Chapter 2

Steve felt more relaxed after dinner. As he observed his father, he felt a little guilt at letting him know the details of his ordeal. His father was a strong and confident man, but Steve could detect signs of strain in his face and he knew he'd caused it. He usually tried to spare his dad the knowledge of what he faced, or what he could face, on a daily basis, but the events of that particular chase had really upset him badly. He wondered what his father would say if he had told him everything, how he'd actually hesitated and if it hadn't been for Cheryl, he may not have come home that night. Relaxing at last as he got into bed, he allowed his thoughts to relive the events of the morning.

"Police! FREEZE!" Steve yelled to the fleeing suspect. But the suspect continued to run and disappeared into an alley.

Steve ran after him, trying to determine what direction the perp had taken. Just as he was about to move again, he turned and found himself facing his target. To his complete horror he found himself facing a child, not more than ten or eleven, and he was pointing a gun directly at his chest.

"I don't think so, pig. You're gonna drop your gun!" The voice was a young boy's, but the face full of anger and hatred was not the face of a child. Steve was truly shaken by the realization and the shock gave the boy the advantage.

"All pigs deserve to be blown away, so whattcha gotta say for yourself?" The boy actually laughed as he recognized Steve's hesitation.

Normally Steve would have reacted, but for some reason he felt like he was frozen in time.

"I don't think so, kid. You shoot that gun, and I'll shoot you," Cheryl's strong voice broke the tension as she approached the boy from behind. After a moment, he lowered the gun, and was quickly arrested by Cheryl, who handed him over to a waiting uniformed officer.

"Steve, are you okay?" Cheryl's voice held a great deal of concern. She'd seen Steve's unusual hesitation and she could see he was still quite shocked.

Steve nodded, but both he and Cheryl knew he wasn't. However, there wasn't time for further discussion so they both moved forward.

Steve knew there could be consequences to his hesitation, and he wouldn't blame Cheryl if she put this in the report. However, she'd said nothing further at the time, and he'd been left to deal with his own gloomy thoughts. The resulting interview with the boy had done little to lift his spirits for he was facing a hardened and angry boy who showed little understanding or remorse for his actions. He considered himself to be a caring officer but when faced with such hatred it became difficult to remember why he did care, or why he bothered. What troubled him the most was why he was feeling like he was. Something about Sammy Peters had touched him, and he was left with feelings of uncertainty and doubt. Sammy would be tried as a juvenile, but the part of Steve who remembered staring down the gun and looking into the cold eyes, made him question whether this was right. He wanted to help but the questions were both why and how. All Sammy had said was that he'd wished he'd shot him for all pigs deserved to die. There was little doubt in Steve's mind that Sammy believed this, but it seemed terribly wrong that a kid could be so full of hatred. The entire incident had shaken Steve's confidence and his belief in the child protection services, or a society which allowed kids to fall through the cracks and become so embittered and angry at such a young age.

Sighing, Steve tried to block his unhappy thoughts as he finally drifted off to sleep.

Steve slept reasonably well all things considered. Every now and again Sammy's angry face would appear before him, but he had been tired enough to get some much needed rest. By the time he got up the next morning, he'd decided to try to put the unfortunate event behind him. The facts were that he hadn't shot a child, and he hadn't been shot himself and it was time to move on. It was a sad truth that the world had become a violent and frightening place and children were no longer children in many cases.

Mark had already left by the time Steve got up, but he was glad to see the coffee was still on. The phone ringing stopped his breakfast preparations.

"Sloan."

There was silence at the other end and Steve waited a moment before snapping again, "Sloan, here." The last thing he wanted, before his morning coffee, was a nuisance call.

"You're a dead man…"

"What?" Steve was startled, both at the message and the voice—a very young voice.

"You're a dead man. You shouldn't have arrested Sammy. If you want to live, you'll release him." The phone line went dead.

Steve was stunned as he replaced the phone and he walked slowly over to his coffee. So much for putting yesterday's incident behind him. It wasn't the first death threat he'd received, and almost certainly wouldn't be the last, but he couldn't recall receiving a threat from anyone so young for the voice had definitely sounded very young. He sipped his coffee as he considered his options. If he reported it, as he should, it could make more trouble for Sammy and he really didn't want to do that. Sammy was off the street and had been placed in detention, so there was no real reason to suspect he was behind the threat. If his friends had decided to try to force his release, then it wasn't really his fault. He remembered the conversation of the previous night when Amanda had correctly pointed out a child with a gun was as deadly as an adult. However, on remembering Sammy, he decided to keep it to himself. He couldn't explain why but he was feeling a strong sense of needing to protect Sammy and his previous decision to move forward from the incident was changed.

