Bosco entered the deserted locker room hoping the sanctuary the space provided would hold out as long as he needed to occupy the area. The second shift wouldn't be returning for approximately one hour, about the same time the third would be ready to roll.
He changed into his neatly pressed uniform and attached the various department issued items to his gun belt. He slightly jumped as a door slammed somewhere nearby; no doubt the spontaneous jerked reaction was due to the recent threats aimed at him. His skittishness would certainly be understandable to most; nevertheless, the notion of ever feeling vulnerable made him cringe.
His thoughts were consumed by the events of the past morning. He had to admit, the notes left by the killer were creepy and alarming, and therefore, needed to be reported, not because of the threats bestowed upon him, but because of the potential for more senseless bloodshed to others. He had to leave himself out of it though. He knew if Swersky found out, he would wind up on desk duty, or even worse, baby-sitting the skels in lock-up. It served no purpose to come forward and inform his supervisors that he was the recipient of a personal vendetta.
Upon reading the notes, he realized he had to act quickly or risk possible harm to another innocent citizen. The only way he knew to alert the department of an impending robbery was to make an anonymous phone call to the precinct. Left with no other alternative, he immediately did just that from a near-by pay phone. It was up to those in charge how to proceed with the information. Afterward, he jogged and walked for what seemed like hours, hoping his act of intervention would not prove fruitless.
When he finally arrived at the House, he was more than a little relieved to discover that no armed robberies or related shootings occurred in the 5-5 sector within the past twelve hours.
Bosco thought of the devastating sight that greeted him early this morning and wished he had just two minutes with the bastard. He called a nearby auto body shop at seven, as soon as it opened, and made arrangements to have his car towed sometime during the course of the day. He realized, in the scheme of things, that the vandalism to the vehicle could in no way compare to the tragic loss of life the despicable individual caused. In fact, it was trivial compared to almost everything that came to mind, even so, the sight of the paint splattered Mustang made him sick to his stomach.
He heard the voice before he noticed the figure and again, jumped at the unexpected interruption to his thoughts.
"Hey...sorry...I didn't mean to startle you." Davis replied, noticing the surprised expression on Bosco's face. His co-worker looked even more peaked than yesterday and his pale and sickly appearance disturbed the young officer. "You okay?" He continued with genuine concern.
"You didn't..." Bosco answered, looking away, embarrassed by his jerked response. "...and I'm fine." He curtly replied. "What are you doin' here so early?" He asked as he neatly arranged his locker, something he did maybe twice before in the past eleven years.
"Sully and I have a double tonight. I needed to get in and finish a couple of reports." Ty answered. "What about you?"
"I went for a run and realized I was closer to the station than to my apartment so I headed over." Bosco hoped he could avoid any one-on-one conversation but it didn't seem likely.
The two remained quiet as they went about their daily preparations. Davis debated whether to confront Bosco about his wan appearance and recent short fuse, maybe get the officer to confide in him. Faith seemed to think there was a problem, and after seeing his friend, he tended to agree. At the risk of getting the verbal pummeling of a lifetime, he decided to take advantage of the opportunity and broke the silence. "Listen...you know if there's anything you wanna' talk about, I'm here." He stated with hesitation.
"Thanks, but if you're referring to my personal life, I've got nothin' to say." Bosco replied, never facing the young officer. "In fact, things couldn't be better." He continued, adding nothing more for Davis to go on.
Ty persisted. "Look...I'm gonna' level with you Bosco. After last night, I don't get the impression that everything is so great in your life. You haven't been yourself lately and I know you don't need me to..."
Bosco cut him off as he slammed his locker shut and headed for the exit. "Then don't! I said everything was fine!" His voice exhibited more irritation than he actually felt; yet he couldn't help himself. He started to open the door but turned back to Davis when a sudden thought came to mind. "Did Faith put you up to this?" He asked accusingly.
"No...she didn't...but she did say she was concerned. You know it's only a matter of time before Swersky notices too. I just want you to know that when you're ready to confide in us, we'll be here. That's all." Davis replied with complete sincerity.
"I appreciate your concern Ty and I'm sorry for the outburst but really, everything's good." He hoped he sounded convincing. "I don't know what Faith told you but she's gotta' learn to butt out." Bosco added as he left the room.
The killer came to on the bathroom floor, unable to move and unable to remember why. His hands were shaking uncontrollably as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead. His vision was blurred and his legs ignored the commands his brain relayed to the limp limbs to perform their task and help him rise.
Bells from a nearby church steeple chimed three times, establishing the current time. Could he really have been unconscious for several hours, or perhaps even a day, and not recall a single memory during that whole period?
