Peter Caine had analyzed, all right. The failure and error mocked his grief-dulled senses as he made an illegal lane change. The sharp blare of a horn jolted him back into the present. Passing An Teng's locked grocery bubbled more anger into his throat. The old man had stubbornly clung to his life. If you could call it that. Hooked to life support indefinitely, Mr. Teng had little chance of recovery.

He was at the same hospital as Savannah Griffin. Another life being destroyed by one selfish, brutal little bastard.

Skidding his car into a parking space, the arrogance of his own actions threatened to make him vomit. Fury and defeat blinded him to all else. Leaving his car, Peter Caine dove into the crowd, searching for one face.....one disgusting teenage face.

The surgery was continuing into the fourth hour. Time after time, the surgical nurse called progress reports to the waiting area. Always the same. Savannah was alive but they were still working to piece her back together.

Kermit had to get up to pace every once in a while. Karen knew that only the bare remains of his reason stopped him from demanding to be in the operating room. Still, every time Kermit moved to personally stand guard before the surgical wing, Karen made him sit down. Then he would sit like a statue, already mourning her.

"GODDAMN CAINE!!!" Kermit yelled, startling them all as he leapt from his chair once more.

Karen rose quickly to touch him comfortingly on the arm. "Kermit, there are other people here-"

"I want that little bastard brought up on charges! He did this!! "

"We're going to get Blood Lao for this." The connection between Jimmy Wong and Blood Lao was old news. The relationship must have gone sour.

"NOT JUST BLOOD, DAMMIT!!! PETER CAINE!!!"

Mary Margaret gaped at him. She, too, got up to try to settle the enraged mercenary. "What are you talking about, Kermit? Peter didn't do anything-"

"The hell he didn't, Skalany!" Kermit shook his angry finger in her face. "He set Wong up. Wasn't that Wong lying in several pieces next to Savannah?!! They were after Wong all the time because of Peter!!! Set him up as a snitch and sat back to watch the fuckin' fireworks!"

Karen stepped around to look Kermit in the eye, trying to digest her first taste of the information. "Kermit," she said in her Captain's voice, "I promise you that we'll look into this. But you know that Peter wouldn't have wanted anyone to be hurt-"

"I TOLD him not to do it! I warned him!! Now, Savannah is dying because of HIM! I'm going to kill him." The last sentence hung in the air like a November chill, spoken with a volume several degrees below zero.

"Detective," Karen snapped, "sit down! That's an order." As Kermit debated the pros and cons of obeying, she continued. "You're not doing her any good by distracting the hospital staff with this scene and you're scaring other patients. Sit down."

Kermit sat back down in his chair, but it was obvious that the accusation still burned through him like poison. Karen and Mary Margaret exchanged knowing looks, realizing how volatile the situation had become, for Kermit and for Peter.

Finally, Dr. Jacobs came to deliver the news to the detective. "Mr. Griffin?"

Kermit sprang to his feet again. "Is she alive?"

"Yes. We repaired the shoulder wound with few problems. The bullet in her side caused such massive damage to one kidney that it had to be removed. She can function normally with only one, so that's not the most critical issue at this point. But...when we were removing the bullet from her skull, she suffered a stroke. The damage done by the bullet coupled with the effects of the stroke are quite serious. She's not breathing on her own. We have her on life support. I'm afraid that...she's lapsed into a coma." The doctor paused to allow the heartbroken man a moment to soak up the information.

Swallowing the bile rising into his throat, he squeezed out words past the grief roaring in his ears, "Her chances?"

"The longer she stays on that respirator, the slimmer the chances for survival. Right now, her chances aren't very good. About fifty/fifty."

Karen's beeper went off and she silenced it, fading away to a quiet corner of the waiting room to answer the page. Duty had to take priority.

The damning words continued to echo in Kermit's mind. Aren't very good. He couldn't accept it, wouldn't accept it. He'd hold her in this world if he had to do it with his bare hands.

"I want to see her."

"Certainly, but do understand that she won't know you're there."

"Yes, she will." He passed by the doctor clad in scrubs smeared with his wife's precious blood.

Karen Simms shut her phone with a resigned snap. The pieces were fitting together. Peter Caine's gamble. The land mine he'd planted. "Detective Skalany, will you stay with Kermit? Don't leave him alone."

