Revisiting the Outlaw

by dcat8888

This is a rewrite of the episode of Outlaw Champion. Be warned, some serious angst ahead!

Revisiting the Outlaw

by dcat

Notes: Boy, these are getting tougher to let go of, I just want to keep adding and adding. Anyway, this is a re-write of the episode, 'Outlaw Champion.' Now I have added missing scenes to other fanfic before but I sort of feel slimy actually taking the beginning part of someone else's script and totally changing it up, and yet, I sort of like my result. (And my sincere apologies to Patrick Hasburgh, who wrote the initial script. I just had to do this, as the idea got stuck in my brain and I had to put it to paper.) These characters do not belong to me. I did my own proof, so if there's something glaring, please let me know and I'll attempt to repair it. Happy reading!

OOOOO

The last thing McCormick remembered was standing in his bathrobe in the Judge's den.

OOOOO

Hardcastle gave him a piece of unsolicited fatherly advice on his way out of the den door. "Dry your hair, it's chilly out tonight and I don't want you catching a cold."

McCormick didn't bother to jaw back at him, he just wanted to put his clothes on and get out to Saugus to meet up with EJ. McCormick had been somewhat lost in the past ever since he read about EJ in the paper a few days earlier. What might have been and what should have been kept cropping up in the back of his mind. It wasn't a daily thing that Mark dwelled on, but when he'd see guys he knew from his racing days, or read about them in the paper, well it just was right there and it was something he couldn't help but think about. What if he had gotten one break? One lousy break, that's all it might have taken. He wanted it as much as they all did, didn't he? What if he was the guy winning big races right now instead of trying to make sense of trying to start his life over at 29? Chasing bad guys and cleaning pools didn't have half the excitement or notoriety of being the first to cross the finish line. A guy couldn't help but see his own face in the paper rather than that of his old racing nemesis EJ Corlette. Hardcastle didn't seem to fully understand what he was going through, not that he didn't try, but it was just something McCormick couldn't quite explain to him. Now, the phone call had come and even though Corlette didn't admit that anything was wrong as he was talking to Mark on the phone, something was definitely up and McCormick was more than curious to find out what was going on with his old friend and why he suddenly wanted to see him.

OOOOO

Ever since McCormick had showed up at EJ's doorstep a day earlier, Bill Rogers wanted to know why and what EJ wanted with a loser like McCormick. Rogers knew that McCormick was one lap away from victory on the Outlaw Trail and he knew what he did to make certain that EJ Corlette got the checkered flag. McCormick was a helluva racer, no doubt about that, but he was a cocky, smart-aleck up and comer who had little regard for anything but his own ideas. Even though he was abundantly gifted behind the wheel, Rogers and his backers determined early on that he'd be more trouble than he was worth. So they fixed their eyes on EJ Corlette, who was much more amiable and would easily go along with the plan they set out for him. Rogers couldn't help but wonder if Corlette was going to spill his guts to McCormick about the Outlaw after all these years, or if McCormick somehow had learned what actually happened. He didn't know how that would be possible, but someone along the way could have said something to someone. Either way, Bill Rogers couldn't let anything come between him and his money ticket, so he stuck close to EJ. He knew his 'poster boy' race car driver was feeling burnt out. But Rogers had a lot invested in EJ and wasn't about to just let Corlette retire and fade off into the sunset. Nope, he owned Corlette and he just needed to make sure Corlette knew that. Corlette would be done when Rogers or Grayson said he was done, and not before that. Corlette's every move was watched and monitored by Bill Rogers, who was not too happy when EJ blew off the trip to Buffalo. Rogers already knew about the street racing on Mullholland and when he followed Corlette to a phone booth, he figured he was up to something. Rogers and one of Grayson's mob goons followed EJ out to Saugus.

OOOOO

McCormick jumped in the Coyote and drove the fifty or so miles over to Saugus just as the sun was setting. It'd be dark by the time he got to the one-time familiar track. McCormick recalled driving at Saugus eight years earlier, against EJ and he even recalled that Corlette had said that Saugus was one of his favorite tracks to drive. The small course did have certain charms as well as some hazards. Hazards like, if you took a turn too sharp and spun out, you could easily hit the wall. It was a tiny, confining track and it left virtually no room for error. McCormick saw that happen plenty of times to drivers who were both rookies and veterans at the track.

Meeting EJ at Saugus could only mean one thing, the chance to let the Coyote do what it was meant to do, and that was run. McCormick grinned just thinking about it as he drove down the freeway, heading northeast of Malibu. The last time Mark had run against EJ he had lost the Outlaw Championship to him on the last lap. What a miserable day that had been. He'd virtually led the entire way, only to have a faulty engine in the last ½ mile. That was long before San Quentin, but driving along, McCormick felt like it was actually yesterday. He had a hard time describing to Hardcastle what racing meant to him, but guys like EJ, well, they just knew, they felt the same way. He knew what car EJ was driving now and had briefly mentioned to Corlette about the Coyote in their first visit, but EJ didn't really have a clue as to what the Coyote really was capable of. For that matter, neither did Mark, but just having the chance to see what he still had and what he and the Coyote could do against someone like EJ Corlette, that was worth just about anything. McCormick felt the adrenaline pump throughout his body, Corlette was a champion and just maybe if Mark could beat him, he'd feel a little redemption and maybe he could use it to talk Hardcastle into getting back into racing.

What did Hardcase call it? Tiny steps, right? That was one of the things that the Judge always seemed to be harping about to him. Most of the time it didn't make much sense, except on these types of occasions when it came in crystal clear focus. Hardcastle had the uncanny knack of 'roundabout' preaching and one of his favorite topics was, taking tiny steps towards a positive future. Of course he didn't call it that, what he said was usually much more subtle and layered, but it was just the sort of stuff he would talk about and fill McCormick's mind with. And now here it was, this might be a new chance for Mark, one of the tiny steps the Judge was always talking about. His mind swirled with excitement and possibilities as he nearly missed he turn off exit for Saugus.

Another grin shown on his face as he approached the track, and saw the lights come on in the grandstand. Mark spotted EJ's car zipping around near what would be the starting line. He motored the Coyote around and pulled up along side EJ. Corlette briefly spoke about finding out whether he still 'had' it or not and before either man had the chance to blink, the hammer got dropped and the race was on.

McCormick was like a kid all over again. The adrenaline churned throughout his body as he pushed the Coyote to its very limits. As much as EJ wanted to know if he had it, McCormick wanted to know the same thing, could he beat a champion like EJ Corlette?

They drove neck and neck lapping the all-too familiar track. McCormick was having the time of his life.

And in a split second it all went haywire, McCormick must have took the turn too sharp and suddenly spun out. The hay bales and the wall came blasting toward him, or maybe it was vice versa, it all happened so fast, and then everything went black.

EJ had pulled ahead of Skid just before it happened and he heard the crash behind him but didn't actually see it happen, till he slowed up and came around another turn. Mark's car was a twisted mess of fiberglass, metal and shattered glass as it still sputtered along the wall, but was coming to a stop now, smashed between the track and the concrete wall.

EJ quickly pulled up along side the Coyote and got out of his car and went to have a closer look. He'd already sent someone to the hospital last week and now it looked as though this time things would be even grimmer. Mark's car was totaled. He peered inside through what was left of the shattered window area. McCormick appeared to either be unconscious or dead and his head was bleeding and awkwardly lolled off to the side in an uncomfortable fashion. The car looked like some sort of fiberglass and metal accordion. "Mark? Oh God Mark," he asked quietly, trying to gently jostle his shoulder looking for a sign of life. "Can you hear me?" There was no response, no movement at all. There was no way EJ could get him out of there on his own, he briefly tried to get him out, but McCormick's right leg seemed to be wedged into the mangled auto tighter than anything EJ had ever seen before. If he kept trying to extricate him that might mean he'd just injure him more than he obviously already was and how would he even begin to explain this? EJ was a pro, he got paid handsomely to win races, what was he doing racing against someone who wasn't. People wouldn't understand. Besides that he'd picked the lock on the gate and jimmied the lights on the track. EJ's heart began to race, this couldn't be happening again and yet here it was all over again. He stood there staring at what was before him. He made the wrong choice again.

OOOOO

Hardcastle waited up for awhile, part of him hoped McCormick would come back to the main house and tell him about his meeting with EJ. He hadn't told McCormick that he'd perused his files and dug into the background of the boorish Bill Rogers and that he found a connection to Martin Grayson and the mob. After McCormick left for his meeting with EJ, Milt continued to pour over the files he had for most of the night and now Hardcastle was more than ready to share the initial information with McCormick. He was curious ever since they had gone to visit EJ at his home and had run into Rogers, and the phone call from Corlette tonight had just served to intensify Hardcastle's digging. Rogers was a slime ball, he knew it from the minute he attempted to insult Mark. Hardcastle thought it was sort of odd that these two hadn't seen each other in years and all of a sudden Corlette calls up McCormick the next night and off Mark goes to meet up with him. He knew McCormick well enough to know what he was after. The thought gave Milt pause to smile. He was glad the kid was passionate about something. And the kid was an open book when it came to racing. McCormick had to learn for himself if he could still hold his own vs. EJ out on a track and Hardcastle had it wired that the two of them would be up to something that involved finding out the answer to that question. The Judge had seen McCormick work up a slow burn in the pick-up on the way back to Gulls Way after meeting with EJ, about the 'fairness' of life after seeing Rogers and EJ. He had to give the kid some credit for keeping his cool then and not doing anything rash, when Rogers had obviously hoped to crank up the kid's engine with the crack about being in prison. He just hoped in their quest to see who really was a better driver that no one would get hurt. Heck, maybe they would just be getting together to have a beer and talking about old times. Beyond that Milt was just curious. He had the nagging feeling that EJ was up to something, he'd gotten the same feeling back at EJ's house. And Bill Rogers was as dirty as the grease inside a car engine. The Judge's radar was piqued. But, Hardcastle got tired of waiting up and just after midnight, the Judge decided to turn in for the night, tired of waiting and worrying, he'd find out in the morning. McCormick could take care of himself, that he was sure of. Heck, McCormick was probably talking EJ's ears off, the kid could ramble on especially when it came to auto racing. Milt began to feel sorry for EJ.

OOOOO

After the crash, EJ tore of out of the Saugus Speedway with Bill Rogers right on his tail. The mob goon that was with him, a guy by the name of Rocco Lomire, was actually driving and quickly sped up their pursuit unbeknownst to Corlette. Lomire swung their car in front of his, causing him to veer off to the side of the road. Rogers quickly got out of his car and pulled a gun out on EJ. Rocco followed behind.

"Rocco, go back to the racetrack and keep me posted on what's going on there. You'll know where EJ and I will be, now get going!" Rogers said.

Rocco nodded and drove back the half mile to Saugus to see what would happen to the man who had crashed.

EJ looked over at Rogers, "You've been following me?"

"Someone has to EJ, you're a wreck waiting to happen, aren't you? What were you going to do, tell McCormick what you've been up to after he blew your doors off in a street modified car? What the hell are you thinking anyway? I thought you learned your lesson at Mullholland? Quit racing these no-names and save it for the circuit."

"I told you I don't have what it takes anymore, I'm finished. Can't you see that? You saw that I was going to blow it back there. The same thing happened on Mullholland. I can't do this anymore. I don't want to do this anymore. It's over. I just keep making the wrong decisions," Corlette paused and added, "I thought I had him there though, but he must have hit some oil or a wet patch and skidded out. It should have been me lying in the twisted metal," he said pathetically.

"That's right, poor, poor EJ," Rogers mocked him, "You're really stupid EJ, McCormick didn't just skid out, he was going to beat you hands down, just like at the Outlaw, we just helped you out again, saved the franchise again."

"You? What did you do?" Corlette asked. "What'd you do to his car this time?"

"My friend Rocco's an expert with a high-powered rifle, he shot out one of McCormick's tires at just the right time," Bill explained with a grin and a laugh. "He never knew what hit him. Of course we had to wait for you to pass him, so you wouldn't spin out with him. We had to protect our interests."

"You rotten piece of shit, you might have killed him?" EJ now wore a look of disgust as he attempted to start up his car and head back to the track.

"Well, only me, you and Rocco know that and you're coming with me."

"We gotta call him an ambulance Bill," EJ said, trying to get out of the car, "he could still be alive."

"You didn't seem to care about that back at the track EJ, looked to me like you just wanted out of there," grabbing his arm and cocking the trigger right at his head.

"But he could die," Corlette said.

"Don't worry, just drive," Bill said, still pointing the gun on him.

OOOOO

The phone was ringing right next to the Judge's bed. He woke up groggily and attempted to focus at the time on the clock. 3:24am. 'What the hell?' Milt thought. Who was calling now? He angrily picked up the phone, "Hardcastle!" he groused as his greeting.

"Judge Milton Hardcastle?" the voice on the other side said.

"Yeah, who's this please?" the Judge replied, flicking on the reading light and adjusting his eyes appropriately.

"I'm Deputy George Tyner, from the Saugus Sheriff's office. We have you listed as a contact person for a Mark McCormick?"

The Judge quickly sat up in bed and swept his legs over the side so that his bare feet were now touching the ground. "Yes, that's correct." He was frozen from asking the next question, but quickly found himself asking, "What's happened?"

"Judge Hardcastle, I hate to tell you this, but Mr. McCormick's been involved in an accident."

Hardcastle interrupted him immediately, "Is he?" Milt let the words hang in the air. This time he couldn't bring himself to finish the sentence.

"He is alive sir, and he's being transported to Saugus Memorial Hospital."

"A car accident?" the Judge asked.

"Yes sir," the deputy answered.

"Was anyone else injured?" Milt questioned.

"No sir, no one else involved," the deputy began, "Is there a relative we need to contact for Mr. McCormick?"

The Judge absentmindedly rubbed his hand over his face as he thought about the question. "No, just me, I'll get there as soon as I can, what's the address of the hospital? You said it's in Saugus?" he quickly added. To himself he wondered why McCormick had driven up there and could only come up with EJ as a reason. Was there a track in Saugus, he scanned his memory, but quickly lost the thought, choosing only to focus instead on McCormick.

The deputy gave him the information.

"I'll be there just as soon as I can, if he's conscious, can you tell him that please? I'll be there soon."

OOOOO

Rocco Lomire followed the ambulance to the Saugus hospital and discretely found out that McCormick was in critical condition. He dialed up Bill Rogers's palatial mansion and gave him the news.

"You're lucky EJ, McCormick is still alive," Rogers said hanging up the phone.

"Well, I'm not the one who tried to kill him Rogers, remember?" EJ replied.

"EJ, you need to face facts, I've got you right where I want you. First Mullholland and now this, you fled both scenes EJ. How is that going to look to the cops when they find out? And once McCormick and that kid wake up, they'll both nail you for sure. Eye witnesses are a bad thing. Maybe you should learn that before you get behind the wheel again. Learn to finish what you start."

"But I didn't do anything to Skid, you did," EJ pleaded.

"Listen EJ, I didn't get you into this whole mess, you got yourself into it, and you know what happens when you get yourself into a jam. Bill Rogers always gets you out of it. Remember Daytona?" There'd been a hit and run that EJ had caused. The kid he hit survived and Bill Rogers had simply paid off the family to keep the incident quiet to save EJ's fame.

"What am I supposed to do?" EJ asked him.

"That's a boy, I'll get you out of all of it. Have I ever let you down? Just start doing what I tell you, is that a deal?" Rogers asked with his slimy attitude.

EJ couldn't even look at him, he merely nodded and hung his head down in disgust.

OOOOO

The Judge's drive to Saugus was long, at least it sure seemed to be. The darkness of the night and the virtually empty freeway just contributed to the lonely and despairing feeling he was experiencing. He should have asked the deputy for more information on Mark's condition. But then again, no, he did the right thing, he knew Mark was alive and now he just needed to get to the hospital and once he got there he could find out what had happened. The deputy said it was an accident. It couldn't be too bad. McCormick was an expert driver anyway, right? Just concentrate on the fact that he's alive. No sense for your mind to go wondering and wandering about what might be or not be. He's alive. Heck, maybe McCormick would be waiting at the entrance with a simple bandage taped around a cut finger, wondering what took the Judge so long to get there.

