Things at the 101st precinct were rattling on as usual, noisy and rowdy.

"Thank God! Lunchtime!" shouted T.J. He and Jody and Skalany had planned to go to Suzie's Place together. A fairly extravagant lunch but it was payday and a Friday - two very good excuses to splurge. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of Kermit rounding the corner.

"Hey! Kermit, you want to-"

Jody cut him off with her hand on his arm. "T.J. He has plans for lunch these days, remember?"

T.J. felt like an idiot. Of course Kermit had plans, same plans for the last six months.

Kermit had already grabbed his coat and was making his way out the door. His caseload was piling up all over his desk. These days, he didn't have the time to put in a lot of extra hours at the precinct. Work must be done during his shift. All the lunches he used to skip were now occupied.

The drive to his destination took only ten minutes. Kermit was grateful that there had been a good hospital so close to the precinct and home. If there was an emergency, he was only a few minutes away. If that call ever came.

Today, he parked in the rear of the hospital, not out front as he normally did. He found he could get in and out faster that way. More time to spend with her.

As he rounded the corner past the nurse's station, he was greeted by the nurse who had just come on duty. "Hi, Kermit. Right on time."

"Afternoon, ladies," he replied, smiling gratefully at them all. He'd made a special effort to be extra nice to all of the staff. Pulling a page from his wife's book, it seemed easier to get their cooperation by using 'honey instead of vinegar'. It had never been his strong suit. Intimidation was his forte. But he had the skill to adapt to methods that worked. He'd be nice to anyone who would help him, now.

Even so, everyone here knew who Kermit Griffin was and what the consequences of mistreating that special patient would be. They all seemed to be caring, competent people. It was a relief to the ex-mercenary who was entrusting them with his very heart.

Kermit walked quietly into her room and sat down beside her bed. "Hi, sweetcakes." He leaned over and kissed her cheek. "You look beautiful. As always." The nurses always seemed to make a effort to arrange her hair into something special. Today, they had braided it into a long strand and draped it over her shoulder. When he had first transferred her here for her long-term care -- a term that made him physically ill -- they had suggested cutting her long, blonde hair. Kermit had raised so much hell that day that no one dared ever suggest it again. He knew she would *HATE* that.

As Kermit took his place beside her, holding her hand, Savannah remained as unresponsive as she had for the past six months. Suspended in a coma. Eyes closed as if she were only sleeping. Many times, Kermit had let the fantasy of her as 'Sleeping Beauty' get the better of him. Kissing her on the lips, he would pray that she would suddenly wake up and come back to him. But she didn't. The fantasy didn't help, but it didn't hurt.

She was lucky. Savannah was no longer on life support and her body seemed to be holding its own. Her bullet wounds had long since healed but the effects of the stroke had plunged her into this state of suspended animation, trapped between sleep and consciousness.

Savannah's doctor had told Kermit to make every effort to stimulate her senses. "Talk, play her favorite music, bring smells she would like, brush her hair, hold her hand, bring her friends to talk to her." He did it all. With no response. Regardless of the constant failure, Kermit would continue. It was all he had left of her. Hope.

Every lunch hour during the week belonged to her. Nights belonged to Kat. That's the way *she* would want it.

"Scarlett, you'll never guess what your, and I emphasize *YOUR*, daughter did to me in the grocery store last night. She relocated an entire display of apples onto the floor. Good thing those people had a sense of humor." Leaning over, he whispered teasingly into her ear, "Or maybe the shoulder holster changed their attitude. The Eagle can be very persuasive, you know."

She was becoming so small. It was as if she were disappearing. According to all the professionals, it was to be expected. Even with meticulous medical care, eventually her muscles would atrophy. Time was the enemy stealing what remained of the woman he loved.

The possibility of Savannah withering down to nothing loomed before him. The dark man forced himself to erase the deadly vision at each presentation. He knew that path led to utter despair; a road which he could not afford to travel. Savannah and Kat needed him.