"Of course," Skalany replied. "But what-"

"I have to find Detective Caine before someone else dies." Karen left the heartbreak of one friend to find another.

*****

Kermit entered the ICU unprepared for the sight of his beloved's hellish internment. Every portion of her body seemed violated by some tube or electrode. The monitor in the corner beat out the steady rhythm of her heart. A rude sucking noise emitted from the respirator as it flooded air into her weakened lungs. Her gentle mouth was forced around a breathing tube.

Leaning down, he kissed her pale cheek, her skin so white that it was nearly transparent. Into her ear, he breathed, "Scarlett, I'm here. You're going to be just fine. Kat's safe. Concentrate all your energy to heal. I love you."

The stillness assaulted his senses. Even in her sleep, his touch had always drawn a soft reaction. Now, as he slipped her limp fingers into his large hand, Savannah offered no recognition, no sleepy smile, no breathless sigh of affection, and no life as the shell of her chest moved repetitively up and down.

Still holding her delicate hand, the man carefully examined his wife. Someone had done their best to remove the matted clots of blood that had been in her hair hours earlier. The bright golden mane had been neatly twisted and tucked under one shoulder. The icy white sheen of Savannah's left cheek lay in brutal contrast to her right. Barely skimming the bruised flesh, he stroked the fragile features where they had been crushed into the pavement from the force of the bullets. A bloody scrape of several inches lay open the length of her cheekbone, resting in a bed of pulsating purple blotches. His own face prickled at the thought of that blow.

Looking down the trail of her colorless arm, he absently noted the jagged nails on her left hand, all broken as Frank had pried Kat's shirt from her mother's fierce grip. One of the emergency room staff had forced open Savannah's fist to free a patch of light blue fabric as she was prepped for surgery. Thinking it to be some sort of evidence, she had handled it carefully. Presenting it to the waiting police officers, she had no idea that it was a piece of Katherine Griffin's favorite Baby Gap t-shirt, evidence of her mother's desperate attempt to save her.

The cloth burned inside the detective's pocket. A talisman. A twisted good luck charm. Pulling the patch of fabric from his pocket, Kermit gently tucked it between Savannah's fingers. "It's usually against my nature to beg," the man whispered once again into the dainty curve of her ear, "but please don't...don't leave me. It isn't time yet."

So many people had left his life without warning. Ripped away without reason. Too many. "We have to raise this kid. Who's going to do that if you leave me? I need you with me...it's too soon...." With the doubtless conviction that she WAS listening, he moved his lips to stroke Savannah's ear. "Dig in your heels and be that stubborn woman I know you are. Hold on to your life. Hold on with both hands. I need you."

The soft click of hard-soled shoes snapped his attention to the door. A young uniformed officer stood rigidly outside the entrance to Savannah's room, a reminder of the danger that could be stalking her.

But protection would be his job. "I'll make sure you're safe, Scarlett. All you have to focus on is living. Just live. I'll take care of the rest."

The stillness met his plea. A gentle beat from the heart monitor, his only confirmation that she was still clinging to this life and refusing the next. Pulling a chair to her side, Kermit assumed his vigilant post, waiting for a glimmer of the woman he loved more than life to return.

Peter Caine roamed the streets. Prowling up and down alleyways, hitting every gangster haunt in Chinatown. He'd lay hands on that little animal if it took his last breath. Rage propelled him past his grief...and guilt.

On his way into the arcade, a strong hand landed on his shoulder. "Detective Caine," Captain Simms demanded, "what the hell are you doing?"

Turning in surprise, he snapped, "Looking for a killer. My job, remember!?"

"Come with me. NOW!" She proceeded to her car with Peter in tow. Karen had bet on her authority to plow through the volatile young man's obsession--an obsession shared by another detective, who was frantic with grief and fear.

Karen understood both sides. Both were wrong.

Detective Caine had wagered on the cowardice of Jimmy Wong. A gamble that, in theory, might have read well. He'd set a runaway train in motion, never expecting Savannah and her baby to cross the tracks. A heartbreaking mistake. Not a criminal error but Peter would certainly face consequences from IAD for it. That would come later. Now, Karen was more concerned with his soul rather than his career.