Unfortunately, Hardcastle knew when sheriff deputies called in the middle of the night it was because it was more than a bandage. He pressed the accelerator a little harder and increased his speed.

Part of him wanted to go find EJ and ask him what had happened. But maybe EJ would be at the hospital, maybe he was injured himself. The deputy had told him that no one else was injured though. There were too many maybes and I don't knows in the equation right now. Hardcastle just tried to be positive as he drove, he'd find the answers he needed later. Right now he needed to get to the hospital and check on the condition of his friend.

OOOOO

The Judge hurriedly walked into the ER entrance and right up to the nurse's station. "I'm looking for Mark McCormick," he asked the petite woman behind the counter with a hurried tone in his voice. "The Sheriff called me about an hour ago and told me he'd been in an auto accident here in Saugus. They said they were bringing him here."

The nurse punched some information into a nearby computer. "Yes, Mr. McCormick is here, he's in a trauma room right now, which is a restricted area. Let me see if I can get you some updated information on his condition sir. Are you related sir?" She pleasantly asked him.

Milt paused for a moment and replied confidently, "Uh, yeah, well, um, not blood but I'm his legal guardian, Judge Milton Hardcastle," the jurist said, standing up a little straighter and emphasizing the word Judge, just in case the title would get him in to see the kid faster or find out his condition sooner. "I'm his only family."

"Very well Judge, why don't you have a seat and I'll see what I can find out for you," she pointed him toward a small waiting area.

Hardcastle nodded and turned and went to take a seat. He was the only one there. He glanced around the surroundings and realized this hospital was tiny compared to the ones in LA. The lack of movement and action caused him to relax. Part of him was glad it was that small as he hoped that meant the whole staff was working on McCormick, while the other part of him wished that maybe he was at one of the larger medical complexes where he'd be seen by specialists, rather than by a 'jack of all trades' type of doctor. There was always good and bad to everything. Most importantly right now he was someplace where he was getting the help he needed to get.

He took a seat and told himself that if the kid was in a trauma room then he must still be alive. That was another good sign. When it came to waiting, Hardcastle had the patience of a gnat. He momentarily recalled Nancy's labor with Tommy. The three hours must have been intense for her, but in those days the father's weren't standing alongside the wife in the delivery room, instead Milt was out in the hall with a pack of other first time fathers and he hated every second of it. Now here he was waiting for news on McCormick. The chair he had sat in was about as uncomfortable as sitting on a cactus. He tried to lean back, crossing his legs, but that just put pressure on his lower back. He sat back up straight and glanced down the empty, deserted hallway. He leaned forward next and put his elbows just above his knees and dropped his head down onto his hands, staring at the floor, running out of things to think about or a more comfortable position to be in. He was empty on both counts.

Hardcastle didn't know how long he stayed in that position, lost in blank thought and imagining the worst. Then he heard footsteps approaching and he looked up and saw a deputy coming toward him.

"Judge Hardcastle?" the deputy asked. Milt nodded and immediately stood up. "I'm Deputy Tyner, I spoke with you on the phone sir." Tyner held out his hand to shake with the Judge. Hardcastle absently held out his hand and returned the gesture. He tried to smile, but couldn't seem to force one.

"Yes, thank you Deputy, for calling," he began, "Can you tell me what happened? Your call, well it woke me up, and I forgot to ask, I guess I wasn't thinking clearly."

Tyner nodded, and motioned for him to sit down and he pulled up a chair from across the aisle and sat next to the Judge. "I understand sir. I'm sorry I had to call you under these circumstances."

"So what happened?"

"Our department got a call from the night watchman over at the Saugus Mall at about 2am. He called in because the lights were on at the track across the highway and there was no racing going on. It just seemed odd to him," the deputy explained. "I was dispatched to go check it out. When I arrived the gate was wide open and I entered and found Mr. McCormick in his car. Near as we can tell so far, he was alone. From our initial investigation we feel that he had apparently been racing around the track and had lost control of his car and spun into the wall. We've got a team of investigators out there still checking out the scene. We have his car registered as a Coyote prototype, is that correct sir?"

"Yeah, that's his car," Hardcastle said, thinking fondly of the speedy red sports car and how much Mark loved it.

"Do you know why he was out here racing alone in the middle of the night?" Tyner questioned him.

"No, I don't know what he was doing out there," Milt shook his head no. "He was supposed to meet a friend."

"Judge, Saugus is just over fifty miles from Malibu, yours and Mr. McCormick's permanent address, that's a long way to go to meet a friend at this time of night?" Tyner tossed out.

"Look, I'm telling you what I know, he left the house just before 8pm, it was still light out and he said he was going to meet a friend. He's an adult you know, he can go out, without giving anyone all the details."

The sheriff deputy treaded lightly, "Judge Hardcastle, I know Mr. McCormick has been placed in your custody for about a year now, I ran him through the computer and I know his history, I know he's an ex-con and an ex-race car driver. The owner of the track says it was locked up tight when he left about 9pm. You see how it looks?"

The Judge let out a slightly angry breath, "Let me get this straight. You think McCormick drove fifty miles from home just to break into a race track? Next you'll be telling me he crashed on purpose. You said you saw his record, he knows his way around a track. He used to be on the Can Am circuit for crying out loud."

"Judge Hardcastle, I'm just trying to piece together what happened. I'm sorry if it offends you but I have to ask."

"What did McCormick say?" the Judge turned the tables on the deputy.

"He's been unconscious, we haven't been able to get a statement."

Just then the nurse from the information desk came into view. "Judge Hardcastle, if you'd like to follow me, Dr. Patchett will speak with you now."

Hardcastle was on his feet before she got the statement completely out of her mouth. He quickly glanced over to Tyner who nodded for him to go ahead and find out about his charge. The nurse led him down the hall toward the trauma room and the two of them entered quietly and waited for the doctor. The Judge could see that McCormick was on a gurney in the center of the room, surrounded by a quiet, but active contingency of medical personnel who continued to perform their tasks despite the addition of the nurse and the Judge into the room. In fact, none of them had even noticed they entered. Hardcastle stood near the door and waited and watched. He immediately appreciated the care and concern they showed to his friend, especially the nurses whose healing touches were clearly and prominently evident from where he stood. One of them even leaned over and whispered something into McCormick's ear. He listened to the unfamiliar jargon they used as they worked.

"Did we get the results back on the CBC?"

"Still waiting, they should be back shortly, along with the latest look at the film, he's still shocky and his BP is low, despite two units so far."

"Let's start another one then, and monitor it every ten minutes. Any rigidity or tenderness in that lower left quadrant area?"

"Nothing yet, but the bruising seems to be growing. I think we should get an inside look and make sure there's nothing going on in there."

"Set it up stat, and did anyone get hold of Doug yet? I know it's the middle of the night, but he should really get a look at his face and see what he thinks."

"Dr. Post is on his way in Dr. Patchett, he said just to keep it bandaged and packed off and it will be fine till he gets here."

"Easy for him to say, he hasn't seen it yet," Patchett shook his head, and finally noticed the elderly gentleman who had quietly slipped into the trauma room along with the admitting nurse. He took the stethoscope out of his ears and hung it from his neck and walked over to the nurse who made the introduction.

"I'm Dr. Evan Patchett," he said, removing his latex gloves and shaking Hardcastle's hand.

"Milt Hardcastle," the Judge replied. "How is he Doctor?"

"Critical," was the direct one word answer he got, "I won't lie to you Judge," Patchett replied. "We're still trying to get him stabilized and identify all his injuries, but I can tell for sure the most critical injury he has is his right leg. It's in very bad shape."

"Is he or has he been conscious?" Milt said trying to get a look, to make eye contact with Mark.

"No and he hasn't been since he came in. I understand it took our emergency personnel well over an hour to extricate him from the auto, the steering column was crushing and trapping his leg, it cut an artery in his thigh," the doctor explained. "That amount of time lost hasn't helped his condition, but I can assure you we're doing everything we can for him."

"What other kind of injuries does he have?" Hardcastle asked.

"As I've said, the most critical things were keeping an eye on are his badly crushed right leg. From initial x-rays, the bone is completely shattered in several areas and he'll need extensive and probable multiple surgeries to repair it along with the artery. We're also watching his lower left quadrant, which is showing some bruising which may indicate some internal injuries and we're waiting on a plastic surgeon to get a look at his face. It's cut up in several spots and very deeply I might add. Right now, we're replenishing blood and fluids and trying to stabilize his vitals, before we proceed with any type of operation."

"Will he lose his leg?" Milt queried.

"We're doing everything we can to make sure that doesn't happen."

Milt listened closely to the litany of injuries. "Can I see him?" he asked, motioning with his body language the possibility of moving closer.

The doctor nodded and stepped over to allow Milt closer access to Mark. Milt moved forward to the gurney. Several of the residents and nurses also stepped back to give them a few moments of privacy.

McCormick's left side of his face and head were heavily bandaged yet dabs of blood seeped through the sterile white bandage. Milt could tell it was swollen too. Hardcastle could only imagine what it looked like underneath the covering. Blood was still matted in the parts of his hair that was still exposed. The part of his face that he could see was as white as the sheet that covered the rest of his body. They had intubated him to help him breathe. Milt noticed the cadence of his 'mechanical' type breathing. It was anything but natural and actually it was downright scary. What if the kid lost his leg or was paralyzed? The Judge rubbed his hand over his own face in a moment of insecurity and not knowing what the future held. He finally stooped down and quietly talked into the ear of his young friend, like he had seen the nurse do moments earlier. "Listen kiddo, you're in the hospital and you've got a lot of good people here that are working hard to get you all fixed up, so you just hang in there and rest easy, 'cause you're gonna be all right." He reached down with his hand and gently patted Mark's right hand.

There was no reaction from McCormick, but the Judge didn't expect any either. He did take in a deep breath and silently added a prayer that the kid would be okay. Then he stepped back and let the medical personnel get back to their important work.

Dr Patchett came up to him again, "Judge Hardcastle, I think once we get him stabilized that we'd like to transfer him to Angels Hospital downtown. I spoke to Dr. Capole who is an expert in orthopedics over there and he's agreed to take Mr. McCormick as a patient. I was very lucky to have reached him, Capole is a global expert in his field and I feel that it's in Mr. McCormick's best interest to be seen by him. I've personally never seen a leg with so much such horrific damage and I'm not too proud to admit that his injury is over my head to repair. If there's a chance to save it, Dr. Capole will find it. I'd like to give Mark that chance. What do you say, I understand you're his nearest relative so to speak?"

"If that's what you think is best," Milt cleared his throat and nodded, "Whatever and whoever's the best, that's what I want for him," Hardcastle continued and looked back to Mark.

Patchett showed the hint of a smile. "I want Dr. Post, our plastic surgeon to see him first, just to see if there's anything immediate we need to do for his facial injuries, and after that, once we get him stabilized, I'll sign over the transfer orders to Angels. We've already begun following Dr. Capole's protocol right now, so Mr. McCormick's in no immediate danger of losing his leg."

"Thank you Doc," Milt said, absently shaking his hand again as his eyes veered over to McCormick one more time as he wondered about the future.

OOOOO

Milt stepped back out into the hallway and paused to take one more quick look at Mark fighting for his life as he turned and saw Deputy Tyner still waiting for him down in the waiting area. He walked down and met up with him.

"How's he doing Judge?" Tyner was kind enough to ask.

"Critical, he's got a bad leg. You didn't mention he was trapped in the car," Milt gave the deputy a menacing type glare. "Anyway, they want to transfer him downtown to Angels for treatment," Milt spoke honestly. "They got some specialist there, top of his field and if anyone can save it, this guy can. And I want him to have every chance."

Tyner nodded his understanding, "I'm sorry to hear that," Tyner said.

"You still have more questions I imagine?" Hardcastle asked, allowing himself to let go of McCormick's immediate condition in order to try to piece together what happened to him.

Tyner dropped his head for a moment, "Well, if you're up to answering them, yes, I do."

Milt didn't quite smile, but he nodded and they both sat back down and continued their discussion about the accident. Hardcastle didn't wait for Tyner to ask questions as he began to give him the information he was going to need, "The guy he was going to meet was EJ Corlette."

"The race car driver?" Tyner sounded surprised.

"McCormick knew him back when they were both up and comers on the circuit. They ran into each other a few days back and Corlette called him up tonight and asked to meet him. But that's all I know, McCormick never said where or why. I asked him why just before he left and he jokingly said, "he didn't know why Corlette wanted to meet him, he hadn't met him yet.'" Milt shook his head recalling the conversation in the den.

"I'll check out Corlette and see what I can find out from him. It's the first real lead we have." Tyner paused and added, "It's awfully coincidental that Mr. McCormick would be at a track alone when he was supposed to be there with Corlette."

"Yeah, but there's a lot of circumstantial stuff in there, maybe they did meet, and maybe Corlette took off, maybe it could just all be an accident," Hardcastle admitted. "Right now, we just don't know and McCormick's not talking. Our next best bet is to ask Corlette." The Judge glanced down the hall to the trauma room and then back to Tyner, "And like I said, I didn't know that they were going to meet out here. The possibilities are pretty endless right now, lots of questions and no answers."

"I'll get on it Judge, and I'll also keep you informed on anything I find out," Tyner said, standing up. "Thanks for your help." He reached out and shook the Judge's hand one final time.

OOOOO

Three hours later, Dr. Patchett convinced Angels Hospital to send over the Flight for Life helicopter to transport Mark, rather than risk further injury by bouncing him to downtown in an ambulance ride.

OOOOO

"Did you find out McCormick's latest condition yet? Or what about the kid up at Mullholland?" EJ asked Rogers.

"They're both still alive, that's all I got so far EJ, maybe you'll get lucky all over again. You know maybe you should have been the one to go to prison instead of McCormick," Rogers sadistically laughed. "Although now, you could be going in for two counts of murder. That's a much longer rap than his GTA beef ever was."

"You're nothing but a sick piece of garbage Bill," EJ said roaming around the spacious living area. "What the hell am I supposed to do now? I've not only let you control my business, but you seem to be controlling my whole life."

Rogers grinned on the inside. He knew that statement was truer than even EJ realized. "With any luck EJ, they'll both die or they'll both be in comas and they'll never be able to finger you for illegal racing and fleeing the scene of an accident," Rogers let out another laugh. "Heck EJ, maybe you'll think of an answer to your own question and remember the answer before you decide to get behind the wheel of your car and race people who aren't professionals," Rogers replied.

"Skid knows how to handle a car, he's every bit as much a professional as I am. I'm sure he didn't think your goon would shoot out his tire. I got a good mind to go to the cops right now." EJ brushed past Rogers and headed for the door. "Whatever punishment they dole out to me will be okay as long as I know you're in the cell next to mine."

Bill Rogers was too fast as EJ's reactions were slowed up by the increased amounts of alcohol he'd been ingesting. He grabbed EJ, spun him around and drove his fist into his gut. "You're not going anywhere and you're not saying anything to anyone. You got that? We've been over this already."

EJ had crumbled to a knee and managed to choke out, "All I did was flee the scene, you caused the accident."

"I didn't cause anything up at Mullholland though EJ. I think you better just take a chair and think this thing through before you do anything you'll live to regret. Plus you broke into Saugus, don't forget about adding that little crime to your sentence. Good thing for now that you had your gloves on. But Rocco can remedy that one if need be."

EJ had started to get to his feet, but instead of leaving he slowly grabbed onto a nearby chair and sunk into a seat and tried to think. His life was a complete mess, and he was too used to letting someone else, someone like Bill Rogers, dig him out.

OOOOO

The waiting seemed to be never ending. Hardcastle tried to somehow magically piece together what may have happened but ultimately he didn't know, he'd just have to wait until Mark could tell him what happened. Deputy Tyner showed up during the wait and updated him on the latest findings. He brought the Judge several Polaroid pictures of what the Coyote looked like after the accident and Milt had a hard time believing McCormick could even still be alive after viewing them.

Tyner had stopped over to Corlette's place but no one was home. The Judge updated Tyner on McCormick's condition and Tyner politely wished Milt good results for McCormick and told him that he'd stop back later to hopefully talk to Mark and to check on him and let the Judge know of any findings regarding Corlette.