When his time was almost up, he leaned down to kiss her goodbye. "Your brother sent a few new tapes for you." He plugged on the cassette player as Robert Johnson began to pour into the room. "R.J." as Savannah had called him during one of her Blues tutorials when they dated. "He sold his soul to the devil at a crossroads in the Delta so Satan would make him the world's best blues man," she had instructed, in a humorously mystic whisper.

Kermit Griffin's soul had been up for grabs on many occasions. He would gladly sacrifice it for her, to save her. Sadly, there were no takers who could make such an make such an exchange.

Once more, he stroked her hollow cheeks in farewell. Leaving was always the most difficult part of each visit. "Judy at the desk promised to keep your music going. I'll be back tomorrow. Love you, Scarlett."

Leaving her room, he caught a familiar figure strolling down the hall. The smouldering hatred that lived inside his gut began to claw its way free, breaking all the bonds of control he had spent months strapping around it. His vision narrowed to a tiny point containing only his enemy's face. Rage jabbed razor-like claws into his chest and blistering anger leapt into his throat as he stalked down the hall to intercept the man.

He grabbed Peter Caine by the shirt and slammed him against the wall. "What the hell are you doing here??!!!"

Peter's body bounced limply against the wall, showing no resistance at the violent assault. Hands held up in the air, he answered the ranting question with calm. "Kermit. I didn't see your car. I'm sorry."

Seething, Kermit held him against the wall. Hissing into his face. "Have you been coming here? Have you?"

"Yes. The doctor said that having her friends talk to her might help, so I-"

"First of all, you don't talk to her doctor! Second, you are not her friend. YOU ARE THE REASON SHE'S HERE!!!"

"Kermit, you know I'm sor-" Another slam into the wall cut off the apology.

"I don't give a shit if you're sorry. She had three bullets slam into her body because of YOU and your screwed-up attitude. Three bullets! I don't have my wife. Kat doesn't have her mother. And the only reason I haven't separated your sorry head from your body is because of Paul."

Out of the corner of his eye, the enraged ex-mercenary caught sight of a dark gray uniform advancing cautiously down the hall. As the audience of nurses and others focused on their exchange, Kermit slowly released Peter's shirt. The frightened glare of the elderly security guard still observed them, but from a discrete distance.

Dropping his voice to a poisonous growl, too faint for anyone save his victim to overhear, Kermit informed the younger detective of his intentions. "Let me make this clear. I'm going down there to those nurses and tell them that you are NEVER allowed to go near my wife again. If you do, they will call security, then me. Then I will kill you." Point made, he stalked back to the nurse's station to make his wishes known. The security guard allowed him to pass without question. With a sigh of relief, he watched the younger man leave as well.

Peter's feet moved him through the exit with little conscious instruction. The sorrow and regret cloaking his every step. The pounding echo of Kermit's venom echoed in his mind.

Peter Caine had thought of him as brother. Family. And with one decision, he had ripped away the man's very heart. Taken his wife, thus destroying the center of his life. He's right. It was my fault and I have to pay for it. Staring down at his shoes, he retreated to his car. Not wanting to cause any more trouble than he already had.

*****

SIX MONTHS EARLIER

Kermit pulled the Corvair into the parking lot of the 101st precinct, ready to start his first day back from vacation. Generally, Kermit Griffin didn't take vacations. Usually, his 'vacation' days were anything but; they were special projects that were too classified to be explained. He'd toss some lame excuse like 'my aunt died' or 'I'm going fishing', fill out his form and disappear. This, though, had been an honest-to-God vacation.

Easing his way into a parking spot, Kermit groaned his disgust. "One week in Paris with you makes coming back to *this* cruel and unusual punishment. We should have done this long ago."

"If we'd done this long ago, you would have needed a cargo plane to take me over the pond!" Savannah grinned from the passenger seat. Pregnant and tired would have been a lousy way to see Paris. Now, things were settling in their lives. They were a family. Strong and whole. "Besides, you've been there before. Coming home should be no big deal."

