner Frank Reagan was at home, quietly sipping Jameson's in the dimly-lit living room. Across from him, Pop was sitting in his favorite chair, half-dozing, while a Glenn Miller CD played softly on the stereo. The relaxed mood was broken when the house phone rang, followed rapidly by the buzz of his personal cell. This can't be good, Frank thought as he tugged the cell from his pocket.
"Reagan," he said into the phone. He felt a cold hand gripping his heart as he listened to the caller's words. He fought to keep his breathing steady over the nausea, and he shut his eyes, hoping this was just a nightmare he would soon awaken from. But no, this was a living, breathing nightmare – one they might never recover from. He ended the call just as his father hung up the house phone. For a split second neither man said anything. They just stared at each other. Then Frank said "Nikki!"
Pop said "The family!" Frank tossed Henry his cell phone to start making calls as he searched his pockets for the car keys he rarely used these days.
"Isn't your detail on the way?"
"I'm not waiting. They can meet us there."
"They won't like that."
"I don't give a damn!"
Both men rushed from the house and ran to the car.
The seemingly endless ride through their neighborhood, back across the Brooklyn Bridge and into the city was punctuated by Pop's voice repeating the same phrases over and over again. "Erin's been shot"…"It looks bad"…"Bellevue"… and worst of all…"We don't know"…Frank felt that if he heard those words one more time he would lash out, something he wasn't allowed to do anymore.
"I talked to Linda. Nikki is at a friend's place. She and Danny are on their way to pick her up as soon as they drop the boys off at the Mitchell's place next door. Mrs. Mitchell has promised to get them to school in the morning."
"How much do they know?"
"Not much. Linda didn't want to tell Jack Erin had been shot…not after last month…"
"I guess I can't blame her for that."
"She'll do right by the boys. She always does."
"Yes, she does."
Pop was quiet for a long moment; then he said "She'll be all right, Francis."
Frank knew his father was no longer talking about Linda. He also knew he couldn't talk about Erin and drive.
"We'll know more when we get there."
"Which shouldn't be too much longer now."
Frank ignored his father's implied criticism of his fast driving. He also knew his father was just as upset as he was, but Henry Reagan had never learned to rein in his mouth. It had been what had lost him the commissioner's job, and what made Frank want to kick him out of the car in the middle of the Brooklyn Bridge. But he kept his temper under tight control. That was probably the only thing under his control tonight, and he hated that thought. Hated it!
Even as quickly as they had reached the hospital, he and Pop were not the first family members there. They saw Jamie, in uniform, standing and watching for them in the E.R. lounge. He stepped up as they came through the glass doors.
"Dad…Pop…she's still in surgery…they've been working on her since she got here…It was just a little while ago. They haven't been here long…I was just coming on shift when the call came in. The Sarge brought me the news, and I got here as soon as I could. The ambulance only beat me here by about fifteen minutes, so she hasn't been in surgery long at all…"
Jamie had to stop to take a breath. Frank knew when Jamie babbled like that he was hiding something.
"What are you not telling us, son?"
Jamie was forestalled from answering by the entrance of Danny, Linda and Nikki.
"What do we know? How is she? Do we know who did this or why?' As usual, Danny wanted to know everything at once. Nikki looked pale and shell-shocked. Frank put his arms around her and held her tight.
"Right now, you know as much as much as we do."
"Who could have done this?"
Nikki looked up, her dark, wide eyes flashing. "She makes as many enemies as you do, Uncle Danny. She just doesn't carry a gun to protect herself!" She burst into tears, pushed out of Frank's arms and ran off. Linda followed after, giving Danny a look to tell him to calm down before she brought their niece back to them.
"Sorry…I'm just trying to understand…"
"We all are, son…and your brother was just about to tell us something. Weren't you, Jamie?"
"Dad…I don't…okay, but keep watch…I don't want Nikki to hear this. The E.M.T.'s said Erin coded in the ambulance, and they had not gotten her heart started up again by the time they got her into surgery. She's…" Jamie throat started to close off, as though if he didn't say the words, they couldn't come true. "She…she's deemed likely, Dad."
Frank felt the world shift as his legs refused to hold him up, but before his sons could do more than make a grab for him, he straightened up, caught hold of himself and made for the nearest chair before he disgraced himself in front of his family.
As Frank sat in the chair, he saw his granddaughter and Linda return to the room. He couldn't let them see him like this. He got back to his feet to face whatever might come to his family this time like a man. He strode over to the window while Jamie and Pop distracted Nikki until Danny could fill Linda in on the horrible news. Likely…my only daughter… is…likely. Frank could not wrap his head around those words. Put together like that they made no sense. They could not possibly mean my daughter…my Erin…Not those words.