OOOOO

Nearly 24 hours later, two surgeries on his shattered leg and one on his face, Mark McCormick, replete with monitors, tubes and constant attention was moved from post op into an ICU room, where doctors, nurses and residents hovered around him checking his vital signs. Hardcastle had managed to get a few restless hours of sleep in the hospital waiting room and Frank Harper showed up at about 8:30 am on the 2nd day to bring Milt some much needed breakfast.

"Don't you have a job to do?" Milt groused at his friend, seeing Frank shuffle down the hall towards him. He didn't admit it, but it sure was nice to see a familiar face.

"It's my day off, besides, this is more important than anything else right now. How's Mark doing this morning Milt?"

"He came through the operations well enough," he paused and saw Frank's reaction to the plural 'operations' so he added, "Yeah, you heard me right, he's been in and out three times already. They've moved him out of recovery finally into ICU, then who knows. His leg is still in bad shape Frank. It'll be a miracle if he walks again, but this Dr. Capole is supposed to be the best and he said he's more than satisfied with how he's come through so far," Milt explained and he smiled and said, "Capole said to me that he's one tough kid to go under the knife three times as well as he did, heck he doesn't know the half of what kind of heart that keeps that kid ticking. He's looking at more surgery though, the doctor already indicated that. He's got a long road ahead of him. He's gonna need lots of therapy to rehabilitate it."

"I read the accident report Milt, McCormick should be thankful he's alive. What the hell was he doing out in Saugus anyway?" Frank asked.

Hardcastle shook his head. "I'm not completely sure Frank, all I know is he was going to meet a friend that night, an old racing buddy, name of EJ Corlette, but the kid never told me where he was going. It's not like he's 16 years old, I gotta give him some privacy," Milt justified. "You know this thing between him and me is more about trust than chasing down bad guys."

Harper nodded his understanding of their unique arrangement. "This Corlette the same guy who races in the Indy 500?"

"Yeah, he and McCormick go way back to dirt track racing I guess. I met EJ the other day myself, and once I make sure McCormick is okay, I'm going to find EJ and see what he might know. I think the deputy in Saugus was going to try to contact him too, but I haven't heard back from him yet. The only think I can think was that McCormick maybe was upset over something and went to the racetrack to try to prove something to himself. He was a little ticked off after we were at Corlette's house, someone named Bill Rogers showed up and tried to goat him, maybe EJ did the same thing to him that night, who knows? Right now I just don't know," Milt shook his head in frustration. "There's too many questions and not enough answers. I just want the kid to be all right. I'll get to the bottom of all of it when I get the time, I just gotta make sure he's all right now," Milt said. "You know that this Rogers guy tried to insult him right in front of me. McCormick showed a lot of restraint, but on his own, I guess I have to wonder what he might do. Maybe Corlette pushed all the right buttons and set the kid off."

"Maybe Corlette was out there racing him and took off?" Frank suggested.

Hardcastle nodded, "Believe me, I've thought of that too, which if that's what happened, I'll do more than talk with Corlette. The paramedics think McCormick was out there for a couple of hours before they got the call. If you're scenario is correct, maybe it wasn't an accident, maybe they had a beef and McCormick got the worst of it. And maybe Corlette just fled."

"Hey, McCormick wouldn't do anything stupid Milt, he's not going to use his car as some sort of weapon, he knows better than that, and you know that too," Frank paused and realized that Hardcastle was worried about the kid's life for the time being so he added, "That doctor is right Milt, McCormick's a tough kid, you know that. He'll bounce back from this in no time," Frank said and paused, "Listen, you want me to check out this Corlette on the side? I'd be glad to do a little digging."

"Would you mind? The sheriff from Saugus has been trying to locate him too, but so far no luck. The deputy's name is Tyner," Milt said. "It could be a few days yet before I can get out and do anything you know? Run that Bill Rogers too and see what he turns up. I had him working with a guy named Martin Grayson, who I think has some mob connections."

"Sure, I'll find them all and ask a few questions," Harper said, "You need anything else?"

"Nah, I'm good, but thanks Frank," Milt said. "Keep thinking good things for McCormick."

"You got it," Frank replied.

OOOOO

"Don't let him out of this house, you understand Rocco?" Rogers said to Lomire. EJ was curled up on a sofa sleeping off a 12-pack of beer that he had turned to in order to drown his sorrows in.

"He ain't going nowhere Mr. Rogers," Rocco said, picking up one of the cans and crushing it on his forehead.

"I'm serious here Rocco, if he gets loose, I'm coming after you."

Rocco nodded his understanding and Rogers exited to go meet up with Martin Grayson.

OOOOO

"Can't you put a leash on that dog of yours Bill?" Grayson started, pouring himself a scotch from his own private bar. "I thought we've discussed EJ to death. You said you were going to take care of him and keep these sorts of things from happening. You know we need EJ to front the whole operation."

"Believe me Mr. Grayson, I've tried," Rogers said, "We're in a bit of a jam now. Both these guys can identify EJ."

"Well, we can't have that now, can we?" Grayson said, lifting up his glass in a mock toast and drinking down its contents. "Keep EJ under wraps until we find out if his 'victims' are going to live or die."

"And if they live?" Rogers asked.

Grayson walked over and softly patted Rogers on the cheek, "If they live, EJ Corlette dies."

OOOOO

By mid-day Dr. Capole allowed Milt in to finally sit next to Mark's bedside. Still heavily medicated, the ventilator had been removed, and he was still unconscious for the most part and or sleeping. Hardcastle entered the ICU quietly and pulled the chair closer to the bed and quietly sat down and began to wait some more. The left side of McCormick's face was draped in bandages, even covering his left eye. The part of his lip he could see was heavily swollen. His curly hair jutted out from the top of a bandage, looking almost comical. Hardcastle wondered what he looked like underneath and just how bad the scarring on his face would be, even though the plastic surgeon had attempted to put his questions to rest by assuring him that scarring would be minimal. The most fearsome thing however was his right leg, which now was suspended by a pulley and was heavily casted. It was a good thing he was still out of it, at least that's what Dr. Capole had alluded to, he'd mentioned to Milt that the pain would be excruciating because of both the initial injury involved bone, arterial and nerve damage, and ligament and tendon impairment as well as the time it had taken to repair it all. And of course the shock and length of time prior to McCormick getting to the hospital all would weigh heavily in his recovery. Yes, the damage to his right leg was extensive and severe, and if not for this world renowned orthopedic surgeon, Milt could only wonder what might have happened. He questioned him about McCormick's future mobility and possible paralysis, but at this early stage, Capole could not and would not speculate.

Hardcastle would be ever grateful to Dr. Patchett in Saugus, who had the foresight to know that McCormick's injury would require more expertise than he or his staff had and that Patchett had sought out the services of Dr. Capole. Milt didn't even want to think about the kid losing his leg or how he'd begin to have to tell him that. Hardcastle lost track of the time he spent just looking over the kid from top to bottom and thinking just how lucky he was to be alive. Deputy Tyner had sent over pictures of the Coyote, while McCormick was still in surgery and Milt's eyes widened with amazement in seeing the shape of the car, which looked like a red blob of fiberglass. Damn, he thought as he held them in his hands and looked at them again, the kid was alive, and that was a miracle, and if he could come of this and walk with both his legs, it'd be even more amazing. As much as he wanted him to wake up and talk, he knew it was probably better for him to be unconscious right now, getting the rest he'd need in order to recuperate.

Dr. Capole was already talking about several more surgeries on his leg, while the plastic surgeon at Angels, Dr. McDonald, had been very pleased with the outcome of the surgery he performed on Mark's face and wasn't anticipating anything further. Miraculously, his internal injuries were relatively minor and basically were deep bruises to his liver and lung. The word lucky kept coming up time and time again in the mouths of the medical personnel at Angels.

Nearing 6pm, Mark became more aware and actually managed to open up his un-bandaged eye and wonder what was going on. He moaned something that didn't make any sense but it did cause Milt to take notice. "Hey there sport," Hardcastle began in a soft tone, "You're in the hospital and everything's gonna be just fine, you just rest easy, there's nothing for you to worry about." McCormick turned his head ever so slightly to the sound of the Judge's voice and weakly and shakily lifted his hand. The Judge noticed it immediately and grabbed onto it and gave it a reassuring squeeze. The heavy dosage of pain meds was keeping Mark stuporous and groggy and he didn't say anything except some incoherent mumblings but Hardcastle was certain that he recognized him and managed to even give him a weak smile before drifting back off.

Several hours later McCormick's pain increased and Milt quickly got up and called for a nurse to take a look at him. She checked his vital signs and noted on his chart that he was past due for more pain medication. She quickly took care of it and before long the part of McCormick's visible face softened as the medication kicked in and alleviated the discomfort he was in.

OOOOO

Deputy Tyner showed up at the hospital around 8pm and the nurse came in to tell the Judge that the Sheriff wanted to see him. The Judge glanced over to McCormick who now looked peaceful enough, so he rose up and quietly went out to the hall.

"Judge Hardcastle, how's Mr. McCormick?" Tyner respectfully asked as the Judge reached out to shake his hand.

"He'll be alright, but the leg is still a big question right now. They just don't know how much he'll actually recover from it. It's basically up to Mark. His pain is real bad right now though, they've got him heavily medicated," The Judge scratched his nose as he explained McCormick's condition.

"Has he been able to tell you anything about the accident?"

Milt shook his head no. "He's still out of it, mostly sleeping and they're giving him heavy doses of pain meds for the leg. It might be another day or two before he can tell us anything. He's barely been awake and he's not been able to talk at all yet."

Tyner nodded his understanding. "Well, we haven't found any evidence of anyone else at the track that night, now that doesn't mean someone wasn't there, but our guys have been over every inch. The problem with it being a race track is that we don't know when some of the skid and tire marks might have been made. The gate was a heavy-duty padlock, that could have easily just been jimmied, but there was no sign of damage and no fingerprints. Someone also knew just how to get into the light box to turn on the grandstand lights. But no fingerprints or any damage there either."

"What about Corlette, did you find him yet?"

"No sir, we haven't, which is good news for Mr. McCormick, well, from my standpoint anyway. It just casts some doubt onto Corlette. It hardly seems coincidental to drop off the face of the earth right after an old friend you were meeting turns up badly injured in a car wreck," Tyner said. "We're going to check with his manager, a guy by the name of Bill Rogers tomorrow to see if he knows where he's at."

"Yeah, well, I just want to find out what happened at Saugus," Hardcastle said.

"I'll stick with finding that out for you sir. I'll stop up tomorrow if that's all right and check on you and Mr. McCormick?"

"Sure, that'll be fine," Milt said. "Listen Tyner, I did some checking on Corlette and his manager the other day and there's a friend of mine from downtown, Lieutenant Frank Harper?" Tyner indicated he didn't know him. "He was up here earlier and he's running down anything he can find out on Corlette and Rogers or a guy by the name of Martin Grayson. Grayson is the money behind Corlette Enterprises and my records show that Grayson used to run with the mob."

Tyner perked up. "I'll check it all out myself too sir, and I'll give Lieutenant Harper a call and we'll put our heads together, if that's all right with you?"

"That'd be great," Milt said.

"Maybe there's more here than a just a car accident after all," Tyner said.

OOOOO

"Looks like you're one lucky dog EJ, McCormick is still alive, according to our source at the hospital," Rogers said. "That means no murder wrap for you."

"What's his condition?" EJ asked and added, "And I didn't attempt to kill anyone Bill, that's your game. And I swear I'll take you down with me if that's what this comes down to. Now what's his condition?"

"Still critical right now, I guess he's in a coma. Maybe if you're lucky he won't wake up and you'll be free and clear," Rogers replied.

"I'll never be free and clear of this," Corlette said.

"EJ, we've been over this, you're not turning yourself in. What's it going to take to make you understand there's more at stake here than just you? Do you even realize how many people Corlette Enterprises employs? What about all of them? Think about that, rather than some stupid old ex-racer, ex-con. Corlette Enterprises is you. If you turn yourself in, it's all over, all those people, their families, the whole thing. I'm not going to let you do this. We'll get it figured out, you just need to sit tight until I can come up with a plan. Haven't I always taken care of you when you needed to be taken care of?"

EJ glumly nodded his agreement. "If you can get me out of all of this Bill, it'd be a miracle."

"Just stick with me EJ, I'll bring you the checkered flag again."

OOOOO

During rounds the next day, Dr. Capole suggested that to Milt that when Mark began to wake up that he should try to encourage him to stay awake a little more, to try to engage him in some conversation. They also had fitted McCormick with a PCA machine so that Mark could administer an extra dosage of pain med's if the leg became too uncomfortable for him to bear. Over night several of the nurses and the resident on call had noted that he had become agitated and restless as the prescribed pain medication was wearing off. After consultation, they fitted him with the button for his right hand, and explained to him what to do, so that if he felt he needed a booster dose he could simple press the button and release the additional med's himself.

Just after 9am the following morning, McCormick appeared to be trying to wake up again. He sort of mumbled or groaned and Hardcastle, who was reading the morning paper in the chair by Mark's bedside, set it down in his lap immediately and looked over to the kid.

"McCormick?" he asked him, hoping the kid would open up his eye.

Mark incoherently said something, his visible eyelid fluttering but not fully opening.

"Hey McCormick, how about waking up and talking to me huh? Can you do that?" Hardcastle was following Capole's direction to keep the kid awake. He stood up, pushed the chair back and towered over his injured friend's bed. Finally the heavy lid opened at least for a quick moment before collapsing close again from weakness. Hardcastle wasn't about to give up so easily, "McCormick, come on kiddo, wake up, I know you can do it," Milt tried to cajole him. "It's me, Hardcase, what have you got to say for yourself today?"

"Wha?" McCormick could barely even complete a word coherently, but he followed it with a muttered garble of some sort, that Milt still couldn't understand. The fat lip was giving him some trouble. Hardcastle had to smile at the kid's resilience, figuring the kid was griping at him in his semi-conscious delirium, because even his mumble had a bit of a nag sound to it.

"That's a boy, keep on waking up now. The Doc said you need to join the land of the living again."

"Ja, Judge? Jus, leave me 'lone," he mumbled as he tried to open his eye again and focus and wake himself up and as he did he saw Hardcastle standing over him. "Tired, lemme sleep, go 'way," he added. Milt watched him take several short, exhaustive breaths in and out before he mustered up enough strength to ask, "Wha, what happened? Where am I?" Then he shut his eye again in exhaustive fashion, the little bit of activity proving to be almost too much for him.

"Uh, uh, no you don't, come on now, wake up here, stay with me kiddo," Hardcastle urged the injured McCormick. He waited for a minute to see if the kid would respond and he did. Slowly he opened his eye again and he tried to give Milt a heavily medicated, 'I don't know why I'm smiling' smile. "There ya are, well you had a car accident, you're in the hospital, but the doctors say you're gonna be okay now," Milt said, not really sure if the bleary-eyed McCormick understood anything he was saying.

A couple of more labored breaths and the resting of his droopy eyelid, he opened it up yet again and asked, "Why are you standing up?"

"Because I'm trying to get you to wake up for a little bit, you've been out of it for a couple of days already sport," Milt finally sat back down in the chair after he spoke. "The doctor wants you to try to stay awake, no sense in lollygagging your life away in a hospital bed."

This time he purposefully closed his eye and attempted to identify his injuries. The pain ripped through his leg and he realized that part of his face was bandaged and that that half felt like a balloon. He clamped down his eyelids as the throbbing, intense sensation tore down his leg. After it somewhat subsided, he cautiously turned his head toward Hardcastle and asked, "bad huh? My leg is on fire."

"It wasn't good, that's for sure," Hardcastle answered seeing the ache on his friends face. McCormick caught his breath again as yet another pain ripped through his leg and Hardcastle saw him tense up his facial muscles one more time. He decided to remind him again about the PCA machine. "They gave you that thing there in your right hand there, if the pain is too much you can give yourself a booster shot that's supposed to help. All you gotta do is push the button."

