Prologue
A black void. Utter darkness. Peace. Complete silence.
Suddenly, a hammer started banging painfully inside his head, and he heard someone groaning. He felt cold and terribly sick.
Then a distant voice, muffled, as though talking through a thick veil. '… he's coming to.' Another voice, a little deeper, but just as subdued as the first. 'Sir, can you hear me?'
Were they talking to him? He tried to open his eyes to find out where the voices were coming from.
Nothing. Only darkness. Was it night time? Or were his eyelids refusing to obey his will? He didn't know. His voice, too, seemed reluctant to produce even a whisper. It took all the strength he could muster, but finally he managed to croak, 'Yes ... I ... I can ... hear you.' The mere sound of his voice frightened him, it was so thin and coarse.
'Excellent.' The second voice again, now sounding relieved. It was vaguely familiar; but for the life of him, he could not remember where or when he might have heard it before.
'Can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up?'
See? In this pitch blackness? Were they kidding? He wanted to tell them to switch on the light before asking such stupid questions, but he could only whisper, ' ... too dark – ' before exhaustion enveloped him and he passed out again.
* * *
Chapter 1
Beep! Beeeep! Beeeeep! It was six o'clock sharp and the shrill noise of the alarm clock relentlessly invaded Peter Caine's dreams. The young detective sleepily groped around for the on-off switch. 'Shut up, stupid', he grunted. 'It's Christmas, for God's sake...'
Christmas? He woke with a start. It was Boxing Day, and he had promised Captain Simms to be at his desk by noon at the latest. Getting leave for Christmas Day had been extremely difficult in the first place, so he'd better be at the precinct in good time or he'd be in serious trouble. Yawning heartily, he got up and tip-toed to the bathroom, trying not to wake Annie or his foster sisters.
While he washed and got dressed, he thought of the heated argument he'd had with his boss the other day about his request for a few days off, which had been flatly denied. Captain Simms had insisted that he be on duty this Christmas, having had the full week off the previous year. Although Peter acknowledged that she was right and that his colleagues also wanted to spend time with their families, he had refused to give up and accept her decision, fighting for a single day off at least. In vain. The captain had been adamant until, as a last resort, Peter had desperately tried to explain to her why it was so important for him to spend the day with his foster family, why he would go out of his way to be there for Annie now that she had to face the first Christmas Day ever without her husband. To his great astonishment and even greater relief, Captain Simms had not only listened to his stammered explanation but had, after casting him a long and searching look, given in without further ado. At the sight of his disbelieving stare, a furtive smile had appeared at the corners of her mouth before she told him that in return for the day off, she expected him to be at work every single day for the two weeks after Christmas. Including New Year's Eve. Peter didn't mind; he was so grateful that he would have agreed to everything.
Well, I can't say I like the idea of not having a day off for such a long time; but it surely was worthwhile. Keeping each other company really helped. All of us, not just Annie. I wonder what it will be like next year – will Paul be back by then? Will he ever come back? he mused while sneaking into the kitchen of the Blaisdells' cabin, looking for something to eat.
He didn't dare to make breakfast for fear of waking
anybody – Annie was a very light sleeper, she would probably hear
him if he made coffee or started frying eggs – so he only drank
a glass of milk and picked up some fruit and cake to eat in the car.
After closing the cabin door, he paused for a moment to drink in the scenery.
The sun was rising, giving everything a reddish glow. The snow was glittering
in the early sunlight, and a few birds were chirping away merrily. What
a peaceful atmosphere! It seemed the perfect start to a wonderful day.
Well, at least if one could stay here instead of having to rush back to work. Sighing heavily, he got into his car and started the engine.
*
About two hours later, he turned off the road and parked his Stealth in front of a small diner, half-way between the cabin and Sloanville.
Breakfast, at last!! Boy, I thought I'd never get here. I'm starving!
Looking forward to pancakes, bacon and eggs and, most of all, to multiple helpings of coffee, he entered the empty restaurant and greeted the tired-looking waitress. 'Merry Christmas, Debbie! Did you have a good time yesterday?'
