Chapter 8

Mac walked into the precinct, and Don was sitting at his desk writing his report. "Mac," he said as Mac came over to his desk.

Mac had his arm in a sling, and it was wrapped in a cast up to his elbow this time. "I want to see Jonathan Pritchard," he said.

"I'll get him."

"Good. I'll be waiting for him."

Mac went into an interrogation room to wait. His arm ached but he was going to talk to Pritchard anyway. It took a while, but Don finally brought Pritchard in.

Pritchard stopped and stared at Mac as he entered the room. "Taylor," he said.

"Why don't you have a seat?" Mac asked.

"What if I would rather stand up?"

"Sit down!" Don said and pulled a chair out.

Pritchard sat down in the chair. "Leave us alone," Mac said to Don. "And don't be listening in."

Don frowned. He had intended to do just that. He left the room, however and went to watch whether he could listen or not.

Mac stared at Pritchard a moment. "Why did you do this?" Mac asked.

"I know you have that flash drive," Pritchard said. "You know you can get away with anything."

Mac glared at him. "I do not have that flash drive, and I don't know who does. You may not have any honor, but I do, and I don't betray my badge."

"Why don't you save that speech for someone who believes it?"

"What happened to you wasn't my fault."

"You could have helped me."

"How?!"

"You didn't care because it wasn't you!"

"I did care! I can't believe that you would stoop to the level of doing something like that to another person knowing what it's like!"

"I thought about having them do it to you, but I thought since we had your friend it would be worse for you if it was someone you actually cared about."

Mac could not believe what he was hearing. "You get this straight: I do not have that flash drive and I don't know where it is. If I did know who has it, I would be the first in their door to arrest them for the murder of that property clerk…but I have a feeling that you had something to do with that."

"Are you expecting me to confess?" Pritchard asked. "If you are, you have a long wait, and if you don't have anything but the word of that criminal on me, you have nothing."

Mac leaned on the table. "You may think you're above the law, but when we find those other two, I have a feeling they're going to roll over on you too," he said. "And I know what they looked like. It's only a matter of time."

"I only wish I could have seen your reaction when you knew what was about to happen," Pritchard said. "I would have let you pull your hand off and I would have just gone ahead."

Mac frowned. "What happened to you?"

"I wanted you to suffer, and you escaped from it both times. You won't escape the next time."

"There won't be a next time. You're not getting out."

"We'll see…Taylor."

Mac motioned for the officer to come and get Pritchard. "We're going to meet again, Taylor," he said as he left the room.

Mac just sat there wishing that things could have been different. Don came into the room and sat down across from him. "What did you talk about?" he asked.

"The past," Mac replied. "He thinks he's taking vengeance for something that happened a long time ago."

"By trying to get that flash drive?"

"No." Mac sighed. "I told you that he and I were in the service together. We were held captive for two days during Desert Storm before we were rescued."

Don frowned. "That's what you didn't want to tell me?"

"I don't like to talk about it. It was one of the worst things I have ever seen. I'm just glad they stopped. Maybe they had a little human decency after all."

"Well, I've done some digging into this Nathan Trammel's life. If it hadn't been for him, we wouldn't have found Pritchard. He said he did it for the money, and I believe him. That guy has a child in the cancer center." Don shook his head. "Good people get caught up in ridiculous things like this."

"He didn't have to get caught up in this," Mac declared. "If you're wanting me to have sympathy for someone who kidnapped us and was going to drill your teeth, you can forget it."

Don nodded. He supposed he should not feel sympathetic but he wondered what he would do if he had a child on the verge of death and needed money. He looked at Mac who was just staring at him with those green eyes.

"You actually feel sorry for him," Mac said looking very angry. "How could you feel sorry for him?"

"Mac, I don't feel sorry for him as much as I do the kid," Don replied.

"People who will stoop to things like this deserve just what they get! I don't care what dire circumstances he's in!"

Mac got up and left the interrogation room. Don sat there a moment knowing that Mac was angry at him. He knew the man had no excuse for that but he supposed he had a soft heart for kids with terminal illnesses.

Mac went to the lab. He was still angry at Don for having sympathy for that criminal. He would not have any sympathy for him. He supposed Don was like that because he had not experienced any of the pain. He wondered what he would think if they had actually drilled into just one of his teeth. Mac sat in his chair and closed his eyes trying not to remember but he could almost hear Jonathan Pritchard's screams. He could not understand why Pritchard would want to do that to someone when he knew what it was like.

