The Thousandth Man

  Part 9

Up above, in one of the wardrooms, Captain Peterson and Commander Crawford sat together, hunched near a speaker, intently waiting to listen for any conversation that would take place inside the sickbay.

“I’m not sure I like this, Brock. Letting the two of them talk could be risky.”

Peterson chewed on his pipe. “What better way to find out exactly how much they know about us, and what their intentions are, Rex? If DeSoto has learned anything, he’ll likely spill it to his friend. I think it will be useful to know exactly what information they’ve attained.”

Crawford stole a sideways glance at his captain. The man sat calmly, completely unruffled by the complicated turn of events. Despite his reservations, Crawford remained silent, waiting to hear the conversation.

Roy raked his teeth across his lower lip as he caught sight of his best friend lying quietly on one of the white sheeted exam tables. Guiltily he couldn’t help but feel elation at the knowledge that he was no longer alone. God, how good it felt to have Johnny here!

He approached the table and looked down at his friend. A sheet covered him up to the middle of his chest. John was pale, making the bruise on the left side of his face from the impact with the pipe stand out. He did not look well, although his breathing appeared strong and even. Strangely, an angry looking rash was spread out over Gage’s chest.

Roy gently touched John’s shoulder. “Johnny?”

Gage’s eyelids lifted lethargically, widening in surprise as his gaze slowly focused on his friend. He swallowed, hesitating a moment as a myriad of emotions flooded through him. Johnny reached out with his hand, lightly touching Roy’s forearm, his fingers curling around it. Relief seemed to quiet his features. His voice cracked with emotion. “I…I thought maybe I was…hallucinating.”

Roy blinked quickly, overwhelmed to be hearing Johnny’s voice after so long. He’d begun to believe that he would never see any of his family or friends again. He licked his lips. “Yeah I…was thinking the same thing when I first saw you.”

 A slow smile grew on Johnny’s face, and his hand tightened on Roy’s arm. “I…I knew it. God, I knew…you were alive.”

Roy’s throat constricted, choking off any response. Instead, his hand moved down, gripping Johnny’s tightly, the contact eliciting almost painful waves of emotion.

Johnny squinted up at him. His vision was slightly blurred. He spoke slowly, his voice weak. “You…you look different with the beard…wasn’t sure if it was you or…or Captain Nemo.” Eyes narrowed with pain still sparkled, and one corner of his mouth quirked up in a small grin.

Roy laughed quietly. “I thought maybe my mother-in-law would like me better this way.” He threw a malevolent glance backward, only to find the space empty.

“Sure picked a…hell of a way to impress her.” Gage seemed to suddenly scrutinize his friend, and frowned. His hand moved to Roy’s wrist, encircling it. “You’re skinny as a toothpick. What have they done to you?”

Roy’s eyes strayed away. “Nothing. None of that is important now. I’m just so damn glad to see you.” Clamping his hand down on John’s bare shoulder, he shook his head. “I can’t tell you…” His voice trailed off as a thousand emotions tore through him at once. “How did you find me?” Roy gazed down at him, his face a picture of wonder and anticipation.

Johnny chuckled weakly. “Long story. When we get outta here, I’ll tell you…all about it.” He winced slightly at a pain throbbing in his joints. He tried readjusting to ease it.

“Johnny, how was it that you were looking for me…after all this time.”

“Been looking…all along. I knew you were still out there…somewhere.”

Roy looked at him in disbelief. “It’s been months…I didn’t think anyone…”

“Well you thought wrong.” Johnny’s brow rose. He lifted a weak hand, his finger pointing upward. “Never underestimate…a Gage.” His hand sank back down to his stomach when the motion caused his elbow to ache.

Roy laughed, the first time he’d done so in months. “I’ll remember not to in the future.” Roy stared down somberly at John, his jovial expression fading to one of dread. “Johnny…my family…Jimmy…” His words choked to a halt, terrified at the possibility of hearing of the death of his son.

Johnny smiled and reached out with his hand to rest atop Roy’s, his eyes slowly closing. “Baby’s fine. He had the operation.” His eyes reopened. “Had two of ‘em.”

Now Roy’s eyes closed and he expelled an emotional breath. Two. How…? “Thank God,” he whispered. When his eyes opened, they were watery. Roy blinked it away, focusing intently on his friend. “What about Joanne…Chris and Jennifer…?”

“They’re all okay.” His smile turned downward into a sad expression. “Just missing you.”

Roy wiped his hand across his face.

The doctor that had been attending to John reentered the room. He glanced once at the two men, then busied himself across the room.

“Roy, they…they had a funeral.” Johnny’s voice cracked on the last word.

Roy looked away, his face contorted in pain.

A moment of silence went by as the two men were lost in their own thoughts. Finally, Johnny spoke. “Roy? You been here…the whole time?”

When he turned back to Johnny, his eyes sagged in remorse. “Yeah,” he whispered. “They wouldn’t let me contact anyone.”

Johnny stared accusingly toward the doctor, his expression cold as stone. “Why? Don’t they know what they put your family through? What they put…everyone through,” he added more softly.

“They knew,” he spat. “Their mission was more important, whatever that is.”

“Well don’t you worry. You’re going to be home with your family before you know it…” Johnny glared at the man behind Roy. “Even if it’s over…my dead body.”

“For a while there, I was afraid it might be.”

Johnny smiled again. “Can’t keep a Gage down.”

“You’ve demonstrated that more than once,” Roy said warmly. He glanced behind him, then back to Johnny, lowering his voice. “Does anyone know where you are? Your dive partner?” he asked hopefully.

Johnny chuckled weakly. “Ah…I didn’t have a dive partner.”

Roy’s brows rose in surprise even as disappointment sagged his shoulders.

“As a matter of fact, I’m, ah…I’m AWOL from Rampart.”

“Rampart?” Roy looked puzzled, then scrutinized Johnny more closely. For the first time, he noticed ugly black bruising surrounding sutures on Johnny’s arm. It was suspiciously in the exact spot where an IV would have been inserted. Further scrutiny revealed a recent scar near his eye and another bruise near that. “Were you…admitted for some reason?”

“Yeah. It happened yesterday. We were fighting a brush fire up in Ventura. Got a little…overheated. Morton decided to keep me overnight. I decided to leave a little early.”

Roy’s eyes widened. “You left…without being checked out?”

Johnny frowned now, angry. “Had to.” Johnny breathed shallowly, feeling sicker. He licked his lips. “Had to get out of there while I had the opportunity.”

“The opportunity…?”

Johnny scowled. “Brackett…was gonna put me in the Psych Ward.”

“What? The Psych Ward? Why?”

Johnny shook his head slowly. “Long story. Doesn’t matter now.”

Roy’s gaze went back to John’s arm. “What’d you do to your arm?”

Johnny lifted it up and glanced at the place where he’d torn his IV out as if he’d forgotten. “Oh. Well…I just had a little incident…”

Roy’s brows raised in question.

Johnny sighed. “Just…don’t ask, okay?” He looked at Roy meaningfully, his expression weary. “What do you say…we get out of here? Tell Jacques Cousteau to take us back to dry land.” He closed his eyes, swallowing again. “I’m startin’…to get seasick.”