Hardcastle saw the kid reach for it with his right hand and he held it in his palm for a minute but didn't press it and rather this time he closed his eyes and drifted off and said something that Hardcastle couldn't quite make out but it sounded like, "yeah I remember."

Then there was silence. "You tired out already huh?" Milt asked, checking to see if he was just resting of if he really had drifted off.

His eye trembled open again, "Tired and leg hurts so bad," he said, finally giving in and pressing the PCA. His hand even trembled from the pain. "What happened to my face?" he finally asked.

"Glass fragments mostly, you had some pretty deep cuts and lacerations, but they got you all patched up, they said there's some swelling though, especially near your mouth."

McCormick heard the explanation, but nothing except the pain was making any impact on him, "I just want to sleep, pain all o'er," he said drowsily, trying to focus on Milt, but finding it nearly impossible to stay awake.

"Yeah, the doctor said it would hurt something awful, I'm sorry about that, wish I could do something more for you," Milt said keeping a close eye on him.

"Wouldn't wish this on anyone," Mark said quietly. His eye was open now, but Milt watched as it sort of glassed over even more than it had been as the morphine boost began to take effect. "What happened to my face?" McCormick lucidly asked, obviously realizing that something had happened to his head, but not recalling that he'd just asked.

"The windshield shattered near as they can tell, cut you up, but they said you're stuck with the same face you came in with," Hardcastle tried to lighten up the mood with a bit of a joke.

"Not blind?" He finally had realized that his left eye was covered, he lazily lifted his arm and tenderly patted the bandaged part of his face, then he dropped his arm back to his side in exhaustion.

"Nope, that's just a precaution, you had some glass fragments in your left eye, but they checked you all out and everything's working."

"Jus' tired now Milt, leg hurts bad, gotta get some sleep, 'kay?" He pressed the button on the PCA another time.

Hardcastle watched his eyelid droop closed and no matter what Capole had said, he just didn't have the heart to keep yammering at the kid. He could see just from looking at him that his leg was really bothering him. They'd have plenty of time to catch up, right now the kid should just sleep and conserve whatever strength he had left.

"Yeah, that's fine kid, just get some sleep," he said, realizing that McCormick hadn't even heard a word he said.

OOOOO

Sometime after the dinner hour, McCormick woke up again and actually managed to stay awake for about a half hour. They had decided it was okay to remove the bandage that covered his eye, because Mark in his sleep had somehow managed to reach up and pry it off from his face anyway. The left side of his face however remained covered by a sterile bandage. The nurse brought him in some sort of Gatorade type juice, along with some water and ice chips. He slowly sipped at the purple drink with a straw as Hardcastle entered his room after having gone down to the cafeteria to grab something for his own dinner.

McCormick managed a tired smile when he saw the Judge walk in. He seemed to be a little more coherent this time.

"Well, you're looking better there kiddo, you've been sleeping damn near all day. I'll never get how you young kids do it. Don't you just get tired of lying around all the time?" Hardcastle cracked.

In a weak, barely audible voice, Mark replied, "This isn't exactly the same thing as me sleeping in on the weekend at the gatehouse Judge." He took another sip from the cup he had. From the looks of it, drinking through a straw required more energy than he had, because the glass was barely emptied.

Hardcastle noticed he still held the PCA remote in his right hand. "Is that your dinner?" Milt asked noticing the purple drink.

Mark gave him a slight nod, "It was either this or a porterhouse and I just felt this was a better selection."

He must be feeling better, the Judge thought, he even made an attempt at a smart aleck comment. "Good choice, I just had a burger down in their cafeteria and I might need some of that purple stuff myself," Milt said, rubbing his stomach to indicate that his dinner wasn't sitting too well.

That got another partial, but goofy looking smile from the fat-lipped McCormick. "They told me no food yet, maybe something soft tomorrow. Not hungry anyway and I don't know if I could do much chewing, my face is killing me too. I think it's the stitches."

"Either way whatever you get around here will kill you kid, I guess I'll have to try to smuggle something greasy in for you once you get the approval on solid food," Milt sat down in the chair next to the bed.

Mark set the cup down on his tray and pushed the remote button on the PCA machine. "This thing is a lifesaver," he started, by holding it up for Milt to see and letting out an exhausted breath, "otherwise these nurses would have to be in here all day." He put his head back on the pillow and waited for the booster shot to kick in. "The pain just comes out of nowhere." Hardcastle watched his hands and arms both relax as the medication began to take effect.

"Pretty bad huh?" The Judge asked him.

"Hmmm," McCormick murmured his agreement to Hardcastle's statement, "Think of the worst pain you've ever had and then multiple it by a million," McCormick explained. "On second thought, make that ten million."

"You're still a wise guy, now I know you're exaggerating."

"And my face itches," he added, pouting what part of his face that could be seen. "I heard one of the nurses say I had 49 stitches."

"Yeah, but it's not like it's one big line, you're not Frankenstein for crying out loud," Hardcastle said. "It's spread out into a bunch of little fixes."

"That's not comforting," Mark started and asked, "What happened anyway?"

"I told you already, you had a car accident."

"The Coyote?"

Milt nodded, "Yeah, it's in bad shape, probably worse shape than you actually if you can believe that. I had it towed out to Charlie's. He'll see what he can do with it, he's worked miracles on it before. Good thing he's got a copy of the plans."

"Last thing I remember was taking a shower in the house," he let out another breath, "I guess you weren't with me then huh?"

"Nope," Hardcastle said, not wanting to feed the kid too much information. Hardcastle hoped he'd remember what happened on his own without prodding. Right now, it seemed as though he had no memory of what had transpired. Maybe it was better that way.

Hardcastle noticed McCormick studying him for any sort of sign. Then his lip curled under in a frown. "I can't remember. "

"Well, you've been through a helluva accident, just give it some time, maybe you'll remember something," Milt explained.

"The last thing I can recall is standing in my robe in the den. How long ago was that?" Mark asked.

"Three days ago," Hardcastle answered.

McCormick wanted to know though. "Where did it happen? The accident, I mean."

"Nice try kiddo, but I'm not going to give you all the facts. Why don't we just talk about the starting pitching for the Dodgers? You know this could be a long season if we don't get a left hander who can find the plate."

"Are you going to tell me I've been in a coma for years or something?" Mark asked.

Milt had to chuckle, "No, now why would I do that? I'm not gonna lie to you, but I'm not going to start feeding your brain with something. I wasn't there. I don't know what exactly happened either, that I can tell you for sure."

McCormick was anything but satisfied and the pain going through his leg was just about ready to send him to the moon. He pushed the button on the PCA one more time, which Hardcastle noticed again.

"Listen, why don't you just relax, it'll all come back to you, there's no sense in getting worked up over it. It was just an accident. You're just starting to recover here. Give yourself a little time. You know you've had three operations already?"

"I didn't hurt anyone else did I?" he asked Milt.

Hardcastle couldn't keep this information from him. Milt looked him straight in the eyes and made sure he made contact, "No," Hardcastle said softly, "nobody but yourself." He saw McCormick take in a deep breath and try to relax. He could tell knowing that was a huge load off Mark's mind.

"Can you move this tray away, I think I'm just gonna get some sleep?" Mark asked the Judge.

"Sure," the Judge stood up and rolled the movable tray off to the side. As he did he saw the kid trigger the pain med one more time. He could only imagine the kind of pain that McCormick was going through.

OOOOO

Right before visiting hours were going to come to a close, Deputy Tyner stopped up at the hospital to check on Mark. Hardcastle was still in the room as well, making sure the kid was all set for the night and confirming which nurse would be on duty at what time.

Mark had woken up again and was mildly amused by the Judge as he seemed to really enjoy doting on his every whim. As much as he didn't want it to seem like he was taking advantage of Hardcastle's concern, he was too weak to do anything for himself. He stored away the memory though and added it to the ever-growing list of things he would be eternally grateful to the Judge for. Sometime several months ago he realized that he'd never be able to figuratively 'repay' the Judge in either of their lifetimes, but maybe he could turn around and do the same type of thing for someone else, sort of in Milt's honor. When he first thought of that, he sort of laughed it off as a folly, but watching Milt move around the hospital room, bringing him fresh water to sip on, adjusting a pillow behind his head, and monitoring the nurses monitoring him just reinforced how much Hardcastle meant to him, the guy was more than one of a kind. He was like a mythical unicorn. Yep, someday, he'd have to do that for someone too, if he was really lucky, maybe it would be for Milt. Heck, the old donkey wasn't getting any younger.

The Judge stood behind the nurse as she was writing something down on his chart, when Mark finally spoke up and said, "Judge, come on, let her do her work, she knows what she's doing."

Hardcastle scowled his face for a quick moment and then took a couple of steps backwards, realizing he was indeed invading her space.

The nurse looked over and gave Mark an ever-thankful smile which he returned.

"You want some more water or maybe some ice chips? They said you can have those too?" Milt asked him, poised to serve.

"No," Mark nearly chuckled, "I'm fine, thanks Judge."

"I'll stop back in a half hour and check on you Mark, just get some rest," the nurse said, hanging up the chart and leaving.

As she did, Deputy Tyner poked his head in and asked to enter.

"Come on in Deputy," Milt said with a smile. "Mark, this Deputy Tyner, he's investigating the accident."

Mark gave him a nod.

"Good to see you awake Mr. McCormick," Tyner began. "I heard your prognosis for a full recovery is excellent."

"That's what I'm hoping for Deputy, and please, call me Mark."

"I'm wondering if you're up for a couple of questions?" Tyner continued.

"Well, believe me I'd like to help you out, 'cause I'd like to know myself, but right now, I'm not remembering any of it. Last thing I can recall is being back at the Judge's house. Everything else is pretty much a blank."

Tyner jotted some notes down on a pad he had pulled out of his pocket. He looked up at Mark and over to the Judge, "No problem, I've seen that happen a lot after an accident and surgery. Generally folks will start to remember pieces of what happened in the days following. If it's okay, I'll stop back and check with you in another day or so, how's that?"

McCormick looked over suspiciously to the Judge. Something told him that these two knew something that he didn't, even though the Judge claimed to know nothing. "Yeah, whenever, I'm not gonna be going anywhere for awhile. Hopefully, I'll be able to fill in some holes for you."

Tyner smiled at both of them. "Well, have a good night, rest easy." With that he left the two old friends to continue the discussion.

"All right Hardcase, just what aren't you telling me?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You know what I'm talking about, you know something and you're not telling me."

"Don't get yourself all worked up kiddo, I only know a couple of minor details, which I might add, we don't want to feed you, we want you to remember them yourself, not only for the investigation but for yourself. We're doing this for you," Milt explained.

Mark still wasn't completely satisfied, but he avoided staring down Hardcastle and opted for the ceiling instead. There were no answers up there either. "I hate this," he finally blurted out.

"You know what? You should just get some rest, like everyone's been telling you. I'm heading home myself and you should just sleep. I'll be back in the morning. You got everything you need right?"

"Yeah, you're right," Mark took a deep breath and pushed the PCA button. "I'll just get some sleep and maybe it'll all come back to me in the morning."

"Now you're cooking."

OOOOO

The following morning, Dr. Capole came by to check on Mark's progress, and finally 'meet' him face to face. He was glad to see him awake when he came by.

"Mr. McCormick, I'm Dr. John Capole, I'm an orthopedic surgeon. How are you feeling today?"

"Call me Mark, please," McCormick began, trying to shift a tiny bit in the bed just to try to get comfortable. "And this leg is killing me Doc," he started, "just being honest," he gave him a half smile at his admitted candidness. "I think I'm using this thing way too much," he said, limply holding up the PCA device.

Capole picked up the chart off the foot of the bed and began to read through the nurses reports. "According to your chart, you only tried to get one extra dose that it wouldn't let you have, other than that, you've been staying within the range we've set forth. It's doing what it was designed to do, and that's to let you manage your pain tolerance."

"I guess it just seems like I'm hitting it all the time," he paused and added, "and my leg still hurts."

Capole laughed, "You're only two days away from surgery Mark, and there was a great deal of damage," Capole checked over the rest of his chart and pulled out a pen to take notes with. "Can you tell me more about the pain you're experiencing?"

"Most of the time it's sort of throbbing, but then I get these intense jabs that just shoot down my whole leg."

"The throbbing, is that throughout the leg or localized to a specific area?" Capole asked.

Mark thought about it and glanced at his leg and let his right hand hover near the spot that was giving him the pain, "I guess upper thigh mostly."

"And the shooting pain, you said it goes down? Is that accurate or does it ride back up too, both directions you know?"

Hardcastle walked in while the doctor was asking questions. "Oh, sorry, I can wait outside," he said, seeing Dr. Capole.

"Nah, it's okay Judge, you can come in, it's okay right Doc?" McCormick asked. "He knows everything about me anyway. Let me tell you Doc, having a Hardcastle is worse than having a father."

"As long as you don't mind, sure," Capole said, giving Milt a smile. Hardcastle walked over and sort of stood against the wall as the doctor continued on with his examination.

"Okay, so the shooting pain, up, down or both Mark?"

"Just down, like a waterfall I guess. It's kind of weird when it happens."

Dr. Capole made a couple of notes on the chart. "This is what I'm thinking Mark, the throbbing pain, that's because your thigh bone was broke in two different spots. Quite honestly, the bone was shattered and we repaired as much as we possibly could and we set it accordingly, inserted a more than a couple of pins and screws to hold it all together. And that's something new for your body to manage, hence the pain. Now I think they're may be some fragments that are still floating in there, but we'll get that cleaned out the next time we go in. The pain is coming because the bone is already trying to mend. Does that make sense to you? Am I explaining it so that you understand?" Mark nodded his understanding. "The shooting pain is some nerve damage and what I would like to do, is give you another day to rest up and then we'll get some new pictures tomorrow and I'll take you back into the ER and see if we can get that eliminated. My guess just from hearing you describe it is that one of those loose bone fragments might be pressing on a nerve."

"You make it sound pretty easy," Mark commented.

Capole smiled, "Believe it or not, it won't be nearly as bad as the original operations were. The hard part is behind us, but we might have several more of these little, what I like to call, 'clean up' surgeries to take care of these little aches that you might experience." Capole explained.

Mark had to choke back a laugh, "this doesn't feel like a little ache Doc," he replied and glanced over to the Judge, who also was smiling.

"You're right Mark, that was pretty insensitive sounding wasn't it? What I mean is, don't worry, we'll get you back up and on your feet, both of them that is, before you know it," Capole said.

Mark nodded his head, "That's good to hear, 'cause the way it feels right now, I don't see how."

Capole put the chart back on the hook on the bed. "Listen, keep using that PCA as you need to and don't worry about it. I'm going to schedule the scan and the surgery for late in the day tomorrow, just try to get some rest, and no dancing for the rest of the day all right?"

That brought another smile to McCormick's tired face, "that's a guarantee Doc, thanks for everything."

"I'll see you tomorrow," Capole said, exiting the room.

As soon as he left, McCormick reached for the button again and closed his eyes waiting for relief to come. "Tomorrow can't come soon enough," Mark gasped.

"That's pretty good news huh?" the Judge commented. "You know that doctor is world famous for the work he does, you're pretty lucky McCormick."

McCormick didn't answer right away, he had tapped the button again for another dose and impatiently waited for relief. "I remember being at Saugus," he paused, "in the hospital up there anyway. I think I heard the paramedic say he was taking me to the Saugus hospital. Is that where the accident was?"

Milt's lips turned up ever so slightly, "Yep, that's where you were kiddo."

"And you were there, in the hospital? I remember hearing your voice, you told me I was going to be okay."

"Yeah, I drove over, when I got the call, you were unconscious the whole time though. Guess it just proves that people do hear stuff though, like they claim," Hardcastle said.

McCormick wasn't really thinking about the hospital though, he was still trying to piece together what had happened. However, he was still drawing a blank on most of it. He shook his head. "I don't remember driving over there. I can't figure out why I would have gone up there. It's been years since I've been to Saugus."

Hardcastle just tossed his head to the side, sort of another refusal to fill in details for him.

"You know I hate that you're not even helping me out a little bit," McCormick pursed his lips.

"Something's you just have to figure out on your own sport, besides, like I told you yesterday, I don't know the whole story myself. I'm just as much in the dark as you."

