Serruto gave him a thin smile.
“Tell us about it the restaurant,” Fong said.
So overjoyed about Harry that now nothing else did matter, he told them, omitting only his knowledge of the cause. That gave them a whole new set of questions to ask, of course, hitting even harder on why he ignored the warning of that “anxiety attack” to go along on the arrest. Eventually they ran out of even those questions, returned his gun, and let him go. With instructions to come back tomorrow and sign his statement.
Serruto walked out with him. “Don’t miss your next appointment with Dr. Leonard. You understand now you’re in for a whole series of them.”
“No.” Garreth put back on his glasses. “I’m out of here.”
Serruto frowned. “Excuse me?”
“At the hospital I gave you the nearest I had to a badge. I meant it then and that hasn’t changed.” At the elevator he pushed the Down button. “I don’t deserve to be a cop and I’m resigning.”
“No,” Serruto said. “You’re too emotional right now to make decisions like that…sick about Harry, guilt-ridden — deservedly, though you might cut yourself a little slack for extenuating circumstances — angry for reasons I’ll bet you can’t articulate.”
He had that wrong. Garreth knew exactly why he was angry, and at whom.
“Take sick leave. Talk to the shrink. When your head’s straight again, then decide.”
Garreth felt too tired to argue. His head pounded. He wanted nothing more than to crawl on top of his pallet and pass out for as long as possible. “Okay, fine. Harry urged me to get away for a while. First, though, I’d like to clear my desk…finish reports I would have worked on if Barber hadn’t attacked me.” He felt no shame in pulling off his glasses, ready to exert as much persuasion as necessary.
Serruto eyed him narrow-eyed before answering. “All right…as long as that’s all you do…sit at a desk. Nothing else. Understood?”
“Yes.” That was mostly what he planned.
“Okay. We’ll get you an office key. But then, before you do anything else, you go see Harry.”
4
A pale, worn-looking Lien flew into his arms, hugging him hard. “You bastard! Why haven’t you come before? I couldn’t leave but I kept calling and calling and you never answered. I was so afraid after the way you stormed out that you’d done…something stupid!”
Beyond her, Harry looked like a cyborg, almost unrecognizable amid the tubes and monitors and eyes like bruises. He smiled weakly and whispered in a faint croak, “It’s turnabout, huh.”
Garreth broke loose from Lien to go to the bed. “I’m so sorry. It’s all my fault. You were right, I shouldn’t have been there. I fucked up. I fucked you up.”
“Mik-san…” The beeps of the heart monitor picked up in rhythm. “It’s not all your — ”
“No!” Lien cut him off. “You’re not pointing fingers today, not even at yourselves.” Lien shook Garreth’s arm. “Come sit down and relax.”
Instead, he leaned close, fighting off the hunger lit by the reek of blood. “You’re right, Harry. It isn’t all my fault. It’s Lane Barber’s…because of what she made me.”
They stared. Lien said, “Made you?”
He mentally slapped himself. Shut up, idiot! Serruto was right about him being emotional. He took a breath. “I mean, because of what she did to me. But don’t worry. I’ll track her down — ”
“Stop it!” Lien hissed as the monitor hiccuped once. She dragged Garreth away, out into the hall. “I’m not having this! You may not upset Harry! He’s too weak. Besides, what you want to do is stupid. Didn’t going along on that arrest show you how much your judgement is screwed up? You know her lawyer will use that against you in court, even if you find her and your involvement doesn’t compromise the evidence too much for the case to go to trial. Or,” Lien added, “what if you find her and she decides to just finish the job of killing you.”
She was right on all points, of course…not that it affected what he had to do. To satisfy her, he nodded meekly.
“Now,” she said, “you are going back in and be a placid pool. Happy, happy.” She pushed him through the door.
He apologized to Harry. “I guess I need that session with Leonard.” And for the rest of the visit, a short one, ended by Lien even before an ICU nurse threw him out, he pretended to be quietly cheerful. Telling Harry about following his advice to get away, inventing a drive through wine country on the way to see his parents and son.
Lien insisted on driving him home. “I can leave Harry for a while now and you need a ride. When he was here earlier, the lieutenant mentioned that the patrols going by your place say your car was still there this afternoon.”
On the way she tried talking him into coming back to their place, an offer he gently but firmly turned down.
At the apartment, she followed him in. “The lieutenant also told me he had the landlord let officers in to check on you and they found your phone unplugged. Oh, and it’s unplugged again. No wonder I didn’t get you or the answering machine. You need to let people reach you.” She plugged it back in.
Much as he adored her, he debated shoving her out the door. The pallet in the bedroom called to him. But she could be like standing in front of a train.
Like a train, she steamed past him into the kitchen. “You look thinner every day. Let me fix you something to eat.” She reached the refrigerator before he reacted. “Haven’t you bought groceries since coming home? What’s here is mummifying or going moldy. Your milk’s turned red!”
Panic jolted him into action. She had the translucent jug in her hand, twisting off the cap, when he reached her…and stared as he snatched it away.
“It isn’t milk. I just use the bottles. It’s a…liquid protein mixture. Tomato juice and other veggie juices, soy, minerals, vitamins. Part of my diet.” Carefully tightening the lid again, he returned the jug to the refrigerator.
Lien frowned at him. “You don’t mean to tell me that’s all you’re eating?”
“Of course not,” he lied. “It’s just all I eat here at home, to keep from snacking.” Note to moron Mikaelian: if you want to pass as human, stock some human food.
He shut the refrigerator and herded her out of the kitchen to the front door, sweating. He had over-reacted. Would it make her suspicious? He wished he could think, but his mind felt turned to useless sludge.
“Go ahead and snack some,” Lien said. “ Losing weight too fast isn’t healthy.”
“Yes. You’re right.” Go, Lien! Her solicitude terrified him.
As he opened the door, the telephone rang.
“Thanks for bringing me home.”
He stepped into the hall, expecting her to follow him.
“Aren’t you going to answer that?” she asked.
“Now that I.A.’s had me on the hot seat and I know Harry is going to make it, it can’t be anyone important. Let the machine pick up.”
But she marched back inside to answer it…and held the phone out to him. “It’s your father.”
He took it like a live grenade.
Phil Mikaelian’s voice snapped out of the receiver. “Finally! Where the hell have you been! We couldn’t get an answer here or at the Takanandas! You’re grandmother’s been going on again since Friday afternoon about that psycho bitch killing you so your mother’s frantic.”
A typical greeting. As much as Garreth idolized the man, a soft edge or two would be welcome, more Dad and less Deputy Chief. He could be worse, of course, an iron-fisted despot like Grandpa Mikaelian, at whose funeral Grandma Mikaelian looked radiant and Grandma Doyle whispered they ought to stick a pin in the corpse to make sure he was really dead.
“Harry got shot on Friday.” Answering in kind worked best with his father…cut to the chase, no apologies for not answering. “It looks now like he’ll live, though.”