How long Frank stood at the window, he could not say. His detail showed up, Garrett in tow. The shooting had made the news, of course, and every news outlet in town was gathered outside the E.R. entrance. Garrett was handling the questions that no one could answer at the moment. Baker and the other members of his detail were standing off to one side, giving his as much privacy as he could want, but right at hand if he needed them.
Different people brought him coffee. He finally took the cup just so they would leave him alone. He was still standing there when Father McMurray came in and went straight to the rest of the family. When the priest shortly made his way over to him, Frank tensed. The last thing he wanted or needed right now was a bunch of platitudes from a man who could never understand what this family was going through. He was a priest, for God's sake. What could he possibly know about families…about losing a wife, a son, and now, maybe a daughter? All because of a job? What the hell could a priest understand about giving up everything…everything in the service to others?
Frank straightened up as he suddenly realized where his thoughts had taken him. At least Frank had HAD a wife…sons…a daughter…Father McMurray had given up those joys in service to others. It was a much chastened Frank Reagan who turned to greet the priest as he approached.
"Frank," the priest said as they shook hands. "I know nothing I can do or say will help in any way, but is there anything I can do? Can I get you anything?"
"No, thank you, Father."
"Would you like me to call John Boyle for you?"
Frank had completely forgotten the man who had married - then cheated on his daughter. "I guess I forgot about him, yes, please call him, Father."
"That's completely understandable. I'll go call him now, then I will come back and see what else I can do." He touched Frank on the arm. "Just keep praying, Frank."
Frank nodded, but didn't say what popped into his mind. He had not prayed – not really – in a very long time…mainly because he didn't think anyone was out there listening.
He felt his loss of faith very deeply, and had absolutely no clue how to restore it. When he was a kid, he had gone to the early Mass every day, and served as an altar boy. In those long ago days, the Mass had always left him with a feeling of awe and an intimate sense of the divine. As he'd gotten older, married and had kids, he had still felt connected to God in a personal way.
Then, as events had played out over the years, he had lost that sense of connectedness. He'd watched the church he loved deal badly with the pedophiles in the rank, sweeping one crisis after another under the rug until the filth had exploded to the surface. Disillusioned and angry, he had even put Monsignor Walter Doonan – his best pal since kindergarten – under a microscope. He had the department run a deep background check on his friend, an act that had caused a long stretch of unease between them.
9/11 had caused Frank to wonder more often if God was really out there at all. Losing Mary and Joe had widened the gulf. A priest had once told him that God never moved away, that only people did, but he thought that was too naïve an answer. Deep down in Frank's mind and heart, he thought that he might still believe in God, but the question was – did God believe in Frank Reagan anymore?
Now when he prayed, it was more of a practiced, routine way. It was automatic, mindless repetition of words. He would light a candle…say grace…but nothing lay behind the words.
Frank glanced at his watch. Erin had been in surgery for almost five hours now. In all that time, no one had come out to give them a status report. He took that as a small sign of hope. If Erin had already died, they would have been told by now. He looked over at Nikki. She was sitting on a padded bench near the lounge windows, leaning against Linda, who had one arm protectively around her niece. Nikki's eyes were even wider than usual, filled with a look of fear. Frank's heart grew even heavier with the thought of Nikki's loss should Erin not make it.
"Nikki!" John Boyle entered the emergency room lounge in a rush. He nodded to the others, then running to his daughter, swept her into his arms.
"Daddy!" Nikki seemed glad her father was there, but the sound of relief Frank expected to hear was noticeably missing from his grand-daughter's voice. Erin was not the only Reagan female John Boyle had disillusioned. He'll regret that later on, if he doesn't already. John was filled in on what they knew, which wasn't much, and he sat beside his daughter, accepting his limited role in this circle of anxiety. It was a closed circle…at least closed to him because of the pain he had already caused the woman now fighting for her life.
Frank turned back to the window, lost in his own thoughts and memories. He remembered the first time he held Erin at the hospital, a squirming pink bundle that looked like she would break with the tiniest movement. She was all legs and lungs…he remembered ballet classes and recitals…he had to miss a recital once because of a stake-out, so he'd gotten someone from the department to film the whole thing. Late that night, he had watched it, Erin on his lap asleep. He remembered when she would run to him for Band-Aids and splinter removal. When she made her first meal, he had eaten all the burned chicken and soggy potatoes. In his mind, he could see her practicing hook shots in the driveway, and how proud she had been when her high school team won the city championship. Her heart had broken when they were eliminated from the state tournament in the first round. She had practiced even harder, and the next year, she had won the MVP Award for St. Brendan's championship team. When Erin wanted something, she always went after it whole-heartedly. He could only hope that stubborn strength would see her through now. Sweetheart, you have to fight…you have to want to live…fight to live!