Roy turned angrily back to look at the doctor, who was engrossed in reading a chart. When he turned back, Johnny’s eyes were tightly closed and he was pinching the bridge of his nose, breathing shallowly. Suddenly he let out a low groan. His joints were really beginning to hurt.

“Johnny? What’s wrong?”

Vertigo tipped him slightly and both hands flailed out, grasping the edges of the bed. His eyes strayed from Roy’s face. “I feel funny.” His speech was slightly slurred.

Roy’s shoulders coiled tensely, a seed of fear sprouting from within. “Funny? How?”

He licked his lips. “Have a weird taste in my mouth…” His eyes suddenly widened with a mixture of surprise and fear as he inhaled.

“Johnny?”

Gage’s head lolled to the side, his gaze slipping sightlessly into space. He didn’t answer Roy’s commands.

Seconds later, he went into a convulsion.

 ~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

To the relief of Station 51’s crew, the rains that had drenched LA a day earlier moved north, and heavy showers were helping to drown out the fire they’d been fighting. After a day and a half of fighting dangerous brush lands in Ventura under a sweltering sun, the tired crew was sent back to LA.

Gil noticed the absence of Gage’s car, and was relieved that the paramedic was likely at home recovering. He was just reaching for the telephone to call Johnny to see how he was doing, when it rang.

He picked it up. “Hello, Station 51, Fireman Robinson here.”

“Gil? This is Dixie.”

“Hi, Dix,” he said wearily, hoping that Marco was almost done in the shower so he could go next.

“Thank goodness you’re back!”

“Yeah, we just pulled in a few minutes ago – ”

Dixie sounded harried. She’d been calling every hour as Dr. Brackett had requested. “Gil, have you heard from or seen Johnny?”

“Well, no…like I said, we just got back. I was just getting ready to call him; I assume he went home after he checked out this morning. Is there…a problem?”

“Yes, you might say that. Gil, can you put Captain Stanley on the line? Dr. Brackett wants to talk to him.”

Gil pulled the phone away from his ear and glanced at it curiously, then put it back to his ear. “Sure, Dixie. I’ll get him.” Now he was worried. Maybe bringing Johnny back to LA yesterday had been a mistake. “Uh…is John okay? There’s been no complications has there?”

“Um, yes…I mean no. Just let me talk to Hank, all right Gil?”

“Hold on a second.” Gil left the room to call his captain, and found him in his office.

Hank picked the call up there. He leaned back in his chair, folding one hand behind his head for support. “Miss McCall, to what do I owe the pleasure?” He was always happy to talk to the pretty nurse. He was, that is, until she told him that Johnny had left the hospital in the middle of the night and that no one had been able to find him. Hank was nonplussed. “But why? That doesn’t sound like something John would do.”

“Hank, I’ll let Dr. Brackett explain it. Here he is.” She handed to telephone over to Kel, now glad that she wasn’t the one who was going to have to tell John’s captain what had happened.

Hank heard the phone change hands, and soon he was listening to the deep baritone of Dr. Kelly Brackett’s voice. The doctor got right to the point, rather reluctantly if not apologetically explaining about the conversation that Johnny had likely overheard about being sent down to the Psych ward to be evaluated by Dr. Sharp before being discharged.

“The Psych ward?” Hank was surprised. Had Johnny had some sort of a breakdown? “Why?”

Dr. Brackett explained his rationale, although there was almost no way he could have worded it to not make it sound bad. The fact that his patient had overheard information because of his carelessness was simply unprofessional. Not only that, but he should have just been honest with Johnny in the first place instead of trying to keep him in the dark until the last minute.

While Hank agreed that John had not been himself lately, he still felt a protectiveness toward his young paramedic and was angry at how the situation had been handled. He wasn’t sure that he himself wouldn’t have done the same thing had he overheard the same conversation. “I see,” he said rather coldly. “Dr. Brackett, since the psych evaluation was obviously being done for the purpose of determining whether John was mentally fit to work, why wasn’t I told about it?”

“Hank, there was no way to get in touch with you. You were working the Ventura fire. I had no idea when you would be back. As Johnny’s physician, and as director of the paramedic program, I made the decision. I thought it would be much easier to do the exam while Johnny was already a patient here at Rampart. It wouldn’t have delayed him more than half a day or so.” While that could have been true, Dr. Brackett knew he was being a bit misleading. Johnny could have been detained at least a few more days.

Hank sighed at the mess. “It’s too bad you weren’t able to contact me. If you had, I’d have told you that John already had a psych evaluation from our department psychologist.”

When Brackett didn’t comment, Hank offered to try to get in touch with Johnny at home.

“Hank, we’ve already done that. Johnny’s staying with Dr. Morton right now, and Mike has already checked. Johnny hasn’t been in all day.”

Another surprise! “Dr. Morton? Why is John staying with Dr. Morton?” Now he was really confused.

There was a moment of uncomfortable silence while Brackett digested the fact that John hadn’t told anyone of his move. It was then that Dr. Brackett shocked him further and revealed that Johnny had left his home and moved in with Mike Morton. He also told him about the breakup between John and Michaela, as if that explained why Johnny moved.

Hank was utterly shocked. “Moved!”

“He never mentioned it to you?”

Hank felt like a fool, not knowing something so significant about one of his own men. He scrubbed at his face, rubbing his eyes. “No. He never said anything about it, nor about his breakup with his girlfriend.” My God, how did he keep all this from us? And why? No wonder I had a hard time getting a hold of him during his suspension. And no wonder he’s been acting so tense lately!

Now Kel sighed. He’d suspected as much, and used this as evidence as to why he wanted John evaluated emotionally. “Hank, Johnny hasn’t been himself since Roy died, and frankly, lately I’ve been worried that all the stress he’s been under could be taking its toll.”

There wasn’t much more to say. He’d felt the same way himself. Hank assured Dr. Brackett that if he heard from Johnny, he’d let him know, and vice versa. Hank also promised he’d give Joanne DeSoto a call to see if he was with her. They ended the conversation there.

Hank sat at his desk for several long minutes trying to wrap his head around what was going on with Johnny. Maybe he did need another psychological evaluation. How could he have moved and not told anyone? Why? What did he do with his house? With his horses? And why did he and Dr. Marcantonio break up after she had just moved in with him a few months ago? Why the hell did John keep all that to himself? And how the hell was I not aware of any of this?!!

I thought I was a good, caring captain. I thought I knew what was going on with my men, especially Gage. He never keeps problems to himself. So if he was having trouble, why didn’t he come to me?

I thought he looked up to me, just a little. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe Roy was the only one John felt close enough to to unload his problems on. And now that he’s gone…John just seems to be falling apart.

I wonder where the hell he is?

Wearily, the captain dialed Joanne DeSoto’s number, telling her the story, omitting the part about the psych exam in order to allow Johnny his privacy. She was quite surprised, but he detected a tone of deep remorse in her voice also. Stanley was stunned to find out that she hadn’t spoken to Johnny in weeks. Astonished that Johnny seemed to have broken off another relationship, he found it difficult to find words for several long moments.