'Peter! I don't believe it! What are you doing here – today of all days, and at a time when most decent people are still in bed?' She stifled a yawn. 'Sorry! I didn't get much sleep. We had a swell party last night. Merry Christmas to you, too!'
While Peter sat down at the counter, she poured him a cup of coffee. After a moment's hesitation, she poured another one for herself. 'Breakfast XXL, as usual?'
Peter nodded. 'Oh yeah. I'm starving! I haven't had breakfast 'cause I didn't want to wake Mom and the girls. Right now, I feel like I could eat my way through the whole menu.'
He took a sip of coffee and added, 'I was afraid the diner would be closed today. Or open later because of Christmas. I'm very glad I was wrong – but why on earth are you opening so early?'
'You know Dad', sighed Debbie. 'That's his idea of customer-service. He thinks it's enough of a holiday for us to close early on the 24th and re-open two days later. Well, I dare say that in an hour or so the place will be packed. It's pretty much the same every year. But right now...' She shrugged her shoulders and asked again, 'How come you are here? Didn't you want to spend Christmas with your family at the cabin?'
Now it was Peter's turn to sigh. 'Yes, of course, especially this year. Unfortunately, my new boss had other ideas. Somehow, I talked her into giving me leave for Christmas Day; but if I'm not back at the precinct on time, she will probably kill me personally.'
'You're kidding, aren't you?' asked Debbie incredulously. 'What about the famous Peter Caine smile and the would-be innocent look of those puppy dog eyes of yours? Are you seriously telling me that they didn't work for a change?'
'No way, Captain Simms is immune.' Peter shook his head in a mock grimace, making Debbie chuckle.
'Sounds like a reasonable woman. That will do you good, hotshot. – Did you at least have a good time yesterday?'
'Oh, yes', Peter said, smiling. 'We had a very quiet day, with presents, excellent food, a long walk outside with a snowball fight, and lots of music and talking. You know, a typical family day.'
And all of us missed Paul every single minute, especially Annie. But that's not for outsiders to know.
To avoid further questions about the previous day, he asked Debbie about her family. He had known her for more than fourteen years, since the very first time the Blaisdells had taken him up to the cabin. While Peter was waiting for his breakfast, they continued to chat and Debbie told him a few of her kids' latest pranks. He had just started to tuck in when the next customer arrived and by the time he had finished eating, the diner was crowded. Just as Debbie had predicted.
As it was now almost half past nine, he said good-bye to Debbie and asked her to give his regards to her family. With about two hours' driving ahead of him, he'd better get going.
*
The road was dry and virtually empty, so he made good progress and reached the city at a quarter past eleven. Ten minutes later, he was about two blocks from the precinct when he noticed a little girl of five or six years who was walking down the street, engaged in a lively conversation with the man who accompanied her, her little hand in his.
Peter did not know why he had a sudden feeling that the girl was in danger, but he had learned to listen to premonitions so he slowed down immediately. Just in time – the child suddenly broke free from her companion and started running straight across the road. Peter saw her coming head-on towards the Stealth and slammed on the brakes, at the same time swinging the car around to the opposite carriageway. He realised that he wouldn't be able to stop in time. As if in slow-motion, the young detective saw the child turn in his direction, her face suddenly fearful, horrified. He heard her scream frantically as the adult rushed towards her, shouting 'Celia!' At the same time Peter was desperately trying to stop the car. He managed to avoid the girl, but crashed head-on into a street-lamp. He felt an explosion of pain as his head collided with something hard. Then everything went black.
* * *
'Celia! O Celia, thank God!' Robert Carruthers squatted down and embraced his daughter, hugging her tightly. 'It's all right, sweetie, it's all right. Daddy's here, you're safe...' Whispering words of comfort into her ear while stroking her gently, he tried to calm her down. She was trembling uncontrollably, but slowly, gradually, her panic ebbed away.
