Michael Connelly - The Poet

After Rachel walked me out of Data Imaging, I was taken in an ambulance to a hospital called Cedars-Sinai. By the time I arrived, Thorson and Gladden had already been there and had been pronounced dead. In an emergency room suite a doctor looked my hand over, irrigated the wound with something that looked like a piece of black soda straw and then sewed it shut. He put some kind of balm on the burns and then wrapped bandages around the whole thing.

"The burns are nothing," he said as he wrapped. "Don't worry about them. But the wound's going to be tough. On the positive, it's through and through, no bones involved. But on the negative, the bullet chopped through that tendon there and you're going to have restricted thumb movement if you leave it the way it is. I can put you in touch with a specialist who can probably reattach the tendon or make a new one for you. With the surgery and some exercise it should be okay."

"What about typing?"

"Not for a while."

"No, I mean as exercise."

"Yeah, maybe. You'll have to ask your doctor."

He patted my shoulder and left the room. I was alone for ten minutes, sitting on the examination table, before Backus and Rachel came in. Backus had the washed-out look of a man who has seen all his plans turn to shit.

"How're you doing, Jack?" he asked.

"I'm okay. I'm sorry about Agent Thorson. It was…"

"I know. These things…"

Nobody spoke for a few moments. I looked at Rachel and our eyes held each other's.

"Are you sure you're all right?"

"Yeah, fine. I won't be typing for a while but… I guess I'm the lucky one. What happened to Coombs?"

"He's still in shock at what happened but he's all right."

I looked at Backus.

"Bob, there was nothing I could do. Something happened. It looked like they suddenly knew who each other was. I don't know. Why didn't Thorson go ahead with the plan? Why didn't he just give him the camera instead of going for his gun?"

"Because he wanted to be the hero," Rachel said. "He wanted the arrest. Or the kill."

"Rachel, we don't know that," Backus said. "We never will. The one question that can be answered, though, is why did you go in there in the first place, Jack? Why?"

I looked down at my bandaged hand. With my good hand I touched my cheek.

"I don't know," I answered. "I saw Thorson yawn on the monitor and thought… I don't know why I did it. He brought me coffee once… I was returning the favor. I didn't think Gladden was going to show."

I lied. But I could not articulate my true motives or emotions. All I knew was that I had a sense that if I went into that store Gladden might come. And I wanted him to see me. Without disguise. I wanted him to see my brother.

"Well," Backus said after a spell of silence. "Think you'll be up for spending some time with a stenographer tomorrow? I realize you are hurt but we'd like to get your statement so we can get this all squared away. We'll have to submit something to the local district attorney."

I nodded.

"Yeah, I'll be there."

"You know, Jack, when Gladden took out the camera, he took down the sound as well. We don't know what was said in there. So tell me, did Gladden say anything?"

I thought a moment. The memory was still coming back to me.

"First he said he didn't kill anybody. Then he admitted killing Sean. He said he killed my brother."

Backus arched his eyebrows as if surprised and then nodded.

"Okay, Jack, we'll see you then." He turned to Rachel. "You said you'll get him back to the room?"

"Yes, Bob."

"Okay."

Backus left the room with his head down and I felt bad. I didn't think he had accepted my explanation and I wondered if he would always blame me for how horribly wrong things had gone.

"What will happen to him?" I asked.

"Well, the first thing is there's a lobby full of media out there and he's got to tell them how this got all fucked up. After that I'm sure the director will want Professional Standards to come out to investigate the planning of this. Its not going to get any better for him."

"It was Thorson's plan. Can't they just-"

"Bob approved it. If somebody has to take a fall, Gordon isn't around anymore."

Looking through the open door where Backus had just walked I saw a doctor stop and look in. He carried a stethoscope in his hand and several pens in the pocket of his white jacket.

"Everything okay in here?" he inquired.

"Fine."

"We're fine," Rachel added.

She turned away from the door and looked at me.

"You sure?"

I nodded.

"I'm so glad you are okay. That was a foolish thing you did."

"I just thought he could use the coffee. I didn't ex-"

"I mean going for the gun. Getting it from Gladden."

I shook my shoulders. Maybe it was foolish, I thought, but maybe it saved my life.

"How did you know, Rachel?"

"Know what?"

"You asked me what would happen if I ever faced him. It was like you knew."

"I didn't know, Jack. It was just a question."

She reached up and traced my jawline like she did when I'd had the beard. Then with her finger she tilted my chin up until I was looking at her. She moved in between my legs and pulled me into a deep kiss. It was healing and sensual at the same time. I closed my eyes. My good hand went up under her jacket and I rested it lightly on her breast.

When she pulled away I opened my eyes and over her shoulder I saw the doctor who had poked his head in earlier turning away.

"Peeping Tom," I said.

"What?"

"That doctor. I think he was watching us."

"Never mind him. Are you ready to go?"

"Yeah, I'm ready."

"Did you get a prescription for pain?"

"I'm supposed to get some pills before I sign out."

"You can't sign out. The media's up there and they'll be all over you."

"Damn, I forgot. I've got to call in."

I looked at my watch. It was almost eight in Denver. Greg Glenn was probably there, waiting to hear from me, refusing to release the front page to the printers until he'd heard from me. I figured the latest he could go would be nine. I looked around. There was a phone on the wall above a supplies and equipment counter at the back of the room.

"Could you go tell them I can't sign out up there?" I asked. "In the meantime I'll just call in at the Rocky and tell them I'm still alive."

Glenn was almost delirious when I got through to him.

"Jack, where the hell you been?"

"I've sort of been tied up. I-"

"Are you okay? The wires say you were shot."

"I'm okay. I'll be typing one-handed for a while."

"The wires say the Poet's dead. AP quotes one source who says you… uh, killed him."

"AP's got a good source."

"Jesus, Jack."

I didn't reply.

"CNN's been going live from the scene every ten minutes but they don't have shit. There's supposed to be a press conference at the hospital."

"Right. And if you can get me hooked up with somebody to take some rewrite, I can give you enough of the story for the front page. It will be better than anyone else gets tonight."

He said nothing in response.

"Greg?"

"Wait a minute, Jack. I have to think. You…"

He didn't finish but I waited him out.

"Jack, I'm going to put you on the line with Jackson. Tell what you can to him. He'll also take notes off the press conference if CNN carries it."

"Wait a minute. I don't want to give anything to Jackson. Just give me a copy messenger or a clerk and I'll dictate the story. It's going to be better than what they put out at the press conference."

"No, Jack, you can't. It's different now."

"What are you talking about?"

"You're not covering the story anymore. You are part of it. You killed the guy who killed your brother. You killed the Poet. The story's about you now. You can't write it. I'm putting you on with Jackson. But do me a favor. Stay away from the other reporters out there. Give us a one-day exclusive on our own guy, at least."