In that time, Joanne stammered as if she wanted to tell Hank something, but didn’t. She admitted nothing, uncomfortably skirting around the why of not having talked to her husband’s best friend recently. Guilt edged her voice as she made him promise to call her and let her know if John was all right. 

Hank didn’t know what to say, so instead politely said his good-byes.

Hank massaged his temples for about a minute before leaving his office to go talk to his men. He wondered if any of them knew any more than he did.

None of them did. They were just as shocked as he was to find out about the move and about Michaela, especially Gil.

“Jeez, I was clueless. And I ride with him every day.” He looked at his captain. “I can’t believe he didn’t say anything to me.”

Yeah. Join the club, Hank thought.

Chet voiced his disbelief that Joanne hadn’t talked to Johnny recently either. “Man, I don’t believe that. Johnny has practically lived at the DeSoto’s since Roy’s been gone. I wonder what happened?”

Marco twirled his coffee cup in front of him around once. “You know, Chet, Joanne was pretty angry at Johnny when he wouldn’t go to the funeral. Maybe the fact that he kept insisting that Roy was alive upset her. Maybe they had a falling out.”

“Yeah, you could be right Marco.”

Perhaps what surprised them the most was that Johnny chose to move in with Dr. Morton. It wasn’t that difficult to understand why Johnny didn’t ask the favor of them instead.

While the five of them pondered, the phone rang again. It was the second of many calls the station would get that night. Thinking it might be Dr. Brackett, Hank jumped up to answer it. A moment later, he handed the phone to Chet. “It’s for you, pal. It’s your brother.”

Chet got up to answer it. He’d only been talking a moment when, after overhearing the conversation, the other men in the room went silent. All eyes were focused on Chet as they listened in.

“Your boat is missing?” Chet said incredulously. “You mean someone stole it?”

“Yeah, someone stole it. And that someone was your friend, John!”

“Gage? You think Gage stole it? How would he do that, Patrick? He doesn’t have the key…oh shit…”

“You showed him where I hid it, didn’t ya you stupid jerk?”

“Well, yeah, the last time we went diving together I showed him where it was but Patrick, I doubt it was Johnny. He was just sick in the hospital yesterday. I doubt he’d – ”

“Chet, I’ve got more to tell you. The Coast Guard found my boat. They found Johnny’s wallet and some of his stuff on board. And that’s not all. His Land Rover is parked here at the pier.”

Chet’s eyes went wide as saucers. He stuttered as he tried to think of something to say. “But how…why…is he there? Can I talk to him?”

“Uh, that’s the bad news, Chet. They found the boat anchored fifteen miles from shore. There’s no sign of him.”

“What?!”

“Yeah. He’s gone, man. The Coast Guard is out there looking for him right now.”

“In the ocean? Oh my God.” Chet’s hand slid up to cradle his forehead. He must have gone diving alone again. I told him it was dangerous!

Marco was standing at his side now. “Chet! What is it?”

Chet nudged his friend away and covered the phone with his hand. “I’ll…I’ll tell you in a minute.” He turned his attention back to the phone. “They don’t think he…” Chet swallowed, not wanting to say it.

“Nobody knows anything yet. I was told he had a long coil of rope tied on board. The end was hanging over the edge of the boat like maybe he’d tied himself off. Chet…when they pulled up the rope, there was nothing. It looked like it’d been severed by something…”

“Oh my God,” Chet repeated.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

“There you are.” Dixie swung the door to the doctor’s lounge open after peeking in and entered.

Michaela looked up hopefully, straightening in her seat at the table she’d been slumped over. “Dixie? Any news? Johnny?”

Michaela had been one of the first ones asked that morning if she knew where Johnny might be, even though Dr. Brackett knew the couple had broken up. She’d been shocked to find out that John had ‘broken out’ of the hospital, but that had quickly turned to anger when she found out why. Despite the fact that it had occasionally crossed even her mind lately that Johnny might be close to going over the edge, she couldn’t help but feel resentment at Dr. Brackett for forcing psychiatric help on Johnny without telling him. It had taken enormous restraint to hold her temper at her superior, although he surely must have noticed her face turn red and the slight tremble in her body. Somehow she’d managed to hold her rebuke, even as her thoughts returned to resigning and going elsewhere to practice.

Dixie kept a straight face and moved to the coffee pot to pour herself a cup. She glanced over her shoulder. “Captain Stanley called just a little while ago.”

Michaela closed her eyes in relief, then opened them and looked up at her. “Thank God. Where is he?”

Dixie sat down at the table across from Michaela and set her coffee cup down. Her face was solemn. “Michaela, after he left the hospital, Johnny took Chet Kelly’s brother’s boat out early this morning.”

Mick’s eyes went wide. “He didn’t go diving, after being sick yesterday!”

“Apparently he did.” Dixie’s long lashes brushed her cheek as she glanced down. “They, uh, they found Johnny’s wallet on board along with some of his other things, but…”

Stunned, Michaela’s face froze. A feeling of absolute horror overwhelmed her. “Dixie…what are you saying?” She was sure she didn’t want to know.

“Michaela, they found a rope – ”

“Oh no.”

“…tied to the boat. It was hanging overboard as if Johnny had tied himself off…they found the end of the rope. It had been severed by something.”

Mick’s face crumbled. “Oh my God. Oh my God.”

Dixie reached out and touched her hand. “The Coast Guard is out looking for him right now.”

Mick’s hands covered her eyes as she broke down.

“Now Michaela, don’t jump to conclusions yet. He’s only been missing for less than a day – ”

“Missing!” she wailed.

Dixie grasped her arm. “Michaela, they’ll find him.”

Tears were spilling over her bottom eyelids now, rolling down her cheeks. “Good visibility! It’s dark out, Dixie! If they couldn’t find him this afternoon…”

Tears began welling up in Dixie’s eyes too. Despite her attempt to depict the glass half full, all the evidence so far indicated a tragic ending.

Mick’s words came out in sobs. “Oh God Dixie. The same thing that happened to Roy has happened to Johnny. All these months he’s been looking for Roy, and now he dies trying to find him.” She wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“We don’t know that yet. Now c’mon, Michaela, you’ve got to have hope.” Dixie reached out further to her friend. “Look, I’ve seen Johnny come out smelling like a rose more than once in situations that looked more hopeless than this. No one’s more of a survivor than Johnny.”

Mick’s red-rimmed eyes stared at her, then she collapsed sobbing to the table.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Commander Crawford approached his captain’s wardroom and knocked.

“Come,” he heard from within, and entered.

Brock Peterson withdrew his hand from the duffel bag on his bunk and slowly walked around it. He picked up his pipe from an ashtray and lit it. His eyes were darkened with stress and fatigue.

Rex glanced around in puzzlement. The room seemed barer than before; most of the nautical memorabilia Brock usually had on his shelves and desk was missing. Even his plaques and medals had been taken off the walls. It appeared he was packing.

The commander’s brows furrowed. “Sir?” He hesitated, then asked, “What were Admiral Fischer’s orders?”

Peterson puffed several times on his pipe, filling the room with wispy smoke. “Special Ops are sending a Pave Hawk to pick up Gage at eighteen-hundred hours.”