When Celia's wild sobs had eased into occasional sniffs, her father looked up, suddenly remembering the car which had almost run over his only child. Its driver had reacted in a split second and turned away just in time, avoiding hitting the girl while putting his own life at risk.
The sight of the car was a shock: it had collided
with a street-lamp and caved in on the driver's side. Robert could see
a motionless figure inside – the driver was clearly hurt, maybe
unconscious. Or even – no, he didn't dare to think of the alternative.
He felt a pang of remorse because he had not given a single thought to
the man who had saved his daughter's life.
He stood up and hurried over to the Stealth, holding Celia carefully so
that she would see neither the damaged car nor its interior. A couple
of passers-by had gathered to have a look, but so far nobody had tried
to open the car and get the driver out. Did that mean that the man was
beyond help? Oh God, please let him be alive! Robert prayed fervently.
His own feeling of guilt erupted as a harsh reproach towards the bystanders. 'Can't you see that this man needs help? We must get him out of the car immediately! Don't just stand there, help me! Does anybody here know anything about first aid?'
When nobody answered, he pointed at a burly teenager. 'You there, what's your name?'
'Stanley.'
'Ok, Stanley, help me open the door. You over there, call 911. And you, ma'am, make sure that my daughter doesn't get to see anything. Neither car nor driver. Please.'
He handed Celia over to the woman he had just addressed and said, 'I'll be here nearby, honey. Wait here, this lady will be with you. It won't take long, I promise.'
'Daddy!' she wailed, fiercely clinging to him, but he replied calmly, 'It's ok, sweetie. You see, we must help this man. Be a good girl, I'll be with you very, very soon.' He stroked her hair, placed a gentle kiss on her forehead and turned resolutely away, towards the Stealth.
His harsh words had obviously reminded the bystanders of their civic duty; they had already opened the front doors. Stanley was crouching behind the driver, putting his arms around the unconscious man from behind and hauling him carefully out of the car. Another one had crawled in on the passenger's side, just in case.
Robert took off his coat and laid it out on the pavement. Then he helped them lay the injured driver on the coat and put him into recovery position. He checked for vital signs, observing to his immense relief that there seemed to be no serious injuries. Breathing and pulse were stable. He stood up and was about to ask for another coat to cover the young man when Stanley shouted, 'Sir, he has just moved his head. I think he's coming to.'
Hastily, Robert bent down and asked, 'Sir, can you hear me?' The young man's eyelids fluttered, and very slowly he opened his eyes, staring into space. His lips moved, but he seemed to have trouble speaking. It took a few moments before he croaked feebly, 'Yes... I... I can... hear... you'.
'Excellent.' Robert breathed a sigh of relief. He then raised three fingers, asking, 'Can you see me? How many fingers am I holding up?'
The young man frowned, whispered something quite
indistinguishable which it sounded like '...dark – ' and passed
out again.
It was then that they heard the siren. When the ambulance arrived shortly
afterwards, Robert succinctly told the paramedics what he had observed,
all too happy to hand the matter over to the experts and to return to
his daughter.
* * *
Chapter 2
At the 101st precinct, Mary Margaret Skalany was absent-mindedly filling in a report form while her thoughts were more occupied with a certain Shaolin priest who, sadly, had gone on a trip with his fellow Shambhala master Lo Si and would not be back until after New Year. She wondered whether he was merely taking advantage of the fact that Peter wouldn't have much time for him anyway – or whether Shaolin priests didn't want to have anything to do with Christmas on principal. After all, it was a Christian holiday, not a part of Buddhist ritual or whatever kind of philosophy or religion the Shaolin practised.
After ten minutes of not making any progress whatsoever, she sighed and stood up to get herself some coffee. The telephone rang and she overheard Broderick's stand-in talking to the caller. She couldn't suppress a mild smile of amusement because the young man was a typical rookie: fresh from the Police Academy, full of theoretical knowledge, eager to prove that he had learned quite a lot, while at the same time still unsure about a great many things and therefore forced to handle everything by the book.
