Catching Mike's sudden movement from the corner of his eye, Steve's head snapped around in time to see his partner slammed back against the stair railing and collapse to the sidewalk. In one motion he threw the car into park and opened the door, tearing his gun from its holster as he sprinted around the front of the car, screaming "Drop the gun! Drop the gun!" over and over again.
The shooter, face obscured by the hood of the black sweatshirt, had remained where he was, kneeling slowly to put the gun on the sidewalk then raising his arms to interlock his fingers and lay his hands on top of his head.
Steve, his .38 pointed at the shooter's head, kicked the gun away then moved quickly behind him, blinking rapidly in the pouring rain as he snapped the cuffs off the back of his belt, his eyes flicking back and forth to the unmoving body of his partner. Peripherally he became aware of a car squealing to a stop in the middle of the street, and suddenly Norm Haseejian was at his side.
"I got this, Steve," he heard the Armenian detective shout over the rain, his gun out and eyes on the shooter, "get to Mike!"
Steve holstered his .38 as he sprinted the short distance to his partner, skidding to a stop and kneeling on the wet pavement. He could hear himself repeating Mike's name over and over as he quickly assessed the fallen man. Mike was on his right side, his upper body twisted so that he was lying facedown. Miraculously, his hat was still on.
Steve reached down and gently began to roll his partner onto his lap. Mike's eyes were closed, and Steve gasped when his eyes fell on the small circular hole in the black topcoat directly over his heart.
"An ambulance is on it's way," Steve heard Dan Healey announce breathlessly as the sergeant suddenly appeared over his shoulder. "How is he?" Healey froze when he too saw the hole in the black material. "Aw shit," he whispered, his voice cracking.
"It was too close, Dan, way, way too close," Steve mumbled unsteadily as his shaking hands reached for the buttons on the topcoat and began to undo them. He pulled the coat open, revealing an identical round hole in Mike's red-striped tie and the blue-and white shirt underneath. "No, no, no," he repeated under his breath as he flipped the tie out of the way then grabbed the plackets of the shirt and ripped them open, popping the buttons.
"Oh god," Steve breathed, almost in relief as their eyes fell on the rim of a bullet lodged in the mesh of the black bulletproof vest. Mike groaned faintly, and Steve's eyes snapped to his face. "Mike? Mike, can you hear me?"
Healey had taken off his raincoat and lain one end of it over Steve's shoulders and head, holding the other side up so it formed a canopy over the partners. A black-and-white had arrived, and Haseejian, shaking in anger, turned the shooter over to the patrolmen as he joined his partner and colleagues. The distant wail of the approaching ambulance could be heard.
"How is he?" Haseejian asked anxiously, watching as Steve leaned closer to his partner.
"Mike? An ambulance is coming…you're gonna be okay," he was whispering urgently, having carefully pulled the older man into his arms.
Haseejian found Mike's left hand and grabbed it, squeezing with all his might, putting his other hand on Steve's shoulder. "We're with you, Mike, you're gonna be okay," he reiterated, his own heart pounding, tears in his eyes.
Mike's head moved and his eyes opened slightly. Haseejian felt Steve's chest heave under his touch. Mike lips moved but they couldn't hear anything; Steve leaned closer, tilting his head. "I…I can't breathe…"
Steve's head came up slightly. "He can't breathe," he said quickly. Healey leaned in a little closer. "Mike," he said with a firm tone, "breathe shallow but fast, like this" he demonstrated, glancing quickly at Steve and Haseejian. "It's how they get pregnant women to breathe during contractions, it works," he said earnestly, and they all watched as Mike closed his eyes and followed Healey's example. Steve felt his partner relax slightly in his arms.
They could hear the ambulance squeal to a stop on the street. Mike opened his eyes, staring anxiously at Steve, who leaned closer again. "Steve, don't leave me, please…" he whispered.
Steve sat back a bit and smiled warmly, biting his lip "I was just about to say the same thing to you." He felt Haseejian's fingers dig into his shoulder.
A gurney was pulled to a stop beside them, the attendant leaning over to see his patient. "Okay, let me have a look," he said quickly and Haseejian backed away to make room.
Steve looked up. "He's wearing a vest but he took a shot –"
"A .38," Haseejian interjected.
"- from about three feet away, right to the chest, over his heart." Steve's voice was shaky.
The attendant turned to his own partner. "This is going to be a scoop and run," he said quickly as they flipped the straps down and locked the wheels. Healey stood up, removing his coat from over Steve's head, and taking a step back. The two attendants took positions on either side of Steve and, with assistance from the sergeants, swiftly and efficiently lifted Mike and laid him on the gurney. As they unlocked the wheels, Haseejian quickly reached for Mike's hand again. As he and Steve jogged alongside the gurney towards the ambulance, it's back doors wide open in the middle of the street, he grabbed Steve's hand and put Mike's in it. As Steve stepped up into the ambulance alongside the gurney, Haseejian said sternly, "Don't let him go."