"And I'm not getting any sympathy 'cause I'm lying here in the hospital?" Mark asked.

"Not hardly, I've seen you milk an ache and pain out on the basketball court remember?" Hardcastle tossed out. "Remember a month ago when you and I were playing and you said you broke your ankle and then you suddenly scored ten straight points and beat me? I'm not falling for that again."

"Does this look like I'm faking this time?" McCormick asked but was offhandedly listening to him. "The only thing in Saugus is the track," he said, angry with himself for remembering the town and not the events that caused him to wind up in the hospital. He took in a deep breath and closed his eyes.

"You know maybe if you quit trying so hard to remember it'll just come back to you. Give that brain of yours a little rest for a change too," Hardcastle said.

That comment made Mark open his eyes back up and look at the Judge, "Did you just compliment me in your normally off-handed way?"

"Everyone's got a brain McCormick, the lucky ones know how and when to use there's."

McCormick grinned for the first time in a couple of days, "Maybe you're right about that."

Hardcastle noticed the smile and figured the pain med's must have finally kicked in. "I'm supposed to tell you that Frank says hi. He said he'd stop in to see you when you're up to having visitors."

McCormick let out a yawn, "Might be a few more days yet, especially if they're going back in later on. It just wipes you out, I don't know why."

"Well, you're putting your body through something that it's not use to," Milt explained. The kid was fading fast, he just sort of nodded and his head drifted to the side on the pillow. Hardcastle could see him struggling to stay awake. "Listen kiddo, if you're tired, go ahead and sleep. I'll stop back up later this afternoon to see you."

"Yeah, I am, all of a sudden, I'm sorry Judge," he said, letting his eyes droop shut.

"No problem Mark, I'll come up and check on you later," Hardcastle said, with that touch of fatherly concern in his voice again.

OOOOO

Deputy Tyner had stopped by several more times only to learn that McCormick's memory was still fuzzy when it came to actual details. He told the two of them that he would stay in touch.

Five days later and two additional 'clean up' surgeries later, Dr. Capole released Mark from the hospital, under very strict conditions. The first being that Mark use a walker or a wheelchair to get around with. Neither one of those options sat well with the former Can Am Racer. Yet, after what he'd been through, anything would be better than sitting in the hospital bed. McCormick knew that Hardcastle had also gotten the same list of do's and don'ts from Dr. Capole as well. Worse than that, Mark knew the Judge would enforce them with an iron gavel.

He sat in the wheelchair at the entrance to the hospital, as he waited for Milt to bring the truck around. A small travel bag filled with personal items and various prescriptions for pain and infection and well, digestive problems due to the pain and infection medications, sat on the ground beside him as well as the walker. He felt like a 90 year old man.

It seemed like an eternity for Hardcastle to drive up. He wondered where he had parked and then he began to wonder how exactly he was going to even get in the truck. If worst came to worst, he could just sort of slide into the pick-up bed and stretch out back there for the ride to Gulls Way. He shook his head, no, that wouldn't happen, Hardcastle would never allow it. Finally, he saw the familiar truck pull around the bend. McCormick reached for the walker and brought it around in front of him. He wasn't supposed to put any weight on the leg for at the very least another week, when he'd see Dr. Capole again and hopefully get a cast downgrade to allow him to start some sort of rehab.

He tightly gripped the walker and hoisted himself up from the wheelchair. The damn cast must have put an extra thirty pounds on him, he thought as he rose to an upright position. It ran from his upper thigh all the way to his toes and had a barely discernable bend at the knee. The extra uncomfortable weight, plus the surgeries and lying around in a bed for far too long were quickly making him a weakling. Hardcastle had parked the truck right in front of him and he quickly got out and came around to assist him.

"You didn't put any weight on it did you?" And before Mark could even answer, Milt continued, "You couldn't just wait two more minutes for me to get out of truck to give you a hand? You really have a stubborn streak, you know maybe for someone who's quick to pin a tail on someone else for being a donkey, maybe you ought to take a look in a mirror yourself. Be careful now." The Judge opened up the passenger side door wide and kept his hands in an outward fashion as if trying to catch McCormick if he should happen to fall.

McCormick was maneuvering himself toward the cab of the pickup. He didn't bother to respond. He just was glad to be getting out of the hospital.

"You know what, maybe I should get an orderly or something to give us a hand?" Hardcastle said, as he saw the kid strain just to get himself toward the cab.

"I don't need a hand," McCormick said, "Look out, let me just get over there," he added as the Judge took a step back and let Mark sort of backed himself toward the seat and then hoisted himself with his arms up onto the seat. Once inside, he rested on the seat for a short moment, taking in some much needed gasps of air. The next trick was going to be getting his leg into the truck. "Okay, now you can give me a hand. I guess you have to swing my leg around, so it's not dangling out, as we go driving down the freeway."

"Can you slide back in on the seat any farther?" Hardcastle asked.

"This ought to be a cozy ride home Judge," Mark cracked as he thought of himself sitting right next to the Judge, in order to accommodate the length of the cast. Mark pushed himself into the truck using his arms, and then Milt was able to gently get his let into the cab. McCormick leaned back on the seat and felt the sweat forming on his brow. He took his left hand and wiped the perspiration away before the Judge got in to drive. He was glad the nurse insisted he take two pain pills right before his release.

He watched as Milt folded up the walker and the wheelchair and put them in the back of the truck. Then he picked up the small bag and brought it with him as he got into the cab.

"That wasn't so bad, huh?" Milt said handing the bad to Mark. "It's good to get out of there I bet?"

"Yeah," was McCormick's now surly response.

"I thought you'd be a little happier today."

McCormick turned his head a little and realized he was taking out his frustration on the Judge. "Yeah, I am, I'm sorry, I'm just thinking that's all."

"I got a room all fixed up for you downstairs, I put a bed in there, and you can get in and out through the patio, so no stairs at all," Hardcastle explained.

"I could just stay in the gatehouse, the couch is fine, I've slept on it before. There was no need to go to any trouble."

"Nonsense, it wasn't any trouble, besides your doctor said you shouldn't be alone, just in case," Milt stopped himself from saying anymore.

"In case what? In case I fall over and have another accident that I can't remember?"

The Judge suppressed a smile, the kid could be like a heart monitor, up and down in sort of a chaotic rhythm, "No, not in case of that, just, well, just in case. It's an expression, that's all," then he changed the subject by adding, "You want me to stop in the drive through for a couple of burgers? By the time we drive over to Malibu, it'll be practically time for dinner."

"If you're hungry, sure, I guess I could eat one."

"I thought you'd be starving after all that hospital fare," Hardcastle said.

"Well, I have to build up my tolerance to the grease again," McCormick explained, his wry sense of humor slowly returned.

Then there was a bout of silence between them, Milt glanced over and saw that the kid seemed to be burning a hole in the windshield. "You trying out the x-ray vision over there?"

"What? Huh? No, I'm just remembering," he said absentmindedly and added, "I think it's the drive that's helping. I remember I went to Saugus to meet someone and I think it was at the track," he met Hardcastle's eye contact.

"I'm still not giving you details," Hardcastle said.

"I'll take that as a yes, okay, so I crashed at the track," McCormick said.

"You shouldn't guess, you should just, well, know, you know?" Hardcastle sounded a bit irritated.

McCormick stared out the window and tried to recall what had transpired. "I was racing," he suddenly chimed in. "Was I in a race?"

"I can't answer that," Milt said, pulling into the drive through. "What do you want to eat?"

"Ah, just give me a Colossal burger with bacon and cheese, a large fry and a chocolate shake," McCormick said.

"I thought you said you weren't hungry?"

"All this thinking and remembering is giving me an appetite," McCormick said.

OOOOO

Deputy Tyner and Lieutenant Harper met up and took the drive out to Bill Roger's estate. They waited at the privacy gate until they were buzzed in and then took the rather long drive up to the house to meet Rogers.

Before they got to the house, Rogers pulled Rocco aside and told him to take EJ up to one of the rooms on the third floor and to keep him there until he came and got them, then he went to meet the two lawmen.

"What can I do for you gentlemen?"

They both flashed their badges and followed him into his living room. "We're trying to locate EJ Corlette. We understand you're his manager and we're hoping you can tell us his whereabouts?" Tyner said.

"I haven't seen EJ in quite a few days. We were supposed to open up a new store in Buffalo, but he said he wasn't feeling well that day and then let's see, he called me up the following day and told me he was going to take a little R&R," Rogers offered.

"Do you know where he went?" Frank asked.

Rogers nodded negatively. "I'm his agent fella's, not his keeper. His schedule was clear, so his time is his own, you know?"

"So you're sure he didn't mention where he'd be?" Tyner asked a second time.

"Did you try his house?"

Frank Harper nodded. "I'm sorry guys, I don't know. Sometimes he heads up north of town to do some fishing, but I know he also likes the beaches down in Mexico."

"When's the next date on his schedule?" Harper asked.

Rogers walked over to his desk, "Let me check," he said, flipping open a calendar. "Looks like a week from next Monday. Time trials up in Monterrey."

"A week from Monday?" Tyner was not happy with the length of time they'd have to wait.

"Well, if he calls in I can tell him to give you gentlemen a call," Rogers said.

"Yeah, do that, will ya?" Harper said.

He gave them both a cheesy smile and showed them the door.

As they headed back to their car, Harper said to Tyner, "Notice that he never asked why we wanted to talk to him?"

"You bet I did," Tyner answered. "Let's do some more digging into Bill Rogers huh?"

OOOOO

Being at Gulls Way in the room that the Judge had fixed up was really only slightly better than being in the hospital, McCormick thought as here it was the middle of the night and for some reason he was wide awake staring at the darkness of the room.

The Judge had left him his pain meds and extra water right on the nightstand next to the bed, easily within reach, but the pain was tolerable right at the moment, it was sleep that eluded him and aside from the Colossal burger he had earlier, his appetite had been virtually non-existent. Capole said that was probably due to the cocktail of meds he was on and once he started reducing them, he'd gain his regular appetite back. In the meantime, nothing appealed to him in the way of food. He knew Hardcastle was concerned about that. And he was already tired of being stuck in bed. In all his years of racing, he'd never had this bad of an accident ever. Of course he had seen other guys in worse shape, but until right now, the magnitude of what could happen to him on account of racing had never fully sunken in to him.

Dr. Capole assured him he'd walk again, but he was having a hard time believing that to be true every time he looked down or tried to wiggle his barely visible toes and every time the pain tore through him.

He closed his eyes and tried to fall asleep, but it wasn't happening. Frustrated, he maneuvered himself in the bed and decided to get up and roll the walker around the downstairs of the house, maybe even sit outside for awhile. Being a cooped up invalid was for the birds. And maybe the little bit of exercise would tire him out enough to get a few hours of sleep.

He pushed himself toward the edge of the bed and cautiously slid his casted leg toward the floor, stopping it just before it would make contact with the ground. Next, he reached over for the walker and then elevated himself to an upright position. Little waves of pain ran through him, which he managed to control in order to continue his own journey.

Even though he felt the strain on his arms and shoulders, it was good just to get up from the prone position for a change. He just stood still for a moment to get his bearings before he started to move out of the room and into the rest of the house. Even though he by now knew the inside layout of Gulls Way, it was tricky to get around with what felt like a 50lb cast and another 10lb walker to drag with him. He bumped into the hallway walls a couple of times with the walker, till he got down toward the end of the hall and was able to flip a light switch on.

Getting to the kitchen was going to be his first major test. It had never seemed like it was such a long distance away before, now it felt more like a marathon. He stopped for a moment and leaned back against the wall just to give his arms and shoulders a break and was extra careful not to put pressure on his broken leg. While he rested, he glanced in the mirror that was in the hall and saw the reflection of his scarred up face looking back at him. He turned his head to the right, where there were no scars and he looked just like he'd always looked and then he turned his head back to the left and all he could notice was the stitches and scabbing and scarring from the blown out windshield. What an ugly mess he was, his lip curled with disgust at how he looked. The plastic surgeon had told him that the cuts would heal nicely and the scars would be barely visible in a few months, but he had a hard time believing that at this time too. Maybe he wasn't Frankenstein but he wasn't ruling out Quasimodo just yet, considering the scars and the hunched over way he had to walk. Now wasn't the time to be asking any women out on a date that was for sure. He saw how close the scars were to his left eye and was thankful that he suffered no eye damage. It really was a miracle he'd survived as well as he had. He didn't look too long at the mirror, rather he glanced inside the den before continuing on toward the kitchen.

Then it hit him.

EJ.

That was it. He paused in the doorway of the den and remembered the call from EJ on that fateful evening. He was meeting EJ Corlette in Saugus.

"Judge!" He called out in the semi-darkened house.

He wheeled around and cautiously moved toward the stairway and the Judge's upstairs bedroom. This wasn't going to wait.

"JUDGE!" he yelled out again from the landing.

Upstairs, the Judge heard McCormick calling out. He woke up suddenly and it took him a moment to remember everything that was going on and his first thought was that something was wrong. He got up quickly and grabbed his robe and headed downstairs. "I'm coming Mark, hang on," the Judge replied.

"Hardcase, hey, wake up!" Mark called out one more time, just as the Judge appeared at the top of the stairs.

"What? Hey, what are you doing out of bed?" The Judge said coming down the stairs. "Is something wrong? What happened? Are you okay?"

"Fine, I'm fine, I just remembered some more."

"Remembered what?"

"The accident, well, not the accident, but I remembered I was meeting EJ. He called me up that night, in the den, I had just taken a shower and you were downstairs digging in your files and doing laundry," McCormick was talking a mile a minute.

"Okay, just slow down kiddo, it's 3:30 in the morning right now, you know that don't you?" The Judge was trying to wake himself up.

"Yeah, yeah, are you listening to me? I met EJ out at Saugus, at the track, we were racing."

"You remember that for sure, or are you guessing again? 'Cause you're getting really good at playing these guessing games."

"I'm telling you I went to Saugus to meet EJ, after he called me, you heard the call yourself right? I went out, met him at the track and we were racing," McCormick said, leaning heavily now on the walker. He was starting to give out.

"Let's go sport, let's get you back to bed before you fall over," Hardcastle said, noticing him struggling to support himself upright.

"Did you hear me?" McCormick asked again, trying to straighten up.

"Yes, I heard you, but I'm also looking at you about ready to fall over, now let's go, you can talk from the bed okay?"

McCormick relented and started back toward the spare bedroom, huffing and puffing as he took the relatively short walk down the hall. Hardcastle followed behind him hoping he wouldn't trip or fall. Back in the bedroom, Mark wheeled over to the bed and eased himself onto side of the bed and gave himself a moment to rest. "You want to give me a hand here? Now's the time to make yourself useful and help me back into bed," he said to the Judge, who stood by and watched him.

"What can I do?" Hardcastle asked him.

"Ease my leg up and I'll scoot back okay?" Mark started, and added, "Gently and slow okay? Not too fast and no pressure." Hardcastle tried to follow his direction but must have moved it wrong and Mark let out a gasp of pain. "That's enough, stop!" The Judge set his leg down on the bed instantly.

"Sorry," Milt murmured.

McCormick just nodded and tried to let the pain subside. "It's okay, I do it all the time myself, all it takes is one wrong move."

"Why'd you have to get up anyway? They could probably hear you yelling down in San Diego. I would have come right down, there's no need for you to go rambling about in the dark."

"I was already up, I couldn't sleep, I needed to move around a little," McCormick explained.

"You know you shouldn't just wander around in the middle of the night, you could hurt yourself down here. You know you can wake me up."

"Judge, it's okay, I'm okay, I didn't hurt anything, so don't worry," he paused again and situated himself against a menagerie of pillows and let out a heavy sigh of relief. "Just lift it up a little and put that pillow under it will you?" he asked, he pointed toward a specific pillow.

The Judge did as he was instructed and waited for McCormick to start talking again.

"So was EJ there at the crash?"

"You tell me kiddo," the Judge said.

Mark closed his eyes, scanning his returning memory. "I got the phone call, which you heard and then I drove out to Saugus, and when I got out to the track, EJ was there waiting. He said he wanted to see if he still had it. And we started racing," Mark recalled.