Two more interminable hours passed before Frank felt more than heard people stirring behind him. He did not notice Father McMurray's had on his arm as an exhausted-looking surgeon entered the lounge.
"Reagan family?"
Frank stepped forward. "I'm her father," he said, studying the man closely. The news did not look good. "My name is Doctor David Reagan, and I operated on Erin tonight. I wish the news was better. We have all done everything we can. Ms. Reagan coded in the ambulance and twice more on the table. There was significant blood loss and an incredible amount of damage was done inside her chest. We had to do an aortal graft to repair the most serious wound." He took a deep breath. "I am not about to lie to you or give you false hope. Her brain was most likely oxygen deprived and although we don't know for how long, given that, and the amount of damage done to her organs…well, we do not expect her to wake up at all…even if she does, she will most likely have greatly reduced mental faculties, if any at all. We have moved her into an ICU cubicle and although it is not visiting hours, you may go in two at a time…to say goodbye…We do ask that you do this as quietly as possible; we have other patients in ICU that we may be able to save, and they need their rest. We only ask that you be considerate of their needs…I am truly sorry…"
The doctor turned away and nearly stumbled from the room. He caught himself at the door and straightened up as he began to hear the sobs behind him. She was so beautiful…Dear God, please…it is now in your great hands…
The Reagans and John Boyle looked at each other – none of them seemed able to grasp what they had just been told or what to do next. A nurse entered the lounge, and after ascertaining that they were indeed Erin Reagan's family, she ushered them to the ICU.
"This is the Intensive Care Unit Waiting Room. You can stay here for as long as you like. Just let me know when the first two of you would like to go back and see Ms. Reagan." She nodded to the volunteer sitting behind a desk in the lounge. "If you need anything at all, this is Janelle and she will be happy to get you anything you need. My name is Latisha; if you need me, just ask Janelle to call me."
After a quick discussion, the first person to enter the room where Erin lay was Father McMurray, who went about giving the sacrament of Extreme Unction, the ritual that used to be called the Last Rites. As he moved around Erin, anointing her body, he tried but failed to keep memories of Erin from filling his mind: he'd been at her law school graduation, celebrated her Nuptial Mass, baptized Nikki and agonized with her over the divorce. He had thought she had a long, happy and fulfilled life ahead of her. Dear God,WHY? He prayed as he looked at her now, covered in tubes. The only response was the soft beep of her heart monitor.
He came out of the unit a bit later and nodding to Frank he took Nikki in his arms and held her as she cried.
Danny and Linda went back next, but only after calling their neighbors and asking them to bring the boys to the hospital. Protecting them was one thing, but they should have a chance to see their aunt Erin as well. They stepped into the windowless cubicle, and after years of practice, Linda studied the monitors. Nothing she saw there gave her any reason to doubt the doctor's grim prognosis.
She crossed herself and took one of Erin's hands in one of her own. It was probably her imagination, but she thought she had felt Erin's grip tighten just a bit when she first held her hand.
"Hey, beanpole," Danny said quietly, his voice harsh with unshed tears. "You gotta pull through this, kiddo…you gotta help me catch the mutt who did this…" He took a ragged but deep breath. "I love you, beanpole…" The tears started then, so Linda gave Erin's hand a final squeeze and took Danny into her arms.
Danny and Linda came out and quietly tried to explain to Nikki what she would see when she and her father went in next. John and Nikki went in, and Nikki was inconsolable when they came out. Pop and Jamie went in next. Jack and Sean soon arrived, and Linda talked to them for a minute, and took them back to see Erin. The three of them were crying when they came out.
Then it was Frank's turn.
He stepped into the cubicle and stood over his daughter. He took a deep breath as he laced Erin's fingers into his hand and squeezed gently. Someone had put a chair beside her bed and he sat, not taking his eyes from her face. Her skin was pale, and there were dark circles around her eyes.
She had been on a respirator, but the doctors had removed it, deciding that a respirator would just prolong her suffering. She was, surprisingly, breathing on her own, and a nasal oxygen cannula was under her nose. Her heart monitor was beeping, and a glance at the other screens showed a faint pulse and blood pressure.
This is my little girl…The anguished thought came into his mind. And she's going to die… The anger and grief crashed over him like a wave, and he struggled to maintain the delicate hold he had on his emotions. It just isn't fair…not again, God! Please!