He'd seen Paris before but this time was different. It wasn't merely a rendezvous point or a command station. With Savannah, he saw springtime in Paris. Seeing it through her eyes was indescribably special. Like they were falling in love all over again. Something that made it difficult to come back to work. "Yes, I've been there before," he leaned over to squeeze her small hand, "But the circumstances of my departures tended to be more...explosive in nature."

"Ummmmm..." she sparkled with a less-than-chaste lift of her eyebrows, "I'd say the activities of the week were more than explosive."

Shaking his head, he replied, "You're right about that one, my love." Lifting the hand to his lips, he smirked, "How 'bout an instant replay?"

"You can still call in sick," Savannah teased, winking at him. "Jet lag. Flu. Pulled muscle...."

"Pulled muscle wouldn't be too much of a lie after-"

"Now, stop! Shame on you!" She laughed and got out of the car.

"Where are you going?"

"Before I take the Kermitmobile to the mechanic, I want to come in and say hello to everyone, silly! That okay?" It had taken months of marriage for Kermit to build enough confidence in his wife's respect for his prized machine to let her take possession of his keys. Finally, he was willing to accept her help when it was time for routine maintenance. Hopefully, unlike the last time his wife had hijacked the Corvair, the car wouldn't hold any undue surprises.

"One more minute with you? Hmmmm...let me think it over." He gave her an unrestrained embrace as she reached his side of the car and they went into the building together.

Peter Caine was the first to notice the two arrive. He had mixed feelings of relief and apprehension at the sight of the ex-mercenary. He wanted his input, even with the lecture that would be forthcoming. "Welcome back! Paris still in one piece?"

"Of course," Kermit told him. "I went with Savannah, not Blaisdell!"

"How 'bout you, dollface?" He laughed at her grimace. Savannah hated that nickname. "You wreak any havoc to uphold the Griffin reputation?"

Savannah gave Peter a quick peck on the cheek and waved a greeting to Mary Margaret and Jody. "Oui!"

"So, you've mastered the language."

"Oui."

Kermit explained. "After the international incident she caused, she decided that was the one word that wouldn't get her into trouble."

"Kermit!" Savannah exclaimed, protesting. "International incident!" Peter was now wearing an annoying grin on his face, so she elaborated. "All that happened was this. We were in the Louvre. I tried to make a comment to a man standin' beside me about one of the paintings. I think I may have said something about his mother. He was not pleased." Shaking her head in disgust, she added, "Those people certainly are sensitive!"

"You can dress her up but you can't take her-" Kermit was cut off with a goodbye kiss.

"Ha, ha. Pick you up later." For a moment, her hand rested in his own. Just a small, unseen gesture of closeness. Mouthing a quick, "I love you," she left to run her errands.

Peter Caine smiled at the pair and the emotions they couldn't keep private. He was happy for Kermit Griffin. The man looked relaxed...or as relaxed as he ever did. Shame I'm about to screw it up.

"All right, Pete. Fill me in on that worried look on your face. City fall apart while I was gone?" Kermit asked as he walked into his old, familiar office. Every messy pile exactly where he'd left it. Won't need to shoot anybody just yet. From the look on the younger man's face and the way he trailed along into his office, the question was rhetorical. Kermit already knew.

"I may have a problem." Peter Caine flopped down in the chaos of Kermit's lair.

"You did it, didn't you?! After every point we discussed, you did it anyway." The irritation was sharp and clear as crystal. Half at what he considered a pointless risk and half at having his advice blatantly ignored after it was sought out. Run off to drown in my wife for a week and he goes nuts. The internal grumble translated into a quick slam of his door. "Who knows about this?"

"No one, yet." Peter had once again played cowboy. The Indians weren't retreating as planned.

Kermit flopped down in his chair and in an uncharacteristically open gesture, pulled off his shades. "You know what I thought about this."

"Look," Peter leapt to his feet, "I didn't come in here for your sage wisdom!" The tension and frustration he had been feeling were focusing on the man before him. "This is MY case, you know!"

