He didn't move; he didn't even breathe. He could feel her eyes on him and he tried not to react.
"I know you heard me," her voice hissed in his ear and peripherally she saw Judge Stanton glanced quickly in their direction, scowling.
Without looking, he put his hand on her forearm and gently squeezed. "Later," he whispered and after another couple of seconds of heat searing the left side of his head, she sat back and stared once more at her father's back.
With an internal sigh, he relaxed slightly. He was trying to concentrate on what the judge was saying but he was also trying to figure out how he was going to extricate himself from what he knew was going to be a very touchy confrontation. At least he didn't have to warn Mike; all three of them were well aware the jig was up.
Judge Stanton was getting to the end of his comments, most of which had gone unheard. Mike, Steve and Dan had zoned out to varying degrees after the mention, vague as it was, of the incident at CCI. Mike had resisted the almost reflexive urge to turn and look at his daughter, hoping she hadn't caught the reference, but when he heard her voice, low and garbled as it was, he knew.
Everything had become almost a miasma after that as he struggled to listen to the judge's words. His mind was racing back through the years, trying to remember all the other times he had chosen not to tell her about things that had happened on the job, things that would have only made her worry more. It had started when she was a child, trying to spare her; when she became an adult and headed out into the world on her own, he continued to spare her when he could.
"Lieutenant Stone," Judge Stanton said loudly and Mike's eyes snapped to the bench with an almost apologetic half-smile; he had let his attention wander. If the jurist had seen the lapse, he chose not to mention it and continued on. "On the recommendation of the District Attorney of San Francisco, it is the decision of this court that the pardon be granted and that you be released from custody forthwith."
Mike sighed loudly and turned to Jack Fowler. With a smile that was matched by the PBA lawyer, Mike shook his hand vigorously. "Thank you, Jack."
Fowler grinned. "You're more than welcome, Mike. I didn't really do much, and you really shouldn't've been in here in the first place but…"
"I know, I know," Mike replied with a soft chuckle, "I think I'm gonna be explaining that to people for long time."
Mike turned and glanced at the three behind him but before he could make a move towards the gate, Gerry O'Brien crossed the short distance between the two tables. Fowler, who was putting the papers in his briefcase, stepped aside to give the ADA access to his client.
The two men faced each other silently for a long beat, then O'Brien put out his right hand. With a warm smile, Mike grabbed the attorney's hand in both his and squeezed. "Thank you, Gerry," he said simply.
"You really don't have to thank me, Mike. I knew from the beginning that you didn't do it but, like the others, there was no way I could prove it and, you know, to be perfectly honest, you really didn't help your cause any, you're aware of that, right?" There was an affectionate lightness in his tone and a twinkle in his eye.
Mike chuckled and nodded. "Yeah, I was my own worst enemy there for awhile… but I don't regret what I did." His smile had disappeared. "But I'm also glad it's over," he added when he read the confusion on the other man's face. "And I have you – and a lot of other people – to thank for that."
"Well, you don't have to thank me again. I just want you back to work. You know, I never have to worry about any case that you bring me; it's always solid. You're good for my conviction rate so, in many ways, my helping to get you reinstated has been for a purely personal reason." He started to laugh.
"Yeah, sure," Mike pretended to agree with an ironic grin.
The bailiff approached. "Um, excuse me, gentlemen, but if you could, ah…" He gestured towards the courtroom door and shrugged slightly in apology. "Judge Stanton's calendar is pretty full today…"
Both Mike and O'Brien had looked towards the door and now looked back at the bailiff then towards the bench. Stanton was staring at them with raised eyebrows and he mimed glancing at his watch.
Mike grinned and pretended to salute with two fingers then turned back to O'Brien. The attorney raised his eyebrows and smiled. "We better get out of here – and you need to go home, once and for all."
Mike's face sobered and, as both men turned towards the small gate in the bar, he slipped his arm around the ADA's shoulders. Steve, Jeannie and Dan had stood and were waiting for them on the other side of the short wooden barrier. Steve slapped O'Brien on the arm as the lawyer walked past him and they shared a quick acknowledgement, then he turned towards his former partner.
