Nate says he wants to be there when I get to work.

I ask why, and he says it’s because I don’t always see eye to eye with Captain Bradley, and he doesn’t want me to get fired before I actually return to work. Apparently that would have a negative impact on my pension.

It feels good to be back at the precinct. I haven’t been here in a few months, and I only remember isolated parts of my time here before that. But it’s comfortable; when I walk in it feels like I’m among friends. There’s a camaraderie that I’ve missed and that I’m glad to get back.

I say hello and talk briefly to everyone I see, some of whom I actually remember, and some of whom I only know from meeting them after my injury, during the terrorist investigation. The greetings take a while, and Nate finally interrupts and says, “Unless you’re going to have tea and get a bridge game going, maybe we should go see the captain. He’s waiting.”

Captain Jeremy Bradley seems to be a decent guy. He also quite obviously has had problems with me in the past, and both of those assessments are supported by things that Nate and Jessie have told me. It’s not that he doesn’t consider me a good cop; he’s apparently grudgingly admitted as much on occasion. It’s more that I’ve supposedly been difficult to control.

I know my actions in the terrorist investigation that came after my injury weren’t always in line with his orders, but I was at the point where I didn’t care, and I told him straight out that his only option was to fire me.

I had reached the decision that I had to do it my way; I had been shot and had my memory taken from me, and I was going to see to it that the people responsible did not get away with it. Since I was integral to the operation, he had to give in. Especially since he was being forced to take a backseat to the Feds at the time.

It worked out, and there was enough glory that he was able to get his share, but I still don’t believe he was happy with my attitude. If I were him, I’d have been pissed as hell, and I probably still would be.

When Nate and I walk into his office, he doesn’t get up from his desk. “Well, if it isn’t the Lone Ranger and Fat Tonto” is his greeting.

“Reporting for duty,” I say.

“It’s about time. You sure you’re finished with your media tour? I haven’t seen you on Regis and Kelly yet.”

“Regis isn’t with Kelly anymore,” Nate says. “Neither is Strahan.”

Captain Bradley gives Nate a look and a sneer. “Thanks for sharing that, Nate.” Then, to me, “You feeling okay?”

I nod. “Physically I’m fine.”

“And the memory?”

“Some of it’s back; some not. Doctor says it may stay that way, or not.”

He nods with some sympathy. “Tough way to live. You want to start on desk duty, work your way back in slowly?”

“Actually, I was hoping you’d put me on cold cases.”

Nate turns to me in surprise. “Where the hell did that come from?”

“I’ve been reading about a case that interests me. A kidnapping, about three years ago. Woman named Rita Carlisle.”

“Then you’re not reading that well, because that’s not a cold case,” Captain Bradley says. “The boyfriend was tried and convicted.”

I’m a little embarrassed to hear this; I didn’t see any mention of it in the scrapbook that Sean Connor showed me, but I had skimmed through it only briefly. I’m surprised that Sean didn’t mention it to me, since the existence of a proven guilty party would make his own guilt less likely.

In any event, I should have researched all of this much more deeply before I brought it up with the captain.

“I guess that part wasn’t in my memory bank,” I say. “Forget I mentioned it. I’m ready to go back to doing what I used to do. No restrictions.”

He nods. “Okay, starting tomorrow you’re back in the rotation. I’ll reassign Perez.” He’s talking about Artie Perez, who has functioned as Nate’s partner in my absence.

“I was thinking I’d start next week, Captain.”

Bradley does a double take. “Next week? Why not tomorrow?”

“There are some things I need to do.”

He looks like he’s about to argue, but then just shakes his head and thinks better of it. “Next week. That’ll give me time to order rose petals for the guys to sprinkle when you walk in.”

“Thanks, Captain; I’m partial to yellow ones.”

“Get the hell out of here.”

We leave the office, and Nate immediately asks, “What was that all about?”

“What?”

“Now you’re not going to start until next week? And all of a sudden you want to work on cold cases? Did I miss a memo?”

“Sounds like it might be appealing.”

“And the Carlisle kidnapping? Where did you come up with that?”

“I’ve been interested in it,” I say.

“Interested in it? You don’t even remember it.”

“Do you?”

“Of course I do. We worked overtime for a month on it.”

“Including me?” I ask.

“You sure you’ve been reading about it? Because if you have, then your reading skills seem to have taken a major hit.”

“I have. Not everything, obviously, but my plan is to dig into it further.”

“You do that,” he says, shaking his head in what seems like disbelief. “You can spend the whole weekend digging.”

“Do you think the boyfriend did it?”

He laughs a short laugh. “Why don’t you ask the arresting officer?”

“Who is that?”

“You.”