Frank faltered, her profile to Kennedy. She was haggard. Her jaw had softened and her shoulders hung slackly. Exhaustion had replaced tension. Frank's hard veneer had cracked. When she spoke again it was with effort.
"You know you're ROD for a while. You'll have to talk to a shrink before you can go back to work."
Kennedy bobbed her head amiably. "Yeah. I figured as much. Did you go to a shrink after you got shot?"
Frank closed her eyes and let her head fall back against the chair.
"Yep."
"Did it help or was it just bullshit?"
"Let's just say I think you'll be a better patient than I was."
"That shrink didn't get squat from you, did he?"
Frank graced the ceiling with a faint smile.
"You're gonna have to go in this time too, aren't you?"
Frank sighed, arching her back as she got out of the chair. "I thought you were supposed to be sleeping."
"You can go home anytime," Kennedy grinned. "You don't have to stay here."
"I know."
"So why don't you go home, get some sleep."
Frank looked down at Kennedy. Around the jaundiced edge of the betadine, her color was good. Still pale, but not the awful chalk-white of serious shock. Her eyes were bright again. Frank looked away. She was young and strong. She'd be alright physically; it was the emotional fallout that worried Frank. But so far Kennedy was coping well, better than Frank ever had.
She felt an involuntary pang of tenderness. In order to get out of Johnston's apartment alive, they'd had to put aside their mutual antagonism and forge a fragile alliance. They came through it together, and Frank wasn't about to abandon Kennedy now.
"Look. I thought the deal was you sleep, I go. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner I can get out of here."
Kennedy surprised Frank by closing her eyes and wiggling deeper into the sheets.
"I'm Audi," she murmured, and indeed she was gone, sleep quickly claiming her. But Frank stayed by the bed. A lock of hair, the color of sunflowers, was taut under Kennedy's pillow. Frank freed it, surprised how silky it was. She held it for a moment, then let go, an odd expression on her face. Quietly she backed away. Instead of going home, however, she took off her shoes and stretched out on the empty bed.
A few weeks after his father's funeral the boy picked up a whore. He was nervous. His father had always handled the business, but she seemed willing enough. He asked if it would be okay to do it in the car. When he told her what he wanted she balked and jacked the price up fifty dollars. He didn't have that much money.
"Then I guess you gonna have to settle for what you can get," she said, starting to blow him.
He couldn't do it.
A week later he tried with another whore and a hundred dollars in his pocket. When she got on her hands and knees, he flew again. But he missed his dad.
22
The next few days brought endless visits from deputy chiefs and commanders. OIS came and went with their interminable questions and forms, as did Foubarelle and Luchowski and the suits from IAD. Timothy Johnston's family was calling for an investigation, and Internal Affairs was cross-examining all the detectives involved. At least Frank had managed to avoid the RHD dicks, but they finally cornered her at the hospital. She was less than cooperative. The two detectives left in a snit after a tense fifteen minutes, threatening to nail her with hampering an investigation.
"I reckon that's the least of your worries right now," Kennedy observed.
Frank agreed. "Pretty low on my list of priorities."
Having just come from home and a decent night's sleep, Frank asked how Kennedy was doing.
"Never better. Ready to git on my board and hit the surf."
"Not on my watch," Frank warned.
Kennedy grinned. "What are you, my mother?"
Frank nodded. "As long as you're in here."
"Well, that ain't gonna be for much longer. Doc said he'll probably release me tomorrow."
Frank raised an eyebrow. "Really?"
"Yep. Then it's me an' the long-board."
"I don't think so."
"Oh, yeah? Who's gonna stop me?" Kennedy challenged.
Frank leaned on her knuckles at the foot of Kennedy's bed. She couldn't have imagined just a few days ago that the younger woman's cheekiness would have ever pleased her. But then there was a lot she couldn't have imagined a few days ago.
Except for brief trips home and to headquarters, Frank had spent most of her time with Kennedy. They talked a lot, alternating between friendly sparring and painfully serious discussion. Kennedy was able to switch gears rapidly and easily, often leaving Frank in the dust; one minute Kennedy made her laugh and the next she felt like she'd been skewered through the heart. Keeping up with her was demanding, but Frank was game. She considered it part of her reparations to Kennedy. Though in truth, she actually enjoyed the young woman's company.
"Who's going to stop you?" Frank repeated, considering what she was about to say, "I'm going to stop you. You're coming home with me."
For once, Kennedy was the one floundering, and she said, "I don't get it."
"Simple. You're going to stay with me until you're okay."
"Well, I'll be dipped in shit and covered with peanuts," Kennedy murmured.
"Hmm. Nice," Frank said sarcastically, flipping through a surfing magazine.
"I don't know if this is such a good idea."
"Why's that?"
Kennedy lifted her good shoulder, glancing out the window for an answer.
"I don't need a babysitter. I can take care of myself."
Frank was getting used to Kennedy's independent streak and agreed, "Yeah, you can. But it'd be better if you took it real easy for a while. So I'm going to take you home and be your slave-girl. Can't ditch your slave-girl just like that," Frank said, snapping her fingers.
Kennedy just plucked at her sheet. Frank reluctantly asked, "What's the matter, sport?"
"I feel like such a geek, like I'm a fuckin' albatross around everyone's neck."
"You're not an albatross," Frank replied awkwardly, touched by Kennedy's candor. She hesitated, then said, "I want you to come home with me. It's the very least I can do for you."
"You don't have to do anything for me, Frank. I remember you apologized right after I came out of the anesthesia, and at the time I remember thinking, That's so stupid. If anybody should have been apologizing it was me, for having been such an idiot in the first place."
Frank sat on the edge of the bed.
"Hey. We've been over this. I was the first one in, remember? I should have seen him. I didn't. You're not to blame here, Kennedy. Now we've all got our 20/20 hindsight, and we'd all do it differently, but we didn't know then. There's nobody to blame," Frank lied, convinced she could have prevented the whole affair.
"So we're going to baby you for the next couple of days, get you back to 100 percent, and then throw you out in the trenches again. Get you on that surfboard. Okay?"
'"Kay."
Kennedy smiled a little, then added, "But you know you don't have to do this."
"Jesus Christ!" Frank blew out in a long breath.
"Frank, really I—"
"I don't want to hear it." Frank stood, holding up her hands. "I'm going downtown. I've got to see the shrink in twenty minutes. He's gonna be a picnic after you, sport."