Hawkes woke up as his alarm went off. He was still having the dream.
Part of him figured he should talk to that departmental shrink. Mac had recommended it after he was released, but it wasn't a requirement. Maybe he'd ask Stella how it worked out for her after Frankie attacked her.
Or maybe he'd just talk to Stella. She'd been tied up and threatened, her wrists bound as if they were handcuffed. She knew what it was like to be helpless.
To lose control.
Sitting in his darkened apartment, the lights of the city that never slept casting odd shadows in his bedroom, Sheldon Hawkes was willing to admit that the thing that scared him more than anything else was losing control. He became a doctor so he could control life and death, only to find that life and death weren't anywhere near as easy to wrangle as he'd led himself to believe.
It had been too much, so he fled the hospital for the morgue. His patients were already dead, so he couldn't kill them there. He had his control back.
Then Shane Casey took it all away from him. Just so he could clear the name of his brother-who turned out to be exactly as guilty as the jury had found him.
It was all for nothing.
Sometimes, Hawkes thought that was the worst part of it all. Casey's loyalty to his brother was touching but misplaced.
And all it cost was a little piece of Sheldon Hawkes's soul.
He hadn't gone running since that night. It wasn't that he was afraid to, exactly, he just didn't want to risk reliving it.
That was a sort of fear, wasn't it?
Maybe he did have things to discuss with the shrink.
However, that could wait until after this case was put down. Peyton had said when he left for the day that she had to check a few things against Washburne's medical records at RHCF before she would release the autopsy report. She was also being cagey about her findings, not even filing a prelim. At the time, she had said it was because, with Gerrard breathing down her neck, she didn't want to jump to any conclusions, and that excuse certainly had the ring of believability about it.
But Hawkes had been an ME too long not to know the signs. Peyton had found something that didn't make sense, and she didn't want to tell anyone about it until she had an answer or had proven to herself that an answer was not to be found.
He hoped it was the former.
Hawkes performed all his morning ablutions and rituals, then hopped the R train uptown to work.
Stella was waiting in the elevator bank when he arrived. 'Morning, Stella.'
'Hey, Sheldon. How's your prison riot going?'
'One's a dunker-guy confessed, evidence matched up. Unfortunately, the other one's Washburne. We've got a suspect, but I'm still waiting for Peyton's report.'
She smiled. 'I envy you. I've got a suspect, too, and Sid's
Unable to miss the fact that Stella wasn't making eye contact, Hawkes stared straight at her and said, 'You okay?'
Finally, she met his gaze.
Hawkes recognized the haunted look in her eyes. It was the same one he saw in the mirror after waking up from that damn dream.
'Bad dreams?' he asked.
'How'd you guess?' She didn't actually sound that surprised.
'Experience. Wanna get a drink after the shift's over and compare night terrors?'
She smiled. 'You're on, Doc.'
With a telltale ding, the elevator arrived. They both got on, went to their floor, and disembarked.
As soon as they got off, Stella's Treo rang. She looked down at the display, said, 'Angell,' then put the phone to her ear. 'What's up, Jen? Really? Okay. I've got a meeting, but I'll send Lindsay up to meet you.'
'What is it?' Hawkes asked.
She gave him a grin. 'The proverbial break in the case. Our vic was missing a necklace, and Angell said it just turned up. I gotta go find Lindsay. I'll see you later, Sheldon.'
Stella peeled off and went in search of Lindsay. Hawkes continued toward the break room to get some coffee, only to find Peyton Driscoll waiting for him. She was holding what looked very much like an autopsy report in her hand.
'I'm afraid I have some disturbing news,' she said by way of greeting.
'I had a feeling.'
She frowned. 'Are you becoming a psychic, Sheldon?'
'No, but when you don't file a prelim, I know
'I have a cause of death for Malik Washburne, nй Gregory Washburne, and it is most assuredly
Eyes wide, Hawkes took the report from Peyton and started flipping through it. 'Allergic to what?'
'That,' she said with a sigh, 'is the question. I haven't the foggiest.'
He looked at her, then led the way out of the break room toward Mac's office. 'C'mon, we'd better talk to Mac. And, if we're really unlucky, to Gerrard, too.'
14
TAYVON OLIVERA WAS REALLY looking forward to putting the beat-down on Jorge Melendez.
Truth be told, he wanted a piece of Jack Mulroney, too. But Mulroney had half the COs in RHCF all over him, and he'd probably be arrested soon for knifing Vance Barker. The bastard would get to see the outside just long enough to go through the cop house again. Then maybe he'd get sent to some max-security place like Sing Sing.
They were hard-core there. Mulroney would get his, Tayvon was sure of that. He wouldn't last three seconds.
Tayvon just wished he could be the one to bring him down.
Meantime, he'd get his shot at that bastard Melendez.
In some ways, Tayvon was in RHCF because of Malik Washburne. But he figured he was still alive because of him, also. Back in the day, Tayvon was doping and getting into fights. He tried to box but got his ass thrown onto the street after the first time he peed in a cup.
Things got so bad, Tayvon ran out of money for his coke fix, so he started stealing. When he got caught, the judge ordered him to go to the Kinson Rehab Center.
That was where Tayvon met Malik Washburne. At first, Tayvon didn't want anything to do with a cop, even if