Kermit Griffin had taken chances over the course of his life. Although he'd come down on the side of restraint on this particular instance, Karen knew that the ex-mercenary had played similar hands in the past. This time, he'd ended up on the receiving end of a gamble gone wrong. The Dead Man's Hand. He'd focused all his fear and anger on Peter, letting his emotions rule his normally rock solid shield. Kwai Chang Caine had picked a fine time to visit his native China. Karen only hoped that there would be something left of his son when he returned.

Peter slumped down into the seat. Bleeding his guilt from every pore. "I did this and I have to find that bastard."

"Who? The shooter?" she asked for sake of clarification.

Turning his anger to her, he answered, "Hell, yes, the shooter. Blood Lao. He did it and I'm going to get my hands on him and-"

"Detective. This is NOT your case." Peter gaped at her as she continued. "Detectives Powell and Kincaid have been assigned. You - and Detective Skalany - are too close to this case and you should know it." She disregarded his challenging look. "You don't have anything to go on, besides that murder in your eye. I can't have one of my detectives shaking down people on the street! You have no leads, no nothing. Not even an eyewitness who got a look at the shooter."

Peter looked at her questioningly.

"No," Karen replied sadly, "I didn't see the shooter's face. Only the car and the gun barrel out the window. NO eyewitness, that we know of, saw him."

"I don't give a damn-!"

"THAT is why I'm pulling you off the streets!" Karen snapped. "I need detectives who give a damn about what they do...and what they might do. I need detectives to stand by their friends in pain rather than become cold-blooded vigilantes, out for revenge. Kermit and Savannah need you with them, now more than ever. Think of them, not yourself."

"You know what I did. You know I set this up." The statement was flat with confession and suffering.

Pointing his gaze away from his captain, Peter focused in on the arcade and the crowds of teens milling around the entrance. It had been only two days ago that he had shifted his plan into high gear at that very spot.

*****

"So, Jimmy, my boy!" Peter called out, cutting off Jimmy's escape into the video arcade. Jimmy looked sick and squirmed to get away. Getting caught being friendly with a cop was the easiest way to end up in a box and the young man was squirming to get out of Chinatown's public view.

"What is it, Five-O biz so slow you got time to cruise for boys, Caine?" With a jerk, he tugged his jacket out of Peter Caine's fist.

Peter wanted to bash in his smart mouth. Just then, he caught sight of three other gangbangers and implemented Phase Two of 'Caine's Fuck Up Jimmy's Life Plan.' Pulling out a twenty, he shoved it into Jimmy's pocket. "Thanks for all your help, buddy!" He spoke loud enough to reach the ear of anyone in a three-mile radius. Slapping Jimmy on the back, he left him sweating on the sidewalk, the detective got behind the wheel of his car and drove away.

"See ya soon, kid," he sang to himself as Jimmy's face faded in the rearview mirror.

*****

"Yes, I know. And we'll have to address that soon," Karen answered. The soft acknowledgement of his involvement snapped Peter back from his memory.

Peter closed his eyes in pain. He would have thought that Simms would support him helping by finding the killer, but had to confess that she was right about his motivations. He just wanted to kill, not arrest. "Okay," he whispered, the yoke of his guilt still pressing down upon him. But as burdened as he was feeling at the moment, he knew Kermit's suffering was unimaginable. "Okay, I'll go over there." He only hoped that Kermit wouldn't shoot him on sight before he had a chance to bring in Blood. "Just...give me a while, okay? I promise, no more shakedowns."

Karen looked at him, studying him carefully, and finally decided that he was telling the truth. "All right," she said, nodding to tell him he could leave her car. She did remain as he walked to his car. He got in and just sat there. Staring at the dilapidated buildings, the weight of life and death pressing his shoulders into an uncharacteristic slump.

Karen spared him another sympathetic look and drove away, heading back to the hospital.

Kermit couldn't move from the waiting area, couldn't eat or sleep. They would let him go into her room for only ten minutes every hour and he wouldn't miss a second of whispering into that welcoming ear or touching that velvet cheek. Soaking up every second as if it were the last. Each one could very well be.

Time had little meaning. The hours ticked by into the next day -- or was it two? His mind had stopped registering time.

