The piercing, annoying melody continued. He ignored it numerous times during the course of the morning but decided to finally answer his cell phone. The relentless caller was obviously anxious to divulge pertinent information.
He opened his eyes and reached for the phone on the coffee table, forcing his body to cooperate. He realized he dosed off with the television on and noticed the morning news show was currently broadcasting the day's weather.
The time display on the phone showed eight o'eight am. He was more than a little surprised he slept as long as he did and willed himself to sit up, aware of the stiffness in his neck and back from his night on the sofa but even more conscious of the soreness of his left arm and shoulder.
He noticed the number of the incoming call belonged to Faith's home phone and answered while he slowly positioned himself upright, as much as his aching body would allow.
"Yeah...it's me..." Bosco answered unable to completely conceal the discomfort and exhaustion in his voice.
"Hey...how are you doin?" Faith asked with concern.
"I'm good." Her partner answered, wondering what could be so important as to warrant such an unmerciful awakening.
She continued, feeling bad to have disturbed him and not completely satisfied that he was fine. "I didn't mean to wake you."
"No...you didn't." He lied. "I was just getting ready to go to the house and check out the surveillance video from yesterday morning." He exclaimed, berating himself that he hadn't done so last night. The sooner the suspect was in lock-up, the better.
"Bosco...did you watch the news yet?" She asked with hesitation. He didn't seem to be aware of the events of another robbery late last night. A crime that, so far, matched the same modus operandi as the one committed at Jolly's.
"No...not yet...why?" He could tell she was trying to break something to him gently. "What happened?"
"The shooter from the robbery you were involved in, Bos...he struck again last night at an all night market on Bleecker at 110th. She continued with uncertainty, knowing the news would upset him. "At least that's what the MO points to."
"...and?" He asked, getting annoyed by her evident stalling.
"Bosco...he shot and killed the night-shift employee sometime before midnight. The victim was found in the back of the store early this morning. The market's film has already been viewed by the detective's and as far as they can tell, the description of the perp in both store robberies seems to be a probable match."
It was awful news he never expected and he knew he was to blame. Even if the blame was indirect. He let the skel get away and there was no excuse in the world to justify his inability to perform his job, even though he was off-duty, he needed to be held accountable. He was there.
"Are they sure?" He quietly asked, knowing they were or Faith wouldn't have called him.
"As sure as they can be. The perp's face is somewhat unclear in the video because of the hood but the clothing looks identical." The silence on the other end pained her. In fact, she felt sick to her stomach. "Bosco...you can't blame yourself!"
Faith knew her partner felt remorse and would blame himself for the tragic outcome of last night's robbery. "That guy shot and could have killed you. You did all you could to apprehend him." She tried to reassure him and perhaps ease his feelings of guilt. "Even though we don't have much, somebody out there might still be able to recognize him, Bos. He won't get away with murder."
Bosco stood up and paced the small living room trying to absorb all the information his partner relayed. He felt like shit and the news he just received only made him feel worse, if that were at all possible. "I'm going to the Precinct, Faith. I need to see the films for myself. I'll talk to you later." He said as he closed their conversation and tossed the phone onto the sofa.
After a few more seconds of nerve-racked pacing, he sat back down and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. He proceeded to slowly massage his temples as various thoughts of how he might have handled yesterday's situation differently entered his mind.
He screwed up, big time, and now an innocent person was dead. With more effort on his part, he could have had the jag-off he pursued twenty-four hours earlier.
What if he would have had his off-duty weapon? He usually did. What made him leave it at home this time? Maybe he should have fought the bastard and wrestled the gun away from him, or perhaps thrown something at him to slow him down as he ran. If his chase had resulted in a capture, the perp would have been in custody and the robbery victim would still be alive.
No matter how he tried to second-guess his actions, his feelings of incompetence were present. He didn't do enough and nothing could change that fact. By letting the scum-bag get away, he failed and someone died because of it. Somehow, he had to remedy the incident. He knew it could take days or even weeks but he would not give up until an arrest was made.
He quickly washed as best as he could and threw on a pair of jeans and a faded t-shirt, grabbing the jacket and keys which conveniently hung by the door and hurriedly left the apartment. He vowed to spend the next several hours, even days, gathering information on the most recent robberies in the Big Apple.
It was shortly after one in the morning when the unkempt young man entered the building with various neon signs and lights positioned above the door. He was underage to be considered a patron of such an establishment, but the seedy man at the entrance always let him in. For a few extra bucks, he was allowed to stay for hours at a time. He didn't come here often, but there was no where else he could go. He had heard from a reliable source that the cops were looking for someone matching his general description, which would probably account for a large percentage of the city's population, but he didn't want to take any chances.