From sheer habit, and with nothing else to lose, he reached into his pants pocket with his free hand and grabbed the rosary he always carried. His mother had given it to him at his confirmation, and it was rarely away from him. It had been years since he had actually used it as more than a talisman, a remembrance of his mother. He held it now. He closed his eyes, and from somewhere, the words came. He crossed himself and began the prayer.
Hail Mary, full of grace…Suddenly, his tightly held emotions gave way. …oh God, Mary…My Mary…can you see this? We can't lose Erin! It isn't fair! You have Joe – please Mary, please intercede for the life of your daughter! Please, Mary!
Frank's mind filled with memories of his wife and daughter. They had been playmates in Erin's babyhood, confidantes when Erin started school, sworn enemies as Erin became a sullen teen-ager (who tended toward being a drama queen) and best friends again when Erin got into college.
And, although they all missed her, it was Erin who had been most affected by Mary's death. Erin had lost the one person who knew her best.
The evening after Mary's funeral, he had finally escaped to the back porch. He needed the privacy because he had felt the tenuous hold on his emotions unraveling. He would not – could not let them see him crying. Afterwards, he was never sure how long he sat there weeping over the loss of Mary, the one love of his life. But, eventually, Erin had found him there and held him as he wept. He remembered how she had said, over and over, "Don't cry, Dad…I'm here…don't cry, Dad…"
Frank took a deep breath and his eyes suddenly snapped open. He wasn't remembering those words. He was hearing them.
Erin's eyes were open and she was looking at him. Tears were seeping from the corners of her eyes. "Don't cry, Dad…I'm here…" her voice was raspy from the respirator, but it was still the most beautiful sound he had ever heard. He leaned over and kissed her lightly on the forehead. Thank you, God!" he prayed, earnestly and with a sense of being heard for the first time in years. He got to his feet. "I'll be right back, sweetheart…your doctor is not going to believe this!"
The family looked up at Frank as he returned to the ICU lounge. They took one look at his tear-stained face, the ragged breathing and assumed the worst. "She's awake," he told them, and a gasp of pleased surprise went through the room.
When the nurse in charge paged the weary surgeon, he assumed it would be to come sign the death certificate and necessary papers to release the body to the M.E.'s office. But after listening to the astounding report, he raced up the stairs to see for himself.
In the typical contrariness of hospitals the world over, now that everyone wanted to see Erin, they weren't allowed. Time and time again, one of the Reagan family would approach the ICU lounge information desk asking when they could go see her. Time and time again, they would be turned away. After a while, the nurses would at first kindly, then more firmly, tell them to go home. None of them seemed ready or willing to comply with that request.
Frank wasn't sure he could handle the crush of the press right now, so Garrett was still going before the cameras. The investigating officer was clamoring to interview Erin, but he was holding back until a little more time had passed and she was stabilized. The news of her apparently miraculous recovery, against all the odds, was being compared to the Gabrielle Giffords case or the survivors pulled from the rubble of the Twin Towers. All Frank could feel was an overwhelming sense of gratitude and thankfulness that Erin had been spared.
At precisely 10:00 a.m., the nurse came in and informed them that two of them were allowed to visit with the patient for a brief five minutes. Nikki went back first, escorted by Danny. (John had left the hospital some hours before.) As he passed Linda, she quickly warned him against questioning Erin and tiring her out. "Don't forget, Danny – if she can remember anything about the shooting, she is still very weak and you don't need to add to her stress level!"
Danny kissed Linda and followed Nikki into the room. When they reached the small cubicle, the doctor and nurse were still there. Erin looked very pale and somehow smaller lying in that bed, but her eyes were bright and she was able to smile when she saw her daughter.
"Nikki…" Erin whispered. "You…look awful!" Nikki's response was a mixture of a laugh and a sob, and Erin said "Don't cry, sweetheart. I am going to be okay. I really am."
Her mom's voice sounded a bit scratchy from all the tubes and things, but Nikki had never heard anything so beautiful in her life. "Mom…Mommy! We were all so scared!"
"Sh…sh…It's okay. I am really going to be fine."
Nikki looked to the doctor for confirmation.
He nodded his head. "I don't understand it myself…but I think she's right!"
Erin slowly shook her head at Nikki. "You are such a cop already…looking to corroborate my story, officer?"
"Yeah, if you don't mind…I just want to be sure."
"Speaking of cops…I'm sure your Uncle Danny has a few questions for me."
Danny nodded. "The lead investigator is gonna come talk to you soon, but I want to hear it for myself – if you remember what happened. Can you, sis?" Danny had worked several cases where the victim had no recollection of being shot or injured, and that was a typical reaction for a lot of people.