Karen sat down beside him and shoved a cup of coffee into his hand while Frank Strenlich leaned against the wall, looking uncomfortable. The ex-mercenary was disintegrating before their very eyes. "Kermit, you should go home and spend some time with the baby. The garage delivered your car to the hospital parking lot. We hired a babysitter so that Kat could stay at home where she's familiar with things." To the instant glare, she quickly added, "Don't worry, I checked out the babysitter, but Kat still needs you. Go for a while and I'll stay here."

He gulped down the synthetic energy in his hand and answered with uncertainty, "I know she does...but...what if I leave and...and...."

"Kermit...she's still holding on. Savannah would want you to be with Kat. She's just a baby and she's frightened. She needs her father now...just for a few hours."

Kermit was about to answer when Dr. Jacobs joined them in the waiting area.

"Detective. There's something that you should think about."

Kermit looked at the doctor coolly.

The doctor settled himself. There was no easy way to say this. "Sir, your wife may never recover. She's suffered a massive stroke and severe damage to her cerebral and motor functions is almost certain. Even if she does come out of this coma, the likelihood is that she'll have the physical and mental capabilities of a newborn."

"So she can be retaught."

"In some cases," the doctor said carefully. "But in some other cases, it might be wiser...it might be kinder to just...just-"

The doctor's breath whooshed out as Kermit, in one lightning move, slammed him against the wall. He looked down to see the barrel of a humongous gun pointing at him and began to tremble.

"Are you telling me to pull the plug on my wife?" Kermit asked softly.

"Kermit!" Strenlich was behind him, tugging on his arm. "You don't know what he was going to say, dammit!"

"Are you telling me to KILL her?" Kermit continued as he ignored Strenlich. Filling in the blanks omitted by the doctor now gasping in his fist. "Listen to me, you white collar trash, I'LL KILL YOU before I let her die! Do you understand me?!" He thrust the barrel of the gun underneath the man's chin.

Karen stepped forward, hoping to use authority where strength had failed. "Detective! Put that man down! Now! Let him talk!"

"You don't go NEAR her," Kermit snarled, his face mere inches from the other man. "I want another doctor. I won't have ANY doctor who's not on her side. Do you hear me? DO YOU UNDERSTAND ME?!!!"

Karen insinuated herself in front of Kermit. "He understands. Now, let him go."

Kermit, unmindful of the tears he shed behind the dark glasses, slowly uncurled his fingers, and finally the doctor slid to the floor and ran for it. Never bothering to complete whatever thought he intended to express, the physician disappeared around the corner.

"You sure have a way with folks, Kermit," Strenlich commented.

Karen put a hand on Kermit's arm. "Why don't you-"

He shrugged off her touch and walked slowly to the nurse's station. He felt like he was walking in quicksand. He leaned over and addressed the head nurse with the deadly authority echoing from his past. "I want another doctor for my wife," he said slowly and distinctly. "I want to be called if there's the slightest change in her condition. I want to be consulted over EVERY phase of her treatment. Do you understand?"

The other nurses quivered at the 'do you understand', especially after witnessing what had happened to the doctor, but the head nurse held her ground. "Yes, sir, we understand completely. I'll take care of it."

He didn't even nod. Just began walking outside, presumably to where his car was waiting. Karen, alarmed, walked swiftly after him.

Strenlich looked incredulous. "How is she going to handle him alone?" he muttered to himself as he followed quickly after his captain.

Kermit, for once, didn't flinch when he stepped outside in bright sunlight. What was the bright light compared to the knowledge that she may never see it again? His legs moved toward his car of their own accord as his mind turned over images of her. Laughing softly. Laughing uproariously. Crying. Angry. Worried. His mind had recorded each of her emotions and replayed them now. Would he ever see them again? And what about Kat? He knew Kat needed him; but she also needed her mother.

He encountered something solid, looked down and realized he'd walked into his car. Keys. He needed keys. He dug into his pocket to take out his keys....

Suddenly, somehow, he was on the asphalt. He couldn't breathe. All he saw was her. Heard that soft Southern accent. Smelled those smells of springtime.

"Kermit!"

Hands were gripping him, helping him. "Oh, God...!" he moaned. "Savannah!!!"

"I know, I know."

