“There’s the man. Still in one piece, I see.”
“Hey, Rick. You didn’t have to drop by.” Jack propped himself up in his hospital bed carefully; broken ribs were a bitch.
“Are you kidding? They’re restricting the number of visitors you can have. Otherwise, the whole station would be down here. You’re quite the hero.”
“I’m no hero. I just got lucky.”
Mason dropped into a chair beside the bed. “You don’t look so lucky, unless you compare yourself to the dead guy.” He pointed a finger at Jack, waving it up and down the length of his body. “What’s the official tally, anyway?”
“Two broken ribs, a fucking big dent behind my ear, I forget how many stitches in my shoulder and an assortment of cuts and bruises.”
“The bullet missed the bone?”
“Yeah. Like I said: I got lucky. It just tore a chunk out of the muscle. I won’t be doing shrugs in the gym anytime soon.”
“Well, you look like shit, wrapped up like a mummy like that. I didn’t know what gift to bring, so —”
“You didn’t have to bring me anything,” Jack protested.
Mason overrode his objections. “Don’t worry, we didn’t spend any money on you. I bring the gift of good news. Charles’s organization is already falling apart. If his lieutenants aren’t fighting each other for control, they’re heading out on their own, and the other dealers, the ones Charles forced out, are swarming back to 51.” He snickered derisively. “I never thought I’d be happy to see so many dealers back out on the streets.”
“What about the charges against Charles?”
“As far as Homicide is concerned, and I agree with them, Sy’s murder is solved and his killer is dead. They don’t give a fuck what the Crown says. They’re looking into his brother’s murder, but that list of suspects goes around the fucking corner.”
“They’re not looking at me?”
“Nah. They came around and chatted with me and it’s all good. They been in to see you yet?”
Jack groaned. “If I’m not being poked and prodded by the doctors, then it’s either our Homicide guys or Peel’s or the SIU. I wish someone would restrict their visits.”
Mason stood up and shook Jack’s left hand. “Don’t sweat it, Jack. You’re the hero and they’re just going through the motions. You take it easy.”
Jack waited until Mason was almost at the door before voicing the question that had been on his mind for the past two days. “Rick, did Charles kill Sy?”
Mason gave him a perplexed look. “Of course he did. Why are you asking that?”
Jack gave a one-shoulder shrug. “Just something that’s been bothering me. When I fought Charles, I was doing pretty well against him even though I was shot and banged up.”
“So? You’re tough, strong, and you were fighting for your life and your wife’s. You probably could have kicked Tank’s ass that night.”
“No, that’s not it. He wasn’t overly strong or skilled at fighting. How’d a guy like that get the drop on Sy and get him in that hold? It doesn’t seem possible.”
Something flashed across Mason’s eyes so quickly Jack wasn’t sure he really saw it. “This may sound harsh to Sy’s memory, Jack, but sometimes shit just happens. Maybe Charles got lucky. Maybe Sy got careless. It happens to guys with that much time on. They get complacent, overconfident. Maybe Charles just got the jump on him.”
“Yeah, I guess. Thanks for stopping by, Rick.”
“No sweat. Take it easy and rest up. I’ll see you when you get back to the station.”
Jack watched the door swing shut, thinking how wrong Mason was to say Sy could have been careless. Sy had watched his back when he’d gone to get a coffee. No way would he have been careless chasing an armed suspect.
Jack’s thoughts were pleasantly derailed when Manny burst into the room with Jenny right behind him. Manny had a giant bouquet of flowers and Jenny was carrying a tray of drinks from the Second Cup.
“Earl Grey with honey, right?”
“Thank you, from the bottom of my stomach.” Jack took the offered cup and appreciatively breathed in its aroma. “The tea they give you here is like dishwater and the coffee’s worse.”
“Our pleasure. If no one’s told you, there’s a Second Cup downstairs.” Jenny settled onto the bed next to his legs. That wondrous mass of hair was hanging loose, draping her back and one side of her chest. He wondered what she would look like wearing nothing but the hair.
Manny intruded on that pleasant thought. “The tea’s from here, but these —” he produced a paper bag with a flourish “— are from Church and Wellesley. Chris sends his best and prayers for a speedy recovery.” Manny distributed the giant oatmeal cookies and plopped down in the chair. “They looking after you well?”