He did remember the terrible nightmare, and, when he couldn't fall back to sleep, he smoked a joint to relax his unsteady nerves. When he was still wide awake an hour later, he went to the medicine cabinet and took a few sleeping pills. At least that's what he assumed the small yellow capsules were since the container he grabbed was labeled such, however, knowing the bitch, they could have been anything.
He needed assistance getting up but the tramp still wasn't home, or she just wasn't answering his calls for help. Actually, he realized he hadn't seen the bimbo at all in recent days as well.
He never placed much emphasis on dreams or on what they meant, but the most recent nightmare scared the hell out of him. In the dream, as in the park that fateful night, Danny looked him right in the eyes before he raised his gun, pleading for his help, but he couldn't move from under the brush. Now, for the first time he realized why. He was terrified, scared to death!
It also dawned on him that the only time he wasn't frightened was when he had his weapons. He felt safe then because he knew he could defend himself against them, the pigs, like the ones who killed his brother. He couldn't help but wonder how the events of the horrible moment would have played out if he had been armed as well. Danny could still be alive and the bastards that caused all his pain would, perhaps, be dead instead. He had to live with his cowardice all this time and he knew that as long as there was a single breath left in him, he would never, ever forgive himself.
His mind drifted to Boscorelli, to his prized .38, and to the large knife he had hidden in the bedroom and suddenly, he felt a tingling sensation in his legs as his lower extremities began to move at will.
Swersky entered roll call exhibiting a more serious demeanor than usual. "All right...listen up!" He announced as he addressed the officers gathered in the crowded room, positioning himself behind the podium in front of his attentive audience. "As it looks now, Homicide has reason to believe they finally have a break regarding the violent convenience store shootings plaguing our sector and resulting in two, unsolved brutal murders and several robberies."
Bosco noticed the Lieutenant glance his way as he conveyed the much-anticipated development.
"After spending hundreds of hours over several weeks, the detectives assigned to the case feel confident they have come up with a potential ID on the suspect." Swersky couldn't help but note how quiet the room was. "I'll let Lieutenant Andrews fill you in on what we have at this time." He stepped aside and let the Homicide Lieutenant address the congregation.
Bosco had met Andrews on occasion and knew he was well respected in the department. The stories highlighting his many arrests, and convictions thereafter, were quite impressive and the seasoned cop had more than paid his dues to society with his well renowned accomplishments. Few doubted he would one day make chief. Some even speculated that perhaps he'd run for Mayor in the not too distant future.
After greeting the group, he went on to give a detailed statement, aware that all eyes were on him. "Here's what we have so far..."
Bosco was fully immersed in the man's point by point explanation of the detective's findings and never noticed Faith, who sat a row behind and three seats to his left. The news was what he'd been hoping for for the past two months. His only regret was that he was incapable of apprehending the criminal himself.
Andrews spoke as the group hung on his every word. His statuesque frame and well-spoken manner were intimidating, and his presence demanded nothing less than the full attention of the enraptured audience. He mentioned the early morning tip called in by a concerned citizen who declined to give his name and added that he had placed additional officers on surveillance duty for the time being.
Bosco didn't know the man personally, but according to those who did, his professional, order filled life greatly differed from his personal, tragic one. He immersed himself in The Job after the brutal murder of his only child, a nineteen year old daughter, who was found beaten and strangled in her SoHo apartment about ten years ago, apparently the victim of a botched robbery attempt at her residence. Unable to cope with the girl's death, his grief stricken wife committed suicide by overdosing on a bunch of pills about a year later. His daughter's killer was never identified and as far as Bosco knew, the case was still open. He wondered if the man's personal tragedy was the basis of his career choice with Robbery/Homicide.
"...there is currently an APB out on a Vincent Douglas Leonard, Caucasian male, age twenty, five feet, nine inches, slim build, brown eyes and possibly dark brown hair. Since he has no previous criminal record, we're currently awaiting a photo from the DMV, which will be distributed to all squads. Even though Leonard is our main suspect, he's wanted for questioning only, at least until we can confirm his participation in the crimes through a blood sample collected at one of the robbery scenes. Keep in mind, the suspect in question is armed and considered extremely dangerous..." Andrews cautioned.
Due to his confrontation with the wanted man, Bosco knew the statement to be fact. He was lucky to receive a minor wound while innocent others who crossed the maniac's path paid with their lives.
"Leonard's younger brother, Daniel Martin Leonard, was shot and killed in Grant Park in August of 2002 when he was seventeen. Records show the younger of the two, while armed, robbed a convenience store on 30th Street. Officers of the 43rd Precinct sighted him making his get away through the park. When confronted by the officers giving chase and their back-up, he brandished a loaded .38 and, raising the weapon, was shot by police in self-defense."