Mike stopped in front of his daughter and their eyes met silently for a second before he wrapped her in his arms. Leaning forward slightly, with his mouth near her ear, he whispered, "We have to get out of here." He pulled back as he chuckled and she grinned at him, a happy sparkle in her eyes. She slipped her arm through his and they turned towards the door. Mike glanced quickly at Steve and Dan, smiling warmly, then let his daughter lead them out into the corridor.
Steve fell into step on Mike's other side, dropping a hand onto the older man's shoulder and squeezing. "How does it feel to be a free man again?" he asked as they started slowly down the corridor towards the main central staircase.
With a snort, Mike glanced at him. "It hasn't sunk in yet."
They were about halfway to the staircase when Jeannie stopped suddenly and spun her father to face her. There was a fire in her eyes, and all three of them knew what was coming next. "All right, Mike, what did Judge Stanton mean when he said you almost got yourself killed in CCI?"
While he was prepared for the question, he hadn't anticipated it would come so soon. He was kind of hoping she would have at least waited until they were home.
He stared into her eyes and she stared back, unflinching. Steve and Dan were on either side of them, watching the standoff like a tennis match. Mike sighed and glanced down the corridor; he did not want to cause a scene. He was still wearing the inmate's garb and it made him uncomfortable. "Jeannie – " he began lowly and calmly but she cut him off.
"Don't 'Jeannie' me. Answer my question."
He glanced around again, starting to get a little agitated. "Can we talk about this at home?"
"Just answer the question, Mike? Did something happen to you in prison?"
He cleared his throat quickly, and she knew she had him. "I'll tell you all about it when we get home, all right?" He put a hand on her elbow to turn her to continue down the corridor but she didn't move.
"Were you hurt?"
He stopped and looked at her again. "I'm here, aren't I?"
"Mike…"
He sighed again and rolled his eyes. "Slightly."
She sagged almost imperceptibly and her eyes narrowed. "Mike…" The anger was gone and concern now coloured her whisper of his name.
"I want to go home, okay?" He stared at her with raised eyebrows and a warm smile and, after a few seconds of troubled scowling, she grinned lovingly, took his arm and started down the corridor again.
"I want you to promise me you'll tell me everything when we get home." She looked from her father to Steve and Dan, who were following them with relieved smiles. "All of you, you hear me." Their smiles wavered.
Mike glanced at the two young men slightly behind and on either side of him. He knew them both so well, and he could tell by the looks in their eyes exactly what they were thinking. He looked back at his daughter and smiled. "We will, sweetheart, I promise."
She took his arm in both of hers and leaned into him slightly. Nobody could mistake the love and relief in her eyes for anything but what it was: she had her dad back and nobody was going to take him away from her again.
# # # # #
Mike was sitting in his recliner. He had changed out of the prison grays into his familiar checked flannel shirt and beige Dockers, and the black sneakers had been replaced with slippers.
Steve came out of the kitchen with three open cans of beer; Jeannie was close behind with a large bowl of chips in one hand, a glass of white wine in the other. "Here we go," Steve said as he handed one can to Mike and the other to Dan, then dropped beside the inspector on the couch.
"Thank you," Mike chuckled as he took the cold can. "I've been waiting a long time for this…"
"I bet." Dan laughed.
Jeannie put the bowl on the coffee table then stood close to her father. "Welcome home, Daddy," she smiled at him warmly as she raised her glass towards him.
"Thank you, sweetheart," he grinned back as he sat forward slightly and clinked his can against her glass. Then he turned to the others and did the same.
"Here here," Steve echoed with a warm smile and Dan laughed.
Mike inhaled deeply. "That smells wonderful."
"I don't have to tell you what it is," Jeannie grinned, "but I hope you're not too hungry. It won't be ready for a couple of hours."
"For your pot roast, I can wait all day, honey." He took the first gulp of his beer. He closed his eyes as he swallowed it then shook his head in pleasure. "Oh that is good." He looked up at his daughter, who had taken a sip of her wine and was now standing perfectly still, staring at him. "What?"