Never rising from his seat, the ex-mercenary shoved his angry natural reflexes aside. Smouldering irritation swallowed back down into his chest. "You done?"

Pacing off his misdirected emotion, Peter nodded.

"Good," Kermit shifted in his seat back to face his favorite toy. "Then let's do some background work and then we'll go hit the pavement. Maybe it's not too late in the game to change tactics."

"I still think it might work." Peter made one last point in his defense. "But...thanks."

"Sure." Kermit replied flatly and locked off his memories of Paris. He was back.

Savannah spent a harrowing but interesting morning as she dropped Kermit's car off at the repair shop, got a taxi to take her back home for her car, delivered laundry to dry cleaners, shopped for groceries and visited the post office to cancel their 'stop mail' order. When she finally picked up Kat at the next-door neighbor's, she was drooping. She then headed back to the precinct to force Kermit to go out to lunch since she knew he would work straight through if she let him.

Truth be told, the lunch was more for her than Kermit. Being near him, nonstop, for a week was addictive. She wasn't quite ready to get back to routine.

Once she parked, she had another problem to contend with besides a workaholic husband.

Ever since Kat began walking, just before her first birthday, she absolutely refused to ride in the stroller or be carried. She wanted to move under her own power and would raise the roof if denied. Kermit laughed that if she was this determined now, they were in for 'big trouble.' Savannah held her hand firmly as they began the tedious task of climbing the fifteen steps that led up to the front door of the 101st precinct.

A young man was walking rapidly behind them, trapped behind the log jam of an insistant toddler.

"Well, hello there! Welcome back!" called Karen Simms from the corner. She had just parked her car and noticed Savannah and the baby.

Savannah turned and waved. The young man was impatiently bobbing around, trying to get past them and the people descending on the other side. "Looks like we're holding up traffic. See you inside!" she called back.

That's when Karen noticed the car....

Older model sedan. Driving way too slowly down a busy street. Windows open. By the time the business end of a weapon peered out, Karen had already drawn her revolver. "GET DOWN!!!"

The body of the teenaged boy danced briefly in the air as the rounds lifted him from his feet and pelted him to the ground behind the panicked group on the stairs.

She didn't have time to scream. Throwing herself down on top of her baby girl, Savannah could feel the hot sting of the bullets crashing into her body. As her consciousness began to fade, she tightened her grip on Kat's body. Sound faded into a dull echo. Darkness pounding away the light and pain as she gave way to the void.

Peter had taken his usual position on the corner of Kermit's desk. "I was certain he'd be in by now, spilling his guts."

"That's the trouble with gambles," Kermit grumbled to his younger partner as he gave him a shove to get him off his paperwork, "sometimes the odds bite you in the ass."

Giving in and moving to the chair, he ran a hand through his hair. "Thought the odds were pretty good given the stakes." True, Kermit was usually an asset in his corner, but sometimes his know-it-all attitude was a bit much for Peter to swallow. Like today.

"What if they get him first?"'

"Kermit," Peter's irritation was showing, "Jimmy Wong has a rap sheet a mile long. Armed robbery. Attempted murder. He's been slipping through the cracks of juvy just like his ole buddy Blood Lao. Personally, I'd LOVE to use him to nail Blood but if he bites it first...oh, well."

"Not very Shaolin, Peter."

That shut him up. He knew Kermit was right. The past few months had worn on him. Police work was wearing on him. Work your ass off. Bring in the bad guy. Watch him walk out and laugh in your face. Was this all his life had become? Conductor of a revolving door to street trash who preyed on innocents?

Peter was sick of it and he was getting THIS one off the street if it killed him.

He was about to formulate a reply when the echo of automatic gunfire filled the air. Kermit was already out the door and Peter followed in a tangled mob of cops rushing toward the sounds. By the time they got to the entrance, the firing had long since stopped.

Kermit tore through the shattered glass of the door at the sound of a familiar wail.

