Jason Pinter - The Guilty

Mya had suffered multiple skull fractures and a shattered hip. It took three hours of surgery to reduce the swelling in her brain, to fuse her bones back together. And that was the good news. The doctors said thankfully she'd landed on her side. That might have saved her life. If she'd landed on her back or head, she would either be paralyzed or dead. At least now she had a fighting chance. And I knew Mya was a fighter. I knew it.

"Hey. Henry."

I turned around. Curt Sheffield was standing in the doorway. He was dressed in full uniform. The blue clashed against the white walls. I noticed the gun on his belt, holstered, safe.

For a moment I thought about grabbing it, marching into the street and stalking around the city until that bastard Roberts showed his face. And then I would show him the same mercy he showed everyone else. None.

Curt gestured for me to join him outside. I nodded, stood up. Watched Mya's chest rise and fall.

I went into the hallway, followed Curt toward a small waiting area. We both took seats.

"How is she?" he asked.

"She's got a battle ahead of her."

"She looks like the kind of girl who's fought a lot of battles recently." I nodded, knew many of them were my fault.

"She's tough," I said. "Her hip will be fine. It's her head they're concerned about. They won't know how much damage there is until the swelling comes down."

"Jesus," Curt said, shaking his head. "Thing like this, kind of makes you want to become an atheist."

"Actually I've never prayed more in my life. But I'm pretty sure God is considering revoking my baptism right now."

"You know this isn't your fault, right?" Curt watched me, waited for a response. I didn't answer him. I couldn't.

Because it wouldn't be the answer he was hoping for. "Henry, you know that, right?"

"Amanda," I said. "Have you…"

"She's staying with a co-worker tonight. You know she's worried sick about you, man," Curt said. "Amanda's a hell of a catch. It hurt her to see Mya like that. She just doesn't want it to break you."

"It won't break me," I said. "But it might have broken us."

"Do you love her?" he asked. I said nothing. "I said do you love her?"

"Yes," I said. "I do."

"Then don't do this. You're a selfish prick you don't at least call. You think you're the only one hurting?"

"I can't see Amanda ending up like that," I said, pointing toward Mya's room. "That girl is in there because of me.

Because of who I am and what I do. I can't control anything, man. I can't help myself from taking these punches, but I'll be damned if Amanda needs to feel them, too."

"You don't think she's feeling it right now?"

"Not the same way Mya is. Emotional pain hurts, yeah. But physical pain can kill. I'd rather her be devastated than dead."

I looked up at Curt. "Have you come any closer to catching this guy? Please tell me they've found the son of a bitch."

Curt took a deep breath. I saw a twitch as his hand went to his holster. I knew what he was wishing, because I felt the same way.

"No," he said. "NYPD is tripping over themselves to get at this guy, but the mayor's made everyone scared. Too many young guys in this city, too many potential suspects. One person gets an itchy trigger finger, Roberts is forgotten about and we have a crisis on our hands."

"So what then, we wait until he kills someone else, falls asleep at the scene?"

"First off," Curt said, "there's no 'we.' You're not a cop.

You do your job, keep digging up leads, write shit people care about. We'll do ours and eventually we'll catch this guy."

"Bang-up job so far," I said.

"You know what, Henry? Go fuck yourself. You're not the only one hurting. Four people are dead and your ex is banged up bad. You want to vent? Go ahead. But don't crap on the only people left who give a damn about you."

"I don't need this," I said. "I have work to do. I have to find this guy."

"Yeah, right."

"You gonna stop me?"

"Stop you?" Curt said, laughing. "Why would I do that?

Hell, I'll even walk you out. But listen, man, Carruthers is going to make another statement tonight." He took a breath.

"They found another quote. Where he pushed Mya."

"Jesus."

"Thought you'd be better off hearing it from me instead of the tube."

"Thanks for small favors. What did it say?"

"Was addressed to you," Curt said.

"To me?"

Curt nodded. "Said, 'Henry: Quien es? '"

"Quien es?"

"It's Spanish," Curt said.

"I figured that," I said. "What's it mean?"

"Means 'who is it?'"

"He asked me 'who is it?'"

"Guess he's not done with you, yet. Be careful, my friend."

Cindy Loverne passed us in the hall. She grazed my shoulder with her hand, gave a weak smile.

"Gimme a minute to talk to Mya's mom," I said. "Then

I'll head out."

"Take your time," Curt replied. "That family needs you more than I do."

I nodded, clapped Curt on the back, entered Mya's hospital room. Cindy was kneeling on the floor. She was holding Mya's hand, stroking it gently. I heard her whispering close to her daughter's face. I hadn't entered quietly. I watched Cindy speak to her daughter for several minutes before she stood up, walked to an empty chair and flung herself down.

"How are you, Mrs. Loverne?"

The woman's expression didn't change. She had a dreamy look in her eyes, slightly glazed. She was likely on some sort of sedative. If these things had happened to my husband and daughter I'd want to be knocked out, too.

"I'm okay," she said, her voice slow and deliberate.

"How've you been, Henry? It's been such a long time."

"I'm doing okay," I said.

"I see your name in the newspaper a lot. So proud that you're doing so well for yourself."

I said nothing. Felt proud of nothing. And receiving compliments made me feel worse.

"I'm so sorry about Mya," I said. "But she's going to make it and come out a hundred percent. She's going to recover and be a great lawyer. She's going to make you proud."

"That'd be nice," Cindy said. "David always said Mya had the brains in the family. I sure believed him. Did you know David used to watch 'Cops' every night? And those

'When Animals Attack' videos? I always said to him,

'David, how can such an educated man watch such tripe?'

You know what he said?"

"No, what did he say?"

"He said every smart person needs some stupidity to take their minds off of life."

"Mya used to always make me watch videos of people getting tricked," I said. "Candid camera-type stuff."

"Oh!" Cindy said, clapping her hands together. "Like the one where someone drops a fake spider onto the shoppers at the mall."

"She almost burned out my DVD player at school, making me watch that."

Cindy's face was red, her smile long and genuine. She looked over at her daughter, her head swathed in bandages, and the smile quickly disappeared. "I hope you get to watch those with her again sometime," she said. "Henry?"

"Yes, Mrs. Loverne?"

"Would you like to watch those videos with me and Mya sometime? When she gets out of this place?"

"There's nothing I'd rather do more," I said. And I meant it.

"Henry, would you mind giving me some time alone with my daughter?"

"Of course not," I said. "You have my cell phone number in case you need anything, right?"

She held up her phone. "It's been programmed in here for a long time."

I smiled. "Please call me. For anything."

Cindy only nodded, and went back to staring at her daughter. I stood up, went over to Mya, kissed her lightly on the forehead. Cindy was beaming as I stood up.

"Take care, Mrs. Loverne."

"You, too, Henry. Such a handsome boy. I'm so glad my baby dated a boy with such ambition."

"Goodbye, Mrs. Loverne."