Rex nodded ruefully. “I see. Where will they take him? Pendleton?”

“Affirmative.” His voice was tight and rather strained. “I want you to supervise the departure.”

“Understood.” He looked down, fingering the edge of the desk. “And if Gage survives, what are the plans?”

“He’ll be debriefed and sent home.”

 Crawford’s brows rose in surprise.

“And DeSoto?”

“The same.”

Rex Crawford had to fight not to show his astonishment. Though the talk had always been to release DeSoto upon completion of their mission, he’d never really expected his captain to let him go. He hadn’t questioned it at the time, but when Peterson had ordered DeSoto’s jacket and life vest thrown overboard shortly after his rescue, then later tossed his boot to a location much farther away to confuse them, the intention behind it seemed clear: DeSoto was to be taken for dead in order to discontinue searching for him.

The day was full of surprises. What else did his captain have up his sleeve? “And…what about the Mirage and its crew? Do we continue?” Rex said with a wistful smile.

Peterson puffed on his pipe some more. His answer carefully hid any emotion. “We’ve been aborted. I’ve already ordered a course back to port.”

Rex’s jaw dropped. “Aborted?! On whose orders, Sir?”

Brock’s mouth twitched. “Our Commander In Chief’s. The Coast Guard is swarming the area like flies to dog shit looking for Gage. It’s only a matter of time before the police get involved. He doesn’t want us anywhere near that. As far as he’s concerned, staying out here at all is too big a risk.”

“They wouldn’t find us,” Rex said defensively. “We’ve proven beyond a doubt that manipulating the amplification of the magnetic energy fields disrupt visualization. We’ve been virtually invisible for years!”

“You and I know that, but apparently the President doesn’t share our confidence in it.”

“You’re right; he’s been against this project from the beginning.”

“He doesn’t give a rat’s ass about us; he’s too wrapped up in being a do-gooder. His only concern is the fireman. Just as before with DeSoto, he adamantly does not want to be responsible for Gage’s death, and for once, I agree with him, but not for the same reasons.

“The President already looks bad for bungling the Iranian hostage situation. He doesn’t want this to turn into another failure; it might damage his legacy.” Peterson’s voice dripped of sarcasm. “He wants Gage and DeSoto off this ship and returned to society nice and neat. How that will be accomplished is anyone’s best guess given the length of time DeSoto has been here.”

“Yes. I agree. They’ll definitely have to do some damage control.” He paused, then asked, “About Gage, you said you agreed with the President, but not for the same reasons. What are your reasons?”

More puffing on the pipe, then, “Rex, because of the regulations we are under, we were never supplied with any information about either of these men. I’ve now been given some background on Gage. The lengths to which he’s gone to find his friend are quite extraordinary,” he said in wonderment. Peterson went on to tell Crawford what he now knew about Johnny’s relentless search for Roy, and what he’d done for his family. “I have great respect for any individual who sacrifices so much for another.”  

Crawford spoke softly now, thoughtfully. “Hm. Indeed. Very unusual. Although it would make things much easier for us if Gage dies…it would be quite a waste, wouldn’t it? Perhaps if he survives we should recruit him.”

A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Peterson’s mouth. “The thought crossed my mind. At any rate, it’s not our problem any more.” He looked at his watch. “The Pave Hawk will be here in thirty minutes; you’d better get to it.”

“Yes Sir. One other thing, Sir. Desoto has been requesting the status on his friend, and not quietly. How long do you want to keep him in the dark?”

“As soon as Gage’s departure is complete, send Dr. Braddock to talk to him. At that time, you can give him the good news.”

“Good news?”

“Yes. As soon as we reach port, he’ll be released for debriefing. He might even make it home for Christmas.”

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Roy was beside himself. Alone in his quarters, he’d been waiting hours to hear about Johnny. He couldn’t understand why they were keeping him in the dark unless…unless the unthinkable had happened.

One minute Johnny had been on the table talking to him, the next he’d gone into a seizure. Wracking his paramedic brain to try to figure out what could be wrong with Johnny, he’d come up with nothing good. He had his suspicions about the rash and the acute lack of balance, but that was complicated by the fact that Johnny had apparently been in the hospital the day before for heat exhaustion, or so Johnny said. It could have been something more serious than Johnny would admit.

Now on top of all that, he had a head injury to deal with. What had caused the seizure? Was it a symptom of something that was already wrong with Johnny, or had it been caused by the head injury? Either way, it wasn’t good.

The ticking of the clock in the room was like Chinese water torture. Sitting in quiet seclusion for hours allowed Roy to worry and lament, not just over Johnny, but over everything. Would his hopes of being set free be dashed now that Johnny was incapacitated? It almost seemed like a dream that Johnny had even shown up. It was so unreal. Have I been here so long that I’m losing my mind? Could I have just imagined the whole thing?

Just when Roy thought he’d take the door apart to get out if he had to wait one more minute, Commander Crawford and Dr. Braddock knocked, then entered. Why they bothered to knock, Roy couldn’t fathom.

Eager for information, Roy practically lunged toward them. Anger had built to a crescendo, and he had to work not to explode at them. His jaw was tight as he spoke. “I’ve had enough of this. You’re not going to keep me in here any longer. Where’s Johnny? I want to see him. Now.”

Crawford’s eyes widened. Another surprise. DeSoto had shaved the beard and mustache off and looked like a totally different man. He stood tall and erect, and though he was much thinner than he’d arrived, at this moment he looked strong. Crawford held up his hand. “I’m afraid you can’t. He’s gone.”

The words froze Roy as if someone had shot him. His throat went dry as his mouth fell open. No. He can’t be… He forced himself to find his voice. “What do you mean, ‘he’s gone’? You’re not telling me he’s…”

Dr. Braddock took over. “He’s on his way to a hospital. He needed treatment we simply can’t give him here, unfortunately.”

Roy swallowed, his shoulders sagging in relief. “What can you tell me?”

“There are a number of problems. The most pressing issue is that he’s suffering from decompression illness.”

Roy nodded knowingly, one of his suspicions confirmed based on Johnny’s symptoms. The rash had been a tell-tale sign. “The bends.” What he couldn’t figure out was how it happened. “Johnny is an experienced diver.”

The doctor glanced at Rex. “I suspect something caused him to surface too rapidly. Surprise maybe, or fear…regardless of the cause he needs hyperbaric oxygen therapy immediately. We don’t have that ability here.”

“Doctor, what about the head injury? How bad is it? Did it cause the seizure?”

“There’s no way to ascertain that at this time. He needs a number of tests that aren’t available on board, including the recompression therapy. The seizure could be a culmination of everything – the stress on the body from the head injury, the decompression sickness, and the electrolyte imbalance – ”

“What electrolyte imbalance?”

“John told me he was admitted to the hospital yesterday for heat exhaustion after collapsing at a brush fire. He was dehydrated and his electrolytes were off balance. They were in the middle of treating him when he…checked himself out.”

Roy looked mystified, rubbing at his face. “Why the hell would he leave the hospital when he was so ill?” But a second later he knew why. He’d said something about Brackett wanting to commit him to the psych ward.

Crawford looked at Roy knowingly. “Apparently to find you.”