*****

Frank Strenlich held Kat as she kicked and screamed. She was covered with blood from the side of her face down to her little blue tennis shoes. Blind to everything else, Kermit grabbed her and pulled up her shirt to check for bullet wounds. "It's okay, baby. I'm here. It's okay."

"Kermit, she's not hit. She's not hit." Frank had already checked her from head to toe. Kermit followed the Chief's gaze down to the sidewalk. Jimmy Wong was splattered across the end of the stairs and there beside him lay Kermit's wife.

Shoving the blood soaked baby back into Frank's arms, Kermit flew to the mangled body of his wife. Karen Simms was trying to stop the bleeding. Savannah had taken a hit to her side, one in the left shoulder, and there was blood pouring from the wound in the back of her head. "Somebody get an ambulance! NOW, DAMMIT!!!"

She lay unconscious and deathly still. Her body twisted into an unnatural bundle of angles, she sprawled face down over the concrete. Digging through a mass of bloody hair, Kermit whispered urgently into her ear, trying to reach her. Hands slick with bright red death, he strained to feel a faint pulse and couldn't bear to pull his fingers away from her throat.

Peter stood dumbstruck beside them. Looking from Kat to Jimmy Wong's body and back to Savannah. His friend. Kermit's wife. Kat's mother. Bleeding to death in front of him.

Kermit held his desperate posture over Savannah's ear until one of the arriving paramedics shoved him out of the way. He wanted to keep believing that she could hear him; to use his voice to somehow hold her in this world. White hot fear seared his mind as the paramedics labored over Savannah's faint presence.

The luxury of stabilizing her no longer existed. This woman wouldn't live through the 'golden hour' of emergency trauma. The paramedics slowed the blood gushing from the bullet wounds with pressure dressings, started an IV and loaded her into the back of the ambulance. Her practically-nonexistent pulse threatened to betray her at any moment.

Before climbing into the back of the ambulance, Kermit shot an agonized look, a plea, to Frank Strenlich, who was trying to comfort the traumatized baby in his arms.

By way of response, Frank cuddled the baby closer, despite the blood. "Go!" he called out.

Twice during the trip, the deathly piercing sound of the monitor screamed her death into Kermit's ear. One paramedic pounded her chest while the other pumped air into her stilled lungs, forcing her body to function until the monitor began to beat the rhythm of life again.

Kermit could only sit by in shock as death hovered over Savannah's delicate face. Those eyes that had sparkled up at him as they made love the night before. That soft mouth that had kissed him goodbye only hours earlier. His world was dissolving around him. There would be no color or beauty without her. Closing his eyes, he tried to reach her. Please, hold on, Scarlett. Hold on!

The ambulance roared into the emergency room entrance, where the medical team swung into action. One paramedic began to recite Savannah's situation to the trauma team. "Female, late twenties, GSW to the head, shoulder and lower back. Massive blood loss. Coded twice on the way here."

The trauma room doors slammed shut in Kermit's face. A nurse was saying something to him, trying to move him away from the doors. Eyes fixed on his wife's body, he stood bolted to the floor. They were putting a tube down her throat. Jamming needles and probes into her colorless skin.

That nurse was still tugging at his arm. Without even thinking, he effortlessly shook himself loose from her grasp and shoved her away.

Kermit! Karen Simms had chased the ambulance with Mary Margaret along for the ride. This man, who meant more to her than she would ever admit, had built his entire world around a woman whose life was dripping out of her before his very eyes. He needed help. Trying to pull him back into reality, she said, "Kermit, they need some information from you so that they can help her."

That got his attention. The nurse followed them into the waiting room and left the admitting documents with them. Mary Margaret began to fill them out. She knew Savannah as well as any of them. "Kermit, give me your insurance card."

Almost in a daze, he pulled out his wallet and handed her the plastic card. The blood on his hands caught his attention as Simms wordlessly guided him to a chair. Her blood. It was everywhere. All over the precinct stairs...his shirt....Kat....

