Getting Home

Part 16

The police station was a flurry of activity, police officers buzzing back and forth through the halls like bees, the din of cell-phone ringing and police officer's discussions filling the air in the background.

Sean sat alone, slumped, on the long wooden bench in the locker room. He still wore his vest and tactical gear.

Malloy appeared at the open door, leaning up against the frame, one of the cheap break room coffees in his hand. "How you doing?"

Sean scoffed. "Not good."

"Yeah." Malloy took a deep breath. "Yeah, I can imagine."

The bullet had missed.

Whether by the hand of God or Sean's bad aim, the bullet had missed.

He had missed.

By sheer luck.

His head dropped into his hands. "Jesus Christ, Pete. I almost killed her. I almost killed my own sister."

Malloy didn't say anything. He slowly walked over to Sean and sat down on the bench next to him.

"But you didn't, son. She's alive... and safe. There's no point questioning it—there's no answer. No rational reason. A miracle. Sometimes you just get lucky in life... but mostly you don't."

Sean didn't respond.

Malloy cleared his throat, which only resulted in his voice being even more grizzled. "Anyways... suspect is completely non-co-op—he's down in SEG-3. Disoriented and confused. Mental Health Crisis Unit will be here any minute."

"It's not my concern anymore." Sean's voice was soft, barely a whisper.

Malloy turned to him, his voice suddenly pleading. "I wish you'd reconsider, son. The department needs people like you."

"I can't, Pete," Sean said, his tear-brimmed eyes meeting Malloy's. "I can't. I can't handle it. I'm too weak."

"You're just scared, son. There's never anything wrong with being scared."

"That kid didn't even have anything, Pete. What if I killed someone else by accident? What if I kill someone else's sister? Or brother? Or Father? No, Pete. No. I can't do that."

A tear slowly rolled down his cheek, dropping to the floor from his chin. "I failed. All I ever wanted was to make my father proud."

Malloy slowly reached out to rest his hand on Sean's shoulder.

"You did, son," Malloy said quietly, squeezing it gently. "You did."

"Officer Malloy?"

Their heads shot up in sync, their bodies quickly sliding apart to either end of the long bench. Sophia Adler from the Digital Forensics Unit stood at the locker-room entrance in her white lab coat, a paper folder in her hand.

"I'm sorry to interrupt," she said, "but you said to get this to you right away, no matter what you—"

"Yes, yes, thank you Adler," Malloy said, clearing his throat and standing up. "Give it to Mather."

Sean stood up and followed Malloy to Adler. "But Pete, you know I—"

Malloy slapped the folder against Sean's chest. "Remember what I said this morning about making peace with yourself? Besides... you start something, you finish it—then you can quit. And go check in with Ava. She's in the Sergeant's office." Malloy started for the exit.

"Yes sir. And Pete?"

Malloy stopped, looking back over his shoulder. "Yeah, son?"

"Thanks."