“Take a look.” Jack used his head to gesture at the room while he transferred the tea to his immobile right hand and pried the lid free. The walls were covered with get-well cards. There were three giant-sized cards: one from 51 and another from 32, both crammed full of signatures and best wishes; the third one was from the rest of the service, signed by every officer who’d been able to get to headquarters since Thursday morning. The cards were taped to the walls because every horizontal surface was chock full of flowers. There were flowers on the floor, and Manny’s behemoth arrangement had taken over the window sill.
Jack dunked a piece of cookie in his tea and popped it into his mouth. His sigh sounded almost orgasmic. “You have no idea how good that tastes after two days of hospital food.”
“Dude, if I’d known that, I would’ve grabbed a pizza or something. Any idea how much longer they’re going to keep you?”
Jack shrugged his one working shoulder. “Day or two,” he mumbled around a mouthful of cookie. “Oh, man, that’s good. Now, if I could only get laid, another few days in here wouldn’t be so bad.”
“If you want, I can go stand guard at the door for a while.” Manny made to get up. “Give Jenny some time to help you out with that.”
“Very funny, smart guy.” She reached over and smacked Manny in the head. “Something tells me Jack’s wife might object.” She gave him a look that twisted his stomach into a wonderful knot.
She said Karen might object, not her. “Yeah, I don’t think that would go over too well with her.”
A silence, not uncomfortable, drifted in then, and they all took the opportunity to finish their cookies. Manny slam-dunked his coffee cup, then slapped his forehead. “I forgot. Dude, I’m supposed to pass on an unofficial compliment from the firearm instructors on your grouping. Three in centre mass.”
“Well, at that range, it was kind of hard to miss.”
“Although,” Manny pointed out, “I’m a little disappointed that your third shot dropped down into the stomach. Tsk, tsk.”
“Hey,” Jack objected, “I was shooting with a bad arm. Give me a break.”
“Okay . . . this time.”
“Enough of the macho crap,” Jenny complained. “Changing the subject, how is Karen?”
“Good. Bit of a concussion. They kept her just the one night.”
“I guess this means the end of your time with us?”
“What?” Manny gasped. “You’re not coming back?”
Jack shrugged again. He was getting good doing it one-shouldered. “I’d love to stay. I want to stay. The work is great and the people, those present definitely included, are amazing.”
“But?” Jenny prompted.
He sighed. “But . . . I think Karen would divorce me if I stayed. Seriously.”
“Dude, that sucks. Who am I going to work with?”
Jenny patted him on the head. “There, there, it’s all right. Maybe when I get out of the foot patrol I’ll let you work with me.”
Manny beamed at her. “Can I be Batman?”
She snorted. “In your dreams.”
Jack smiled at their banter, enjoying the camaraderie. It was just one of the things he would miss if he left 51, and in his gut he knew he had found his calling in being a 51 copper. He hoped he wasn’t finished with the division.
“Do you guys know anything about Mason?”
“I know he says hello to me now. He never used to.”
“I’m not sure what Jack had in mind,” Jenny told Manny, “but I’m pretty sure that’s not what he meant.”
“Nothing really. Sy once told me that everything from Mason comes with a price. He never elaborated on it and I’m just wondering what he meant.”
“Has Mason offered you a spot? That’d be cool, dude.”
Jack shook his head. “He did, sort of. But not right away.”
“All I know,” Jenny volunteered, “is that he’s very picky about who gets into his unit. And he has that inner circle who get to do all the real interesting stuff.”
“You mean Tank, Kris and Taftmore?”
She nodded. “Why the questions about Mason? He say something to you?”
Jack slowly shook his head, not sure why he was asking. “I feel like Sy was trying to warn me about him. Whether to be careful around him or stay away from him entirely, I don’t know.”
But it was too late for that, wasn’t it? He was already tied to the MCU boss by a rigged photo lineup. A thought hit him and his stomach clenched.
“Jack, are you all right?” Jenny leaned forward, concerned.
“Yeah; guess my stomach’s not used to decent food.”
Had Charles killed Sy? Or had Mason used Jack to settle an old score?
That secret glint in Mason’s eyes.
Jack suddenly knew, regardless of what he wanted, 51 wasn’t finished with him yet.