"So then what happened?"

Mark looked away, "I don't know, but EJ was there. If I crashed at the track then EJ was there," McCormick explained. "Was EJ there? Judge you gotta tell me what you know now, don't keep me in the dark here." He paused, "Did I hurt him?"

Hardcastle cleared his throat. "No, you didn't hurt him, I told you that, you were the only one involved in the crash."

"Milt, you knew about the phone call from EJ, have you talked with him? What does he say? You have to tell me what you know now, please Judge."

"Slow down and just relax, I'll tell you what I know," the Judge began. "I know you got the call from EJ," he started, but McCormick interrupted him.

"See, I knew you knew, why didn't you just tell me instead of waiting for me to remember all this. It's crazy."

"It's not crazy. It's an ongoing investigation. We're still trying to put all the pieces in the puzzle wise guy."

"What's that supposed to mean?" McCormick asked.

"It means, we haven't been able to locate EJ yet to ask him."

"What?" Mark was bewildered. "Where is he?"

"We don't know that yet, the sheriff's office in Saugus has been trying to locate him. He's not at his house and your old buddy, Bill Rogers, Corlette's manager, hasn't been forthcoming with anything tangible," he paused, "Are you sure you don't remember anything else about racing?"

"No, I just," his voice suddenly dropped off.

"You just what?" Hardcastle was interested in what McCormick was about to say.'

McCormick turned his head to avoid eye contact. "I just remember being happy about racing him," he shrugged and turned back to look at the Judge. "You know I wanted to race him and see if I still had it too."

The Judge listened intently and didn't say anything right away, "Ah, there's nothing wrong with admitting that, I mean that's what you did, maybe what you want to get back into," the Judge was surprisingly outwardly understanding.

"I guess I didn't do so well though, that night," Mark said with a frown.

"Hey, you don't know why you crashed yet, so don't even go down that road."

"I can't see EJ hitting me and then leaving. Saugus is a pretty tricky track Judge, maybe he left and I just kept on going and whammo. You know, like a kid in a candy store, it's hard to step away once you put your foot to the pedal. One thing's for sure, I never got busted up this bad before. It's giving me a whole new perspective."

"Well, first thing tomorrow, I'll go see Frank and see about getting an APB out on EJ. It's about time we find him and hear his side of things."

"I wish I could help," McCormick answered.

"Don't even think you're going out of this house," the Judge said, rising to his feet. "We'll get to the bottom eventually. All you need to do now is let those bones of yours mend. I'm going back to bed, do you want anything before I go?"

"Nah, I'm fine," he hesitated a moment before adding. "Thanks Judge, for everything."

"Yeah, yeah, get some sleep okay?"

The Judge shut off the lights on his way out and after a few minutes Mark reached over to the table and grabbed for the pain pills and the glass of water.

OOOOO

"I know the cops are looking for me, Skid must have told them that I was with him before he crashed," EJ started.

"Well, maybe you're right EJ, but I don't think they know anything yet. There's no warrant out for your arrest. I think you're best bet is to just lay low like you've been doing."

"I can't hide out in your house forever Bill. I'm not twenty five years old and I don't need you to run my life anymore," EJ shouted.

"Oh no?" Bill Rogers laughed. "In case you haven't realized it yet EJ, that's exactly what I've been doing for the last decade. You eat when I tell you, you sleep when I tell you and you do what I tell you, when I tell you. Don't you get it? You're just a puppet."

The thought of Rogers controlling influence made EJ nauseous. "I'm tired of it Bill. I don't want this anymore. I want my own life back. I don't care about racing, I don't care about the stores, I just want to do my own thing."

"That's too bad EJ, you signed a contract, remember? You do know what a contract is right? It entitles me to tell you what to do."

"Then I'll get a lawyer and break it, I'll pay you whatever, just to get out of it," EJ pleaded.

"It's not going to happen EJ, so forget about it."

"I'm not a prisoner, I can leave if I want to," Corlette answered.

"You don't want to do that EJ, trust me on this one."

"Like I've trusted you till now?"

OOOOO

Several days later, the Judge entered the den area where Mark was sprawled out on the couch, a generous amount of pillows buffeted his casted leg and head. Milt thought he was sleeping, but the kid quickly opened his eyes as he heard Hardcastle enter.

"Did you find him yet?"

"No, but I finally convinced the cops to put an APB out on him," the Judge said.

"There is no way EJ would just drop off the face of the earth Judge. He's got way too much at stake."

"Like I keep telling you, you haven't seen this guy in years McCormick, people change."

"I know you believe me on this one, so quit trying to play it like you don't. Did you find Rogers?"

"I went to his office and he was conveniently unavailable again. Besides he probably would pull the same dumb act on me like he tried on Frank and Tyner. What did you expect me to do?"

"You should have busted in on him? You're losing your touch Judge."

"I'm not losing anything wise guy. There's certain things and certain people that you have to follow the right approach with or you have a bad outcome. I thought I've taught you this lesson before?" Hardcastle questioned him.

"I think I must have been sleeping that day," McCormick paused, "Maybe you should take Frank with you, get a warrant or something."

"A warrant for what? We don't even know if EJ is missing. He might be on vacation in Aruba for all we know like Rogers says. Are you sure yet that you and he were racing?"

McCormick dropped back onto the pillows in frustration, waited a long moment and began to sit up. He carefully swung around and put his left leg on the floor, reached for the walker and then hoisted his right leg off the pillows and onto the floor. "Yes, I am sure, I've told you that a million times now. Do you need your hearing checked? My leg is broken and my face looks like hamburger, but I know what I know. I remember that part."

"Where you going now?" Hardcastle asked him, watching him try to maneuver to a standing position without putting the leg on the floor according to doctor's orders.

"I'm going to the bathroom, is that okay?" Just as he said it, he sort of slipped his grasp on the walker and nearly took a tumble, luckily the couch was behind him and he fell back into the cushions. That however, did not cushion his leg from making contact with the ground and he let out a yelp of pain as he tumbled backwards.

Hardcastle moved toward him to try to give him a hand of some sort.

"Just lift my leg carefully all right?" McCormick clinched his jaw as the pain rocked him. "Slowly, okay?" he added.

"You know you gotta pay more attention when you're using this thing, the doc told you that, now you went and probably busted something else." Milt was afraid to move it.

"I didn't bust anything, it just hurts and any sort of movement or jostling is pure hell," he paused, "just help me get it up here on the pillow, will ya?"

Milt nodded his understanding and bent down and gently eased the broken leg up and back over to the couch and onto the comfort of the pillows. As he did McCormick collapsed back too onto the cushions, trying to find some relief. "Now what?" Milt asked him. "What else can I do for you?"

"Get me a pain pill and a glass of water," he gritted his teeth in an effort to alleviate the pain.

The Judge exited to the kitchen to get a glass of water but not before he picked up the several bottles of medication on the nearby end table and attempted to figure out which one was the right one for him to take. He ended up grabbing two different bottles and handing them both to Mark and letting him choose the correct one. "I'm not sure which one of these you want," Hardcastle said.

Mark took the bottles from him and read the labels and decided on the one he wanted. He opened up the bottle and poured one into his hand while he waited for the Judge to return with the water. If his leg wasn't already broken, he would take it and break it a few more times, his frustration was becoming worse and the pain never seemed to get any better. The slightest little tweak or movement to it would send him into agonizing pain. McCormick never thought a broken leg could hurt so badly. "God I hate this," he said, not realizing the Judge was entering the room.

"Hey, it won't be this way forever, you sure did a helluva number on your leg though, you gotta be thankful that you're going to recover, focus on that." The Judge came toward him with the glass of water, "Here you go," he held out the glass and Mark reached for it, his hand noticeably trembling from what had happened and the discomfort he was in.

"I know and I am, but it still hurts like hell," he paused and added, "Thanks Judge," he said sincerely as he took a sip from the glass.

Hardcastle backed away and sat down in the chair across from him. "Maybe you should have stuck around the hospital a few more days, they can take better care of you there than I can here. They got the personnel and the equipment to help you out."

"Judge, I'm not going to get better by sitting in a hospital bed all day long. Capole said it himself, that it would do me good to get up and move around every now and again. I just slipped before, that's all, I gotta be more careful when I use that thing, that's all. I wish he would let me use crutches instead. I hate that blasted thing. It makes me feel like I'm a hundred and eight years old. You even told me I needed to be careful with that blasted walker."

"What if I wasn't around and that would have happened?" Hardcastle fired back.

"Then I probably would be in a real pickle, wouldn't I?" McCormick answered him pointedly. The fact is, you were here, so all the supposition and supposing can stop." McCormick closed his eyes and tried to will the pain to end.

"Maybe I should take you back to the hospital? Do you think you re-injured anything?"

Mark let out a comprehensive breath, "No I didn't re-injure anything, I'll be okay, and I'm not going back there, just give me a few minutes here and let this pill kick in. Tell me more about Rogers, you got something on him don't you? I know you've been digging in your files."

"He's got ties to this guy named Martin Grayson," Hardcastle began.

"Who's he?" Mark asked.

"Grayson and the mob go way back," Hardcastle waited for the fallout.

"No way, nuh, uh, Judge, EJ is not involved in the mob. That's not even remotely possible. He's a racer, that's it," McCormick said in defense of his old friend. "Maybe it's been a few years, but not EJ. EJ Corlette would not be involved with the mob."

"He might not even know about it. He could be the cover and that's all, you know how these outfits run, they find some patsy with a Pepsodent smile and everything looks good on the surface, I agree with you on that. But I can't help but think there's more to Corlette Enterprises than him just whipping around a track and selling quarts of oil down at his corner parts store."

"So why did he suddenly disappear?" Mark asked.

"Obviously because of you and the accident right? He got scared and took off right? That's what we're both thinking," Milt suggested.

"Then, maybe there is something else. Maybe EJ realized something bigger was going on. Why would EJ just call me after how many years? I mean I know we went over to his house, but I sorta figured that'd be that, you know?" McCormick explained. "But maybe he had something to tell me."

"Did he say anything else to you at the track before you raced?"

"Just that he wanted to see if he still had it, I told you that. At first I thought he was just doing that for me, like he knew I wanted to see if I could still hold my own out there."

"That was it, there was nothing else?" Hardcastle asked.

Mark shook his head no, "There was no time, we dropped the hammer and made a run for it. I figured we'd grab a beer over at the Speedway Bar after we got it out of our system. You know EJ's got about ten years on me, I sort of got the feeling he was just thinking he was washed up."

Hardcastle glanced over at Mark. His voice was getting a little more tired sounding and quite a bit softer. "You okay there?"

"Me? Yeah, it's just this pill, it was the stronger one, I usually just take it before bed so I can sleep, but I think I'm gonna drift off here right now," McCormick explained.

"That's okay, go ahead, get some sleep, I'm gonna call Frank and see if he's turned anything else up yet."

"Just don't go chasing after any bad guys without me," Mark said groggily.

"Yeah, 'cause you'd sure be able to keep up with them, wouldn't you?" Hardcastle joked.

"Back before you know it, Judge," he said, closing his eyes.

Hardcastle stood up from the chair and saw that he had drifted off just that quick. To himself he thought, 'I sure hope you are kiddo.'

OOOOO

During the middle of the night EJ tried to sneak out of Bill Rogers's mansion. He found a brass candlestick in the bedroom he was staying in and used it to briefly knock out Rocco, who stood guard outside his room. Then EJ headed for his car. He knew that Rogers had it hidden away in one of his twelve garages, so he quickly went about smashing locks and breaking down doors until he found his beloved car. Working quickly he hot-wired it to start and began driving it down the interior road of Rogers' mansion.

Rocco came to quickly from the tiny blow and immediately woke up Bill Rogers and the two of them proceeded outside just in time to see EJ taking off in his car.

"Let's go, we gotta take care of this once and for all," Rogers said, slapping Rocco in the chest as they ran toward a car and began to give chase to EJ.

He didn't outrun them for very long on the city streets. Rocco cut him off in a daring U-turn maneuver at a busy intersection. Rogers got out of his car quickly and yanked EJ out of his car and threw him into the car with Rocco. "Make sure he has a nap while we take him to his favorite spot." Rogers said, as Rocco turned and delivered a knock-out punch to the side of EJ's head.

OOOOO

Several hours later, Mark woke suddenly as he heard the outside door close and a car pulling away. "Judge?" he called out, slowly turning and shifting around in an attempt to get to his feet. Before he got too far, the Judge came walking into the den.

"You okay there McCormick? Time for a pill or something?" Milt asked.

"No, everything's okay. Who was here?" he asked. I heard the door and a car just pull away.

"Frank just stopped by," Milt said.

"Any news?"

The Judge walked over and plopped himself down in one of the leather chairs. "EJ's dead."

"What? How?" Mark inched closer to the edge of the sofa so that his leg cast was more comfortably situated on the floor. Even still, Hardcastle watched him wince as the pain still engulfed him.

"He missed the guard rail down on the 101 near the pass. Investigators said it was a fireball, he had no chance. They identified his car and they've sent off his remains for a conclusive ID."

Mark began to shake his head violently. "No, no way Judge, something is going on here, don't you see?"

"What I see is that you need to get yourself mended up."

"Judge you can't just walk away from this, this isn't right, you gotta help me out on this one," Mark begged.

Milt nodded, "You know I'm gonna do what I can kiddo. The police are looking into the whole area to see what they can piece together, but they're telling me right now that it looks like a simple accident. You've been up there, you know it's a tricky curve, especially at night, which is when EJ went over."

"Milt, EJ was a pro, he'd been up and down that road in a hurricane for crying out loud. He wouldn't just go over the side like that."

"They found empty beer cans in the back of his car."

Mark ran his hand over his face, "This can't be happening. It's a set-up. I don't care what you think or what Frank thinks or what the police determine, it's all a lie. Someone killed him." He angrily reached for the walker and swung it around in front of him and pulled himself up off the sofa.

"You think you're going to find out on your own?" Hardcastle asked.

"If I have to I will, I don't care if it takes me the rest of my life. I can't just sit here Judge. I need to find out what happened. Not just to him, but to me too."

"Look, I'll keep digging," Hardcastle leaned forward in his chair. "But you're not going anywhere till the doctor clears you, is that understood?"

He let out a deep breath, "Yeah," he said dejectedly, knowing he wouldn't get far anyway. "I'm going out by the pool." He maneuvered himself out onto the patio, got himself situated and stared out at the ocean, trying to remember, but coming up with a blank.

OOOOO

Five days later there was a Memorial Service for EJ as the State Crime lab had confirmed his identity through dental records. Mark strong armed Milt into taking him to it. The Judge agreed to it on two conditions: Wheelchair, no walker and no confrontation with Rogers. McCormick reluctantly agreed to both conditions.

Harper and Tyner would be there too, just to monitor Rogers and Grayson for anything unusual.

Hardcastle situated McCormick in the back of the church and took a seat beside him for the service. They listened as other racers got up and spoke about EJ and told anecdotes about his life. All in all, the service was very nice and it served to reinforce to the Judge what McCormick had been saying all along about EJ. Most likely he was the cover man for Grayson's mob action and somehow it had cost him his life. Now all the Judge needed to do was to find out why.

He wheeled McCormick out of the church and was just about to tell him that he'd go bring the truck around when several racers that Mark knew came up and began to speak with him. They asked about what had happened to him and he basically told them he'd been in a car accident, without giving any more details. They shared a few minutes reminiscing about the days on the dirt track circuit with EJ and McCormick even found himself smiling as he remembered.

Then Bill Rogers walked over to him. The other guys politely shook Mark's hand and the Judge's and went off to talk to some of the other people who were also at the service.

"McCormick, what happened to you?" Bill Rogers began.

"A little fender bender, that's all Rogers, nothing for you to concern yourself with," Mark replied. Hardcastle stood closely by.

"Sorry to hear that," he gave McCormick one of his cheesy smiles. "I actually heard through the police that you were supposed to meet EJ a couple of weeks back and then this happened."

"I did meet him," Mark said. Rogers looked surprised. "Out at Saugus, that's where this happened," he nodded at his leg.

