The quiet was okay and he closed his eyes. Emotionally, his tank was empty—from the soaring high of the investigation to the low of another near-death experience.
It pissed him off that people he worked with and trusted had been so quick to believe he was the killer. You’d think they’d understand he got results, if, maybe, unorthodox. He knew his closest friends had stuck by him. Still, he felt alone, and a heaviness settled over him.
Chapter Seventy-Seven
Brad was in a sitting position, still unable to talk, but the fog of two days was lifting. His eyes followed Archer and Griffin into the room. Jackson stood and offered his chair to Archer.
Steele and Zerr jumped up. “They can have ours,” Steele said. “We were just leaving. Enjoy your hospital dinner.” Steele glared at Griffin as he passed. Zerr dropped his shoulder and bumped into Griffin on his way out.
“They’re pissed,” Jackson said. “Can’t say as I blame them.” Jackson glanced at Brad. “He doesn’t talk much. Enjoy it while it lasts.” Jackson squeezed Brad’s shoulder and left.
Archer stepped to the bed and shook his head. “I don’t know anyone tougher than you. I don’t always agree with your methods, but I can’t argue with the results.” Archer stared at the vital-sign monitors. “As deputy, I have to play by the book. But I stuck too close to protocol.”
Brad and Archer locked eyes. Brad read sincerity in the gray eyes, and maybe concern. Brad nodded. “Tha … nks.”
Archer nodded. “No need to talk. We’ll have plenty of time for that.”
Brad wasn’t so sure about Archer and wasn’t looking forward to another trip to the principal’s office.
Griffin pushed away from the door and stepped to the bed. “I don’t think there’s anything I can say to repair our relationship—partnership. To me, your actions were those of a guilty person. I let IA get in my head. For what it’s worth, you’re a damn fine cop. Speedy recovery.” Griffin nodded and left.
That’s it, Griffin? “I know you hate taking time off,” Archer said. “But you don’t have a choice. Enjoy Christmas with family. Go somewhere warm in January. I hear Hawaii is beautiful. Come back when the doctors say you can. Know that I will double, and triple check documents saying you are ready for work.”
Archer read some of the cards scattered around the room, then held up one. From the mayor. “Kearse invited you for drinks at the St. Louis.”
“Make … me … buy.”
Archer laughed. “No doubt. Don’t be surprised if he stops by. Heck, he might even bring the beer.”
The nurse brought in dinner, all liquid. Archer glanced at the tray and grimaced. “Perhaps that food is punishment enough.” He started for the door, then turned. “Excellent work.”
Brad stared at the door for a moment, not sure how he felt about Archer and Griffin. Archer had been in a tough position, and Brad hoped he’d never have to make that type of decision. Brad knew he wasn’t making it easy for Archer either. From forging back-to-work documents, then two months later accused of multiple murders. No doubt there was a huge lack of trust between them.
Archer was the sort of guy you admired and wanted to have a beer with but scared the heck out of you at the same time. There would be consequences, but the quick talk gave Brad hope he still had a job. Although it might be writing parking tickets.
Griffin’s actions hurt, though. They hadn’t been partners long, but you get to know each other well. Brad had enjoyed working with Griffin and they were a sound team. Their personalities were different, but that’s what made them successful. Apparently, he didn’t know Griffin as well as he thought. Even Griffin’s apology felt hollow. Not an apology, rationalizing his actions. Perhaps it was guilt on Griffin’s part, but Brad’s gut said Griffin still thought Brad was guilty. Is this what Jackson had been talking about to Zerr and Steele?
It’s important for a cop to know that his partner, and other cops, have his back. If Jackson was correct, suspicion would be all around. How could Brad count on any partner to back him up?
Potential partners he trusted with his life were down to three—Steele, Zerr and Briscoe. Well, four. Lobo was a loyal partner.
It wasn’t like Brad could go to Archer and say, “Hey, Chief. I need a favor. I’ll only work with Steele, Zerr or Briscoe. Is that okay with you?”
Then a thought hit him. He tried to grin, but pain shot up his jaw. Any of those three writing parking tickets with him was funny.
Chapter Seventy-Eight
The nurse was taking away the dinner tray when Brad heard a loud commotion down the hall and Briscoe’s voice in an argument. The nurse hurried out the door. Brad saw other nurses go by his door, jogging toward the noise. Then Annie scurried into the room, Lobo on a leash beside her. Once Lobo saw Brad, there was no way Annie could control him. He leaped for the bed, jerking the leash out of Annie’s hand. He scrambled up the bed until he was over Brad. Lobo’s wet tongue slashed over Brad’s face and neck. Brad reached up in vain to stop the slobbery assault.
Finally, Lobo was content lying beside Brad on the narrow bed, wiggling until he was comfortable, and Brad was teetering on the edge of the bed.
“Hel … lo,” Brad rasped.
“Hello yourself. You don’t need to talk. Just enjoy Lobo. He’s been driving me crazy. He whines all day