Kermit's head shot up and he looked at Mary Margaret. "Kat?! Who's going to-"

"Don't worry. Frank is taking her home with him and Molly. She's fine. We'll make sure of that."

The doors to the trauma room burst open to reveal a short, aggressive man in bloody scrubs. "Mr. Griffin?"

Kermit shot up from his chair. "Yes! Tell me!"

"I'm Dr. Jacobs. We're prepping her for surgery. There's a bullet in the base of her skull, one that has pierced a kidney, and the hit to her shoulder went completely through and is the most minor of her injuries."

"Will she make it?"

Dr. Jacobs sucked in a deep breath. "Right now, it doesn't look good. She's in shock, she's coded twice in the past twenty minutes and the blood loss is extensive. But we have an excellent neurosurgeon I've called in to assist."

"Whatever it takes. I want the best you have to give her, no matter what it costs."

"She's got that, Mr. Griffin. I have to scrub. The surgical nurse will keep you posted." Dr. Jacobs trotted down the hallway, understanding that walking wasn't acceptable for this patient.

"Kermit," Mary Margaret this time, "someone should call her parents. Do you want me to do that?" He nodded dumbly and she left to break the news to Savannah's family in Memphis. They had only been reconciled for a few months. It seemed a cruelty beyond measure to have to deliver this news to them now.

Peter Caine was in shock. He could only stand there, watching, as they scooped up Savannah's torn body from the harsh gravel of the precinct steps and bundled her into the ambulance. He stood there, watching, as the coroner came to gather the remains of Jimmy Wong. Two lives. Two deaths. All because of him. And that wasn't all. There were others being loaded into ambulances. Some had been injured by the assassin's car as it sped from the scene and some had been hurt by the spray of random bullets that had littered the area for a disastrous five seconds.

Peter sank to the steps as he continued to watch. He didn't deserve to be freed from this vision of horror. He stared as Frank carried Kat, sobbing her panic in hiccupping chokes, away into the precinct. He watched people cry and gasp, hit with the suddenness and brutality. T.J. Kincaid and several uniformed officers were canvassing the victims and spectators for information. Police work was continuing. By the book.

Savannah.... Peter moaned silently. Please...I'm so sorry. He laid his forehead on his clasped hands, only to start at the hand that suddenly gripped his shoulder.

"Peter," a brash, familiar voice said softly. "Are you....look.... I'm sure the doctors are doing everything they can to help her."

"It won't be enough," Peter said woodenly. "Did you see her, Jody? There's no way they can save her. There's too much damage. Oh, God, what have I done??"

Jody looked at him in shock. "What? What do you mean 'what have you done'? You didn't do anything. You didn't cause this." She shifted her attentions to the coroner's wagon. What was left of Jimmy Wong was being loaded. She recognized the teenaged gang-banger, but couldn't place him "Wasn't that kid connected to Blood Lao?"

His selective hearing filtered the input. "Jimmy Wong wouldn't have been coming to the precinct if not for me. I as much as pulled the trigger." Peter sat there as Jody digested the news, totally oblivious that he'd just aired his news out in the open where there were about a dozen officers milling about, listening. In an hour, the gossip would be all over town.

"Peter...." Jody fought for some way to help absolve Peter's seemingly irrational guilt but the detective was already on the move. "What are you talking about?

Peter got to his feet. He'd lost his heart and destroyed his life but he was damn well going to make up for it. He would find Blood. That's the least he could do for Kermit and his family. Get Blood and take him off the streets, permanently.

"Tell me what you're talking about, dammit!" Jody shouted after him, trying to keep up the pace. Making a grab for his sleeve, she nearly fell over as his tortured body jerked to a halt.

"I did it, Jody! Another elaborate trick! Jimmy Wong was coming here because of me! Blood Lao came after him because of me!" Peeling off her fingers, he stalked away to his car.

"Peter, where are you going?" Jody called worriedly.