Andrews continued as Bosco digested all the information. He hoped this was it, the break they'd all been waiting for. He couldn't help but think of the deaths the psychotic murderer committed and if the killer was, in fact, Vincent Leonard, he had to be apprehended without further delay.
When the Homicide Lieutenant finished speaking, he thanked the officers and left the room, satisfied that all the pertinent information he relayed to the group would bring about quick justice and ease the fears of the concerned store owners and their employees.
A short time later, Christopher entered in his usual smug manner and handed Swersky several sheets of paper which he glanced over. "The Sergeant here will continue the briefing." He motioned to Christopher and addressed Bosco. "Boscorelli...I need to see you for a minute."
Bosco rose from his chair and followed his supervisor into the hallway. "What do we have Sir?" He asked, knowing a copy of the much-anticipated photo had arrived.
"Bosco...I need you to be sure." The older man stated as he handed the officer the picture. "Is this the individual who shot you while robbing the market?"
Bosco took the sheet and knew the second he saw the clear photo that he was looking at the face of the murderer, even so, he took a few seconds to respond. "It's him...I'm absolutely sure." He said with confidence.
"Good. You can go back in. I need to speak to the Captain." He said, also adding. "You sure you're up for duty today?"
"Yes Sir. I'm scheduled for two days off after tonight." Bosco replied.
"Just a little advice...do yourself a favor and take that time to relax." His superior suggested. "We're gonna' get him Bosco." Swersky added as he left the company of the exhausted but relieved officer.
Bosco stood at the door for a few seconds, contemplating the quick turn of events. The elusive criminal whose identity was a mystery for several weeks was now a wanted man with an APB out on him. He headed back to roll call wondering how long it would take to find the bastard responsible for so much grief and tragedy.
Even though the task was at times mundane, Christopher savored his time at the podium. It was his personal fifteen minutes of fame.
He was aware of Boscorelli's entrance as he continued to brief the officers and could actually feel his blood pressure rise at the sight of the obnoxious little twit. Ever since the jerk's rendezvous with his ex-fiancé, his hatred of Boscorelli never subsided. Granted, the unpleasant incident occurred years ago, but the humiliation he felt when he found out about it lingered to this day.
Everyone knew the two were not fond of each other, but while Christopher relished in his obvious dislike for the patrol officer, Bosco chose to ignore the fool.
"Hughes called in sick today, therefore, Monroe you're with Yokas in 5-5 George and Boscorelli, you're riding solo in David. Dismissed." He finished, directing a subtle, sarcastic smirk in Bosco's direction.
Bosco didn't mind riding alone and he was sure Faith wouldn't object to it due to the present circumstances. He caught sight of his partner glaring his way as he rose from his seat. He heard Monroe say something to her about getting the radios and meeting at the squad.
"Okay Sasha." Faith answered as she walked behind Bosco, who already had all of his equipment. She assumed he must have come in early to be so prepared. "If you're trying to avoid me, it isn't going to work!" She called after him sternly as she followed him outside. "Requesting to ride solo isn't going to help either!"
"Look..." Bosco turned to his partner, ignoring her last comment. "...if you want me to apologize for last night...okay...I'm sorry. Other than that, I have nothing to say!" He replied and continued on his way.
"I want to know what's up with you!" She demanded, as she caught up to him once again. "Why are you acting like a spoiled brat? You've been a jerk to all of us when all we want to do is help!" Her anger intensified as she went on. "I can't say anything to you without worrying if, or when, you'll have your next temper tantrum." She hastened her pace to keep up with him. She had things to say and was intent on making sure he heard them.
"Five months ago, when I came back to work, I wanted to resume our partnership because after eleven years, I thought we could make it work..." She went on, unable to keep her voice from breaking. "...but you won't even make an effort Bosco! You continue to do as you please without any consideration for others!" She couldn't contain her frustration any longer as she felt her eyes begin to tear.
Bosco abruptly stopped at his cruiser, hands on hips, he faced his partner and shook his head in annoyed exasperation. "I don't owe you anything Faith! We agreed to keep our private lives private...your suggestion." Seeing that she was upset, he softened for a moment as he continued. "I've apologized for the Noble thing countless times. I truly wish it never had happened. I'd give anything to take it back Faith but I can't." His voice was filled with remorse as the awful memory of seeing his partner go down in that hotel room played out in his mind. "Now if you don't mind, I'd like to get to work."
She tried to compose herself but her anger got the best of her. "I just realized how right Fred was about you. You are a self-centered, arrogant, egotistical, know-it-all and if you would have taken just one minute to think things through before your self-righteous 'Nobel' bullshit, the whole 'thing' would never have happened!" Faith regretted the harsh words as soon as she spoke them.