Roy stared in astonishment. He chewed on this information for a long moment before asking, “What happens next?”

“He’ll stay in the hospital until he’s well enough to leave. Then he’ll be debriefed and sent home.”

Thank God. A huge relief washed over Roy. Perhaps that meant… “And what about me?”

Rex put his hand on Roy’s shoulder. “If there’s anything you want to pack, do it. We’ll be arriving back at port tomorrow to let you off. You’ll be escorted to our naval base there where you’ll be debriefed. Then you can go home. You should be home in time for Christmas.”

Hearing the words ‘home’ were almost too much for Roy. The paralyzing weight of his capture suddenly ceased to exist and his throat closed up in emotion. For so long he’d dreamed of going home, now he was finally going to get his wish.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Johnny floated down a river of sedatives, never quite sure what was real or unreal. The familiar feel and sounds of a helicopter made him think he was on a rescue somewhere, only he didn’t seem to be participating. Instead, he was prone, immobile, while the thumping whir of a motor and the murmurs of faraway voices vibrated around him.

He swallowed with difficulty; his mouth dry. A deep ache infused his body, mostly at the joints, and his head felt swollen. It was pounding furiously. His feeble whimpers of discomfort were drowned out in the din.

A long span of what seemed like whiteness followed, and then he was laying in some sort of a large metal chamber. He could see buttons and dials, and even a telephone. A person he didn’t know sat near by with a clipboard. This seemed vaguely familiar too, but his drugged mind couldn’t make any sense of it.

He felt like a specimen in a strange laboratory experiment, an organism in a giant test tube. It didn’t trouble him though. Here, he was relaxed, warm, and if he hadn’t been so sleepy he might have enjoyed the almost giddy feeling, like he felt after having several drinks.

An indeterminable time later, he awoke, groggy. He had to blink several times to clear his vision, and even then, it wavered.

The room he was in was unfamiliar and cold. Stiff white sheets were under his body; two layers of ribbed white cotton blankets covered him. A glass bottle dripping medication of some sort hung above him, its clear plastic tubing snaking down to his arm, where tape held an embedded needle in place. An IV, he noted detachedly.

The walls were green. A cool color for calm. A hospital color.

Johnny looked around, the effort paining his head tremendously. Even moving his eyes hurt.

Where am I? was his first thought. Then, a pinch of logic broke the surface and he reasoned he was in a hospital. Somewhere. Not Rampart.

Memory trickled back to him. The dive. The ship. The chase. Then falling. Seeing Roy. Roy! Where is Roy?!

The sudden jerk of his head toward the doorway sent a bolt of lightning through his head. No one heard his soft cry. He lay a moment, recovering.

It was unnaturally quiet, and Johnny strained to hear. A soft, but high-pitched ringing in his ears muffled sound. Faintly, voices could be heard. He wasn’t alone.

Gingerly, he groped around for a call button and to his relief, he found one clipped to the sheet of his bed. Trying not to move his head, he grasped it and pushed.

Not long afterward, a nurse entered his room. She didn’t look like Rampart’s nurses, her uniform was different, but she had a kind smile just the same. Her nametag read, ‘Terry’.

Terry made her way to his side, and picked up his wrist to get a pulse. As she looked at her watch, she asked, “What do you need, hon?”

Thank God someone had come quickly. “Where’s Roy? I need to see Roy.”

“Who is Roy? Is he a family member?”

“Roy DeSoto. He’s a friend. You must have seen him. He was on the ship.”

Terry just shook her head. “I don’t know anything about a Roy DeSoto.”

Johnny began to get agitated. “Look. You’ve got to ask someone. He’s been missing for months. I saw him on the ship…I talked to him! He’s alive; everyone thought he was dead but he’s not – ”

“Mr. Gage, you’ve got to calm down. Now c’mon, lay back and relax – ”

“I don’t want to relax! Now please, you’ve got to find him!”

“Look, Mr. Gage, there’s no one here waiting to see you. Believe me, I would know about it if there was.”

“He must still be on the ship!” Johnny said despairingly. “Please, can you please ask someone about him? I need to know if he’s still there! It’s extremely important!”

Terry regarded him doubtfully, knowing the combination of the sedatives and his concussion were doing his talking for him. Perhaps it would be best to go get the doctor. “All right. I’ll take care of it for you, but you need to calm down, all right?” She patted his shoulder.

“Yes, all right. But please hurry.”

Ten minutes later a young doctor came into the room followed by the nurse. Before he would answer any questions, he checked Johnny over thoroughly, further frustrating the bedridden man.

When he finally did talk to Johnny about Roy, he had no answers for him. Johnny went over all the details of Roy’s disappearance, the months he was missing, and everything he remembered about the ship, but the doctor only looked at him skeptically. He knew nothing about Roy, knew nothing about the ship for that matter. He assured Johnny that the only one he had even talked to was the doctor who had tended to Johnny on the helicopter, and he was gone.

Johnny was despaired. He’d finally found Roy, and now he’d lost him. It occurred to him that he didn’t even know where he was or what had happened to himself. Maybe if he started with the basics he’d get somewhere. “Where am I?”

“You’re in the hospital.” Terry said, glad that he was asking more sensible questions.

No shit. Exasperated, he asked, “What hospital?”

“Camp Pendleton Base Hospital.” The doctor stood by and listened while Terry answered.

“Pendleton.” Johnny repeated in a puzzled tone.

“It’s a military hospital.”

He nodded. That made sense. Pendleton was a little south of LA. “You said I came here by helicopter?” he asked breathily. Just talking seemed to siphon energy from his body.

“Yes.”

“But I was on a ship. A US Navy ship.”

She looked warily at him, glancing at the doctor.

“Yes. You were on a Navy ship,” the doctor answered. He’d been told Johnny had been picked out of the water while in distress during a dive. Once aboard, he’d become confused and made a run for it, falling and hitting his head.

Okay; now we’re getting somewhere. “So what happened to me? Why did they take me off the ship?”

The doctor leaned in a little closer to Johnny, resting his hand against the bed near his shoulder. He kept his voice calm in an attempt to keep his patient calm. “You fell and hit your head. You have a grade II concussion. You were also suffering from decompression illness. Your blood work is also a little off. Now, you need to remain quiet, and rest, so you can get better. Do you need anything for pain?”

Decompression illness? Then he remembered. The dive! I forgot to do my safety stops! I remember now! That’s probably why I fell! Oh, Christ, how stupid could I have been? I was there! I was right there with Roy and I messed up! I finally found him and I fucked it up!

His patient was staring into space with a look of alarm on his face. “Mr. Gage? Are you all right?”

Johnny’s eyes darted wildly to the doctor. “You have to help me!”

“I’ll do whatever I can,” the doctor said.

“The ship I was on…I found my missing friend on that ship.”