Maybe the cops already knew who he was, therefore, he didn't dare go to the pool halls he frequented on the possibility the buildings were under surveillance, besides, he didn't think he'd be welcome at them after the threats he bestowed on the hall's regulars if they gave him up. With the right motivation, someone would eventually rat him out, he was sure of it. The pigs had ways of making people talk. He didn't have any family or friends to crash at. His parents moved to Florida after the death of his brother. They never got over the shame, his father proclaimed on more than one occasion, of raising two worthless sons.
He briefly wondered if his inability to maintain friendships would hurt him in the long run. Even a casual acquaintance would probably welcome him in his time of need and grant him temporary refuge. At least as long as the good Samaritan was unaware of the circumstances surrounding his visit.
He didn't trust anyone and hadn't had a close friend since elementary school. He and his brother were close. Danny was his best friend until that bastard cop killed him. He'd been truly alone since the fateful day his brother died. Soon after, the streets became his home. Now the cops could be looking for him and they were pulling all the stops in doing so.
Last night's shooting was an accident. The guy working behind the counter argued about giving him the money. The gun went off as he attempted to jump the counter to collect it himself. He got forty six dollars for his trouble, not even enough to make a buy, and the guy in the store got a death sentence for his uncooperation.
If things weren't bad enough, his small supply was running low and the urge for a hit was overwhelming, but the need to stay out of sight won over, for now. He had to stay hidden until he could figure out a way to leave the city, which of course, would be his last resort.
He leaned his chair against the wall of the small booth and fell into a restless sleep as a scantily clad woman danced for him behind the glass partition.
It was Bosco's first day back on patrol since the shooting. He spent the last two weeks on desk duty scanning mug-shots while attending to work-related matters, and endlessly going over the videotapes during his breaks. The clothing worn by the criminal in both robberies was identical, right down to the stain on the left sleeve of his sweatshirt.
The films were clear enough, but the robber's face was pretty well hidden by his hood. Even so, anyone who knew him might be able to identify him.
As good as the police sketch artist's rendering of the suspect was, no one came forward to identify him. The pictures were shown at various bars and pool halls in the vicinity of the robberies, but to no avail. The police had no useable fingerprints either. Another plus in the wanted man's favor.
Lieutenant Swersky finished roll-call with his usual words of caution to his troops. He had gone over the recent convenience store murder/robberies and informed the room of officers that the suspect was still on the lose and they were no closer to an arrest then they were eighteen days ago. Unfortunately, the photos in their possession allowed the wanted individual his undeserved freedom. If anyone knew the identity of the man, they were not admitting to it. He was in the wind and managed to stay there.
"Boscorelli...stop up front on your way out." He added.
"Yes sir." The patrolman responded, wondering what his supervisor wanted. He hoped he wasn't going to insist on a more limited workload. After all, he did have medical clearance to return to full duty. No, it must be something else.
"I'll get the radios and meet you outside." Faith said, interrupting his thoughts. He only nodded in agreement.
Bosco approached Swersky as a few of the exiting officers he hadn't seen in awhile, acknowledged his return. When they were finally alone, the Lieutenant began with a sincere greeting. "It's good to have you back Bosco...how are you doing?" He asked with genuine concern.
"I'm fine boss. It was only a flesh wound." Bosco explained, anxious to get out on patrol. "I'm more than ready to be back in 5-5 David."
"You know...Homicide is working the murder/robberies, non-stop, all shifts." Swersky stated.
"I know." Bosco nodded in agreement wondering where this discussion was leading.
"Look Bosco...I'm gonna level with you. I received a call from Frank over at O'Mally's. He said you've stopped by there every night for the past two weeks questioning his patrons." Swersky sternly stated. "You know it's against Regulation to take on an investigation on your own and you know the reasons for it."
Okay Bosco thought, here goes, as long as he doesn't know about the fight.
"Also, he mentioned the confrontation between you and one of his customers." Swersky added, with a more serious tone than before.
Oh great! He does know about the fight. "So then...you know?" He looked down sheepishly for a moment as he quietly responded.
The Lieutenant continued. "If you're referring to the melee you were a part of last night...then yes...I know." He wasn't quite as angry as Bosco imagined he would be. "I know you want this guy Bosco. We all do...before he kills or injures someone else. He obviously has no qualms about shooting police officers or anybody else for that matter."
"I let the guy get away boss and he killed a defenseless person because of it." Bosco said with genuine regret. "I need to do more than drive around and hope I spot him on the street somewhere!" He continued, raising his voice more than was acceptable, especially when addressing a superior.
"You are, Bosco...by doing the job that's assigned to you. You know there's an APB on the perp. I don't need to tell you how often an All Points on a suspect has led to an arrest." Swersky stated emphatically. "I also don't need to remind you that we can't take what happens on the Job personally. You need to detach yourself from this case Bosco. Furthermore, if I hear any more complaints regarding your off-duty involvement in any way, shape, or form, I'll have no choice but to issue a Command Discipline. Do I make myself clear?"