The anguished look on Bosco's face said more than a verbal rebuttal ever could. He stared at her for a brief moment, never saying a word to correct her or deny her hostile allegations. He dropped his head in defeat as he got into his cruiser and sped away, never looking back.
Faith watched as he drove off, oblivious to Sasha's arrival. Bosco's departing silence made her feel terrible, which, of course, she knew she deserved. Her words were spoken in anger, not hatred, surely he had to know that.
"Faith?" Monroe interrupted her thoughts. "You okay?"
"Yeah...can we just go... please..." Her voice trailed off as she entered 5-5 George and buckled up, preparing to wipe the tears that threatened to flow from her eyes.
The lousy day couldn't get any worse. After his rapid, although still only partial recovery from his self-diagnosed potential overdose, the killer showered and ate, not realizing how ravenous he was until he took a bite of his burger. He needed to get out of the warm apartment and wound up at the fast food restaurant. The food the place served wasn't that good but it was inexpensive and on his way to the strip joint.
When he arrived at the club, he was told the stripper was out of town and wouldn't be back for a couple of days. The fact that she wasn't around didn't matter as much as the realization that he was broke until she returned.
His shaky legs still weren't completely cooperating with the signals his brain attempted to convey and he couldn't help but wonder if the condition was permanent.
He considered the so-called existence of the rumored 'suits' looking for him in their 'SUV's'. If they truly did exist, surely they must be amateurs or they would have approached him by now. He realized that any speculation on his part to the identity of the individuals or their whereabouts proved useless since he was leaving the City anyway. In time, he reasoned, no one would care what became of him.
After walking around aimlessly for hours, he decided to take a chance and head over to the pool hall he once frequented. He was sure his scruffy appearance was enough to conceal his identity to any of the regulars. He didn't get far though.
When he was just a few blocks from the place, he passed a market and did a double take. There on the large plate glass window, a picture of his former self was posted for all the world to see. The photo on the eight by ten poster was a replica of his driver's license. His name and vital statistics were printed next to the image. They knew who he was! The pigs had finally figured it out! He wasn't naïve enough to believe his identity could remain a mystery forever, but he still wasn't prepared for the sudden public disclosure.
As he turned to walk away, he noticed a police car slow down as it passed by. He turned and walked in the opposite direction, looking back to see if he was recognized. Sure enough, the cruiser pulled over and the passenger side door opened. He heard a male's voice yell for him to stop but he took off around the corner as fast as his unsteady legs would carry him.
There was still a fair amount of daylight visible between the tall buildings and his only chance to go unnoticed was to get lost in a crowd. Perhaps the movie theater down the street would be a good place to stay out of sight until darkness enveloped the City
He looked over his shoulder and saw the black cop from the warehouse run-in scanning the streets as his partner joined him. They saw him and immediately headed in his direction. His only chance now was to get in a cab or bus. They were on foot and couldn't possibly out run a vehicle but they would certainly radio his location and a slew of cops would converge upon the area.
Escape on the subway crossed his mind as an alternative for a quick get away, but he soon realized the same scenario would play out there as well. In fact, he could hear sirens in the distance and realized the streets were bound to be swarming with cops in no time. He had to get back to the apartment and wait for nightfall to leave the City, or better yet, the State, but with no cash, his options were limited.
He ran into a barroom and out through the back exit amid shouts from the bartender. Sully and Davis were close behind and rushed into the tavern.
"Where did he go!" Sully shouted to the man behind the bar while Davis radioed their position.
"Through the back door, I heard it slam shut!" The bewildered man answered.
Weapons drawn, the two officers ran to the exit but were unable to open the door. "Damn!" Sully shouted in exasperation, remembering the same outcome at the warehouse. "There's something blocking the door!"
Davis retraced their steps with Sully in tow but by the time they went around the building and into the alley, the suspect was gone.
Sullivan looked at his partner in sheer amazement. "How did you recognize him?" The veteran officer inquired.
"I didn't. No one looks at those things unless it's the perp or someone who knows him." Davis replied. "I just figured he had to be one or the other when he took off." The grinning young officer holstered his weapon as he headed back to the RMP.
Leonard hurriedly packed the few belongings he owned into an old gym bag he found in the hall closet and retrieved the .38 and knife he hid behind the bed side table. He grabbed the baseball cap the stripper wore on occasion and rushed out of the apartment, knowing he'd never set foot into the building again.
He briskly walked down the street; aware of his surroundings with each step he took. He focused on every passer-by with each breath he drew, knowing he'd never get a second chance at escape if he were spotted again.
As risky as his tentative plan was, he had no other alternative for the time being. He needed to get out of the city, tonight, and Boscorelli was his ticket to freedom.
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