The doctor’s shoulders sagged a bit. His missing friend again. “This…Roy De…”

“DeSoto. Yes.” Johnny was practically panting now, not only because he was agitated, but because of the effort to talk through the pain of his headache was very difficult. “You’ve got to contact his family in LA, and the police, and tell them where he is. They must be keeping him there against his will for some reason – ”

“Mr. Gage…”

“No! I’m serious. Please! Look, I can tell you the name of the ship. It was ‘The Mirage’…the ‘USS Mirage’. It had an American flag painted next to the name. I saw the name when I climbed aboard. I couldn’t see it at first; that’s why I forgot to take my safety stops when I came up from my dive, because it just sort of appeared out of nowhere; I didn’t know what it was and it scared the shit out of me. I know it sounds crazy, but Roy was there; I saw him! He’s been missing for four months!”

The doctor and the nurse exchanged glances again. The doctor smiled kindly down at Johnny. Even if he’d known about the name of the Navy ship and its assignment, he wouldn’t have been able to mention it to Johnny. But he didn’t. Only the military elite was privy to its mission. “John, there is no US Navy ship by that name, and I’ve been on every ship on the western coast of the United States.”

“But…”

“Besides, the US Navy wouldn’t name a ship ‘The Mirage’. Ships are named after presidents and states, or sometimes famous battles or other distinguished Americans. I assure you there is no “Mirage”. Perhaps it’s something you saw in a movie you’re remembering.”

Devastated at this news, Johnny gaped at the doctor.

The doctor squeezed Johnny’s shoulder, and coaxed him to lay back. “John, both a concussion and decompression sickness can cause confusion and memory loss, perhaps even a hallucination. What you’re saying doesn’t add up. The Navy doesn’t take missing civilians as prisoners. And there’s no ship called, ‘The Mirage’.

“Now, what I want you to do is to just relax and quit thinking about all this. In a day or two your memory will likely become clearer and everything will make sense to you, okay?”

The nurse adjusted Johnny’s blanket, pulling it up further, and fluffed his pillow.

Johnny didn’t trust himself to speak, his vacant gaze settling unfocused on the corner of the room. He barely paid attention as the doctor took a syringe and injected it into his IV port.

With a soft pat on his shoulder, the doctor and nurse slipped out of the room, knowing their patient would soon be sleeping.

Horrified, Johnny’s muddled mind tried to ignore facts that he knew must be true. My God. Brackett was right. I’m losing my marbles! I must have imagined it all.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Chet Kelly sat slumped in his recliner staring dazedly at the morning newspaper. He’d gotten no sleep at the station. After his shift ended, he’d come home but not gone to bed like he should have, knowing he’d never be able to sleep.

The news about Johnny had left their entire crew shattered. Despite the fact that they had no body yet, so Gage’s death couldn’t be confirmed, the mood at the station was nevertheless funeral like. 

Captain Stanley was beside himself, doubting his own judgment, inconsolably wondering aloud how he could have lost two men in under six months. What had he done wrong? What could he have done differently, he asked his men? Why hadn’t he acted more swiftly when he saw all the signs that Gage was struggling? Maybe if he’d gotten Johnny help sooner he wouldn’t have left the hospital. Maybe if they’d have helped him more in his search for Roy, or even just paid more attention this wouldn’t have happened.

He damned himself for not taking Johnny more seriously. Hank revealed to the other men how Gage had told him about being followed, not just by the police, but by some other unknown source, confessing how, at the time, he sensed that Johnny was in danger but that John wouldn’t admit it so as not to worry him about jeopardizing the safety of the rest of the men. “Who knows,” Cap wondered aloud, “maybe Johnny was even murdered!”

Chet’s eyes widened at that memory. Johnny…murdered? Crumpling up the paper, he tossed it aside and leaned forward in his chair. No way; that’s more like something that would happen in the movies. But why the heck didn’t Don say anything to me about Johnny being followed – by his department or anyone else? Hm, probably because he was sore at me for taking John’s side and not his. I guess that blow-up argument we had about it at Thanksgiving didn’t help any.

Jeez, what if the Cap is right? What if Johnny was right all along? What if there really was something weird going on with Roy’s disappearance? Poor Cap is gonna blame himself if they don’t find Johnny…

Last night they’d tried to tell Hank it wasn’t his fault, but he’d only clammed up and retreated to his office, closing the door. Chet had almost considered calling the Chief himself and asking that their station be stood down after seeing his captain so distraught. Only the station tones had prevented it.

Professionalism that had long ago embedded itself into his work ethic dominated over emotion, and Hank had handled the fire as skillfully as ever. The two-hour distraction had been a blessing, although when it was over the entire crew fell back into a solemn quiet for the rest of the evening, and Hank had once again retreated to his office alone.

The ringing of the telephone jarred Chet from his thoughts and he jumped up to answer it, swearing as he almost tripped on the footrest of his recliner.

Dread swept through his stomach as the solemn voice of his captain told him that the Coast Guard had recovered some ‘evidence’.

“What do you mean, Cap? Did they find Johnny or not?”

“Chet, they ah…found some more things that they believe to be Johnny’s. They want someone to come down and identify it. I thought since, aside from Roy, you seemed to be Gage’s closest friend, that maybe ah, you’d like to come with me.”

“Yeah, absolutely, Cap. You want me to come pick you up?”

All too aware of the unreliability of Chet’s vehicles, Hank declined. “No. Just stay put. I’ll be over there in fifteen minutes.”

They rode to the Coast Guard headquarters in silence, each man alone with his thoughts. When they arrived, they were greeted by Captain Michael Pierce, who gently directed them over to a desk where several items lay. Another man stood nearby, watching. Pierce introduced him as Divemaster Rich Strong, who had been the one to recover the items.

Both Hank’s and Chet’s stomachs did simultaneous flips as they saw what the items were: a diving mask, air tank and regulator, and one diving fin. There was also a pocketknife with the blade partially extended.

The two firemen glanced up at each other, their sickened expressions mirroring each other.

“Rich recovered these items early this morning. All were within twenty meters of each other. The knife, especially, since it’s a more personal item, is of the most interest, but we’d appreciate it if you could try to identify any of these as Gage’s.”

Chet swallowed, recognizing the knife immediately. He picked it up carefully, flipping it over, even though he knew he’d see Johnny’s initials embossed on the side. He’d seen Johnny use the knife many times on rescues. He closed his eyes, the dread he’d felt earlier refreshing itself anew in the pit of his stomach.

Hank knew it too, but he asked anyway. “Chet?”

Chet looked up, his gaze sweeping over all of them. “It’s Johnny’s. I’ve seen him use it a hundred times. Roy gave it to him for Christmas a few years ago. It’s the knife he used on his snakebite when…” the closing up of his throat choked off the rest of the sentence. Chet laid the knife down and turned his back on the men a moment.

Michael and Rich exchanged grim glances.

“What about the rest of the items?” Captain Pierce asked.

Hank looked over the other items. They looked like they could be Gage’s, but he wasn’t certain. He placed his hand on Chet’s shoulder and squeezed once. “Chet, do you know?”

Kelly turned around slowly, forcing himself to examine the other items. He shook his head in sorrow. “They look like Johnny’s. I mean, the first time we went out diving after Roy…these look like what he wore. Yeah, his facemask was an Ocean Quest; I remember that. But I’m not positive that these are his.”

Chet picked up the facemask, turning it over in his hands. His eyes squinted as he scrutinized the buckle on the back. “There’s a hair stuck in here.”

