Chapter Six
Wednesday 7am
Jack was deeply asleep when the door of his apartment opened and a figure came in. Taking off her coat, she continued to the bedroom and opened the door. He was lying on his right side, mouth slightly open; quietly snoring. Suddenly, his breathing quickened and he rolled onto his back, pushing off the sheets. She sat in the chair by the window, shivering slightly at the cold winter wind, and watched him fight his nightmare. He rolled onto his left side and awoke quickly; groaning at the pain from his healing bruises. Wiping his face with his hands, his back facing her, he paused.
"Hi," he offered.
"Hi, I wanted to see for myself how you were."
He stood slowly and walked into the bathroom, not shutting the door. He opened the Aleve bottle and shook out three tablets, swallowing them with water. Turning back to Viv, he walked back into the bedroom.
"Want some coffee?" he asked, slipping on an old blue silk bathrobe.
Heading to the kitchen, he heard her soft footfalls on the floor behind him.
"No, thanks. I'll get some at the office. How are you?" she asked, sitting at the breakfast bar.
Jack poured pre-ground coffee into the filter; filled the reservoir with cold water, and pressed on. He turned back to face her, resting his weight on his right leg.
"Physically, intermittent headaches, bruises, et al."
"How's your ankle?"
"Yeah, about that. Anne said something yesterday that set me off. I took off my cast. I was done. I wanted out of the apartment, out of any constraints, away from any questions."
"Okay."
"I walked to the World Financial Center."
"Yesterday? It was arctic."
"Yeah, but my anger kept me warm. Anyway, I guess Anne called Glenn, who called me. We had a session at P.J. Clarke's, no less."
"Did it help?"
The coffee maker mumbled and Jack turned to pour himself a fresh cup.
"Yeah, I think so. I don't know. I'm just angry that my position in the miscarriage has been ignored."
"Position?"
"I wanted that baby, too. No one's ever asked me that."
"I'm sorry. Of course you would have feelings. I'm sorry that I wasn't more supportive."
"What? God, Viv, you're the only one who understands me totally; you and Tyler. You were, and are, great," Jack said, setting his coffee cup down on the breakfast bar and looking at her intently across the countertop...
"You're sure?"
"Positive."
"Okay then, I need to get to the office. Take care, Jack."
"Thanks for coming by, Viv. And thanks for keeping the office together," Jack said, walking around the breakfast bar to gather her in his arms.
She hugged him back and kept her feelings in check.
"Take all the time you need; the job will be there when you're ready to come back."
"Thanks for holding down the fort."
She smiled at him before she picked up her coat, slipped it on and left the apartment. Jack locked the front door and refilled his coffee before going to his computer to slog through the emails.
1:10pm
The phone rang and Jack waited until the machine answered it.
"Jack, it's Ritchie. I'm just checking up on you."
Jack lunged for the phone.
"Hey, I'm here."
"Hey, Jack."
"Hey, Ritchie."
"I called the office and your machine is full. I left a message on your cell. You free for a beer?"
Jack waited a moment.
"Uhm, yeah, Ritchie, I'd like that."
"Cool, so Peculiar Pub in twenty minutes."
"Sounds good. See you then."
"Bye."
"Bye."
Jack hung up the phone. He walked into the bedroom and changed into a pair of chinos and a t-shirt. Gathering his wallet and keys, he slipped on his coat and headed out the door. It wasn't a long distance, but the cold weather and snow covered sidewalks made him take his time. He walked in and saw Ritchie sitting in a corner. Limping to him, they embraced each other.
"I thought you'd be out of the cast by now."
"What do you mean?"
"When I saw you at the site, I didn't think it was that bad."
They were interrupted by a young man with a Mohawk hairstyle and multiple tattoos.
"Hey guys, what can I get you?" the waiter asked.
"Two Dewar's with a splash, no ice."
"What do you mean?"
Ritchie looked at Jack, seeing his confusion.
"Jack, my team pulled you from that building in Queens."
Jack was blindsided; he looked away to try and gather himself.
"What else has happened? You look worse then you did when we pulled you from the basement."
Thankfully, their drinks came and Jack took a huge hit before recounting the story of his hospital stay. When he ended, he felt a headache start and pressed the meat of his left hand into his forehead.
"Why aren't you back at work?"
Jack looked at Ritchie and tried to hold on to any composure he had. He couldn't speak, just stared at one of his best friends.
"Jack?"
Slowly, Jack told the story of Anne's miscarriage, his car accident, and Alex. Tears fell down his cheeks when he finished.
"Please, help me, Ritchie. I can't talk to her. I'm just so angry. No one wants to hear my feelings except my shrink. I just don't know what to do."
Ritchie took a long sip before answering.
"When Ricky died, I thought my world had ended and I blamed myself. I was angry at my wife, Ricky's sister, as well as his teachers and myself. It's intolerable to lose a child."
Jack leaned forward, trying to massage away his headache.
"What do I do now? How can I go forward?"