Just then, Stella walked into his office. Mac swallowed hard trying to get his nerves under control. "Mac, are you okay?" she asked.

"Yes," Mac said.

"What are you doing here, Mac? You should be home resting."

Mac could not argue with that. "Yeah, I guess you're right," he said. He stood up.

"I'll drive you home."

Mac did not argue. He thought he was too nervous to drive right now. He walked into his apartment and closed the door. He leaned on the door and wished he could stop feeling nervous. He went into his room where his bottle of pain pills were. His hand was shaking as he poured out three pills into his hand. He was only supposed to take two. He threw all three into his mouth before he could think about it too much and drank water. He lay down on the bed and waited for them to take effect. He remembered after he had come back from that war…he could not let himself do that again. He had struggled and finally gotten himself off those pain pills. He was not even sure he was in a lot of pain back then.

Mac knew when the pain pills took effect, and he slept…

Stella got worried about Mac when they did not hear from him all day, and she decided she would go by his apartment. She knocked on the door and waited. Then she knocked again. Finally, she heard the locks on the door and Mac opened the door. "Hi, Mac," she said, thinking he looked very sleepy.

"Hi," Mac said. "What do you want?"

"I just came by to check on you. Are you feeling okay?"

"I feel fine."

"You wanta go out and get a bite to eat?"

"No. I'm not hungry."

Stella thought Mac did not look okay but she figured he was just taking his pain medication. "Well, if you don't need anything, I guess I'll go."

"I don't need anything," Mac said. "See you around."

Mac closed the door. Stella stood there a moment. She did not like the way Mac looked but she knew him and he would not tolerate anyone butting into his business.

Mac went back to his room. He had been sick that day to the point that he thought he would die, but he had made it through that. He took three more of the pills from the bottle. He did not have to think about or remember when he took those. He knew he should not do it…no, he did not want to think about that. He could do what he wanted. He swallowed the pills.

Stella called Don. "Hey, Don," she said when he answered. "Do you know what kind of medicine Mac is taking?"

"No," Don said. "Why?"

"He was acting very strange when I stopped by his apartment."

"Probably just those pain pills. Those things put him over the edge."

Stella thought that was what she was afraid of. She did not know if Mac had ever had a drug problem, but she knew this case had shaken him up more than any she had seen.

"Something wrong, Stella?" Don asked.

"I'm just worried about Mac," Stella said. "I probably shouldn't but I can't help it."

"What's going on?"

"He just didn't look right, Don. Maybe it's just my imagination."

"I suppose I can go by there and check on him. Better yet, get Sheldon to stop by."

"Good idea."

Mac was lying on his bed in delirium when he heard someone knock on the door again. He thought he could not feel much at all, but he got up and went to the door, stumbling just a little as he went. "Who is it?" he asked as he got to the door. He felt like he was hearing his voice coming from somewhere else.

"It's Sheldon."

Mac scowled and then opened the door. "Sheldon, what are you doing here?"

"Just came by to check on you."

"Well, I'm fine."

Sheldon stared into Mac's eyes. He knew he was not fine. "Can I come in?"

Mac just looked at him a moment comprehending what he just said. "Sure."

Sheldon went in and Mac closed the door. He stopped and looked at Mac. "So, what kind of pain killers are they giving you for that?" Sheldon asked pointing to Mac's arm.

Mac thought a moment. "Oh, uh, the usual, you know."

"Can I see the bottle?"

Mac scowled. "Sheldon, what's going on?"

"I just want to see what you're taking. You know me. I'm a doctor."

Mac figured that made sense so he went to his bedroom where the medication was sitting on the nightstand. His hand shook slightly as he picked up the bottle. He knew what was happening to him, and then he realized why Sheldon wanted to see the bottle. It was still half full so he figured Sheldon would not suspect anything. He went back into the living room.

Sheldon looked at the bottle as Mac gave it to him. "Percocet," he said. "You're taking two of these every six hours?"

Mac just stared at him a moment. "That's what is says, isn't it? What is this? The third degree?"

"Sometimes these pain pills can make you sick. Have you been sick?"

"Yeah, but I can handle it."

