This is a work of fiction. No copyright infringement intended.
Hunter and its characters belong to someone like Stephen J Cannell
Unfinished Business originally written by Morgan Gendal
OK - we all saw Unfinished Business right? So why did it happen? And what happened after? It helps if you can pretend that nothing from Streetwise onwards happened, except maybe in our nightmares. ;)
UNFINISHED BUSINESS - the whole story.
Chapter 7
Lieutenant Malone was already on the scene when Hunter and McCall arrived. McCall went to talk to guys from Forensics who were crawling all over the store while Hunter questioned the old man. He was weak, but determined to make a statement as the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance. As Hunter showed him the picture of Streiber he nodded. "That's him alright. Ugly sucker." Then the doors closed and the ambulance pulled away. "How is he?" Malone asked. "Well, he's tough. He's going to be OK." He smiled at her. "He did identify the man as Streiber." "Good, good." She looked around expectantly as McCall joined them. "The owner wounded the suspect, just like he said," she informed them. "There's a trail of blood going out the door." Malone nodded as she digested this. "If he was able drive himself away we should notify all the emergency rooms and clinics in the area." Hunter saw the dubious look on McCall's face. "I don't think this guy's just going to stroll into a hospital." She looked at him for support. He nodded. "Yeah, I agree. We're looking for a street medic who makes house calls." "You're probably right," Malone conceded. "Follow up on it."
When the phone rang Suzy leapt from the shower, forgetting in her rush to turn the water off. She snatched the phone up as she wrapped a robe around her still dripping body. She hoped that it was Nick, but feared that it might be the police again. "Hello?" she answered cautiously. The sound of the voice that croaked through the wires sent waves of relief through her. But something was wrong. "Where are you?" "The usual place. You know that doc you told me about? Get him. Get him fast." He sound weak. "What is it? Are you hurt?" "I'll be alright. Just get that guy. And don't come here. The cops'll be watching you. I'll call you." With that he hung up, and she began searching frantically through her address book for the number her brother had given her - just in case. An ex-paramedic who wouldn't ask too many questions as long as he got paid in cash.
Streiber lay on his bed in the Galaxy Motel, a towel wrapped around his meaty shoulder, absorbing the blood that still dripped from it. As he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the pain he tried to imagine all the ways he and Suzy could spend the money he had stolen. Just a couple of more stores and they could take off for Mexico and leave LA and it's stinking cops far behind. Footsteps in the hall outside roused him from his dreams. He listened as they came closer and paused outside his door. Two taps rang out. Painfully he stood and moved to the side of the door, gun at the ready. "Who is it?" he mumbled "Rydell," slurred a broke voice. "Suzy sent me." He unlocked the door and sat back down on the bed. "Let yourself in," he instructed. Rydell almost slid through the door. He was forty-ish, with long greasy hair, rumpled clothes and a Camel permanently glued to his bottom lip. The rough voice and bleary eyes betrayed his other vice - cheap bourbon. "I get paid in advance," he mumbled. Streiber indicated to a wad of notes lying on top of the TV. Rydell flicked through them, then opened the bag he carried. A cursory examination told him what he needed to know - slug lodged in the shoulder, not deep enough to touch the bone, but messy. "You want anaesthetic?" he asked, reaching for his scalpel. Streiber shook his head. "Well, if you change you mind, just yell." He began to chuckle at his own wit as he started cutting.
As Hunter and McCall returned to their desks Ray Garrett waved at them from across the room. "Dee Dee! You just got a call from a Dr Tate." He handed her a slip of paper. "He wants you to call him." Dee Dee took the message, smiling tightly at Garrett in thanks and sat down, trying to appear immediately engrossed in a report. She kept her head down, somehow just knowing that Hunter wouldn't let it go at that. "Dr Tate?" he asked with a smug smile on his face. "Gee, would that be the department psychiatrist?" She attempted to remain aloof. "I just made an inquiry." He nodded sagely. "Oh, 'an inquiry'. That inquiry wouldn't be yesterday's dental appointment, now would it?" For a moment she said nothing, then something clicked and she glared suspiciously up at him. "How do you know that Dr Tate is the departmental psychiatrist?" "That's common knowledge," he tried to bluff. "Really?" "Yeah." "Even though he's filling in for the regular psychiatrist who's on vacation?" "I'm very well informed." She levelled a sceptical look at him, then went in for the kill. "How's your friend's liver?"
