Prodigal Son
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Kwai Chang Caine and his son returned from the hospital with Matthew Caine. Both son and grandson kept an eye on the old priest as he moved gingerly through the apartment. Not a word was spoken but each knew what the other was thinking without voicing it directly. It was going to take a few weeks for the old Shaolin to recover from the bullet wound to his side. His words however, expressed what all their spirits reflected.
"It is good to be home."
"Peter has set up a bed for you in the apothecary," Kwai Chang stated. "This way you will not have to move very far."
"Do not fuss, my son. I will be fine."
"He sounds like someone I know," Peter interjected.
"Yes, my son. You."
"Me? Is that where it came from?"
"I believe so," Kwai Chang replied.
"Well at least I come by it honestly."
Grandfather and father alike could not help chuckling to themselves. All three Shaolin looked up as Kermit Griffin sauntered into the room. His face was unreadable behind his trademark shades, and yet there was an air about him that suggested the news he had wasn't good, but it wasn't bad either. The two older Shaolin took their cue and left Peter and his visitor alone.
"I think I am going to meditate," Matthew stated.
"I shall come with you," his son replied.
Peter and Kermit waited until they were alone before proceeding.
"I came by to give you some news," Kermit said.
"What news is that?"
"Jordan McGuire has been reassigned. She's no longer working for the 101st. Since she held back information about Kelly Blaisdell's kidnapping and involved a civilian to do the work that she should have done, Captain Simms felt she jeopardized Kelly's life and yours. She should have told everyone right away what she knew."
"I'm really sorry to hear that. Jordie is a good cop . . ." Peter began.
". . . It's not the first time this has happened," Kermit interjected. "Captain Simms suspected that the leak we had was coming from one of the two officers who would always hang around McGuire's desk. Turned out she was also feeding them key information through the gossip chain and through the bedroom. You know she can't seem to keep her bedroom antics out of the bullpen where it doesn't belong. She kept hitting on every good looking cop ever since you left the force."
"Even before we broke up? That's news to me. And she tells me to stay out of police business and out of her private life."
"I also found out who the sniper was that fired that shot," Kermit said calmly. "His name was Martin Peterson. He tried to kill your father some years ago, before Caine came to this city."
"Why did he try to kill my father?"
"Caine just happened to be at the wrong place at the time. There was a shoot out at a liquor store, and Peterson's sister got caught in the crossfire. Caine tried to save her, but she died within a few hours. One bullet severed her spinal cord, and another had entered her brain. Caine would not have been able to save her, no matter what he did. Peterson blamed him anyway, just because he was there."
"How did you . . ." Peter started to ask, but Kermit finished for him.
"I read about the case when I was doing some research. It was during the time when your father was arrested in Moab, Utah. Seems they thought Caine might have been involved with the shooting, but they were wrong." Kermit went silent for a moment, then broached the final subject he had been working up the courage to spill. "You know, with the Masterson case ending the way it did, Captain Simms is short handed again."
"So . . . what are you saying, Kermit?"
"I'm saying you've got to come back. We need you."
"I'm a priest."
"You can still be a priest and be a cop. You don't have to carry a gun. We need you. I need you. You're the best, Peter. No one is going to replace you."
"I don't know," Peter said reluctantly. "You know what the system is like. There's just not enough compassion. Cops that should be off the streets are still working for the force, all because there isn't enough money to hire more. Crimes are being committed out of desperation and there's no one there who cares. They get the book thrown at them when what they really need is help. And besides, Pop needs me, too. He's not getting any younger, you know. I'd also like to spend some time with my Grandfather. Who knows how much longer he'll be around."
"With Detective McGuire and Officer Horn gone, the Captain is going to need all the help she can get," Griffin argued. "You know how Captain Simms feels about you. She's always going to think of you as a detective. You haven't lost that touch. You still have it. Please, we need you."
Peter didn't answer. All the arguments were there, the reasons for and against. It was a decision that could not be made lightly.
"Look, I'll give you several days to think it over. Captain Simms has a badge waiting for you at the 101st if you ever decide to come back. No questions asked."
"Just like Paul asked you?"
"Oh yeah," Kermit gave Peter a slight smile, then added one more comment. "Look, even the Commissioner is willing to admit that you're the best detective this city has ever seen. He's willing to forget about your last case as a cop, if you're willing to, also. You remember, the Ralston Case."
Peter didn't reply, but simply shrugged a shoulder.
"You know it's not the first time cops have gone bad, and it won't be the last. They need someone to remind them about walking that thin blue line, and what it means to serve. You can be in both worlds, Peter. If you want to."
"What about you?"
"What about me?" Kermit replied.
"Are you still in both your worlds?" Peter questioned.
"You mean am I still a mercenary?" Kermit grew silent for a while.
"I remember a certain cop saying he'd be my 'Shaolin Eyes.'"
"I also said I won't give up my day job with the force. But this isn't about me."
Peter let his head fall to his chest, trying not to let Kermit see the struggle within him. "I'll think about it," he simply said.
"Fair enough. I better go. I'm taking Karen to see that new Kill Bill movie. I hear it's a real trip. See you around the precinct, partner."
Alisa Joaquin Copyright@2004.
This story cannot be reprinted or sold in any other form without strict permission from
the author. It is being distributed here solely for your enjoyment.
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