"Yes sir." Bosco acknowledged the man, realizing how this could have gone so much worse for him. He didn't need another Discipline on his record, but it still wasn't as bad as a Suspension.
"All right then...as long as we understand each other, you're free to go. We've kept Yokas waiting long enough. Remember, by the book Boscorelli." The Lieutenant reiterated as he dismissed the officer.
Bosco left the room and proceeded to descend the stairs as he caught sight of Cruz and her team processing their latest conquests. He wondered how his career might have differed if he could have stayed with Anti-Crime. The short time he worked with the unit was anything but dull, even rewarding at times, but the Sergeant had her own agenda, and he still wasn't sure what it was. If anyone needed a "by the book" lecture, it was Cruz. In fact, as far as he was concerned, it was long overdue.
He headed for the squad and noticed his partner occupying the driver's seat. He usually preferred to drive, however, as a passenger, he would be able to focus on the pedestrians out and about. He might even luck out and spot the elusive perpetrator on his personal most wanted list.
"Well...you look no worse for wear. I'm guessing everything's okay?" Faith asked.
"Everything's fine...we were just going over a few things." Bosco responded as he entered the RMP. He never told Faith about his late night, after-hours surveillances. He didn't want her involved in any way.
The shift was dragging by slowly. Two hours still remained before they could call it a day. Bosco went over his itinerary for tonight. He knew he couldn't go into any of the establishments he'd already been to, but the Lieutenant never said anything about observing the businesses from outside. He'd sit in his car until they closed and cruise the streets for a while afterward.
He certainly harbored no hard feelings towards Swersky regarding the reprimand. He was only doing his job. Anyone else would have probably suspended him.
Faith continued rambling on about the Yokas Family escapades as he pretended to listen, casting an occasional glance her way so she wouldn't notice his mind was elsewhere.
The Job. It was more than his livelihood. It was his life. He didn't have a family to go home to like his partner did. His time was not consumed by a wife or children who needed his attention, therefore, he volunteered for more over-time shifts than his counterparts did. If he didn't have a family to do good for, he would do good for the citizens of the community.
He swore to "protect and serve." He often wondered if he could lay down his life to save someone. He knew he would for a child or his partner, no question, but he honestly wasn't sure if he could for a perfect stranger. How could anyone be sure unless the opportunity presented itself?
Meal break came and went and he was looking forward to the completion of the work day. During the course of the shift, they responded to a total of nine calls in the past six and a half hours. Two car accidents with minor injuries, four domestic violence incidents (amazingly, all within three blocks of each other), one false alarm at a jewelry store, one peace disturbance call and a disorderly conduct at Finnigan's Bar. He hoped the rest of the shift would be uneventful.
The young fugitive spent much of the past two and a half weeks in various strip joints and peep shows around the city. When he was kicked out for loitering, he managed to spend short amounts of time napping at bus terminals or the subway. He hit a windfall a few days earlier when he swiped a black windsuit from a park bench, which he assumed belonged to one of several individuals playing basketball.
Upon searching the pockets, he found a money clip containing two hundred eighty dollars and two glassines of heroin. Sown into the front left lining of the jacket was a sheath housing the largest knife he had ever seen.
He completely shaved his head, and several days growth of facial hair into a mustache and goatee with a disposable razor he purchased at a pharmacy along with a pair of non-prescription eyeglasses. He even used the tip of the knife to cut a gash into his left cheekbone which formed a noticeable scar, a rather extreme move perhaps, however, one he felt necessary to further elude the authorities.
He saw the police sketch of his former self - undoubtedly from the cop's description - on the window at a pool hall he passed the other day. He was sure even the few people who knew him wouldn't recognize him with his new disguise. He even went to Jolly's on a whim to see if the elderly cashier would remember him but was told the man no longer worked there. He was convinced his luck was finally changing for the better.
A light, steady rain began to fall as Bosco searched the streets of the intersection while Faith waited for the light to turn green. It was Friday night and regardless of the weather, the city was abuzz with bar hoppers and club patrons making their rounds. As Faith prepared to accelerate into the cross street, Bosco barely noticed the young man exit the neon lit building directly to his right. The same person he came face to face with eighteen days ago. The same individual who attempted to kill him without a moment's hesitation.
The bald man saw the patrol car and instinctively stepped back a bit to avoid being seen. He couldn't believe the pig he shot was a few short feet away from him. He daringly moved forward and their eyes locked for a second or two. His new appearance apparently did the trick because the cop turned away as the driver of the vehicle continued on. He brushed his hand against his newly acquired weapon as sheer hatred and loathing consumed him.
Thank you so much for taking the time to review! It really motivates me!