The Return of Patrick O'Rourke
by N.J. Walters
Copyright © 2017 by N.J. Walters. All rights reserved, including the right to reproduce, distribute, or transmit in any form or by any means. For information regarding subsidiary rights, please contact the Publisher.
Prologue
“Police! Freeze!”
Patrick O’Rourke swore under his breath when he heard his partner’s voice. Jack hadn’t waited for him. Again.
He rounded a corner just in time to see the tall figure disappear down a dark alleyway. The lone streetlamp illuminated the letters on the back of Jack’s windbreaker.
“Damn it, Jack.” They were both wearing the jackets that proclaimed them police because, on any big bust, it was all too easy to be mistaken for a suspect. Many of them looked as disreputable as the thugs they were after. Such was the life of a narcotics cop.
Gunfire split the night as he raced after his partner. The urge to just rush into the alleyway, heedless of the danger, was almost overwhelming. He forced himself to stop just at the top of the alley, bracing his back against the rough brick wall as he risked a quick glance down the passageway. Just because he didn’t see anyone didn’t mean they weren’t there. Cautiously, he eased around the corner. Staying tight to the wall, he crept forward.
He’d kill his partner if they lived through this latest debacle. Jack Murphy was no green rookie, but a twenty year veteran of the force, and he knew better than to go into a potentially deadly situation without waiting for backup.
He and Jack had been the first two on the scene. Their job was to scope out the situation and get into position. The rest of the team had moved in slowly over the past several hours. Now, everyone was in place, waiting for the word to go. But Jack had been pushing the envelope for months. Ever since his wife, Mary, had lost her battle with cancer, it was as if he suddenly had a death wish.
Patrick’s breathing was harsh, his heart pounding, adrenaline pumping through his veins, his body on full alert. Time seemed to slow and all his senses heightened. He could smell the rotting garbage that littered the ground, but overlaying it all was the unmistakable stench of fear and the metallic tang of blood.
Someone had been shot.
Patrick kept his back to the brick wall, crouching low, hidden in the shadows while his eyes adjusted to the dark. He blinked several times and could just make out the shape of a man lying in the dirt. As he watched, the body moved and moaned, and at the same time, a shaft of moonlight caught the reflective yellow letters on the back of the jacket.
Patrick keyed the microphone attached to his jacket. “Officer down! Officer down!” He rattled off their location even as he sprang into action.
His arms extended and his gun ready, he hurried toward Jack, sweeping the alley from side to side as he went. He was only about fifteen feet away from Jack when he caught the faintest whisper of a movement ahead of him and to his left. “Police,” he shouted. “Freeze.”
It was sheer instinct that had him lunging to the right as the shots rang out. Something struck him in the chest, knocking the wind out of him as he hit the ground hard and rolled, automatically returning fire. He came up solid against the other side of the alley.
Never give up! The words he’d heard so many years ago back at the police academy rang in his head. If you give up, you’re dead.
He had to protect Jack. Patrick tried to raise his gun only to find that he could no longer lift his arm. In fact, he was quickly losing all feeling in his left hand. He propped his left hand up with his right as he peered into the darkness, swearing under his breath.
He tried to stand up, but his left leg gave out beneath him. Taunting laughter came from the shadows. “Got you now, cop. I killed your fucking friend. Now it’s your turn.” The man stepped out from behind a dumpster just beyond Jack.
Ignoring his pain, Patrick rolled to the left, firing three shots in quick succession just as the other man fired. Pieces of brick came off the building where Patrick had just been. The shooter’s body jerked backward and he fell heavily onto the ground.
Except for the sound of his harsh breathing and cursing, and the normal night sounds of the city, the alley was silent. Patrick thought he heard the slap of footsteps retreating in the distance, but he couldn’t be sure.
Releasing the grip on his gun hand, he dug his right hand into the dirt and dragged himself through the filth toward his partner, all the while keeping one eye on the suspect he’d shot. Sweat poured down his face as he heaved himself forward another few inches. Every muscle in his body burned.
Jack seemed to be getting farther away, rather than closer.
Patrick dug deep inside himself, gritted his teeth and somehow found the strength to pull himself another foot. Then another.
He could almost touch his partner’s leg now. “Jack,” he whispered urgently. “Talk to me.” But Jack didn’t answer back. Patrick could hear the roar of sirens in the distance and knew help had almost arrived. Every cop, on and off duty, anywhere near the vicinity would answer the call of “officer down”.
Patrick labored to haul himself another few feet. His lungs ached as he sucked in air. Sweat stung his eyes. He blinked to try and clear his vision. With his good arm, he tugged Jack close and awkwardly tried to shield his partner’s head.
