“I WON’T apologize for taking the shot. The guy had you reserved for a morgue slab. It was him or you,” Reuben said.
“Not the point. I had him talked down. He could have gotten help. Now he’s got dead,” Reg said.
“Excuse me, detective,” the paramedic said.
Reuben stepped around the EMT, allowing him access to the other side of Reg’s face.
“Help from who? King Neptune and his undersea gang? The guy was a killer, Reg, plain and simple. He was a killer, the freak in his head was a killer, and they had a taste for blood, literally.”
“Again, not the point. There could have been a saving grace out there for him. Dr. Whitfield, maybe. Some other doctor. A new medication. Something to put that kid back on the right track.”
“Here you go, detective.” The paramedic filled Reg’s hand with several packs of 800mg ibuprofen. “These should get you through the next couple of days. You sure you don’t want a lift to emergency, just to be sure?”
Reg probed a finger at the golf ball sized lump under the bandage on his forehead. “Ow. Smart move, Reg.”
“Are you sure—”
“I’ll live,” he patted the bearded paramedic on the shoulder, “thanks for patching me up.” Reg pressed his hands into his thighs and tried to hoist off the ambulance tailgate.
“Whoa there, Kemosabe.” Reuben caught him before he fell to the asphalt. “You going to make it home? Maybe you should go to eme—”
“I’m fine. Just a little dizzy spell, is all.”
“Williams. Garcia. Over here, now.”
Detective partners rolled their eyes at the clear night sky. Reg’s dizzy spell passed, but at the sound of Captain Freeman’s bullhorn, his anvils came back. He put one rubbery leg in front of the other, and stalked behind Reuben, over to his Captain. They came upon an erect, stern-faced Freeman. He looked to be posing for the lone photographer already on the scene, secluded behind cautionary tape surrounding the warehouse.
Freeman glared at Reuben first, then Reg. “I’d rip both of you new asses, if I didn’t think you’d shit all over the street. And you, Williams, your first call should have been to me, or the task force, not your partner.”
“I wanted to be sure I had the right m—”
“You think I’m stupid? Like I just got off the boat from, ‘buy whatever bullshit that comes out of your mouth,’ land? You wanted to bag the suspect yourself. That’s why you came to me in the first place.”
“To be fair, Cap, we did bag the guy,” Reuben said.
Freeman’s hard stare chisled into Reuben’s eyes. “You’re not in the clear, Garcia. Two screw ups don’t make a broken clock right three times a day. Soon as you got the call from screw up number one, you should have been in my office.”
Freeman continued to glare down both men. Reuben fiddled with his pants, adjusting his belt. Reg tried to keep the two sticks of butter he was standing on from melting. He watched another photographer pull up on a side street. The unusually tall man hopped out of a black van, and struck up a conversation with the first. Freeman let out a heavy sigh. Screw up attention turned back his way.
“However … as Garcia pointed out, you did collar the suspect. You deserve some credit for not letting your screw-ups stop you from getting the job done. Congrats for returning a sense of security to the city.”
“Thanks, boss,” Reuben said.
“That’s Captain Boss. And you’re still on the clock, Garcia. I want this incident from screw-up to bloody conclusion on my desk before you clock out.”
Reuben’s eyes dropped back to his belt.
“And you,” Freeman nodded at Reg, “You look like burnt black licorice. Medics clear you to go home?”
“Just now,” Reg said.
“Then be there and away from here. Garcia will drop off the paperwork for your report, and come back for it sometime tomorrow. Monday morning, be in my office.”
“Will do, Captain Freeman,” Reg said. He glanced past Reuben’s sunken head at the photographers. Both were snapping away, lighting up the crisp night with continuous flash pops.
“What are you waiting for, Christmas? Dismissed,” Freeman said. He turned away from them and motioned toward officers guarding the warehouse. “Dubinski, get over here. I have a job for you.”
Reuben said, “Come on, partner, I’ll take you home. And don’t worry about Saturday night. I’ll explain it to Abigail.”
Following behind Reuben to the patrol car, Reg grinned. It hurt his face. He grinned at the hurt.