Doctors came and went, talking about Glasgow Scales and Rancho Los Amigos levels of cognitive functioning. I was too numb to pay attention. I only knew that Mom wouldn’t wake up.
Two days passed, or maybe it was three. People visited and stayed for a while and left. Alan. Herb. Libby. Captain Bains. Harry. Specialists and nurses and cops.
Guards were posted outside my door. I found this amusing. As if Fuller could possibly hurt me more than he already had.
Benedict kept me updated on the manhunt, but the news was always the same: no sign of Fuller.
“She’s probably going to die,” I said to Herb.
“We’ll get him.”
“Getting him won’t make her better.”
“I know. But what else can we do?”
“I should have been there.”
“Don’t play that game, Jack.”
“I should have killed Fuller when I had the chance.”
“This isn’t helping the situation.”
I got in Benedict’s face. “Nothing will help this situation! This is my mom, lying here. And she’s lying here because of me. Because of my job.”
“Jack…”
“To hell with it, Herb. To hell with all of it.”
My star was in my pocket. I held it out, made Benedict take it.
“Give this to Bains. I don’t want it anymore.”
“He won’t accept it, Jack.”
“He’ll have to.”
Benedict clutched my badge and got all teary-eyed on me.
“Dammit, Jack. You’re a good cop.”
“I wasn’t good enough.”
“Jack…”
“I’d like you to leave, Herb.” I watched my words register on his face. “And please don’t come back.”