"To find Blood Lao." Peter Caine fell into the roaring silence of his vehicle. His own voice became a siren of accusation. You did it, didn't you?! Kermit's words obliterated his own thoughts.

He had done it. One week ago, he had set it in motion. The steamroller that had destroyed everything....

*****

"Look, Jimmy," Peter sat across the table from his suspect, "your boy's going down sooner or later. You make it sooner and maybe I can work out something to help you outta this mess." The detective folded his hands in front of him, carefully orchestrating a calm atmosphere.

Jimmy Wong's nervous teenage twitching was being covered with a sullen mask. "I want my lawyer, asshole."

"At this point, Jimmy," he leaned forward, tone still low but dripping with poison, "I don't give a shit about what you want. I'm more interested in nailing the person who bashed in some nice shopkeeper's skull."

The vision of An Teng, seventy-year-old grandfather, lying on a stretcher, bleeding, sent a pounding rage through the detective's chest. In his father's absence, Peter Caine felt some eerie responsibility for the community - more than usual. An Teng's hysterical wife had phoned a frantic 911 call, struggling through broken English to summon help after finding her husband bludgeoned and unconscious on the floor of their neighborhood grocery. A life smashed into peril for a fistful of one dollar bills from their cash register.

"Screw you!" came the spitting response, as Jimmy Wong slapped his sixteen-year-old feet to the table, "I'm under juvy and I don't have to say shit to you!"

Discretion gave way to anger. Just a nice old man,Peter thought as he shoved the sarcastic feet to the floor and sat in their place. He had his own interpretation. "Here's how I see it, you little worm," he growled. " You and your buddy Blood Lao came in for an easy score. The old man gave you some mouth and Blood went off. That's more his style. Right, Jimmy? Beating old people would be a big leap in your career. I think Blood bashed in his head. Right?"

Kermit had done his research on Henry 'Blood' Lao when Peter and Skalany had dragged both Lao and Jimmy Wong in for the assault and robbery. Blood was an import from Los Angeles with a juvy rap sheet as lengthy as 'War and Peace. He'd slipped in and out of the system for years. Had even beaten a murder rap a year before. He'd come here to live with an aunt six months ago and already had an intimate relationship with the police. Blood had the makings of a first-class gangster. They'd picked up rumors that he had been forming ties with a new syndicate of criminals in Chinatown--but, they couldn't point fingers at faces they hadn't seen yet.

The young man remained silent. Staring at the clock and chewing the inside of his cheek for comfort. He knew his rights. All the infantile thugs knew their rights. The aloof demeanor only served to make Peter Caine's blood pressure rise.

"We have a witness who puts BOTH of you in the store before the beatings. Roll over and you'll get first crack at a deal." Peter added a sly lilt to his voice, "Besides, your buddy Blood's probably in there layin' it in your lap. Beat him to the punch and-"

"I didn't do shit to that old man!" The phrase gasped out and was sucked quickly back inside. "Sure, we were in there today, but you don't have nobody who can say they saw us hurt anybody." The jaded arrogance returned. "Fuck you!"

Lunging forward, Peter grabbed the arms of Jimmy's chair and rocked it backward, holding it perched on two legs. "When I'm through with you, you'll wish that was all I did to you!"

"DETECTIVE! Let that boy go!" A small, dark-haired woman in sensible shoes stood in the doorway, glaring at the assault. "I'm Jimmy's social worker Margaret Bayer from Juvenile Services. I suggest you get your hands off this child and give him his right to counsel before we have YOU up on charges!"

Peter Caine had wondered why it took this long for the cavalry to arrive. Jimmy's acid smirk glowed up at him. "Let him go? Sure thing." Peter released the chair and sent his suspect clattering to the floor. As the social worker leapt to the boy's side in horror, another suit appeared at the door. "Well, Schneider. I should have known."

"That's right, Detective Caine," Bob Schneider greased his way into the room, "I'm here on behalf of these two poor boys you're harassing simply because of their unfortunate circumstances. I suggest you either charge them or release them." Smiling a predatory, gleeful grin, the attorney sang, "I love the smell of police brutality in the morning."