Handle it. Sheldon had heard plenty of people use those words but he could not do anything. Mac was not his patient and he had no proof that he was taking more than he should. He gave the bottle back to him. "Is it keeping you asleep all the time? Maybe you only need half the dose. You can always take only one."

"Thanks, Sheldon. I know that."

Sheldon could hear just a little irritation in Mac's voice. "I'll go then," Sheldon said not wanting to take this any further. He hoped Mac would not do anything he should not.

Mac closed the door when Sheldon was gone. He was angry that he would come there and question him like that. He thought Stella must have sent him there. She was always butting into his business. He looked at the bottle in his hand. His hand shook slightly. He did not want to think about anything. He would just take more of the medicine. It helped him to stop thinking and stop feeling so nervous. He took three more of the pills and lay down on the bed. He wished he had injections so it could help him quicker. He turned off all the lights in the apartment and then got undressed and got into the bed. He lay there in the dark waiting for the medicine to take effect. He remembered being this way after he was in the war. He had had to take pain medicine to keep going when he was there and then he had to…

Mac sat straight up on the bed. What was he doing? He did not want to be addicted again. He went into the bathroom. If he could make himself throw up, maybe the pills were not dissolved yet. He hated throwing up but it was the only way.

By the time Mac got out of that bathroom, he was feeling truly sick. He crashed on the bed wondering if he would die. He pulled the covers over him. He was shivering and his arm ached. He would just bear the pain. He would not let himself be dependent on pain pills again. He had wanted to escape his thoughts and nightmares. He thought of Sheldon who had come to his apartment because he was concerned about him. He grabbed his phone off the table and called Sheldon.

"Sheldon Hawks."

"Sheldon."

"Mac?"

"Yeah, it's me."

"Mac, are you alright?"

"No, but I just wanted to thank you for caring about me."

Sheldon was not sure what to think about that. "Is something wrong?" he asked. "Do you need help?"

"I know what you thought, Sheldon."

"I'm sorry, Mac. I…"

"Don't be sorry. You were right."

Sheldon frowned. "What do you need me to do, Mac?"

"This has happened to me before, Sheldon."

"You were taking more than you were supposed to?"

"Yeah. I couldn't take it."

"Take what? The pain?"

"No. I just want these thoughts and memories to go away!"

Sheldon frowned. He wondered how many veterans went through all this. And what was worse, they thought they were alone, and that no one cared. He did not know what all Mac had been through in life. "You want me to come back over?" he asked. "I'll be glad to."

"You can't help me."

"I can sure listen. If you need to talk. I'll even meet you somewhere to talk, or I'll come and get you. We'll go somewhere, get something to eat or drink."

Mac knew Sheldon cared about him, and all his friends did. "Okay. I'll try to be ready when you get here."

"I'll be there soon."

Mac sat up but he felt so bad he did not know if he could stay up. He drank some water although his stomach still felt a little sick. He got on some clothes and then he heard someone knock on the door. He went to the door, and Sheldon was there. "You ready?" Sheldon asked.

Mac nodded. "I am," he said.

They went out to Sheldon's car and he drove over to a small restaurant, and they went in. "Hey, Sheldon!" the man at the counter said.

Sheldon smiled and waved to him. "John. How's it going?"

"Going good."

Mac and Sheldon sat down at a table. Mac felt embarrassed about this whole situation. "This is a good place, and not too many people," Sheldon said.

Mac nodded but he just kept looking down at the table. Sheldon was not sure whether to ask Mac questions or just wait for him to talk. A waitress came to the table to take their orders. "What will you have?" she asked and gave them a menu.

Mac looked at the menu. "I'll have a hamburger and fries," he said. "And a soda."

Sheldon thought a moment. "I think I'll have the chicken."

"I'll get your drinks," the waitress said.

Sheldon looked at Mac after she was gone. "So, what do you need to talk about?" he asked.

"I'm not sure," Mac replied.

"Why don't you tell me about what happened this evening?"

The waitress came back with their drinks. Mac put the straw in his glass. "I had a problem with pain pills once," he said. "It started out that they were for pain. But after I got away from the war, and I had to fit into society again, I started having these nightmares." Mac looked at Sheldon. "I had been over there for all that time with sand, and oil fields burning, and when you're there, your nerves are all on high alert, and it's almost like they're buzzing. I started feeling like that again, and the nightmares were like more than nightmares, and they went back to everything." Mac rubbed his face. "I haven't told anyone this before…except Claire. She knew firsthand. I don't know why she put up with me."