Hands were rubbing his back, supporting him. As he fought for breath, he looked up into the daylight...and saw his worst enemy. "Y...y...YOU!!!" His hands, his body flung himself at his adversary. Hands around throat, knee in kidney, weight holding him down. "YOU MURDERED HER!!!"

"K...ker...." Peter Caine gasped, trying to break his grasp.

Kermit let up long enough to punch him in the jaw. And again. And again. His victim deflected the blows, which only served to stoke the blinding fury.

Peter, torn by guilt, didn't struggle nearly as hard as he could have. Given his training, Peter Caine should have been able to toss his attacker onto the pavement with minimal effort. But that would require a desire to be free of the attack. No such desire existed.

Kermit continued the pounding, ice water replacing the blood in his veins, just as other hands pulled him off. He struggled, trying to charge forward as Strenlich held him firmly in a basket hold.

Karen quickly urged Peter up and out of Kermit's sight. "Put him in the passenger's side, Chief, " she instructed Strenlich, who was still restraining the former mercenary

She counted herself lucky that Strenlich had followed her outside. She led Peter away as she tried to comfort him the best she could. "It wasn't your fault. He's just panicked right now. I'm sorry - I know it was my idea for you to come. I didn't know Kermit was still so...unstable right now." She took his hand comfortingly. "I guess the best thing you can do is to stay away until he calms down and comes to his senses."

Peter nodded dumbly and walked away but not before calling out, "It WAS my fault."

Karen watched him go. There would be time for Peter later on. His father, she was sure, would help him when he returned. But, right now, Kermit took priority.

She walked back to see Strenlich watching Kermit, who sat woodenly in the Corvair's passenger seat. "Thank you, Chief. I'll take it from here."

"Are you sure, Captain?" Strenlich asked doubtfully.

"Yes," she said firmly. "He only became uncontrollable when Peter was around. I shouldn't have any more problems." Taking the keys from Strenlich, she got in to drive.

"Good luck," Strenlich called as they drove away.

*******

Clarence Choi was pacing. Back and forth through his newly-acquired penthouse. Bon Bon Hai had bailed him out one final time. His last chance. One more screw-up and hell would be the next stop. Pounding his way across the room, Clarence went down the list of reasons to disown his family. Family loyalty was counterproductive...at least in his family.

Blood entered his cousin's office with his usual grace...none. He was terrified. Clarence's big league guns took him by the arms and flung his teenage body to the floor. His peril was radiating onto the older man's shoes. Pride and swagger replaced by stone cold fear. "Clarence, man, you gotta help me! I screwed up big time-"

Yanking him to his feet, Clarence fumed, "No joke, you little shit! Bring you here and what do you do?" Slamming him down into a chair, he whispered, "Fuck up my life!"

Shaking all over, Blood stammered, "I know, man. I know. I'm sorry! Tried to take out some fuckin' snitch and this cop's wife got in the way. Word is her ole man's crazy! Now, I got this cop, Caine, all over me!"

"Well, my boy. Got some info for you." Clarence sat down beside the boy and played the helpful relative. "My man at the police department called and they got no I.D. on you. No leads at all to your sorry ass. And that cop's wife...nailed her in the head, kid. She's a veg hooked up to pumps in the hospital. Even if she lives, the bitch's brains are scrambled for good."

"But that cop-"

Clarence slapped Blood's face. "Shut up!" Regaining his control, he pulled the murderous young man close to him. "All you have to do - Henry! - is what I tell you." Gesturing to his men by the door, he instructed, "These two gentlemen are going to escort you out of town. If I need you, I'll call, got it?"

"But what about me gettin' in with the man?" The words flipped out before his good fortune became good sense."

Blood silently waited. Before the boy could escape, Clarence grabbed his throat and squeezed. As the young man writhed and choked, Clarence oozed into his ear. "You just passed your credit limit, boy. I'm savin' your ass as family payback. Once more...one more whisper of trouble from you and family or not, you're DEAD!"

Putting his other hand behind the teenager's back, he let go of Blood's throat and pushed him toward the two waiting thugs. He watched in satisfaction as they gripped his cousin's arms hard enough for Blood to whimper in pain.

