"A police officer and a witness set to testify today in the Livingston murder and money laundering trial were gunned down in cold blood outside the city courthouse. Witnesses say the gunman, who is in his forties and of average height and stocky build with dark, brown hair, fled the scene.

According to others at the courthouse, gunshots were heard nearby only seconds before the shooting, leading authorities to believe that the incidents could be related. If anyone has any information on today's shooting, please contact the police directly.

Names of the deceased are being withheld pending notification of family."

Greg Harmon turned off the evening news. "Half down on deposit and half when the job is complete," he remarked to Martha Livingston, a tall, thin widow nearing seventy.

"I'm quite aware of our agreement, Mr. Harmon. But Mr. Spagnozzi should have been the only one killed and now you have murdered a police officer. That was not part of our arrangement," the elderly woman berated the gunman.

"Look, lady, the cop got in the way. It wasn't my fault that he did that. Now, pay me the other half and I'll get out of your hair."

"The police will be all over this case now that there's something more at stake than a two-bit lifetime hoodlum. You need to make yourself scarce immediately."

"I need you to give me my money now and you'll never see me again," Harmon replied.

"Very well," she said as she walked over to the mahoganey desk. The elderly woman's home was richly appointed. She pulled out a bankers pouch with twenty thousand dollars in small bills and handed to the gunman.

SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF

Mike made his way back over to the intensive care unit where Steve had been moved hours earlier. Rudy returned to the station to check up on the progress being made to capture the shooter.

Rudy had also been in on the decision to keep the fact that both Steve and Charlie Spagnozzi had survived the shooting under wraps. Both men were now under aliases at the hospital for not only their protection but also to throw the would-be killers a curve ball.

Mike approached the nurses desk. "May I see Mr. Collins?" he inquired quietly.

"Are you Mike Stone?"

"Yes."

"Then, of course. We were alerted that you would be here this evening by Dr. Murchison."

"Lenny?"

"Yes," the nurse smiled. "Come on, then. I'll take you to him."

The intensive care area was noisy only because of the sounds of various machines working on the many patients who were admitted to the area. What talking Mike could hear sounded more like whispers.

As the nurse escorted Mike through the curtained units, Mike couldn't help but envision what shape his partner would be in. He tried not to imagine the worst, although if he did, perhaps anything would be an improvement. He closed his eyes briefly at the thought.

After walking past three partitions, the nurse pulled back the curtain to Steve's unit.

Steve lie resting peacefully. He had an oxygen mask and various IV's to keep him hydrated, fed and medicated. Mike saw a large bandage on his shoulder wrapped securely around his chest. Another swath of bandages encircled his head leaving chunks of hair peeking out askew. The injury to his side was hidden by a blanket.

"Is he sleeping or is he in a coma?" Mike asked gingerly.

"He woke up briefly in the recovery area. That's when we moved him down here. So the answer is he's sleeping, but in a very deep sleep."

Mike nodded.

"You and I should be that lucky when we sleep," the nurse joked lightly.

"Yes," Mike smiled ever so slightly.

"You can sit with him for fifteen minutes at a time no more than once an hour. After that, you may certainly leave to go home or you could spend your time in the ICU waiting room."

"Okay, I'll sit with him. And I'll keep quiet."

"You can talk. Talking keeps the patients connected. With head injuries, the more connected they are the better the recovery will go."

"Do you know if he has any brain damage?"

"We don't know yet; but it was a good sign that he woke up in the recovery room. I'll leave you two alone for a while. If there's anything you need, please contact us by pressing the nurses button."

Mike brought up a chair to sit near the side opposite his injured shoulder. He looked over to the machines monitoring his vitals. His blood pressure was higher than in the ambulance, which was good. His pulse rate was still a little high, but he looked settled and not as pale as he anticipated.

Mike reached to touch his arm, "Buddy boy, it's me."

Steve gave no response, but Mike noted how warm his skin felt and decided to leave his hand on his forearm for the time being. "You've given us a pretty good scare, young man. But you saved Spags today. You saved the witness and you did good. I'm proud of you."

Mike paused a moment, looking at his eyes to see if there was any fluttering. There was none. Mike sat back and rested his hands in his lap. He closed his eyes in meditative thought and sat for several minutes.

The time flew as the nurse returned, "Mr. Stone, it's about time to leave."

"See there," Mike turned to Steve. "She's running me out so she can have you all to herself," he tried to make a joke.

"You take it easy, buddy boy. I'll be outside. I don't want you to worry. If there's anything you need, there'll be plenty of people including me who will be looking after you." He placed his hand again on his forearm and squeezed.

"He feels warm, even warmer than when I first came in," he said to the nurse.

The nurse came over. "Yes, it looks like his temperature is a little higher. Still low grade, but I'll make a note of it and let the doctor know when he comes around."

"That's sounds good. I'll be outside in the waiting room. I can come back, when? Another forty five minutes from now?"

"Yes, sir. That'd be fine."

SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF SOSF

Forty five minutes later, like clockwork, Mike went back into the ICU. He walked passed the nurses station and nodded to the nurse who was taking care of Steve.

"Mr. Stone, the doctor is in with him now."

"Should I wait until he's done?"

"No, you can go on in. If you have any questions for him, please feel free to ask."

Mike walked the path to Steve's partition and poked his head through the curtain.

"Is it okay if I come in?" he asked politely.

"Yes, certainly," the doctor replied. "I have a couple of questions for you anyway."

Mike walked through the curtain and saw that Steve was awake. The stress of discomfort showed heavily on his face.

"Hey, welcome back," Mike said gently and patted his young partner on the arm. He noticed that he was even warmer now. The fever could no longer be classified as low grade.

Steve barely acknowledged the older man and instead winced in pain.

The doctor turned to Mike, "He woke up while I was on rounds and complained of pain. I checked his injuries and saw inflammation where the bullet struck his side."

Mike added, "His fever worries me, doctor. I think it seems worse than it did an hour ago."

"Yes, we definitely need to get him on some antibiotics. Do you know if he has any drug allergies or reactions?"

"None that I'm aware of."

"I've asked him, but he's not quite coherent yet. I'd like to put him on some penicillin, but would feel better about it if I knew his history. Does he have any family members we could ask or perhaps it's in his medical records at work."

"No family, but I'm wondering if we could call Dr. Murchison and he could access the medical records in his work file?"

"Good idea," the doctor replied. "I really would like to get this infection treated before it gets out of hand. I'll have the nurse call Dr. Murchison and see what we can find out. If he's all clear, then we'll go ahead and start him on the medication. It shouldn't take long."

Mike refocused his attention to Steve as the doctor exited the ICU partition. "Hey, can you hear me?"

Steve's eyes looked unfocused, but he responded slowly, "Mike…".

"That's right, it's me. I'll be right here for you and don't you forget it!"