His left arm and hand were useless now, so he pried his gun out of his numb fingers and gripped it awkwardly with his right, propping it on his lame hand. Then he waited.
He felt as if an hour had gone by since he’d first radioed for help, but in reality it had all happened in a matter of seconds, maybe a few minutes at most.
Sirens blared. Tires screeched and car doors slammed. Red lights flashed against the brick wall beside him. He tried to speak as the sound of voices and the pounding of feet got closer to him. It took all his remaining energy, but he managed to call out. “Over here.” He’d meant to yell, but it came out as a croak. Why was it so damn hard to speak?
“Where’s the God damn ambulance?” a voice rang out. Then someone was trying to pry the gun out of his hand. Patrick’s fingers automatically tightened around the weapon. “It’s okay,” the voice told him. “It’s me. Stan. You can let it go now, O’Rourke.”
Patrick could just make out the familiar shape of his friend and fellow cop in the darkness and forced his hand to relax. The weapon was quickly removed. Stan shifted him carefully, but pain wracked his body so that he couldn’t swallow back the moan of pain. “Up the alley. Shot him.”
“It’s all right, buddy,” Stan soothed, his voice ragged as he yanked off his jacket and tucked it under Patrick’s head. “He’s covered. Hang in there. The medics are on the way.” Stan turned and yelled back toward the entrance of the alley, swearing a blue streak that brought a faint smile to Patrick’s lips. Stan Berenski was well known for his colorful language.
He felt pressure being applied to his arm and knew he was close to losing consciousness. He had to tell them about his partner. “Jack,” he managed to whisper, but the voice heard.
“We’ve got him. Don’t worry.”
With that reassurance Patrick drifted off into the beckoning darkness where there was no pain, only sweet oblivion.
All around him the activity continued. Emergency medical technicians worked on both him and Jack. Quickly, they were loaded into the waiting ambulances and whisked away to hospital. The third man in the alley could wait. The only place he was headed was the morgue.
The men left in the alley could read the story of what happened there. They saw the trail of blood and the marks in the dark where one partner had crawled through the muck to protect the other. They went quickly to work, cataloguing the crime scene and coordinating with the rest of the team.
They’d still managed to make the drug bust, seizing a large stash of cocaine and crystal meth, as well as a huge quantity of cash. They had six suspects in custody, not to mention the dead guy in the alleyway. Their work was just beginning. It was going to be a long night.
Their fallen comrades were always in the back of their minds, but they tucked it away and did the work. All of them would stop by the hospital after the shift was over. It was what they did. They were cops.
Chapter One
Someone was moaning. Patrick wished they would just shut up. His head felt like it might explode. A soft, comforting hand touched his forehead as a voice crooned softly in his ear.
“It’s all right, Patrick. Everything is fine.” The familiar female voice spoke soothingly and he found himself relaxing. Better still, he no longer heard the moaning. With a sigh of relief, he drifted back to sleep.
The sound of voices woke him again, but he didn’t move or give away the fact that he was awake. He didn’t know how much time had passed. He’d been existing in a dark, comforting cocoon, far away from the pain.
His mind was foggy and he tried to concentrate on the voices, hoping to learn something.
At first he didn’t understand what they were saying. It took all his energy just to try and identify the speakers. He was surprised to hear his sister’s voice. What was she doing here? And where the hell was he? Patrick tried to speak, to ask his questions, but all that came out was a groan.
Again the comforting voice was there, whispering in his ear, and this time he knew it was his older sister, Dani. And if Dani was here, then her husband, Burke Black, was close by. Patrick let the pain take him again, reassured that whatever was wrong, his brother-in-law was more than capable of handling it.
Time drifted by until Patrick once again became aware of his surroundings. The steady beep next to him, the medicinal smell in the air and the scratchy feel of the sheets all added up to one thing. He was in hospital. Was he a good cop or what? Now, if only he could remember why he was here.
It took an effort, but he finally managed to get his eyes open. They felt dry and sticky, so he blinked several times as he tried to focus. The room was dark, except for a dim light shining from the bathroom.
He took stock of himself and it wasn’t good. His left arm was bandaged and strapped to his side. His left leg was also wrapped and throbbed in time with his arm. Patrick wrapped his right hand around the bedrail, gritted his teeth and slowly pulled himself up to a semi-sitting position. He broke out into a sweat as he struggled to sit up. He’d never been this weak in his life, but he had to find out what was going on.
Holding on tight to the railing, he leaned into it as he gasped for breath. Just sitting up had wiped him out totally. He could feel the cool air drying the sweat on his back as it drifted over the gaping hole in the back of the hospital gown that he wore.
What the hell had happened?
Suddenly, like the replaying of a movie, images flitted through his brain. It all came flooding back to him. The alley. The shooting. Jack.