Erin was nodding, slowly but very emphatically. "I remember everything. I was coming down the stairs of my building. I had just turned down the sidewalk to look for a cab when a homeless woman approached me…" She shook her head. "No, that's not right…I thought she was homeless…I remember thinking she couldn't be much older than Nikki…She came toward me with her hand out, but it was covered by a long-sleeved sweater that was way too big for her…I started to hand her money when she spoke."
"What did she say? What did she look like? Could you recognize her?" The questions came out of Danny in a rush, but he knew that her testimony would be critical in finding the shooter who nearly killed his kid sister.
"Yes, I recognized her, and I knew her…She said she had been waiting for this for two weeks…When she spoke I recognized her voice from a case…her name is Diane Lawson…she's George 'Butch' Lawson's daughter."
Danny nodded. The case had been Erin's most recent court appearance, a high-profile murder case that spanned four states and who knew how many victims.
The doctor stepped up then. "All right, you have a name – now get out and let my patient rest. She'll need plenty of it to recover, and I plan on seeing that she makes a full recovery." Dr. Reagan shooed them from the room.
When Nikki and Danny had left, the surgeon turned back to Erin, the patient who had defied all the odds. "I want to say thank you," he told her softly.
"For what?"
"For making me out a liar."
Excuse me?"
"You were not supposed to survive your injuries…I have never been so happy to be wrong…"
She thought she could detect a slight Irish lilt in his voice, but she wasn't sure. "Thank you, Doctor…?"
"Reagan, would you believe…?"
"Really?"
"No relation, as far as I know." He patted the hand that had no IV line running into it, made a note on her chart; then smiled down at her. "I'm going to have the nurse give you something to sleep, and then I am going to have a bit of a chat with your family, and get them to go home and rest."
"Good luck with that," she replied.
After Danny spoke to Erin, he checked on the family, then drove to the precinct nearest One Hogan Place and looked up Detective Raji Hanson. Hanson was the lead investigator on the shooting. He knew the detective would need to see Erin soon, to get her first-hand account, but in the meantime, they needed to be looking for this Diane Lawson girl.
Raji shook his hand and asked how Erin was doing. He was a tall, African-American, whose Pakistani mother had given him deep, penetrating eyes. He often joked that he became a cop just so he could avoid being a cab driver in New York City. After talking with Danny, Raji put out a BOLO on Diane Lawson. Her picture, taken the night of her father's arrest, went out to every cop on the beat.
When Danny left the precinct house where he met with Hanson, he started to return to the hospital, but turned his car toward his own precinct. One more cop on the case can't hurt…
With every police officer in the city, not to mention the investigators from the D.A's office, looking for her, it wasn't long until Diane Lawson was spotted. She wasn't a native who knew where to hide in the city, and uniforms in an RMP spotted her outside a warehouse near the old Brooklyn docks. Back up was requested, and Raji Henson and his partner, a rookie detective, attempted to make the collar.
At first, confronted by a dozen or so NYPD officers and detectives, she seemed willing to comply with the commands to surrender. She was about to lower her weapon, a .22, when an abrupt change came over her face. Her eyes seemed to glaze over, and with a weird smile on her face she rushed the two detectives. She was screaming and firing wildly, so Raji Henson took her down – ironically enough – with a bullet to the chest. If it was a matter of him or her, he was more than willing to oblige her desire for a suicide by cop.
After talking to the doctor, Frank did not go home, but he did send Nikki and the boys off with Pop to get some rest at his house. Jamie was back on tour, so Linda volunteered to stay at the hospital and keep them all posted.
While Garrett handled the press out front, Frank's detail spirited him out a rear door and into the escort vehicle. The driver started automatically toward One Police Plaza, but Frank had other ideas.
"I need to make a stop first," he said, and gave the driver an address. Thirty minutes later, he stepped out of the SUV and entered a side door of St. Luke's Church. He paused just long enough to light candles for Mary, Joe, and another one for Erin's miraculous survival. Then, he stepped into the confessional, knelt on the riser and listened as the priest on the other side settled into place.
He crossed himself. "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned. It has been three weeks since my last confession. These are my sins…"
Father McMurray's voice filtered through the mesh screen separating them. "Are you ready to make the BIG ONE, Frank?"
"Yes, Father."
"Then, go ahead."
Frank took a deep breath. "I…lost my faith…I was…angry…"
"He knows, Frank…the Father of us all knows…and understands…You may have lost faith in Him, but He never lost faith in you. And He heard you…he heard all of us…"
Note: While this story is finished, we may not have seen the last of the doctor with the same last name…just sayin'…
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