"So, what happened?"
He stared at her for a couple of silent seconds. "What happened when?"
"Don't play dumb, Mike, you know what I mean. You said you'd tell me." She looked at the others. "You all did – you promised."
Steve tilted his head. "Well, I wasn't there so I…" He let his voice peter out.
"But you knew about it?" Her tone was accusatory.
He swallowed nervously as he met her eyes. "Well, I, ah… ah, yeah, ah, the Deputy Warden called me –"
"He called you? Why you and not me?" Jeannie glanced at her father; her anger was beginning to build again.
Steve looked at Mike in desperation but got no help there. Mike was going to have enough trouble explaining the attack.
"Well?"
The green eyes that came back to hers were now hooded with guilt. "I, ah, I…" He cleared his throat nervously. "I had Jack Fowler put a note in Mike's file that if anything were to happen, I would be notified before you… you know… just in case…"
She stared at him and all three men could see the fury in her entire body. Dan almost expected the wineglass in her hand to shatter.
"Jeannie, he just didn't want to –"
"I know what he wanted," she spat out quickly, her eyes snapping to Dan and back then she stopped herself and an uncomfortable silence stretched out between them. They watched as she stared at Steve, then she began to calm down and her features softened. "I know what he wanted…" she repeated quietly, her tone more understanding. She turned to her father. "What happened?"
Mike sat forward and put the can of beer down. "One of the inmates was picking on another one, a newcomer who… was out of his element. He wasn't adapting to prison life very well."
"What was he in for?"
"Vehicular manslaughter. And the bully knew he found a soft belly and he went right for it. He, ah… he tortured him… mentally. And the new guy, well… one day he just snapped. He'd stolen an awl – it's like an ice pick – from an outside worker in the laundry… and he attacked the bully when they were in line in the mess hall…"
"What did you do?"
Mike looked down and inhaled deeply. "Nothing at first. Until he attacked the guard that came to subdue him… I, ah, I pulled him off the guard…"
"Was anyone killed?"
Mike looked up and nodded. "The newcomer. Another guard had to hit him over the head with his truncheon to get him to stop. It fractured his skull and, ah, he died a few hours later."
"What about the other prisoner and the guard?"
"They both survived."
"Because of you?"
"Someone else would've stopped him."
Steve, who was sitting near the armchair, reached out and put a hand on Mike's forearm. When the older man looked at him, he squeezed. Watching them, Jeannie took a step closer to the armchair, setting her wineglass on the coffee table.
"You said the guard had to hit him to stop him, but you had pulled him off the first guard. And at the courthouse you said you were slightly hurt." Her voice was low and laced with worry. "Mike, did he stab you?"
Her father stared at her and she saw him swallow heavily before he nodded. She caught her breath.
"It was only once and it wasn't serious."
"Where?" she asked apprehensively.
He cleared his throat and shifted uncomfortably, then his right hand went to the left side of his chest, just below his ribs. "Here."
She blinked several times. "Show me," she said softly.
"Jeannie…"
"Show me," she demanded a little louder.
Mike glanced at Steve, then leaned back in the chair and pulled his shirt and undershirt free from his pants. There was a tiny circular scar just under his ribs. "There."
She leaned forward, almost squinting. "That's it?"
Mike tilted his head and raised his eyebrows. "That's it." He didn't want her to see the larger scar between his ribs from the chest tube.
"How long were you in the hospital?"
"A couple of days." He tucked his shirt and undershirt back into his pants as best he could without standing, relieved that she was settling down and believing him.
She turned to Steve. "So you knew about this; did you go down to see him?"
He nodded reluctantly. "Yeah, just for a few hours. He was okay so I came home."
"And didn't tell me."
"Jeannie, we didn't want you to –"
"To worry, I know." She turned to Dan. "Did you know about this too?"
Surprised at being suddenly singled out, Dan sat back slightly. "Um, only after the fact…"
Exhaling loudly, she took a step back and faced the three of them. "What am I going to do with all of you?"
