The Golden Years

Reliving The Means Streets

Garcia stood giving Eddie the fish eye. He didn't for a moment buy the story the way Eddie told it, but he couldn't prove otherwise.

"I suppose a pat down is out of the question?"

"Can't argue if you arrest me, but a charge is required, or at least a reasonable suspicion. Ask Helms."

"He can barely answer to his own name." Garcia grumped. "Go on, get outta here. Just don't leave town - oh, and I sent an officer to Mrs. Nursewood's to make sure."

"Thank you, Agent Garcia. I'll be around for a while." Eddie gave a half salute and left, breaking into a trot as he went down the long drive. Traffic was a little heavier, but the streets were drier, and Eddie took advantage, racing back to Riley's.

First thing he saw when he pulled up was the car in the driveway with the police car blocking it from behind, but no activity, and the blinds were closed as he had suggested. Thankful Garcia had not insisted on a search, he pulled the gun from his waistband and chambered a round as he crept up the side of the house.

The damaged door made his heart sink, and he flattened against the wall, peering slowly around the door frame. He could see through to the hall that ran at right angles, and the khaki covered legs of the state trooper stretched out on the floor.

He slipped off his shoes and stepped quietly through the door, gun aimed and leading the way. At the intersection of the hall he paused and looked at the body of the trooper. A splotch of blood from what looked like two holes, covered his chest. Centre mass, not a risky headshot, he thought, and crouched lower while sliding around into the hall.

"I know you're in the house, Banks."

Did he really? Or was he just fishing? Eddie stayed silent but focused on the direction of the voice.

"C'mon, I'm not stupid. I saw you drive up."

Eddie got down on his stomach and eased himself along the carpet.

"Answer, or Mrs. Nursewood here gets a hole in her foot."

Instinct and experience kept him silent, and he flinched at the gunshot, but heard no reaction. A bluff, because he isn't sure. Eddie inched forward down the hall toward the bedroom.

"Next one's for real, Banks." Jim's voice was becoming strident.

The scuffling froze Eddie and his gun came up, aimed at the doorway. There were a few hissed words and some grunts, and Riley's head and shoulders protruded from the doorway. Her eyes widened and she looked terrified. He nodded his head and signalled with his hand that she drop down fast.

"Okay, Banks, you had your chance."

There was a brief struggle then Riley dove across the hall, banging into the wall painfully. Jim stepped far enough out of the door to take his shot, and Eddie put a bullet in his forearm. Jim's gun fell to the floor and he went down on one knee to retrieve it.

"Don't! I don't give second chances." Eddie got to his feet, gun pointed at Jim's face, and slowly moved to kick the gun away. "You okay, Riley?" He looked down at her just as she screamed, pointing.

Jim sprang up knocking Eddie into the wall. He brought up a leg to fend off the attack, but the force drove them both back down the hall, tripping over the dead trooper. Eddie banged his head on the floor, blinking away a few stars and planets. He rolled over to see Monestario fumbling in a kitchen drawer, and swore silently when the knife appeared.

His only advantage was Jim being right-handed, and that hand was out of commission. He whipped off his jacket and wound it in a bulky pad around his arm, readying himself for the attack.

"You've used up all those horseshoes, Detective." Jim began a slow circle from the kitchen into the living room.

"Didn't need them with the personnel you sent." Eddie pivoted slowly.

"Yeah, there's that. Well when you want it done right . . ." The lunge was lightening fast, and Eddie parried with his wrapped arm, bringing his right hand up in a karate chop that numbed Jim's hand.

The grunt was followed with a side fake and another lunge. The knife cut into the wrapping and Eddie fell back, tripping over a chair leg.

"Hope you enjoyed your stay, Detective - you won't be coming again."

Eddie watched the knife begin to arc toward his face when another shot rang out, sending Jim reeling over the sofa and onto the floor in a heap.

"You okay, Banks?" Garcia walked over and checked Jim's body.

"Maybe a bit out of shape." He stood and looked down the hall where Riley was standing with another trooper.

"You followed me?"

"Nope. I didn't get a response from my trooper, so we hustled right over. Just in time it seems - for you anyway." Garcia knelt beside the fallen officer and unclipped his badge.

"Sorry, man. I know the feeling." He paused a moment. "I'd like to see if Mrs. Nursewood is okay."

"Yeah, go on."

Eddie unwrapped his jacket and tossed it on the chair then walked down the hall.

"A few little bruises, but she whacked her head pretty hard. I'd get her to the hospital for a check." The trooper tossed off a salute and left them alone.

Riley fell against him, her arms about his waist. "Oh, Eddie . . . I thought- oh, God, I thought it was over for both of us."

"I'm just glad you understood my hand signal." He held her tight, his face in her hair. "Let's get you checked out."