Mary Margaret Skalany, you had better concentrate on your own work instead of laughing at another cop because he's inexperienced! This guy is friendly, intelligent and willing; in time, he'll be self-confident enough to be a bit more relaxed.
Whilst chastising herself sternly, something caught her attention. She listened carefully while Officer Meyers repeated the registration number of a car. Stunned, she realised that she recognised that number. It belonged to Peter's Stealth! Had he been in an accident?
Mary Margaret hurried over to her colleague, eager for more information. Reaching his desk just as he replaced the receiver, she asked him directly what had happened.
He looked down at the form he had been filling out while on the phone and replied concisely, 'Traffic accident two blocks from here on Main Street near Pinewood. Stealth crashed into a street-lamp. No other car involved. Driver injured and unconscious. Paramedics on their way. Witness waiting for us at the scene of the accident. I'll send a patrol over there to take his statement.'
'Yes, do that,' ordered Mary Margaret firmly, 'but tell them to wait for me. I'll be right there. I just have to inform Chief Strenlich first. Do you have any more detailed information on the driver's injuries?'
Noticing her anxiety, the young man fidgeted guiltily. 'I – I didn't think to ask, I'm sorry... Is there something special about this accident? I mean, it's very unusual for you to go there yourself, being a detective and all – '
Already on her way to Frank Strenlich's desk, Mary Margaret stopped and answered, 'You bet there is! This Stealth is Detective Caine's car; if he's been involved in an accident, the chief must be informed. And I have no intention of staying here, waiting for a call, when I can find out for myself how my partner is doing.'
Two minutes later, she was on her way, praying that Peter was not too badly injured.
* * *
While the gurney was hurriedly pushed into the emergency ward, one of the paramedics rushed over to the doctor in charge, giving her a short summary of the patient's condition. 'CCI caused by car accident, vital signs are stable, no indication of further injuries. Patient was unconscious for several minutes after the accident, came to for a short time, only to pass out again. Regained consciousness in the ambulance about five minutes ago and has been awake and responsive ever since in stable condition. Headache, nausea, vomiting. Mild disorientation. Patient can hear, speak and move his fingers and toes, but seems to have lost his ability to see.'
'Thanks,' Dr Sabourin nodded, satisfied with the information received. 'Take him to number four, we'll need a CT to rule out brain damage.' She approached the motionless figure stretched on the gurney. He was groaning softly and she had a sudden feeling of déjà-vu: The patient was Detective Peter Caine. He had been in her care only a few months before, having fallen from several stories up. He had suffered a hairline fracture of the skull and had almost died. Dr Sabourin hoped that this time, the young man's injuries were not so severe.
They arrived in the examination room. While her assistants were preparing the CT, Dr Sabourin checked whether her patient was still responsive.
'Detective Caine?'
He responded with a low grunt.
'Peter? It's Doctor Sabourin, can you hear me?'
'Yes.' It was no more than a whisper.
'I'm going to examine you now. Where do you feel pain?'
'My head... it feels as if it's going to explode any minute – '
She nodded. 'We'll have a close look at that right away. Do you have pain anywhere else?'
'No... but ... my eyes – ' He opened them wide. 'I can't see a thing! I'm blind – ' His voice was panic-stricken. 'Doctor, I can't see!!!'
She tried to calm him down, laying her hand on his, putting as much reassurance in her voice as possible. 'Shhhh, there is no need to worry, detective. Head injuries often cause temporary disorders, such as impaired vision or hallucinations. This is normal and usually passes within a few days. We'll check it out immediately. That's what we're here for.'
Slightly comforted, the young man closed his eyes, only to snap them open them again. 'The girl... what happened to the girl? Is she OK?'
Dr. Sabourin didn't have a clue what he was talking about. 'A girl? Was she with you when the accident happened?'