He waved them out as he sat on his chair, thinking furiously. SHIT! he thought, grimacing. Why the hell did he have to piss off CAINE!??? Then, there was that lunatic mercenary to consider. Even more of a wildcard than Caine.

Clarence shook his head in disgust and went to the phone to tie up the loose ends.

******

Now that Kermit had been forced to give him a temporary reprieve, Peter Caine walked meekly into the ICU waiting area. Jody moved to greet him, only to be halted by the agony that brushed across the young cop's features. Everyone already knew the score. The entire precinct had heard the tale by now and was debating the pros and cons of Peter's tactic. At present, the votes were divided down the middle. She had come to gather more evidence from the victims of the crime and couldn't pass up the chance to check on Savannah.

"Jody," he asked, in a voice hoarse and low, "how is she?" He looked at her, praying that she wouldn't speak with the same despair he had absorbed from Kermit in the parking lot.

"Peter, she's in a coma, on a respirator. She had a stroke when they took out the bullet in her head. She's lost a kidney. It doesn't look good."

His overwhelming guilt melted the restraint he normally used with Jody. Unconsciously, Peter sought out the comfort of her hand. "Will they let me see her?"

"They let us go in for about ten minutes every hour." Jody glanced at the clock. "In fact, it's time now. Do you want to go in with me this time?"

Peter nodded and wordlessly followed into harsh lights of the ICU. Unprepared for the sight of his friend's unmoving body, the same feeling of shock that had invaded him at the scene of the shooting returned. One moment, Savannah was a whole and vivacious woman, the next, a pale, limp version of herself.

Easing a chair up beside her, Peter took her hand in his, too filled with negative energy to offer any help to her physically. "God, I'm sorry, dollface." He wished to see that familiar grimace Savannah would make when he used the nickname. "Seems I've gotten you into trouble again."

After their car accident, nearly a year ago, Peter had felt enormous guilt at not having fulfilled his mission. But that was a passive responsibility. He redeemed himself by his part in her healing. Now, he had caused her suffering by his direct actions and could not help her.

Savannah could offer no response. Her body moved involuntarily. Chest forced to rise and fall. A harsh tube jammed down her throat. Deep purple bruises spreading across her hand around her IV infusion, and her face was marred my savage cuts and brusies.

Choking back the tears running down his throat, Peter whispered into her ear, "Hey, you've gotta get better. Who else is going to meddle in my love life? Bet you have a matchmaking list a mile long that needs to be worked." Turning his attention to Jody, he asked, "Is she in pain?" He was afraid to reach out to her chi to retrieve the answer for himself.

"The doctor says no." Jody rested her hand on Peter's shoulder. His pain radiated like a fever. "It's time to go, Peter."

"I'll get the bastard who did this, Savannah. You don't have to be afraid." Offering a useless vow, he added, "I'll get him." With a heavy heart and stooped shoulders, Peter left the room, supported by Jody's arms around him.

Jody guided Peter through the waiting area, his balance maintained by her arm around his waist. Nodding sadly to Mary Margaret, she walked him into the relieving privacy of the elevator, doors closing them briefly away from the tragedy. She had no idea how to help him.

A new vitality began to surge upward through his body as they descended. The further he moved from the victim on the fourth floor of the hospital, the more his sorrow gave way to anger. Consciously squaring his shoulders, he began to question the other detective. "What do you have so far on the case?"

She didn't have a thing and she knew it, but that answer would obviously be unacceptable Jody began to recite the laundry list. "Well, we have no eyewitnesses. T.J. handled all the witnesses to the shooting but no one can identify the shooter. Even Captain Simms didn't get a look at him."

"Tinted windows?"

"Yeah. The 98th came up with the car an hour ago. Wiped clean and-"'

"Ballistics?"

Jody could see where this was going. "Standard gangbanger armament. Uzi. And from the report, a brand spanking new one, too. Nicky Elder retrieved the slugs from Jimmy Wong's body and the hospital is sending the ones from...." Damn, she should have stopped before that part.

The ones from Savannah's body, he finished in his mind. As the elevator doors opened, Peter Caine the cop began to take control. "I've already put the word out with my regulars for information. Have you done that?"

Jody had to race to match his long-legged strides into the parking lot. "Covered. Every cop in this city is out for Blood Lao. We'll get him. We'll get proof, too."