As Steve drove to work, he found himself still thinking about the situation. He wasn't particularly perturbed about the death threat, but part of him wanted to investigate and to try to find out more about Sammy. For some reason Sammy wasn't going to go away and it wasn't anything he could ignore although he wasn't sure why. When he arrived at work, he was met by Cheryl.

"Hey, Steve, how are you doing today?" Cheryl was both a friend and a partner, and she'd been very worried about him yesterday. She'd noticed his hesitation when he had a gun pointed at him, and she'd had to think a great deal about whether to mention it in her report or not. She'd decided that the hesitation had only been momentary so she would try to talk to her partner about it, rather than make life more difficult for him. She was painfully aware of how he took things to heart at times.

It was what made him who he was, a good man, and a good cop, but it also affected him badly at times. Cheryl sometimes feared he'd burn himself out, or become disillusioned with police work, but somehow he always bounced back.

"Yeah, I'm okay. What's the news on Sammy?" Steve asked quickly.

"He was taken to Juvenile Hall and he's awaiting a court hearing today. He was carrying a gun, so my guess is he'll be held there. Hey…" Cheryl saw the expression on Steve's face. "He's a violent young thug. Do you really think he should be roaming the streets?"

Steve shrugged. "He's also a kid and might benefit from a second chance." A flashback of the moment when he'd stared into the gun, and the cold, cruel eyes of Sammy came back. Steve hadn't seen any sign of remorse or worry, but he couldn't free himself of the knowledge that he was so young. Surely he could change if he was given a chance? So was putting him in a place for delinquent children such a good move? If he was surrounded by bad influences, what chance would he have? Steve knew he couldn't save them all, but if he could help Sammy surely that would be something. The feeling of needing to save him seemed to be increasing rapidly.

"Have you read his rap sheet?" Cheryl shook her head. She wouldn't want Steve to be any different than what he was, but she wished from time to time he didn't care so much. She'd hoped this case would be over with, but she had a feeling it was just starting. "He's been in and out of institutions since he was seven, and the last few offences have been with deadly weapons."

The phone ringing stopped the conversation and Steve reached over for it wearily. He knew Cheryl was right, but that didn't make the situation better. The call was a report of a body found in an old warehouse and he was grateful for the reprieve.

They drove in silence to the warehouse, both deep with their own thoughts, but when they arrived, no one was around. Steve looked at the address he'd been given and exchanged a glance with Cheryl. No uniformed officers, no spectators, the area was deserted. They got out of the car, looking around but the area was eerily quiet. Steve moved forward slowly, instinctively reaching for his gun. Cheryl moved back to the car to radio in. Something felt very bad and she wanted back-up.

Steve moved towards the warehouse cautiously, looking from side to side, but there was no sign of life. As he turned a corner, he neared a row of garbage cans and paused momentarily as he thought he heard a sound. Drawing his gun again, he kept walking forward, being taken completely by surprise as the garbage cans were pushed over, knocking into his legs and causing him to fall facedown, stunned. He started to struggle up, but he suddenly found himself with a weight pushing down on his back holding him down. As his hair was grabbed and head pulled back roughly he tried not to choke. He blinked as he saw the barrel of a gun being pressed into his face.

"You can be dead anytime, pig. You just make sure Sammy gets out, or you won't see me coming…" Steve tried to move, but he felt several pairs of hands holding him down and his hair was held firmly.

"Hold it right there! Drop your weapon! Police!" Cheryl's voice shouted at Steve's assailants. Steve breathed in relief as the hand loosened its hold on his hair, but his relief was short-lived as the gun barrel came down hard on his head, knocking him out. The last thing he was aware of was the sound of footsteps running and Cheryl shouting.

"Steve, are you okay?" Cheryl ran up to the prone figure of her partner. He was unconscious, with the blood flowing from the cut on his forehead. He smelled badly of the garbage but she was thankful to feel his pulse and to know he was still breathing. Although the assailants had only been teenagers, the blow to Steve's head had been vicious. They'd run off before she could get a clear enough look at them to make an identification, and she was far more worried about her injured partner. She reached for her cell phone and called for an ambulance.