'She was on the sidewalk, with a man, and then she suddenly ran out, straight at my car. I tried to avoid her, but – '
He frowned, apparently trying to concentrate very hard. When he continued his voice was again fraught with fear. '… don't remember what happened, just – just that everything went black... What happened to the girl?'
'You are the only patient from that accident, so I presume you missed her and she's fine.'
He breathed a sigh of relief. 'Thank God!'
During their brief 'conversation' Dr Sabourin had examined him and found that the paramedic's information was correct. So she said, 'I'm done. Apart from your head injury, you're okay. I'm going to administer a pain killer with a mild sedative. It's very effective, so you'll feel better almost immediately. And now we're going to look at your head to see if it's still in one piece.'
A tiny smile appeared on the young detective's lips: 'I've always been hard-headed, just ask my father...'
By then, the assistants signalled that the CT was ready so they could commence straight away. Dr Sabourin was gravely concerned because Peter couldn't see at all. Even though visual disorders were a common side effect with CCIs – craniocerebral injuries – the patient usually could still see, even if more or less distorted. Complete blindness, however, was a common indication of more severe damage, either to the brain itself or to the optic nerve.
Well, they were about to find out...
* * *
Chapter 3
The officers arrived at the scene of the accident just in time to see the ambulance leave. They began to interrogate the people gathered around the dented Stealth and learned what had happened. According to the witnesses' descriptions, the driver had indeed been Peter. He was being taken to the County General. While her colleagues took the statements, Mary Margaret called the precinct and passed the information on to Chief Strenlich, adding that she was now on her way to the hospital.
When she arrived at the emergency ward, the receptionist told her to wait for Dr Sabourin. The latter arrived half an hour later to find Mary Margaret pacing nervously.
'Ah, hello, Doctor! How is Peter?'
'Hello, Detective Skalany. Let's sit down.'
Dr Sabourin ushered her to a group of seats. She began cautiously, 'You know that, officially, I am not allowed to tell you anything because you are not a member of his family. But as his partner, you've got the right to know the main facts at least; I'm not going into details though. Detective Caine is suffering from severe concussion. Apart from that, he's unharmed. To check for possible skull fractures or brain damage, we did a computer tomography which indicates no damage. Neither to the brain nor to the skull.'
'Thank God!' sighed Mary Margaret, relieved. 'But – judging from your serious look – that's not all, is it?'
The physician hesitated slightly, then she admitted, 'You're right. Head injuries often cause sensory malfunctions. If there's no brain damage, these disorders, as we say, are mostly temporary. But this can't be guaranteed, one always has to wait and see.'
'And this is the case here? Peter has got a "disorder" of some kind?'
'Worse. He has lost his sight, and we do not yet know why or for how long. I think that it's probably a reaction to the impact of the accident, so it will very likely pass soon and he'll be able to see again. But so far, I can't say for sure.'
'Oh no!' Mary Margaret blanched. 'You mean there is the possibility he might remain blind? Forever?'
Dr Sabourin shook her head. 'Personally, I don't think so. The results of the CT are very encouraging. But as a physician, I can't make any prediction, good or bad, it's way too early for that. We'll have to monitor his condition for the next twenty-four to forty-eight hours before I can tell you more.'
There was a long silence; Mary Margaret needed time to let the information sink in. Finally, she asked, 'Thanks, doctor. Can I see him?'
'Not right now. We've sedated him for the CT so he's sleeping and hopefully won't wake for quite some time. Maybe you should come by in the evening or tomorrow morning. I suggest you call me in the afternoon, we'll see how he's doing then. – Oh, by the way, the hospital must inform his relatives. But in this specific case, I trust that Captain Blaisdell already knows about his foster son's accident?'
Mary Margaret's eyes widened in surprise. 'Don't you know that Paul Blaisdell quit a few weeks ago for private reasons? He has left Sloanville, and nobody knows his current whereabouts. His wife and daughters went to their cabin in the woods for Christmas. It's about three or four hours from here. Peter was with them yesterday. He only came back because he was expected at the precinct by noon.'