"Because she loved you?"

Mac looked at him. He knew that was the reason. "I know but…after she died, I had nightmares about that too. She had seen me get addicted to those pain pills to try and get through a whole night without screaming and thinking I was in a war. She tried to get me to realize what I was doing, and I finally had to admit it. I was addicted to them. She and I took a week off, and I…"

"You went through withdrawal?" Sheldon asked.

Mac nodded. "I wasn't going to embarrass myself by going into rehab. I've never been through anything that hard in my life, except the war. Claire even tied me to the bed once because I told her to."

Sheldon had had no idea that Mac had ever been through anything like that. He would have never guessed. "How many have you took this time?" he asked.

Mac shook his head. "You helped me realize what I was doing. I took three to knock me out, and after you left, I took three more, but I realized what I was doing and I made myself throw them up. I flushed the rest of them down the toilet while I was waiting for you."

"Mac, it's not the pain pills," Sheldon said. "You might need them. You could have given them to me. I could have given you just one every six hours."

"Sheldon, you're not my bodyguard."

"I'll gladly take that job, Mac. You're not just my boss. I like to think that you're my friend."

Mac sighed. "I am."

"Not just me, Mac, but you have Stella, Danny, Lindsay, Don, and even Adam. Sid. We all care about you."

"I know. I care about all of you too. I just don't like sharing my weaknesses or my troubles. I'm the head of that crime lab. I'm not supposed to be having trouble like this."

"This could happen to anybody. The thing is that most of the time people don't even realize it's happening until they're hooked. I'm glad you realized it before it got out of control."

"I couldn't believe it, and I was angry at you and Stella for…I was angry at myself I guess."

"Mac, you need to realize that you're a human like all the rest of us. You have to live in this world, and you have problems. You need people like everyone else."

"I know you've lost someone that you truly loved before, Sheldon," Mac said. "You must know what that does to a person."

Sheldon sighed. "I do, Mac, but I knew I couldn't face it alone."

"I try to keep this out of my mind. I try to work and stay busy so I don't have to think about it, but when I try to go to sleep, it's like a tidal wave."

"You can't ignore things all the time."

"I try to work till I so exhausted that I can't think about anything by the time I hit the bed."

"That's not good, Mac."

"It's the only way I know how to deal with it, but I'm thinking of joining a gym. When my hand and wrist get well, I'm just gonna start working out."

"That would probably help. You can relieve a lot of stress that way."

Mac looked at Sheldon and leaned on the table. "The problem is still this flashdrive," he said. "That's not over yet. We have to find out who has it."

Sheldon nodded. "I don't have any idea, Mac. Who would benefit from it? And why would they give information to Brianna Young?"

Mac considered that. "I think they did that to try and make it look like I had done it. I think they intended to kill her all the time, and that caused me to think it was the publisher of that paper. It's totally the wrong direction."

"I agree. Someone is very manipulative, and they know you well enough to be able to figure out what your moves would be."

"But why would Brianna call me to the bar?"

"You left your card with her, right?"

Mac nodded. "I think they might have forced her to do that," he said. "Jonathan Pritchard. But I think he's working for someone else. There's someone bigger."

"But who, Mac?"

Mac shook his head. The waitress brought their food. Mac took a bite of the hamburger, and it was good. He thought while he chewed. "If no one is going to report it if someone contacts them about any information on that drive, there's nothing we can do to help them," he said. "If someone would just report it, we could find out who's doing it."

"You know, if we report that in the papers, in the news, it might take the attention off you, and make whoever has that flash drive think twice before threatening anyone with it. It might take some of the tension out of this city."

Mac considered that. "It would certainly help in some way. I don't know what way but it couldn't hurt I don't think. I know a reporter who would love to report it too."

When they were done eating, Mac called Reed Garrett. "Hello," Reed answered.

"Reed, this is Mac. How are you?"

"Fine. How are you?"

"Well, I want to offer you a big story."

"Really?"

Mac could hear the excitement in his voice. "Yeah, really. How soon can you get to my office?" he asked.

"I can be there in an hour," Reed said.

"Good. I'll see you there."

Mac ended that call, and he and Sheldon headed back to the office. Mac sat down at his desk. He thought this story would probably get the right attention. At least, he hoped it would.