"Saugus? Yeah, I guess that sounds like EJ, he loved that old dump of a track. You ran it after you met him huh? Took number 4 a little too sharp? You should know better than that Skid."

"It wasn't 4, it was 8," Mark replied coolly.

"Well, cars can be tricky, right? Look at EJ, who would have thought he'd go over a cliff?" Rogers said smugly.

Hardcastle reached down and put his hand on the kid's shoulder to remind him to remain calm. "I said I'd buy you lunch Mark, we best be going huh?"

Mark bit hard on the inside of his lip. It was a good thing he couldn't stand up, because if he could, he would have pounded out the answers he wanted to hear from Bill Rogers right in front of everyone. "Yeah, I guess we should Judge. The air's beginning to stink around here anyway."

OOOOO

Hardcastle, Harper and Tyner had nothing. No leads, no evidence, just a lot of circumstantial hearsay when it came to Mark's accident and Corlette's death in the weeks following the incidents. And since Mark couldn't remember anything but the race, there wasn't much hope for him being able to get at the truth.

McCormick in the interim became sullen and more withdrawn with each passing day as he tried to recall the accident itself. His doctors told him it was probably better if he didn't remember it, thinking it would be physically and emotionally painful to dredge up being in a car wreck and subsequently trapped in a car, hoping someone would come and rescue you. They didn't understand that wasn't necessarily what he wanted to remember. What he wanted to know was, was there something in that time that could tell him what had happened. Did he hit EJ, did EJ hit him, was it some fluke, was EJ even there? Did EJ try to help him or did he run away from the horror? Those were the questions Mark needed to find answers too. Until he could know, he'd merely be left to always wonder.

The scars on his face were indeed the first things to heal up nicely. Between his leg and how he felt on the inside, well that was another matter of scars not healing expeditiously enough to his liking.

Hardcastle faithfully took him to and from therapy sessions. McCormick also had a couple of additional outpatient surgeries by Dr. Capole, in an effort to adjust his leg in the healing process. Gradually the casts had been getting lighter, shorter and less cumbersome and Mark, while still under orders to use the walker, was encouraged to try to use it a little more to begin getting back to normal. But putting weight on it still sent spikes of pain shooting through Mark. He attempted to try it every day until usually by mid-morning the pain would be so unbearable that he'd spend the rest of the day sprawled out in bed or on the couch, avoiding getting up if he could.

He'd gone back to see Dr. Capole several times with the same complaint and each one of those times Capole's staff took a new set of pictures and concluded the same thing. Every thing was fine, no additional fragments could be found and that the healing was proceeding as expected. Mark's leg told him differently though.

They rode home from the clinic in the pick-up. Milt not knowing what to say to him to try to cheer him up, heck, he was the one who lived with McCormick and saw him daily. He knew something wasn't right with the kid. He had a good mind to drop Mark off at Gulls Way and drive clear back to Capole's office and give him what for, if he thought it would do any good. If McCormick said he hurt, Hardcastle more than believed him.

His thoughts were interrupted by McCormick asking him something. "You gotta stop at the drugstore, I need to get this refilled," he said, holding up an empty bottle.

"What?" Milt said, awash in his own thoughts.

"I need more pain pills, stop at the drugstore, okay?"

"Oh yeah, sure, no problem," he murmured and before he could stop himself, he completely and absentmindedly stuck his foot in his mouth. "Isn't that the one you're supposed to cut back on?" He immediately knew it was the wrong thing to say.

He got an instant and direct glare from McCormick, "Now you're gonna start on me?" he said.

"I'm not starting anything, I'm just trying to remember what Capole said," Milt tried to back off but it was way beyond being over.

"I still have one more refill, do you want to read the label?"

"No, I believe you, and I'll stop and we'll get it refilled," Hardcastle said condescendingly.

"My leg hurts Judge, I don't care what the x-rays and the cat scans show, something's not right, I thought you would believe me."

Hardcastle, never one for keeping his mouth closed at the right or wrong time, dug himself an even deeper hole. "The guy's an expert in this field McCormick, he knows how to read the pictures."

"So I'm lying? I'm being a baby, what? I'm supposed to just suck it up?"

"I can tell you right now, you're getting worked up over nothing. We've had this argument too many times in the last couple of weeks now. You just have to keep doing what he's telling you to do, and if that means stop taking the pills, then you should stop taking the pills," Hardcastle suggested.

"You think I'm addicted, don't you?" McCormick blurted out.

Hardcastle had to laugh at how McCormick's mind worked, which didn't help matters, "No, I don't think that, I know it was a helluva accident and I know it probably hurts."

"But what then?" Mark interrupted him. "It's all in my head? Now I'm crazy McCormick."

"I've always thought you were crazy McCormick," the Judge interjected, trying to lighten the mood.

Even McCormick had to let out a tired laugh and then he waited before he said anything, "Judge, what if this never gets any better?"

"Then we'll deal with that too kiddo."

OOOOO

It was all the way frustrating. Homebound, bedridden, pain. That was McCormick's life.

Hardcastle was at a loss what to do for him or to get to the bottom of all that had transpired. Between his physical and emotional health, Hardcastle didn't know which one needed his attention more. Their normal arguing and good-natured ribbing had begun to take on a more pointed and sharp edge. Perhaps that was just due to the close proximity they were forced into, but the Judge sensed that instead of moving forward that McCormick was actually falling behind or even giving up. He went through the motions of therapy and exercises and had reduced his dependency on the pain meds, yet he was empty and withdrawn most of the time.

Hardcastle wracked his brain to think of a solution. One afternoon he came up with something and bounded into the house to share it with McCormick.

"Whatta ya say we go down to Charlie's for awhile. The truck needs an oil change and we can check and see how the Coyote is coming along?" Milt began with a light, happy tone to his voice. "You'll enjoy that, you and Charlie can talk cars for awhile, how's 'bout it?"

"Charlie's gonna charge you an arm and a leg for the oil change Judge, why don't I just walk you through it here, figuratively speaking of course," he tapped his cast with a free hand. "It's not too hard to do you know, maybe even someone with a law degree could do it," he chided, from his couch perch, TV remote positioned in his hand.

"Nah, I don't want to go through all that, I don't mind the cost, come on, it's on me, get you out of the house for awhile too."

"I wanna finish watching this game, how 'bout tomorrow?"

"You've been putting off getting out of this house all week, come on now, Capole said it's good for you to get out and move around on that thing. And the sooner you start walking on it, the sooner you trade in that cast for a brace."

"Big deal," Mark answered. "Then what? Maybe by Christmas I'm down to an ace bandage and a permanent limp?"

"That'd be a step in the right direction kiddo," Hardcastle said, getting a glare from McCormick in return.

"Listen Judge, I know you're all about the tiny steps and such, but I can't even see that right now, the way this leg feels."

"Ah, come on now, the doctor said you need to keep trying, structurally your leg is fine."

"Yeah, yeah and I gotta have the pain before I get the pleasure, I've heard that sermon from about a dozen doctors and nurses, face it Judge, I'm not John Wayne, that's you. I'm telling you it hurts and I don't want to go out. Now just leave me alone."

"Don't you want to see how your car is coming along?" The Judge kept after him.

"No!"

"Suit yourself, I'm gonna go get the oil changed then. I'll see you in a couple of hours," Hardcastle said, and not getting any reply in return.

OOOOO

"Hey Charlie, how's it going?" Milt pulled up the truck and got out to shake his hand in front of the familiar auto shop.

"Judge Hardcastle, hi there, how are you?" Charlie said in return.

"Not too bad Charlie. I'm wondering if you have time to change the oil on my truck?"

Charlie looked over at the GMC and nodded, "Sure, it'll cost you $12. Where's Skid anyway, isn't this usually his job?"

"He's still hobbling around Charlie, with the leg, you know?" Charlie nodded. "How's the Coyote coming along anyway?"

"Not so good, got her out back though, want to take a look?"

Milt nodded and followed him back. This was the first time Milt had actually seen the damage up close. He braced himself for what he was about to see. He'd only seen pictures before. As he turned the corner of the garage, he stopped dead in his tracks. The car was virtually a disaster.

"I haven't really had a chance to get started," Charlie paused, "part of me wonders where to even start."

"Yeah, I can see that Charlie," and under his breath he said, "Kiddo, you don't know how lucky you are to even be alive." He walked closer and took a survey of the damage.

"She's a real mess huh?"

"I had no idea Charlie," Milt said, bending down and peering into what was the driver's side area. "When do you think you can work on her?"

Charlie shook his head. "Whew Judge, geez, maybe I can start seeing what I can use to rebuild her, get some scrap or something off of it. This is going to be a job. I'm going to have to call around and find a lot of parts. And the body, I'll have to rebuild it from the original design. This one is shot."

"Listen Charlie, I'll pay you extra if you get started on it and get it back to working order for Mark. I think he could use an old friend right now, you know?"

"Isn't that what you're around for Judge?" Charlie cracked.

Milt shook his head and sort of laughed along and then got slightly serious as he explained, "His therapy's been long and slow Charlie, I just think maybe if I can get the car back for him that it might cheer him up and help him get motivated."

Charlie listened carefully and nodded his agreement. "I understand Judge, you don't have to say anymore, let me do your truck and then later on I'll get started on his car, I promise. I've been wondering why Skidder hasn't been around here nagging me. He's not feeling too well huh?"

"It's been a hard road for him Charlie, just look at the car and then remember he survived that," Milt glanced back to the Coyote.

OOOOO

The following day the Judge got a phone call from Charlie. "Milt, I think you need to come down and take a look at something I found."

"What are you talking about Charlie?"

"I was pulling off the tires from the Coyote to see if I could salvage them. The only one that looked like I could save was the driver's side. So I pulled it off and you'll never believe what I found."

"Quit the twenty questions Charlie, just tell me?"

"Looks like a slug from a .22 I think. Anyway, it's some sort of a slug, I'm certain of that."

"What? Are you sure?" Hardcastle was dumbfounded.

"Been hunting enough to know a .22 when I see one," Charlie said.

"Hang tight Charlie, I'll be right down."

OOOOO

Hardcastle made up a story about having to go on an errand by himself to McCormick and drove right over to Charlie's shop. There was no sense in telling Mark yet, without taking a look himself and seeing if a bullet could have had some sway on the whole accident. There was an outside chance that the bullet might have lodged in the car tire from one of their prior escapades. Only time would tell. When he got there, Charlie pulled the slug out of his pocket and showed it to him and then walked him over to the tire and pointed out the place where he'd dug it out from.

"And I didn't have to cut it open either. That was a hole and a half Judge. I'd say someone was gunning for Mark," Charlie suggested. "The cops probably just wrote it off as a blown tire, that's what I thought at first."

"I think you're right, let me use your phone and get the cops over here to take a look at this."

OOOOO

Frank Harper and Deputy Tyner showed up at the neighborhood body shop within minutes of each other. Tyner still was the primary on the case because it had occurred in Saugus, but because Frank's department had a quicker turn-around time for ballistic matches, Tyner more than agreed to let Frank take the bullet and the tire and have it checked out downtown.

Frank came back the next day with even better news, as Hardcastle followed him back to his office. "Milt, we can trace the bullet to a Kretchen High-Powered Dual Action rifle, and even better than that, we cross-checked it with our records and have a possible match on the gun owner. You're not going to believe this one," Frank began.

"If you can tie this to Rogers and Grayson Frank, I might just have to see the Chief about getting you promoted."

Frank thoughtfully smiled and proceeded. "I can tie it to a street goon by the name of Rocco Lomire, whom Violent Crimes can tie to Grayson, is that close enough for ya?"

"Seriously?" The Judge was wide-eyed and overjoyed. "This is great news Frank."

"Absolutely positive Milt. I triple-checked the tests myself. I'm on my way to pick up the warrant for Lomire now. And I bet he'll start singing before we snap the cuffs on him. These low life punks are usually more than willing to give up the kingpins," Frank handed the report to Milt for him to read.

"I can't believe this. The kid's gonna love it. I think this is just what he needs Frank."

OOOOO

"So what," McCormick began, "It doesn't prove anything, so there was a bullet in my tire, it could have been there for the last year, you do remember that's all we do is chase after people who shoot at us," McCormick said, from his poolside perch.

"You're not listening McCormick," Hardcastle continued, "We can tie the bullet to gun that's owned by a guy who has ties to Grayson."

"Well, maybe we crossed his path before," McCormick wasn't interested in what the Judge was saying, "if the guy is a low life, I'm sure we have. You love going after the mob, remember?"

"I thought this news would make you happier," Milt said, sitting down across from him. "We might be getting you the answers about Saugus."

That just made McCormick grab his walker and heave himself up and begin to head inside. "What would make me happier is knowing what happened to EJ," he paused, "who killed him and what happened to him at Saugus. If that bullet can tell you that, then I'll be happy." He winced as he made his way across the patio and inside the house.

OOOOO

Meanwhile over at police headquarters, Harper and Tyner were making short work of questioning Rocco Lomire.

"We've got the bullet slug from the tire of the car Rocco, we matched it perfectly to the rifle we found in your apartment and now we want to know what you know. You can start telling us where you were on the night of May 31st," Harper said, getting in his face.

Lomire sat back as far as he could as Frank invaded his space, "LA's a big county, I coulda been just about anywhere sir. Heck, that was like months ago," Rocco said.

"Rocco, make this easier on yourself and just tell us what you know, did you take the shot at the Saugus Speedway on the night of May 31st, yes or no?" Tyner stood back and asked the question from across the table. "We already know the answer."

"I don't know if I'm supposed to criminate myself, am I?" Rocco asked.

"That's incriminate, you idiot," Harper said. "You know what Rocco, it doesn't matter, it's your bullet from your gun, and that's attempted homicide, so you'll be going away for the rest of your life. A judge and a jury will turn this one over in an afternoon."

"Hey wait a minute," Rocco started.

Harper and Tyner quickly got up and headed for the door as if they didn't care to hear Rocco's stupid, useless jabber any longer.

"Wait, please," Rocco called out.

"What Rocco? Are you going to tell us what went down?" Tyner said.

"Yeah," he hung his head, "I pulled the trigger, but I only did it 'cause I was made to, it wasn't my idea. I didn't even know that fellow I shot at. I swear."

"Keep talking Rocco, we're listening," Frank said.

"I work for Martin Grayson and he sent me out that night with a guy by the name of Bill Rogers. It was Rogers who told me to shoot at that guy. So I shot out his right front tire. I'm a sharpshooter, from back in 'Nam, never shot at anything that moved that quick though. That guy had to be doing 120 easy. It wasn't an easy shot," he smiled as he recalled what he did.

Frank shook his head in disgust and opened the door to the waiting officer, "Take him outta here and book him for attempted murder."

"But, but, I just told you the truth," Rocco lamented, hoping he'd get a reduced sentence.

"In this cast the truth isn't going to set you free Rocco, it's going to give you 25 to life," Tyner said.

OOOOO

Rogers hung up the phone with a thud. He turned to face Grayson and said, "Rocco just gave us both up, my sources confirmed it. They're swearing out a warrant for both of us."

"I gotta get out of here," Grayson said. "Maybe I'll get out of the country," he rambled on. "Yeah, that's what I'll do, I'll head down to Cayman. They won't extradite me. I can beat this thing."

"You're gonna run?" Rogers asked in disbelief. "What about me?"

"You're on your own Rogers, I don't need you anymore. Corlette Enterprises is over. The stock has tumbled since EJ died, it's time to give it all up." Grayson gathered up some papers and stuffed them into a nearby briefcase. "Maybe you should go buy yourself an airline ticket too."

"That's it? You're cutting your ties?"

"That's how it works Bill, one day you're on the top of the world, the next day you're trying to start all over again," Grayson explained. "I better get going, the cops will be here in no time."

Rogers stood baffled for a moment and then he quickly exited Grayson's office.

OOOOO

The sun was setting over the ocean out at Gulls Way and Milt Hardcastle was completely out of ideas to get McCormick out of the funk he was in. Even as Harper and Tyner were preparing to put the final screws to Rogers and Grayson, he knew that Mark would not be satisfied till he knew what transpired at the track and what had happened with EJ. He sat out on the patio trying to think of what to say or do that would turn the kid back into the McCormick he knew and loved.