"See your therapist, see your friends, and talk about it. It's hard and painful, but you will get through it."
"What about Anne?"
"Jack, I don't know. I only met her once or twice when she was married to Max. I can't advise you on that. But what I will tell you is that you are an amazing judge of people. Your heart will tell you what to do."
"Thanks, Ritchie."
"You're welcome. Are you okay?"
"No, not really. After the concussion, I get killer headaches, sometimes. I need to go home."
"Okay, just hang on. Waiter, the bill please."
Jack started to squirm in his seat, trying to evade the pain.
"Almost, Jack. Just wait another minute."
He nodded and sat back in his chair. A few minutes later, he felt a hand on his shoulder. Standing slowly, he followed his friend out of the restaurant and they headed towards his apartment. Fifteen minutes later, he was unlocking the door and walking in. Dropping his wallet and keys in the ceramic tray, he walked back to his bedroom. Ritchie locked the door behind him and took off his coat, draping it over a chair. He hadn't been to Jack's bachelor pad, so he looked around. He saw the photos of the kids and of Tyler. Ritchie hadn't seen him since Jack was at Columbia, but he really hadn't changed. He looked at the documents on the dining room table. Jack entered the room.
"What's this?"
"One of Tyler's cases. He asked me to consult."
"Pretty upsetting."
"Yeah."
"Are you okay, or would you like me to stay a while?"
Jack looked at the floor and thought for a moment.
"No problem, I'll just call Meg."
Ritchie pulled out his cell phone and hit an autodial number.
"Hello?"
"Hello, babe, it's me."
"Hi, what's up?"
"I'm at Jack's apartment in Manhattan. He needs me. I'll be home as soon as I can, but I'll miss dinner with you."
"Oh, okay. Take care and give my best to Jack."
"I will."
"Bye, love."
"Bye, love."
"Meg sends her best."
Jack nodded and walked to the window and stared out into space.
Thursday 4:30am
Ritchie woke up when he heard the key in the lock. Jack had very purposely set the chain on the door, muttering something about unexpected guests. The light from the hallway silhouetted someone in the doorway. The person shut the door and fumbled for the light switch.
"Morning, Tyler. Long time, no see," Ritchie commented through a yawn.
Tyler stopped for a moment, running a hand through his long blonde hair.
"Hi, Ritchie. How is he?" he asked as he dropped his bag on the floor.
"Angry, hurt, lost, anxious; I could go on."
"I get the picture."
Tyler set his computer bag on the breakfast bar, dropped his duffle and briefcase on the floor, turned on the kitchen light, and poured himself a stiff scotch.
"How long are you in town?"
Walking into the living room, he sat down heavily on the closest chair.
"I've been working for over a week in Seattle with very little sleep. It was a big case and with Jack's help, we caught the guys. But I'm tired, so I asked my boss for a couple of days off."
Ritchie looked at this watch and slowly got to his feet.
"Well, I don't have today off. So if you're gonna stay with him, I'm gonna go home, shower, and go to work."
"Thanks, Ritchie."
"He needs to talk about his feelings, Tyler. It'll take some time but he will get through it."
Tyler took a sip of his drink and nodded. Picking up his coat from the chair, Ritchie slipped it on.
"Bye, Tyler."
"Bye, Ritchie. Take care going home."
"Thanks, I will."
Tyler drifted for a moment and then got up to lock the door. He settled back in the chair and soon fell asleep.
6:30am
When the key hit the lock, Tyler woke up immediately and reached for his gun, which was nestled in its holster in the computer bag. The door opened and Jack shuffled in. He dropped his keys in the dish and shut the door behind him, careful to lock and set the chain. He turned around and noticed Tyler for the first time. Tyler got to his feet and walked up to his friend, pulling him into an embrace. Jack felt cold and damp in his lightweight coat.
"I know you need to talk," Tyler began, stepping back, "but you're freezing and I'm exhausted. Go and take a hot shower. We'll talk later. Okay?"
Jack looked at him; his eyes trying to read Tyler's face.
"Jack, I'm gonna take a couple of days off and stay here, if that's okay."
Jack visibly relaxed and turned to walk to his bedroom. Tyler followed. The bed was a mess; pillows on the floor, sheets pulled out, etc. As Jack disappeared into the bathroom, Tyler sighed and changed the sheets. When he was finished, he turned the bedside table light on and walked to the door, switching the overhead light off before heading to the living room.
Jack entered his bedroom, slipped on a pair of clean shorts, got into bed and turned out the light.
12:00pm
The door buzzer rang, distracting Tyler from his work on his computer. He went to the door and pressed the speak button.
"Yes?" he said before pressing listen.
"NYPD, Mr. Malone, we need to ask you a few questions."
"Come on up," Tyler said, pressing the door button.
A few minutes later the doorbell rang. Tyler looked through the peep hole and saw the gold badges. Removing the chain, he unlocked the door, opening it to see two tired men with badges on their jacket pockets.
"Mr. Malone, I'm Detective Jessen, this is Detective Diehl. We need to ask you a couple of questions."