Where was Jack?
Using his right hand to try and lever himself up higher, he swallowed the pain and pulled. A cry escaped from his throat. Something rustled in the corner. He wasn’t alone. He turned his head, ready to face any threat.
“Patrick, everything is all right,” a sleepy voice whispered from the corner.
“Dani?” he croaked out.
There was a moment of silence and then a flurry of movement as his sister rushed to his bedside. There were tears in her eyes that slipped down her cheeks as she reached out her hand. At her touch, he fell back into the bed and closed his eyes as a wave of pain rolled over him.
“I’ll get the doctor.”
Patrick’s right hand shot out to stop her. “No, don’t leave me.” It was a command that came out as a whispered plea. Dani responded, as he knew she would. Her hand squeezed his.
When the pain passed, he opened his eyes and absorbed her love and concern. She lowered the railing and sat quietly at his side while he used his thumb to wipe the tears that were trickling down her cheeks.
“Jack?” He needed to know what had happened to his partner. Dani bit her bottom lip and shook her head. Patrick’s hand stilled on her face as breathing suddenly became difficult.
Dani’s eyes were bleak as she shook her head again, confirming what he needed to know. Jack was dead. As if she’d been holding herself together for way too long, his sister suddenly collapsed. Her head fell to the bed next to his and deep, wrenching sobs welled up from inside her. Patrick’s eyes filled as he awkwardly wrapped his good arm around her.
The door to his room slammed opened, but the light from the hallway was blocked by the sheer size of the man who stood there. Burke took one look at the situation, yelled for a doctor and hurried to his wife’s side. He carefully lifted her from the bed and into his arms. As Dani continued to cry and cling to her husband, Burke turned to Patrick and smiled. “Welcome back.”
Right now Patrick wasn’t feeling very glad to be back. Pain, both physical and emotional, gripped him and he gladly surrendered to it, drifting back to unconsciousness.
*
Patrick could feel the heat of the sun’s rays on his skin. In spite of the pain that still attacked his body, it felt comforting. He lay silently on the bed, taking stock of his injuries. Both his left leg and arm were still immobile, but his right side seemed to still be functioning properly.
“I know you’re awake.” The deep male voice came from the corner of the room, startling Patrick. He hadn’t realized anyone was in the room with him. Sloppy work, O’Rourke.
Knowing that Burke would wait until he opened his eyes, he cracked them slowly, blinking until they became accustomed to the light. But the light seemed unusually bright and he raised his hand to shield his eyes.
“Do you want me to close the blinds?” Burke was already rising from his chair and tugging on the blinds.
“No. Leave them.” Patrick slowly lowered his hand from his face as his eyes adjusted. “The sunlight feels good.”
“No problem.” Burke strolled over to the bed, blocking a good portion of the sun’s rays with his body and Patrick was finally able to open his eyes without squinting.
“How long?” Talking, even this small amount, was beginning to tire him and he needed answers.
“You’ve been in and out for three days now. You lost a lot of blood and have been running a fever.” Burke continued giving him a quick, blunt rundown on what had happened. “You took a hit to the center of your chest, but your bulletproof vest stopped it. You’ve got one hell of a bruise there.” He paused for a moment before continuing. “You got shot in the leg and the arm. The doctor removed both bullets, but there was some muscle and ligament damage. You’ve got some pins in your left leg as well. Right now the doctor’s are optimistic that you’ll regain almost all the use of both.”
It was the “almost” that had him swallowing hard and closing his eyes once again against the pain, which admittedly was more emotional than physical. Almost. Such a simple word. But one that could spell the end of his career as a detective with the New York City Police Department.
Burke was waiting patiently, so Patrick took a deep breath to steady himself before opening his eyes again. He ignored the look of pity and understanding in his brother-in-law’s eyes. “Jack?”
Burke sighed. “They’re having the funeral this afternoon. Jack’s older brother is here from Florida and he’s having the body cremated and taking the ashes back to Florida with him to scatter them in the ocean.” Burke paused for a brief moment. “He said that was what Jack wanted.”
“Mary?” Patrick knew that Jack had wanted his remains scattered with his wife’s.
Nodding in understanding, Burke continued. “He’s taking Mary’s remains as well. They’ll be together again.”
“That’s good.” He licked his dry lips.
Swearing under his breath, Burke picked up a foam cup with a straw sticking out of it. He brought it to Patrick’s mouth and carefully inserted the straw between his lips. “Drink. I should have known you’d be parched.”
Patrick sucked in the cool water, allowing it to pool in his mouth before he swallowed. It felt so damn good as it slipped down his throat, easing the dryness. He drank until the cup was empty. Burke refilled it and brought it back to his mouth. Patrick managed to drink another half cup before stopping. “Thanks.”