Through the window he saw McCormick inside the kitchen apparently attempting to make some sort of dinner. He watched him stubbornly struggle going back and forth from the refrigerator to the stove and then over to the sink. He stopped to rest virtually after every step he was taking. He shook his head and couldn't contain a smile and thought to himself, 'and he calls me a donkey.'

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Hardcastle had come inside and now stood in the doorway of the kitchen.

"Making something to eat, what does it look like I'm doing?"

Milt nodded to the outside, "From out there it looks like you're just making a mess, but it's good that you're hungry for a change, let me give you a hand," he offered taking a step closer.

Mark tried to move away from him, "I don't want a hand, I just want to do things for myself," he said, accidentally dropping a glass sending it shattering on the floor. He stood and looked at the mess for a moment and then said, "Whatever, I'll clean it up, it may take awhile, but don't worry."

Hardcastle didn't even step in to help him, knowing that would only make things worse, "I'm not worried," he paused, "I'm just trying to figure you out."

That was the wrong thing to say, it triggered another irritation in McCormick. Now he was angry and he loudly tossed a knife he held in his hand into the sink. "Judge, please, let's not start this all again. I'm not going to a shrink and I don't want to talk about it. I just want to know what happened. I've told you that a billion times now. Why can't you understand that?"

"I can understand that. Maybe we'll get some answers from Rogers and Grayson. They're picking them up as soon as they get the warrants. Who knows maybe they'll spill their guts and you'll get the answers you need to hear."

McCormick nodded, "You're right, I might find out what happened at Saugus, but there's nothing that pins EJ's death on them, and they're not going to admit to anything. You know that, they might cop to the accident at Saugus, but unless the cops get solid evidence on them for EJ's crash, it'll still going to be unsolved and they won't say a word. Some justice huh?"

An uncomfortable silence came between them and Milt finally spoke up, "Why don't you just say it out loud and get it over with?" Hardcastle suggested to him.

"Say what?" McCormick asked.

"Say what you think, let it out."

McCormick turned away from him to avoid eye contact, but he shook his head in agreement and said. "Okay, what if EJ died because of whatever happened at Saugus?"

The Judge nodded. "What if he did? You can't change it, he's gone Mark, you just have to accept that and move on, whatever the reason. I didn't know EJ very well, but I bet he wouldn't want you dwelling on his death for the rest of your life, would he? So now the cops have Rogers and Grayson and they'll be in jail, they'll pay for what they did, you gotta just leave it to that, for your own sake."

It wasn't what Mark wanted to hear, but he knew the Judge was right. The time had come to move on. He needed to deal with his leg and getting back to something, anything, some sort of normalcy again, if there could be normalcy with the crazy Judge. McCormick still wouldn't turn around and face him. He stood at the sink and stared out the window. The Judge watched his shoulders rise and fall from a deep breath and finally then he saw his head nod ever so slightly in agreement.

"Tell you what? Let me go order us up a pizza, I think there's a John Wayne movie on tonight, I saw it in the guide. Come on," Hardcastle said.

"John Wayne solves everything huh?" McCormick said.

"Nope, you solve stuff for yourself, John Wayne just sort of helps you through the rough spots."

Mark finally turned around. "I'll be there in a minute, let me clean this up."

Hardcastle wasn't about to argue, because that would start the same discussion all over again. The kid needed to start doing these things for himself, or he'd be relying on Hardcastle forever. He knew it'd be hard for the kid to maneuver the broom and the dust receptacle on a bad leg, but he had to stop babying him too. "Sounds good, I'll call for the pizza."

McCormick hobbled over to the closet and got the broom out and started to sweep up the broken glass. All of a sudden he heard a loud thud that came from the direction of the den.

"Judge?" he called out.

He moved over to the doorway and said again, "Hey Judge, what happened? You knock something over in there now?"

There was no answer.

One more time Mark called out, "Judge, you okay?"

Still no reply.

Mark set the broom against the counter and started to walk his way toward the den to see what had happened and why the Judge wasn't answering him. He got to the top of the landing and saw Bill Rogers standing over the Judge, who was lying on the floor in a heap. Rogers had a gun pointed at Milt.

"What the hell?" Mark said.

"McCormick, glad you could join us in your weakened condition. You know I figured you for a pest back on the Outlaw Circuit, but I really had no idea how much of one you'd turn out to be," Rogers said.

"Look, whatever you want Rogers, leave it between you and me and keep the Judge out of this," Mark said.

Rogers laughed and glanced down at the still unmoving Judge. "That's going to be a little hard to do now, don't you see? And I can't do that anyway McCormick, see he's even more peskier than you, a damn terrier yapping at my pant leg you know? I never realized you two were a crime fighting duo till EJ told me what you were up to."

"Why'd you kill him?" McCormick said, his voice void of emotion.

"I didn't kill him, it was an accident, don't you read the papers Skid?"

"Yeah, I read it, but I don't believe it, EJ wouldn't go up in flames like that. He was better driver than that. I know you and Grayson have something going on, my bet is that EJ figured it out and called you on it."

"I don't have a clue as to what you're talking about McCormick, now why don't you just walk yourself down here where I can keep my eye on both of you?"

McCormick didn't budge.

"I said, get down here right now," Rogers pointed the gun at Mark and he finally began to hunker down the couple of stairs with his walker in tow. "That's better, now move over there," he pointed toward right near the desk where Hardcastle lay.

"You know killing us is only going to send you to the chair Rogers. Cold-blooded, pre-meditated murder. Right now all the cops got you for is attempted murder. You might even get parole before you die for that rap," McCormick tried a slightly different approach. "The cops know all about you and Grayson, you know that, they're coming to get you and when they find us, they'll know to pin it on you. They know what we we're working on."

"Shut up McCormick, you always had a smart aleck, always-running mouth too. You know maybe if you had had half as much the looks or the charm or the elegance that EJ had, maybe we'd have chosen you to be the look we were after. But that yap of yours just keeps on going and getting you into trouble. It doesn't play to the media, but you never quite got that. The fans, they like humility and poise, and the charm, not loud-mouth arrogance and cocky repertoire. EJ had what the people wanted. It's too bad though, you were a better driver, but we took care of that back on the Outlaw."

"What?"

Rogers laughed again, "Yeah, we tanked your car in the Outlaw. That's the only reason EJ won that day, we needed him to be our poster boy, not some smart-aleck loser kid with a rap sheet who didn't know when to keep his mouth shut. And look at Corlette Enterprises now, then look in the mirror at yourself, which would your rather choose?"

Hardcastle started to moan and come to and McCormick saw it as his opportunity to lunge at Rogers. Using the walker as a catapult of sorts, he was close enough to launch himself at Rogers as the Judge started to rise up himself. Rogers was dazed as McCormick hit him full force with his entire body and the two of them tumbled to the ground with Mark poised to work him over. The first thing he did from the surprise attack was to send the gun that Rogers held spiraling off away from the two of them. Then he reared his right arm back and busted Rogers square in the mouth.

"Why'd you kill him? Because he found out that you and Grayson were just using him all these years?"

"I'm not saying anything McCormick, you can't prove any of it," Rogers screamed.

"I want you to tell me why? EJ was going to tell me, wasn't he, that's why you had your goon blow out my tire at Saugus, you were trying to protect your investment weren't you? You didn't care about him, you just cared about money,"

Rogers laid there and laughed right in McCormick's face. "Yeah, we killed him, because he was going to tell you about all of it."

"You damn near crippled me and you killed EJ you son of a bitch," Mark picked him up by the collars and was about to ram his head hard into the floor, when Milt's voice called out to him.

"McCormick, no, don't do it, let me call up Frank." Hardcastle stood up, leaning heavily on the desk, holding Rogers gun. "It's over now, we both heard him."

Bill Rogers knew it was all over, and he said, "You wouldn't understand McCormick, you never did," a bloodied Rogers shouted at him. "The world is about money, make as much of it as you can and use whatever means necessary to do so. That was the difference between you and EJ, he wanted it more than you."

McCormick released Rogers and let him fall back against the floor. Hardcastle reached for the phone and dialed up the police, then he went to help McCormick get back to his feet.

"You all right Judge?" Mark asked, leaning on the walker, concerned for the blow that Milt had taken to the back of his head.

"Me, yeah, just a knot on my head, what about you? How's your leg?"

"Ask me that in about an hour, right now the adrenaline is taking care of everything."

OOOOO

The next day McCormick was propped up in a hospital bed when the Judge came into the room.

"That was the coolest thing yet Judge, you really should have taken Dr. Capole's offer to sit in on the surgery," McCormick began. "Imagine, seeing your own leg cut open, it was fascinating, once in a lifetime stuff, and way better than any John Wayne movie. It was all right there in living color on a TV screen that I could watch."

The Judge cleared his throat, "I told him and I'll tell you, no thanks, when I want blood and guts, I'll stick to seeing the Duke crack open someone's head on the late, late show."

"Well, he doesn't think I'll need anymore of these 'fixes' as he likes to call them, but what an experience to be awake and not be able to feel someone actually perform surgery on you. There was hardly any blood at all either. I thought maybe I'd be queasy over it, but it was pretty cool. And to think I watched it all. You know when he told me he found that bone fragment embedded in that nerve, I swear the pain just went away. The guy's a genius!"

"You just said you couldn't feel anything," Hardcastle said.

"Aw, you know what I mean. It sure feels better right now, I can tell you that. They got this new camera he uses to actually look inside while he's in there. It's incredible stuff Judge, without that camera, he may never have found that bone fragment. He's coming in, in about a half hour to release me. Then I just need the rest of the bone to finish mending and finally then I can start therapy and throw this cast away once and for all."

"I'll agree with you there, that's the best news of all."

OOOOO

Nearly two months later Mark came hobbling out of Capole's office to a waiting Hardcastle.

"Look Judge, no cane!" he said holding his arms out wide, and then added, "And no Ace bandage or permanent limp either!" Capole followed behind him.

Hardcastle gave him a smile. "You're all set then huh?"

"In a matter of speaking, yes," Mark grinned and added, "A-okay, no more appointments or therapy," McCormick said.

"Unless you have any problems," Capole added cautiously.

Mark tossed his head from side to side, "Right, I forgot about that, sorry Doc." He held out his hand and shook the Doctor's with enormous gratitude. "I don't think I can ever thank you for saving this leg Doc."

"You sure can, just by walking out of here, that's what it's all about for me Mark. I'm very happy with the result and that's all the thanks I need."

Milt held out his hand too, "Thanks goes double for me too Doc, now he can get to cutting the lawn and cleaning the pool again and I can quit paying extra for someone else to do it."

Capole laughed.

"On second thought Doc, I might need that cane for a few more weeks," Mark interjected.

"Nice try kiddo, let's get going."

They went out into the parking lot and Mark started looking around for the truck. He thought he remembered where Hardcastle had parked it, but it seemed to have vanished. "Ah, Judge, your truck is gone, I think someone stole it." he said. "We parked it over in C-14 and I don't see it over there."

The Judge gave him a smile. "We got a different ride home."

"What? What are you talking about?"

From around the bend, Charlie pulled up in the completely refurbished Coyote.

"I'm sick of driving, I thought maybe you could get us home," Hardcastle said with a smile, holding out his hand as if to introduce the car to Mark. "Whatta ya say?"

"My Coyote? It's fixed? Wow." Charlie got out and handed the keys to Mark. "It looks great Charlie, in fact it looks better now than before. Thank you!"

Charlie gave Mark a nod and then to the Judge he said. "I'll bring back the truck tomorrow after I finish with the brakes."

"Thanks Charlie, and remember don't put those used ones on it, I want the brand new brakes," he chided. "You know I got a guy who'll check it for me and make sure you're not ripping me off."

McCormick was already out of earshot, casually and carefully circling his beloved car from the outside, running his hand over the sleek body.

"You gonna drive it or pet all day McCormick?" Hardcastle groused.

McCormick grinned at him, "Maybe both!" He paused and added, "Thanks Judge, thanks for having her rebuilt."

"Let's go," Milt said, climbing in the familiar car.

It took Mark an extra minute or two to finally get himself in and situated as he was carefully looking over every inch and every nook and cranny of the Coyote.

"Did it pass inspection?" Milt asked when he finally shut the door.

"She looks great, but now the real test, let's see how she drives," Mark replied. He started it up and they exited the hospital parking lot.

He got on the highway in no time flat, much to the consternation of Milt. "You know you don't need to pick up a speeding ticket the first time out here," he chided.

McCormick laughed for the first time in a long time, "Hardcase, it's been month's since I drove, give me a break, will ya?"

"I think you've had enough breaks lately, now follow the double nickel will ya?" he griped.

Mark adjusted his speed to something more in line with the actual limit.

They drove along with the wind whipping through the rather quiet car.

"Do you think Rogers was right?"

"Right about what?" Hardcastle asked.

"That EJ wanted it more than I did?"

"I didn't know you back then, only you can answer that," the Judge explained.

McCormick persisted, "What about now? I mean, am I a quitter, do I just take the easy way out of stuff?"

"Are you talking about racing or what?" The Judge posed.

"Anything I guess."

The Judge thought about his answer for a long moment, which caused the kid to wonder. But then he finally spoke. "No," was Hardcastle's very short answer.

"That's it? No?" McCormick persisted, but Hardcastle didn't add anything else. "Has anyone ever told you what a great conversationalist you are?" Mark finally asked him.

"I don't remember Rogers ever saying you were a quitter," Hardcastle added.

"I think it was implied."

"Did anyone ever tell you that you read into things too much?" Hardcastle fired back at him.

"Well, you know, I don't really have a job. I leave the occupation blank when I fill out my income taxes, and when a girl asks me what I do for a living, I really don't know what to say."

"None of that means that you don't want something bad enough," Hardcastle intoned, "In fact it to me it indicates that you want something else more."

McCormick took his eyes off the road for a second to peer over at the Judge and consider what he had just said. "Maybe, maybe you're right," he reluctantly agreed with him, still internally thinking about the last few months of his life.

They got back to Gulls Way and Mark continued on with his critical inspection of every inch of the Coyote. He parked it out in front of the gatehouse and spent the next hour with a wrench in one hand and a screwdriver in his pocket as he adjusted various parts of the engine again and again.

Hardcastle came outside after awhile carrying his familiar leather basketball.

"What ya say McCormick, you finally up for a game?" He bounced the ball a couple of times and waited for the reply. "I've been waiting to get you back out here for way too long. I gotta beat you fair and square you know?"

McCormick pulled his head out from the engine and grinned at Hardcastle. "Judge I know I don't have the brace on my leg anymore, but maybe give me another week before you feel the need to humiliate me in a game of one on one. I'm not up for gorilla ball just yet. I'm still trying to get the strength back."

"Oh nonsense, I've seen the weights you been pushing with that thing, you're more than ready, now come on, I won't hurt you, we won't go all out, 'sides a little game isn't going to damage you, except for your pride when a guy twice your age takes it to the hoop on you." He saw the kid was reluctant to go all out in a one on one match, he'd have to ease his way into this, just like he'd eased his way with the kid all along. "Tell you what, how 'bout we play a game of H-O-R-S-E? I think the leg would hold up for that. I'll even put up $20," Milt laid down a challenge.

"You want to play a game of H-O-R-S-E?" Mark asked rhetorically.

Hardcastle nodded affirmatively. "If you're up for kiddo," he added.

McCormick stood up straight and flexed his right leg a few times, in an attempt to limber up and he looked over toward the familiar hoop and launched a fake 'air shot' at it from where he stood. When he landed on his leg, it felt pretty good. "$20 bucks huh?"

"If you think you can," Milt smiled slyly.

"Gimme the ball," McCormick said, walking closer to the court. "$20 bucks, you're on, only around here we don't play H-O-R-S-E." He took easy jumper from the top of the key and swished it, "I'm up first, make that one Hardcase," he retrieved the ball and tossed it over to the Judge who waited in the same spot and missed the jump shot.

"Damn," Hardcastle harped, "Well, what are we playing then?" Hardcastle asked him.

"That's a D you just got Judge, for D-O-N-K-E-Y, 'cause you just never give up, do ya?"

Hardcastle smiled and shook his head, "That goes both ways McCormick."