Clamping his teeth over a reply, Peter stepped out into the hall. Skalany, who had been drilling Blood Lao in the other room, met him in the hall. "Not an inch, partner." She shook her head as her suspect breezed past to wait at the front desk. The swaggering, leather-clad teen wagged his sloppy tongue at her in challenge.

The frustration of watching another perp squeeze through the cracks in the system was wearing on Peter's thread-bare restraint. Evil--one, he scored inside his defeat-weary brain. Innocent...not shit. The usual outcome...not this time.

"Partner? Peter?" Skalany tugged on his arm as he stared at the gathering support system of gang members assembling around Blood Lao's victory. Arrogant young vermin festooned in do-rags and sloppy gang finery.

As Jimmy Wong made his way from the interrogation room under the comforting arm of his attorney and female protector, an electric moment of inspiration jolted through the battle-worn detective. Leaping to the young man's side, Peter slapped a friendly arm around the youth's shoulder.

"Thanks for all the help, kid!" Smiling with renewed enthusiasm, Peter Caine raised his volume a notch or two. "Never know when that information could come in handy!"

"You're crazy, man!" Jimmy had shouted as he shook off the arm and joined his partners. Looking at Blood's suspicious face, he tried damage control, "I didn't tell them shit!"

Blood shot out a menacing arm to replace that of Detective Caine. Yanking his subordinate close, he replied, "Nothin' to tell anyway, right, Jimmy?"

Jimmy made his sweaty way out the door with his crew. Peter Caine laughed out loud.

"What the hell was that?" Skalany was lost. "I thought he didn't-"

"He didn't, but they'll all start to wonder." Kermit eased his way to join them from across the room. "That the general idea?"

"Hell, yes!" Peter's hopes were perking up.

Kermit put a friendly hand on Peter's arm to guide him into the computer jockey's office as Skalany moved on to sign the release forms. Once inside, he offered, "I see where you're heading with this, but are you sure this is a good idea?"

"You don't think so?" Peter was still riding the high of inspiration. Pulling another trick over on the bad guys was like a rush to his psyche.

"You really want to know?" Kermit folded into his throne and looked up through green lenses. "Because if you don't want my perspective, I'll keep it to myself."

Sitting down, ready to defend his point, Peter answered, "Sure. Tell me why squeezing one punk to get another is a bad idea."

Kermit checked his watch. "I've got to be out of here in ten minutes to catch a plane to Paris with an incredibly sexy, and scary, female so here's the condensed version. There are too many variables here that can't be controlled. If Wong doesn't get antsy enough to sing before his boy gets suspicious and plugs him, you'll have a murder instead of an informant. And this would be the direct result of a police set-up gone sour. Bad PR move, to say the very least."

"Won't happen," Peter assured. "They'll think he's rolling over so he might as well be. He'll be back by tomorrow begging us to save his sorry ass."

Kermit shook his head. "Just a friendly warning, Pete. You might want to rethink this. There could be a lot of heat if this plan falls apart."

"Look, Kermit," Peter leaned forward, elbows on his knees, "it doesn't look like that old man's gonna live through the night. I won't tell his widow that some waste of skin gets to bash his head in and go his merry way." Running a worried hand through his hair, Peter explained, "Tomorrow, I'm gonna give Jimmy another more substantial thank you in Chinatown. After that, he'll be my freakin' shadow and I'll have Blood Lao locked up."

After a long drawn-out breath, Kermit shot another glance at his watch. "I'll be the first to admit, I've taken a risk or three in my less-than-pristine past. You've got good instincts," he got up from his chair and grabbed his briefcase, "USE them. Wait a week before you do anything. They'll still be here. I have to get going or some little blond will have MY ass." Kermit forced a smile and headed for the door. "Wait a week. See what happens."

"Have a good time." Peter watched him leave and began his own analysis....

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