Frank Zafiro - Beneath a Weeping Sky

Katie nodded her understanding.

“Is there anything else you need?” the doctor asked her.

“No-uh, wait. Yeah. Can someone fold my pillow in half so that it’s a little thicker?”

“I’ll send in the nurse,” the doctor said. Without further hesitation, he turned and strode out of the room, Holcomb in tow.

Bullock paused, then stepped up to the side of her bed. “Lean forward,” he instructed.

With an effort, Katie did so. He folded over her pillow and replaced it. She sank backward onto it.

“Better?” he asked.

“A little.”

“They’re not much of a cushion, are they?” Bullock smiled.

“No.”

“I’ll ask the nurse to bring in another one,” he told her.

“Thanks.”

“Hope you feel better,” he said with another smile, then turned and left.

Katie watched him go. As he exited the room, another head leaned in around the closing door. She recognized Tower immediately. He raised his eyebrows at her questioningly.

“Okay to come in?” he asked.

“Sure.”

Tower swung the door open a little more and walked in. A redheaded woman in jeans and a green blouse trailed behind him. Tower saw Katie notice her and made an introduction.

“This is Julie Avery,” he explained. “She works with the Prosecutor’s Office as a victim advocate.”

Katie gave her a guarded nod. Julie replied with a warm smile.

Tower stopped at the side of her bed. He seemed to be taking in all of the bandages and Katie’s bruised and battered face.

“I look a mess, don’t I?” Katie asked.

“No,” Tower lied. “Just a little banged up, is all.”

“The marks from that time on Mona Street are barely gone,” Katie said, not sure if she was trying to joke or if she were feeling sorry for herself. “I’ve got bruises on my bruises.”

Tower nodded, seemingly at a loss for words. Finally, he said, “Once word gets out that you can have visitors, you know there’s going to be a parade of cops coming up here.”

Katie shook her head. “Can you tell Radio that they want me to sleep or something? I don’t want to see a bunch of people right now.”

And I don’t want to be seen looking like this. Like a victim.

“Sure,” Tower said. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thanks.”

“Finch and Elias are going to want to talk to you, though.”

“I know.”

“But, uh, that can probably wait a few days.”

“Good.”

The two officers fell silent. Avery stood quietly next to Tower, saying nothing. Katie glanced at the woman, taking in her open expression and warm features. Empathy seemed to radiate from her. Katie imagined that made her very good at her job.

Avery caught her looking and smiled.

Katie cleared her throat and turned her gaze to Tower. “Can you tell me something?”

“Sure.” He leaned forward expectantly.

“Did he die? Did I kill him?”

Tower looked at her for a moment, then shook his head slightly. “No,” he said in a low voice. “He’s at a different hospital. Sacred Heart, I think.”

Katie nodded. She felt tears sting her eyes. Ashamed, she looked away.

“Are you all right?” Tower asked.

Katie let out a shuddering breath and wiped her tears away with her unbandaged hand. Confusing thoughts swirled through her head.

I don’t know if I’m crying because I shot him or because I didn’t kill him or because I wish I had.

“I’m fine,” she said.

“Sorry,” Tower muttered. “That was a stupid question.”

Katie didn’t answer. Another long silence ensued, this one more awkward. Eventually, Tower said, “Well, I just wanted to check in on you. If you need anything, give me a call.”

“Okay.”

Tower removed a business card from his jacket pocket and scrawled something on the back. He placed the card on the nightstand next to her bed. “That’s my home phone on the back,” he said. “Call anytime.”

“Thanks,” Katie whispered, her voice husky with tears. She desperately wanted to stop crying, but the goddamn tears just kept welling up in her eyes. Instead of wiping them from her cheeks, she avoided his gaze.

“I’ll let Radio know about no visitors,” Tower said. He turned to go.

Avery slid a card from her jeans pocket and placed it next to Tower’s. “If you ever need to talk,” she said quietly.

Katie didn’t respond.

“I hope you feel better soon,” Avery added. Then she turned to leave with Tower.

Katie lay still, listening to their departing footsteps. When the pair reached the door, Katie turned her head.

“Wait.”

Tower looked over his shoulder at her, but it was Avery’s gaze that she met. Katie took a shallow, wavering breath.

“Can…can you stay a while?” she asked Avery.

Avery nodded. “Of course.” She returned to Katie’s bedside.

Tower watched for a moment, then said, “I’ll wait out here.”

“Thanks,” Avery said, without turning toward him.

Tower gave Katie a nod and left, closing the door behind him.

Avery stood next to Katie’s bed. To Katie, she seemed patient, as if she were willing to wait a year for Katie to speak.

Katie licked her lips, wondering where to begin. The two women remained silent for a long minute while the monitor next to her bed beeped.

“There’s something I want to tell you about,” she finally said.

“Okay,” Avery said.

“Not this,” she said, motioning toward her bandages. “Something else. From a long time ago.”

Avery reached out and touched Katie lightly on her hand. “We can talk about whatever you want,” she said with a light squeeze.

Katie swallowed. She looked up into Julie Avery’s warm eyes and nodded. “All right,” she said. “All right.”

2145 hours

Graveyard Shift

Connor O’Sullivan drove in silence while Battaglia looked out the window. The pair had been uncharacteristically quiet during the early part of the shift. Sully wondered if Battaglia was having issues at home or if, like himself, he was concerned about MacLeod.

“The El-Tee said she was going to be fine,” he finally ventured.

“Huh?”

“MacLeod. Saylor said she’d be all right.”

Battaglia nodded without turning from the window. “Good.”

“Yeah,” Sully echoed. “Good.”

They drove a few more blocks in silence. Then Sully said, “I guess she nailed the guy four or five times. Probably crippled him.”

“Good.”

“She’s a good shot.”

“Yeah.”

“Blasted the guy all around the groin area.”

“That fits.” Battaglia was silent for a moment, then added, “Sounds like she ten-ringed him like that rat under bridge.”

Sully smiled. “Exactly.”

Battaglia turned away from the window, a dark grin already fading from his face. “She’s the bomb,” he said. “MacLeod, I mean.”

Sully nodded in agreement.

“Guy attacks her in her own house. In her bathrobe, for Christ’s sake. But she still wins.” Battaglia shook his head. “I guess you just never know when it’s going to happen.”

“When what’s going to happen?” Sully asked, though he knew what his partner meant.

Battaglia stared out through the windshield, uncharacter-istically deep in thought. “You never know what moment on this job will turn into the moment.”

Sully raised his eyebrows, marveling at Battaglia’s serious side. It didn’t come out very often. Most of the time, he wondered if the man even had one.

“ Adam-122?” the radio chirped.

Battaglia picked up the mike. “Go ahead.”

“Disorderly person at 2114 E. Wellesley,” the dispatcher recited . “Refusing to leave the Tacos Plus restaurant.”