“You’re welcome.” He laid the cup back on the bedside table. “You’ll be released in a couple of days and then you’ll come home with us.”
In spite of his pain, Patrick felt the corner of his mouth turn up in a grin. There was no asking him. Burke was telling him. A self-made multimillionaire, Burke was used to being in command.
“We’ll see,” he managed to gasp as he tried to sit up in bed. He was sick of being flat on his back.
Burke’s dark eyes narrowed dangerously. “No, we won’t see. You’re coming home with us because that’s the only way that Dani’s mind will be at ease.” He held up his hand to halt any arguments. “You have no idea what it was like to get that call in the middle of the night telling us you’d been shot.” He raked his hand through his hair, his agitation plain. “Honest to God, Patrick, the expression on Dani’s face will haunt me the rest of my life.”
Patrick nodded slowly. He knew his family loved him and didn’t want to add to their worry. Hell, he’d do the same thing if their positions were reversed. But that didn’t mean he had to like it. He didn’t want to be a burden. “I don’t want to disrupt your lives. I want to be in my own home.”
Burke nodded. “I can understand that. I really can.” He pressed the remote on the bed, raising the back slowly. Patrick sighed with relief as he was lifted to a seated position. “Stay with us for a while and then we’ll see what happens.”
Frustration filled Patrick. He felt so helpless lying here. He was used to action. He was a cop, for God’s sake. He was the one people turned to in a crisis, the one who was cool-headed and in control of the situation.
A few minutes in an alleyway and several gunshots had changed everything. Patrick wanted to scream and yell and curse the fates. He wanted to rage at Jack for being stupid enough to rush into a dangerous situation unprepared and get himself killed. And he wanted to cry at the loss of his partner and best friend. He felt selfish for even worrying about his own injuries. His fingers knotted the sheets beside him.
“Patrick.” Burke spoke softly beside him. “I can’t claim to understand everything you’re feeling. I never lost a close friend and partner like you just have, but I do know what it’s like to be totally immobile in bed. I know what it’s like to have your life change in the blink of an eye.”
Taking a deep breath, Patrick swallowed the rage churning inside him. Burke did understand. Years ago, before he’d moved to Jamesville and met Dani, Burke had been in a car accident that almost killed him. He still limped slightly and had a long, pale white scar on his left cheek, compliments of a drunk driver who’d run a red light.
What Burke didn’t understand was that Patrick felt responsible for Jack Murphy’s death. He’d known that his partner was on the edge and he’d tried to get Jack to talk about it, to get help. But he hadn’t insisted. Maybe if he had, none of this would have happened. Patrick knew that until the day he died, he’d always question the string of events. Would always play the “what if” game in his mind.
Right now, he had to concentrate on the here and now. The quicker he got better, the faster he’d be able to crawl away by himself and heal his wounds. He forced himself to nod at Burke. “Okay. I’ll stay. But only for a few days. Once I’m semi-mobile, I’m out on my own.”
“Good enough.”
“Where is Dani?” Patrick desperately needed to change the subject.
“I finally talked her into going back to the hotel for a nap. She hasn’t left your side in almost three days.”
“I think I remember her being here.” The soft voice and the comforting hand that had eased his pain. That was Dani. Sister and part mother, she’d raised him and their brother Shamus after their parents had died two years apart. He’d been twelve and his brother, Shamus, had only been nine when Dani had taken over sole responsibility for them and their care. She’d only been eighteen herself, but she’d quit school, gotten a job and kept their small family together. He owed her everything and if going to stay with her for a few days would make her happy, then he would do it. No matter how much it hurt him.
“There are some people waiting to talk to you.” The seriousness in Burke’s voice captured all of Patrick’s attention. “They’ve all but finished the investigation, but they want to question you.”
Patrick nodded. He’d known this was coming and wasn’t looking forward to it. Any time an officer discharged his weapon there was an investigation. He wasn’t worried about himself. The shooting had been justified. Jack, however, had made a grave error in judgment, but Patrick wasn’t about to have his friend’s twenty-year record blemished in any way if he could help it. Determination filled him as he pushed himself higher in bed. “Send them in.”
Burke nodded, turned away and walked to the door. He paused at the door with his hand on the handle. “It will all work out, Patrick. You’re not alone.” He pulled open the door and stepped outside.
A small group of men stepped inside the room, their faces serious and austere. He recognized his commanding officer and the union rep. He assumed the other men were from the District Attorney’s office and the Internal Affairs Board. Sitting in bed, barely able to move, he faced them.
Despite Burke’s reassurances, Patrick felt very much alone.
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