"I'm FBI Special Agent Tyler Simpson; Jack's asleep. Come in, let me go wake him."
"Thanks," Diehl said as Tyler shut the door behind them.
He walked by them and headed to the master bedroom. Tyler turned on the overhead light and continued to the bed. Reaching over, he gently touched Jack's shoulder.
"Jack, Jack, wake up. The police are here."
Jack opened his eyes and blinked several times before shoving the sheets aside. He groaned as he sat up and swung his legs over the edge of the bed. When he stood, Tyler saw the new bruises on his ribs and his jaw.
"Jesus, Jack, what happened?"
"I got jumped," Jack said in a tired voice before he slipped on his bathrobe.
Tyler sighed and followed his friend out into the living room. Det. Jessen was looking over the layout from Tyler's case while Det. Diehl was staring out the window.
"How can I help you?" Jack asked, trying to stand casually, leaning against the wall.
"Mr. Malone, I'm Det. Jessen, this is Detective Diehl. We need to know your whereabouts this morning around 5:30."
"I was out down by the Staten Island Ferry Terminal."
"Yes, we have a CCTV tape that shows a man matching your description fighting off two assailants. Was that you?"
"Yeah."
"What happened?" Det. Diehl asked.
"I was sitting on a bench and they approached me. The taller one asked me for my wallet, which I had left here at home. My watch was on my dresser."
"Your gun and shield?"
"My shield is on the dresser, and my gun is hanging in the closet."
"Go on."
"The tall one pulled me to my feet and hit me once in the face. He had a helluva punch and I went down. Then he kicked me once in my right ribs," Jack said before walking to the window to start to pace.
"Jack, what's wrong? What happened?" Tyler asked, recognizing the look.
Jack stopped pacing and turned to face Tyler. He reached up and touched his neck.
"They took your St. Jude and your cross?"
"They tried to," Jack replied so softly, the others strained to hear him.
"Mr. Malone, the two men are at St. Vincent's in serious condition. The smaller man has not yet regained consciousness," Diehl said.
"He's the one, wasn't he, Jack; the one who tried to steal your cross?" Tyler asked.
Jack nodded and then smiled slightly.
"The active word there would be, tried…"
"You got them back? Where are they?" Jessen asked.
"On the dresser," he answered, holding his right ribs.
"Do you need to see a doctor, Mr. Malone?" Diehl asked.
"No, I'll get some aspirin and I'll be fine."
"Why didn't you call the police?" Jessen asked.
"I called 911."
"But you didn't hang around." Diehl pressed.
"No."
"You'll need to come down and fill out a report." Jessen commented.
"I will."
"Here's my business card, Agent Malone. Just call before you come down to make sure we're in the office."
"Thanks."
"Mr. Simpson, thank you, we can find our own way out."
Tyler followed them anyway, locking the door and setting the chain behind them. He turned to look at Jack.
"Why don't you get your aspirin while I heat up some soup for lunch?"
"Yeah, okay," Jack said and then waited a moment before walking to his bedroom.
He shrugged off the bathrobe and put on a sweatshirt and sweatpants. Heading into the bathroom, he shook out three Aleve and swallowed them with water. He slowly walked back into the living room. Tyler was in the midst of opening a large can of Progresso Rich and Hearty Steak & Home style Noodles soup.
"Have a seat," Tyler said over his shoulder.
Jack sat on one of the breakfast bar stools and subconsciously put his left hand on his bruised ribs. Tyler poured himself a glass of Merlot and then turned to look at his friend.
"Wine or scotch?"
"Scotch, please."
Tyler poured Jack a glass of Famous Grouse, handed it to him, and then continued with the soup. He took out a saucepan and emptied the can's contents into it. He heard the click of the starter for the gas burner as he turned it on and adjusted the flame. Then he began to stir.
"What's going on, Jack?" Tyler asked, not turning from the stove.
"What do you mean?"
"I mean nobody goes out in the middle of the night and sits in a park. What were you thinking?"
"I don't know."
"Look, I know you're angry. I know you're in pain. But getting yourself killed to escape the guilt is not the answer."
Jack was silent, holding his glass with two hands. He took a large swallow and simply sat there, his eyes lowered; staring at the floor.
"I'm not trying to make you more miserable, Malone. I just want you to think about what you're doing."
Tyler continued to stir the soup, which was just about to boil.
"Can you get a couple of bowls and some napkins, please?"
Jack slipped off the stool and walked into the kitchen. He gathered the two bowls, spoons, and napkins and set them on the counter near the stove.
"Thanks."
Tyler turned off the gas and poured the soup evenly into the bowls. He handed Jack one and picked up the other bowl and headed for the living room. Jack followed with the spoons and napkins. They sat side by side and slurped their soups. When Jack finished, he sighed and stood slowly.
"Back to bed?"
"Yeah, I think so. Thanks for lunch."
"You're welcome."
Jack walked slowly back to his bedroom, took off his bathrobe, and got into bed, falling asleep almost immediately.