Its siren blaring, the ambulance screamed down De Haro and around the corner. Haseejian and Healey stood in the middle of the street in the pouring rain, watching it go. Healey slowly shrugged his soaking topcoat back on over his wet suit. As the siren faded away, they turned their attention to the figure in the back seat of the squad car.
Through the rain-streaked windows they could see the dead, unfocused eyes of Patrick Garrity, staring in their direction but looking right through them. Healey took a deep angry breath. "Did he say anything?"
"Yeah," snapped Haseejian, trying to control his own rage, "he said, 'He ruined my life; I just ruined his.'" He felt Healey tense up beside him.
"What say you open that back door and leave me alone with him for five minutes?" the Irish detective said flatly, staring at the figure in the black-and-white. He felt Haseejian's hand on his forearm.
"If only it was that easy."
# # # # #
Captain Olsen strode anxiously into the waiting room. "Any news yet?" he asked no one in particular. The detectives in the room, all crowded into one corner, shook their heads, saying nothing. Healey was in his shirtsleeves, his topcoat on the rack with Haseejian's, his suit jacket on the back of his chair, drying. Both his and Haseejian's hair were still wet.
Olsen dropped into a chair with a worried sigh. "What the hell happened?"
"Garrity came out of nowhere," Healey said, rubbing a hand over his face, "he must've been sitting in his car waiting for Mike to show up. Thank god for the vest."
"Vest? What vest?" Olsen asked with a frown, and the four detectives in the room looked at each other.
Haseejian chuckled slightly. "You didn't know? Well, after Mike's little one-on-one with Garrity in the office a few weeks ago, Steve insisted Mike start wearing a vest. He resisted, of course, but Steve talked him into wearing it back and forth to work."
"But he almost wasn't wearing it tonight," Tanner said with a disbelieving shake of his head.
"Why?"
"Well," Haseejian answered, "yesterday there was almost a knock-down-drag-out in the office. Mike told Steve he was fed up with the vest and it wasn't necessary anymore, and they both got into this huge argument about it. Mike wouldn't back down, but ah, well," he paused and looked at the others and everyone smiled slightly, "we all kinda ganged up on him and told him we'd tell the brass on him if he didn't keep wearing it till the trial was over. He, ah, he 'saw the light' so to speak and agreed to wear it for one more week. We were gonna go after him again when the week was up…"
"Well, ah," Olsen began into the uncomfortable silence, "thank god he was wearing one. You said he was awake at the scene."
"Yeah," said Healey with an encouraging nod, "he was awake and talking but in a hell of a lot of pain. But there was no blood, which is a good sign, I think."
Olsen nodded. "Yeah, that sounds good," he said quietly, almost to himself.
Lessing looked up from where he was sitting. "I just wish they'd tell us something," he said, frustration evident in his tone.
Almost as if he'd been conjured, a white-coated doctor appeared in the doorway. His eyes travelled around the room and settled on the weary, worried-looking men in suits in the far corner. He approached them with what appeared to be a slight smile. "It's not hard to figure out who's here with Lieutenant Stone," he said lightly.
They all scrambled to their feet and Olsen crossed to the doctor with his hand out. "I'm Captain Olsen," he introduced himself, shaking hands, "how's the lieutenant?"
Realizing the cops needed information on their colleague more than his name, the doctor smiled, "The lieutenant is one lucky man. That bulletproof vest saved his life tonight, without a doubt. Now he didn't come out of this unscathed; we're gonna be keeping him here for a couple of days, but he should make a complete recovery with no lingering effects."
"How bad was he hurt?" asked Healey.
"Well, nothing was broken, remarkably enough, but his sternum and several ribs are very badly bruised, and he has a bruised heart."
There was a sharp intake of breath and several of the cops looked at each other. "A bruised heart?" Haseejian whispered. "I've never heard of that."
"It's more common that you might think," the doctor offered, "but we usually see it in car accidents. And it's exactly what is says – the heart muscle has been bruised, and quite badly in this case. Usually they heal by themselves in time, and that's what we're hoping for here. The lieutenant is going to have to take it easy for several weeks to allow that to happen, but other than that, nothing special needs to be done.
"What we're going to do for him right now is we're going to keep him in ICU for the next 48 hours. We have him hooked up to an EKG monitor and we'll keep a close eye on him for anything that'll tell us his heart is not functioning normally, like an irregular heartbeat. If after 48 hours all remains normal, he'll be released. Ah, we usually only keep bruised heart patients hooked up for 24 hours but because of the lieutenant's age…"
"For god's sake, don't tell him that," Haseejian said quickly with a chuckle and the other followed suit, the little bit of levity allowing them all to relax.
"He's really gonna be okay?" Healey asked, his furrowed brow underlining his concern.
The doctor nodded with a propitious smile. "From what I've seen, your lieutenant will be going back to work sooner than you think. Like I said, he's a very lucky man." He glanced at his watch. "Once he gets settled into ICU, and we get his partner settled in as well because something tells me we're not going to be able to separate those two for next couple of days," the detectives chuckled again, "we can allow a couple of you gents in to see him, but that might not be before morning."
"That's okay with us," Haseejian said with a relieved smile, "we can wait."