"And a confession, once I'm finished with him," Peter spat, jerking open his door.

Fears confirmed, Jody Powell made an unexpected and successful grab for his car keys. "Wait one damn minute, Peter!"

"I can take those back from you, Jody!" He was fuming. The fog of his sorrow and rage focused now toward his partner. His left hand latched onto Jody's shoulder for emphasis.

Jody held the keys tightly in her fist, pressed to her stomach. No match for his speed and strength, she counted on the fact that Peter Caine wouldn't use force with her. Not with her. "Try it and I'll have YOU booked for assaulting a fellow officer." The word 'assault' seemed to stay his other hand. "This is my case! Mine and T.J.'s, per Captain Simms. You're too close to do the job. Let me do mine!"

"That's bullshit and you know it!" He was yelling but still made no move for the keys.

"Is it?" Brutal honesty seemed her only weapon at the moment. "Well, how about this! You're up to your ass in this little 'set-up' and any evidence you gather would be tainted. You're willing to find this little animal and have him walk right out of court because of that?! Are you?!!"

She hated herself. Hated the words. Hated that they were necessary. Hated the unbridled agony that returned to Peter Caine's face in a wave. A face she loved. A good man.

The power he'd radiated moments before ran out like blood over the asphalt of the parking lot. He'd been a cop long enough to know that she was right. His hands were tied. That impotent useless feeling returned. Speechless, all he could do was stare down into Jody's blue eyes. Eyes reflecting no blame. No accusation. Only compassion. Pity that was equally painful.

Seizing her control over the moment, Jody took the hand holding her shoulder into her own. "Peter, let's go to your father's place."

"NO!" It was a knee-jerk reaction, even though he knew his father wasn't in town yet. He didn't even want to think about what his father was going to say about all this. He'd always thought that he'd disappointed his father with his choices. But this time, there was no doubt.

"Okay, okay. Then let's go to your place for a while. You need to eat and get some rest." Encouraged by his lack of protest, Jody pulled him toward her vehicle.

Kermit Griffin barely regarded the babysitter as he passed by on his way to the nursery. Katherine Griffin lay peacefully in a mid-morning nap, encased up to her neck in her favorite blanket. Her father made a quick check on her, then buried himself in his office. The sharp snap of the door closing out the complications of human contact.

Karen Simms stared briefly at the solid barrier, wondering what she should do -- or could do -- in the face of such a tragic reaction. The babysitter softly cleared her throat.

"Oh, Mrs. Thomas," the police captain appointed herself lady of the house and began to handle details, "I'm Karen Simms. We spoke on the phone yesterday."

The elderly woman took her proffered hand and smiled sympathetically. "Good to meet you, dear. Is that Mr. Griffin?"

Glancing back toward the door, Karen said, "Yes. We convinced him to come home for a while."

"How is Mrs. Griffin? I saw her in several the photos here in the den." Shaking her head, she said, "It's so sad. Such a lovely young woman."

"There's still no change."

"The agency said that you may be needing me at odd times. Should I stay this evening, dear? I'm available anytime." The kindly woman gave her a warm smile. "The little girl is adorable but she's been so upset. Just wants to sit in my lap the whole time, poor little thing."

Kermit needed privacy. Karen understood enough about his wild mental state to know that for certain. "I think we have things in hand for the time being. One of us will call if you're needed in the morning."

As the sitter excused herself, Karen shifted her attention to her detective. Easing the door open, she paused to take in the broken spirit living inside the form of Kermit Griffin. Cautiously, she asked, "Can I get you something to eat, Kermit? I haven't seen you take in anything but coffee since--"

"Something for this headache," he'd mumbled, staring blankly at the picture of his wife on the desk. Taking off his shades, the man brought the photo close, carressing his wife's image with one finger.

"You should eat and try to get ready for when Kat wakes-"

"Just get me the GODDAMN ASPIRIN and GET OUT!" came the vicious response.

Karen dug through her purse and held out two tablets for him to snatch from her palm. She watched quietly as Kermit ate the medication then abandoned her for his bedroom.

Through the slammed door, she could hear him rifling through drawers and shuffling the clothes in the closet. Quietly, she listened ...and waited.

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