OK - we all saw Unfinished Business right? So why did it happen? And what happened after? It helps if you can pretend that nothing from Streetwise onwards happened, except maybe in our nightmares. ;)
UNFINISHED BUSINESS - the whole story.
Chapter 7
Lieutenant Malone was already on the scene when Hunter and McCall arrived. McCall went to talk to guys from Forensics who were crawling all over the store while Hunter questioned the old man. He was weak, but determined to make a statement as the paramedics loaded him into the ambulance. As Hunter showed him the picture of Streiber he nodded. "That's him alright. Ugly sucker." Then the doors closed and the ambulance pulled away. "How is he?" Malone asked. "Well, he's tough. He's going to be OK." He smiled at her. "He did identify the man as Streiber." "Good, good." She looked around expectantly as McCall joined them. "The owner wounded the suspect, just like he said," she informed them. "There's a trail of blood going out the door." Malone nodded as she digested this. "If he was able drive himself away we should notify all the emergency rooms and clinics in the area." Hunter saw the dubious look on McCall's face. "I don't think this guy's just going to stroll into a hospital." She looked at him for support. He nodded. "Yeah, I agree. We're looking for a street medic who makes house calls." "You're probably right," Malone conceded. "Follow up on it."
When the phone rang Suzy leapt from the shower, forgetting in her rush to turn the water off. She snatched the phone up as she wrapped a robe around her still dripping body. She hoped that it was Nick, but feared that it might be the police again. "Hello?" she answered cautiously. The sound of the voice that croaked through the wires sent waves of relief through her. But something was wrong. "Where are you?" "The usual place. You know that doc you told me about? Get him. Get him fast." He sound weak. "What is it? Are you hurt?" "I'll be alright. Just get that guy. And don't come here. The cops'll be watching you. I'll call you." With that he hung up, and she began searching frantically through her address book for the number her brother had given her - just in case. An ex-paramedic who wouldn't ask too many questions as long as he got paid in cash.
Streiber lay on his bed in the Galaxy Motel, a towel wrapped around his meaty shoulder, absorbing the blood that still dripped from it. As he gritted his teeth and tried to ignore the pain he tried to imagine all the ways he and Suzy could spend the money he had stolen. Just a couple of more stores and they could take off for Mexico and leave LA and it's stinking cops far behind. Footsteps in the hall outside roused him from his dreams. He listened as they came closer and paused outside his door. Two taps rang out. Painfully he stood and moved to the side of the door, gun at the ready. "Who is it?" he mumbled "Rydell," slurred a broke voice. "Suzy sent me." He unlocked the door and sat back down on the bed. "Let yourself in," he instructed. Rydell almost slid through the door. He was forty-ish, with long greasy hair, rumpled clothes and a Camel permanently glued to his bottom lip. The rough voice and bleary eyes betrayed his other vice - cheap bourbon. "I get paid in advance," he mumbled. Streiber indicated to a wad of notes lying on top of the TV. Rydell flicked through them, then opened the bag he carried. A cursory examination told him what he needed to know - slug lodged in the shoulder, not deep enough to touch the bone, but messy. "You want anaesthetic?" he asked, reaching for his scalpel. Streiber shook his head. "Well, if you change you mind, just yell." He began to chuckle at his own wit as he started cutting.
As Hunter and McCall returned to their desks Ray Garrett waved at them from across the room. "Dee Dee! You just got a call from a Dr Tate." He handed her a slip of paper. "He wants you to call him." Dee Dee took the message, smiling tightly at Garrett in thanks and sat down, trying to appear immediately engrossed in a report. She kept her head down, somehow just knowing that Hunter wouldn't let it go at that. "Dr Tate?" he asked with a smug smile on his face. "Gee, would that be the department psychiatrist?" She attempted to remain aloof. "I just made an inquiry." He nodded sagely. "Oh, 'an inquiry'. That inquiry wouldn't be yesterday's dental appointment, now would it?" For a moment she said nothing, then something clicked and she glared suspiciously up at him. "How do you know that Dr Tate is the departmental psychiatrist?" "That's common knowledge," he tried to bluff. "Really?" "Yeah." "Even though he's filling in for the regular psychiatrist who's on vacation?" "I'm very well informed." She levelled a sceptical look at him, then went in for the kill. "How's your friend's liver?"