The others moved near for a closer inspection.

Chet freed the hair from the rubber strap and held it up. It was dark, almost black, and about the length that John’s hair would have been. He and Hank stared at each other in misery.

Captain Pierce took the hair and the mask from Chet and set the mask down on the table. He placed the hair in a small white envelope. “We’ll have forensics examine everything. They should be able to tell how long the items were in the water. But you’re sure the knife is Gage’s?”

“Yeah. I’m sure,” Chet said. Suddenly he felt drained, his knees weak.

Hank ran his hand through his hair and stared out the window, the impact of what they’d just seen hitting him like a slug to the gut.

Gage was dead.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Detective Fahey pushed his Monte Carlo to the max, breaking the speed limit as he rocketed toward Coast Guard Headquarters. After weeks of unsuccessfully trying to determine whom it was that was following Gage and why, and running into dead ends everywhere else he turned, finally something had happened. Either Gage had gotten in too far over his head, or he had just brilliantly executed the next part in his plan to keep DeSoto, and now himself, from being discovered. He had possibly staged his own death.

Angry, he banged his fist on the steering wheel as he thought over the turn of events. His men had fucked up again! Had the Coast Guard not called police and passed along to him what had happened, he wouldn’t have had a clue. True, because of lack of funds, they hadn’t been ordered to follow Gage at work, yet still, this was a total embarrassment.

They’d known that Station 51 had been sent up to fight the Balcom Canyon fire. It would have been impossible to follow Gage into that anyway. What they hadn’t known was that Gage had been sent back to LA ill and hospitalized, else Fahey would have put a man at Rampart. Somehow early that next morning Gage had left the hospital, stolen a boat, and gone out to sea. Had Gage sneaked out early on purpose in order to evade them? Surely the doctors hadn’t released him at five o’clock in the morning. And what was the rush to get out so early unless Gage was trying to give them the slip? Had Gage’s illness been a ploy?

Right now there were dozens of questions Don wanted answered. As soon as he talked with the Coast Guard, he planned to stop by the hospital and interrogate the doctors there. He’d already called and had an appointment at noon with Doctor Brackett. He’d met him months earlier when he’d first started investigating DeSoto’s disappearance.

He would also stop and talk to the fortune teller, Matilda. They’d followed Gage there a few days ago but didn’t have it bugged. Maybe she could lend some insight.

Cursing at the red light ahead, Don turned on his siren and ran through it. His blood boiled as he thought about how this case had been botched over and over again.

The cards had been stacked against him from the beginning by two things: the ineptitude of the men assigned, and a lack of funds and manpower. How the hell could he do his job when he didn’t have enough resources, and when the resources he had sucked?

In an effort to calm himself, he began reviewing the facts from the beginning, trying to put things in order.

He gripped the steering wheel, recanting the events in his mind. Okay, from the beginning.

Gage and DeSoto are partners and best friends. DeSoto disappears on a late night water rescue. He falls off a boat into the sea with his life jacket on. The next day no one can find a trace of him. But they find his life vest and jacket. There’s no sign of damage to either item, no struggle, nothing. If he’d been eaten by sharks we would have seen some tearing and blood on the clothing items. This looked suspicious, as if the items were planted to make it look like he was dead.

After the search for his body is terminated, his wife calls the insurance company trying to collect on his life insurance policy. Then we find out that they have a sick child that needs an operation that the health insurance company won’t pay for. Seems awfully convenient for DeSoto to suddenly disappear at this time. The case now becomes a criminal fraud investigation and we get called in.

Meanwhile, we’ve got Gage, his partner, who, come to find out, involuntarily admits that he doesn’t believe his friend is dead. He later changes that to say that he’s just trying to find out what happened to him. He puts on a show to continually go out looking for him. This continues for the next three months, even long after common sense dictates that DeSoto is dead. Gage goes out on his own, never taking anyone with him on his ‘searches’. We’ve had trouble following him on his dives; I wouldn’t be surprised if somehow Gage was meeting with DeSoto under the water.

Gage also becomes quite chummy with DeSoto’s missus during this time.

Gage finds a boot belonging to DeSoto seventy miles north of where he was lost. Did he really find the boot there, or did he plant it to throw us off? But that doesn’t make sense because Chet was the one that called me about it; he wasn’t sure Gage was going to report finding it. So we don’t know what kind of game is going on here. Maybe DeSoto isn’t telling him where he is and planted the boot to throw everyone off the trail.

Mrs. DeSoto tries again to get the insurance company to cough up the policy money, and they decline. So they have a funeral as if to prove that her husband really is dead.

Weeks later we find out that Gage had sold his herd of horses, which likely brought a pretty penny. We can find no traces of this money. I suspect he’s somehow funneling cash to DeSoto, only we can’t find a paper trail, and we still can’t find DeSoto.

Then I find out about the extramarital affair Gage had. This leads me to suspect he’s got something going with DeSoto’s wife. Maybe neither one of them knows where DeSoto is; maybe Gage tried to kill him to begin with and was unsuccessful, so now he’s desperately looking for him to finish him off. That way he and the missus can split the insurance money. Or maybe DeSoto is blackmailing him, threatening exposure of his affair if Gage doesn’t help him in his cover up.

Then Gage disappears for a few days. Here’s where my guys really fucked up. First they let Gage spot them, and then they lose him. That was a major, major mistake! We suspect he heads back to his home state, but he grew up on some Indian reservation and God knows where that was. We got no way to find him or know what he was doing.

What’s really weird is the discovery of some other source following Gage. Who knows how long they’ve been tailing him or why; whoever they are, they’re good and my guys didn’t pick up on it until now. Or maybe my guys are just inept; yeah Fahey, what was your first clue, dumbass?

I don’t believe how many mistakes have been made. It would have helped exponentially if we’d been able to bug Gage’s house from the beginning. By the time they gave me clearance I’d already missed out on too much information. And if those idiotic excuses for detectives hadn’t led Gage onto them, he never would have hired that PI and he wouldn’t have found the bugs! He got rid of them before we had a chance to find out anything! Gage has been one-upping us every step of the way, sometimes without even appearing to realize it.

It would have helped if they’d have given me more than three guys to put on this case. ‘Too expensive’, they said. ‘The Department doesn’t have the money to put more than three guys on a small case of fraud’.

Fahey gripped the steering wheel hard, his knuckles whitening. He was so angry! Okay Don, quit crying about the mistakes and refocus. He closed his eyes a moment, trying to remember where he was.

Now Gage is missing too. Before he disappears, he sells his house. No money trail on that either. I suspect he’s liquidated all his assets to support himself and his friend until everything blows over. Maybe he wants us to believe he’s dead so we’ll leave him alone. After all, what’s he got to lose anyway? He was about to lose his job anyway.

So now the Coast Guard says they’ve found some stuff that’s been identified as Gage’s. How convenient that they suddenly find his dive gear a day after he disappears. It’s so obvious it’s been planted to lead us to believe he’s dead. But what I can’t figure out is, where the hell could he have gone? The boat was found out on the ocean – empty.

If Gage did happen to turn up, which Fahey doubted, at the very least, the paramedic could be charged with theft, which they could hold him in jail for. This would buy more time to figure out what was going on.