Now it was Dr Sabourin's turn to look aghast. 'O my God, I had no idea. Do you know if there's a telephone at this cabin? Or if they can be reached via cell phone?'
'I'm sorry, but I don't know for sure. I don't think there's a phone at the cabin. Chief Strenlich might have one of their cell phone numbers, but if not, then only Peter can tell you how to reach them.
And Peter's father is on a journey with the Ancient, so you won't be able to reach him either.'
* * *
The three Blaisdells were enjoying a lazy day. They had had a good night's sleep, followed by a long, sumptuous breakfast. To digest their rich meal, Carolyn had then proposed a stroll outside from which they returned at about half past twelve. All three of them were in a very good mood, chatting happily.
'Oh my, that was wonderful! I'm all for a mug of cocoa. Would you like some, too?' Kelly asked. A few minutes later the threesome were sitting beside the fireplace, sipping hot chocolate.
'We're really lucky, aren't we? Poor Peter, he must be sitting at his desk right now, probably in a very bad mood because Strenlich makes him do paperwork', Carolyn remarked half-sympathetically, half-gloatingly.
'Oh dear, what a fine example of sisterly love!' Annie shook her head in fake disappointment but couldn't help smiling. 'Just don't forget how much it cost Peter to get this one day off. He had quite a row with...'
She was interrupted by the ringing of Carolyn's mobile phone. 'That's probably Todd, please excuse me,' she said to the others, picking up the phone and leaving the room. On her way out, they heard her say expectantly: 'Hello?' A little pause, then 'Oh, hi Frank. Merry Christmas to you, too... Annie? Why, yes she's here. Just a moment, I'll pass the phone over to her. Bye.'
Carolyn came back, handing Annie the phone, whispering, 'It's Frank Strenlich, Mom. Kelly and I are going to the kitchen so that the two of you can talk in private.'
Annie nodded to indicate that she had understood and said, 'Hi, Frank. Merry Christmas! How are you doing?'
'Hi Annie. Merry Christmas to you, too.' His voice sounded very earnest. Judging by the subdued noise in the background, he was not at home but at the precinct, probably in the captain's office. This meant it was not a social call.
Peter! Something bad has happened to him!
At this terrible thought, Annie's mouth suddenly went dry and her heart began to pound in her chest. She said as calmly as possible: 'You are going to tell me bad news, aren't you, Frank? Something is wrong with Peter, is that it?'
After a dreadful moment of silence she heard Frank confirm her fears. 'Yes. I'm sorry, Annie. Peter had an accident on his way to the precinct.'
'Oh my God! How is he? He.. he isn't..?' She couldn't bring herself to say it aloud.
'No, no, don't worry. He's been lucky, he's got severe concussion, that's all. The paramedics took him to County General Hospital. He's in Dr Sabourin's ward. You know her, don't you?'
A wave of relief washed over her. 'Thank God! – Yes, I remember Dr Sabourin, Peter was in her care after that fall he took a few months ago. So, he's going to be all right?'
'As far as we know, yes. Dr Sabourin gave us a general overview, but no specifics because we're not family. But I can give you her number, so you can call her and talk to her directly.'
Only talk? No way, she wouldn't be able to stay here, knowing her foster son was in hospital. 'No, thanks, Frank, but that's not necessary. We're going back to Sloanville right away, I want to go and see Peter.'
'Ok, I'll call Dr Sabourin and inform her that we've reached you and that you're on your way. I'm very sorry for ruining your Christmas, Annie.'
'That wasn't your fault, Frank. Thanks for letting me know. See you in Sloanville.' She hung up.
While Frank Strenlich blamed himself of cowardice for not telling her the worst part, Annie sat motionless, hand clutched tightly around the mobile phone, as if she needed something to hold on to. Then she nodded to herself, got up and went to find Carolyn and Kelly.
'I'm sorry, girls, we have to return home immediately. Peter has had an accident. He's in hospital, suffering from severe concussion. I want to go and see him.'