Despite all the errors, Fahey hoped this latest turn of events might be the break in the case he’d been looking for. He hoped he would get there quickly enough to gather any evidence.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Shell-shocked, Hank Stanley and Chet Kelly sat in the front seat of Hank’s car. Kelly’s stare remained frozen on something out the window; Hank’s hung head nearly rested on his chest.

Until they’d seen the diving items found that belonged to Gage they’d at least had some small hope that maybe he was alive, but now…there was only one place Johnny could be – under the water somewhere. Unless someone in an aircraft or boat had spotted him and rescued him, which they would have heard about by now, he was surely dead.

Chet’s glance slowly swiveled toward his captain, his eyes vacant. “Cap, it’s not your fault.”

Hank’s head raised a few inches and slowly shook side to side. After a long silence, he said softly, “They were the best paramedic team in LA.”

Chet nodded.

“You know that.”

“Yeah, Cap. I know that.”

“I can’t believe they’re both…gone.”

Chet swallowed, a new wave of emotion building.

“And in the same damn way.” Hank nodded toward the water. “Out there…” His eyes narrowed as if in pain.

“Johnny told me once…he hated the water rescues…” Chet couldn’t finish, thinking about his friend’s fate. Brief images of Johnny drowning filled up his mind as he worked to shut them out.

“He had a tendency to get seasick, didn’t he?”

“Yeah.”

“And yet he kept going out there looking for Roy.”

“I know. He liked to sail though…”

Cap smiled sadly. “Yeah, if he had the right girl along. I’ll never forget that time you and Marco took his date out sailing when he and Roy were marooned.”

Chet attempted a half-hearted chuckle.

“You know…he died trying to find Roy. That’s the only reason he would have been out there.”

Chet chewed on his mustache. “I guess…Johnny finally found him.”

Cap stared forlornly at Chet. “There was no chance…but he wouldn’t give up. I admire him for it.” Cap looked back out over the water. “I wish I would have told him that…”

Chet thought about Roy and John’s friendship, the fact now occurring to him just how close those two had really been. It also occurred to him how close he and Johnny had been; they were much better friends than either of them had ever acknowledged. For some reason they always acted annoyed at one another, but they’d had a lot of good times together, a lot of double dates, bowling trips, poker games, guys’ nights out…

Johnny had once told Chet he really didn’t like him well enough to care about his feelings, but Chet knew better. It was just the way guys acted around each other sometimes. They weren’t like girls; they showed their affection by playing jokes on one another and by insulting each other, but always in a good-hearted way. Like brothers did…

Cap closed his eyes. “I can’t believe I lost two of my men.”

“There’s nothing you could have done to prevent it, Cap.”

“Maybe.” Hank rested his elbow on the arm of the door and sunk his head into his hand, rubbing at his forehead with a finger. “It was bad enough when it happened to Roy.” After a long pause, he straightened a bit. “I wonder how Joanne’s doing now. I haven’t talked to her about it in a long time. I should have called more often…”

“Mike says she’s still pretty down, but now that the baby’s better, that keeps her going.”

“Oh God. Now I’ve got to go tell her about Johnny.”

“Oh man. That’s going to be hard on her. Hard on those kids. Johnny was like family to them.”

“Yeah.” Cap sat, lost in thought. Yesterday when he’d called to ask her if she’d seen Johnny, she’d commented that she hadn’t spoken with him in a while, leaving him to believe that maybe the two had a falling out. There had been a lot of regret in her voice. He wondered how she would take John’s death. “It’s not going to be easy.”

“No. Cap, uh, we need to let the other guys know.”

Hank sighed deeply. “I know. And the folks at Rampart. John had a lot of friends there too.”

“Yeah. And Michaela…”

“Oh boy.”

“Cap, I’ll go with you.”

“Kelly, you don’t have to do that. It’s my job – ”

“Cap, John was one of my best friends…”

Hank regarded him sadly. “Okay. I’ll stop and call Rampart to see if Dr. Brackett and Michaela are available. We’ll stop by DeSoto’s on the way there.”

“Okay Cap.”

With a heavy sigh, Hank Stanley started his engine and pulled out of the parking lot.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

The strained annoyance on Captain Pierce’s face as Detective Fahey questioned him was barely controlled. It didn’t go unnoticed.

For some reason, the Coast Guard captain seemed to dislike him. Don figured it was probably because the Coast Guard and the Fire Department were so closely associated; Gage and DeSoto were practically part of their team. Like in the police department, these guys stuck together. Anyone who insinuated any wrongdoing by them was looked at as the enemy.

Much as he disagreed with them, Pierce was acutely aware of the charges against Roy Desoto, and the accusations of John Gage’s involvement. It had been his guys out there the night of DeSoto’s disappearance, and he knew every detail of the accident. He knew without a doubt that no one had been at fault, and that there was no way any of it could have been staged. Not with that weather.

Not only that, but he knew DeSoto and Gage. He knew of their reputation, and he knew them somewhat personally. If these two men were guilty of what Fahey was accusing them of, he would have been flabbergasted. He’d tried to convey that to Fahey early on in Roy’s investigation, yet the man seemed bent on finding a smoking gun. Now he was trying to make Gage’s disappearance sound like a staged act too.

Calling the police to notify them of a missing person was standard procedure, and a protocol Pierce was obligated to follow. He hadn’t imagined Detective Fahey would be the one sent out. 

“I wasn’t aware this was a criminal investigation,” Pierce had commented dryly.

“Gage has been under investigation since DeSoto’s disappearance. We have a stolen boat, Captain. Gage has been renting boats at the pier for months on a regular basis. Yesterday, he suddenly decides to show up before dawn, steal a boat, and cruise out to sea. Now maybe he ran out of money, or maybe he took the boat because the rental office wasn’t open. Or maybe he just didn’t want anyone to know where he was. Whatever the reason, something compelled him to go out there before sunrise, by himself. To me, that sounds like the act of a desperate man, don’t you think?”

“Detective, lots of men take their boats out before dawn. And the boat belonged to a friend of his, so whether he stole it or not is questionable.”

“And how many of them leave a hospital in the middle of the night when they’re supposedly ill, then go on a dive without a dive partner?”

Pierce merely stared at the man. It did sound weird. But he still didn’t think Gage was involved in anything fishy. He remembered the night of DeSoto’s disappearance, Gage’s devastated reaction to it, and of the next day when Gage insisted on accompanying them on their search. That hadn’t been an act. He crossed his arms, the wall erected between them now signifying the conversation was over.

“Captain Pierce, I didn’t come down here to argue with you. I’m just trying to get the facts.

“I don’t have any more information to give you, Detective.”

Fahey’s jaw rippled once and he decided he was finished. “I’ll be taking these items to forensics.” Opening the bag he’d brought, he slipped on gloves and put the items into it one by one.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Captain Stanley held Joanne DeSoto in his arms as she cried. Chet stood in the background trying not to cry himself.

He looked around the room, anywhere but at the heartbreaking scene in front of him. His eyes came to rest of a picture of Roy and Joanne together, their faces smiling, happy. It looked like a wedding picture. He tore his eyes away, only to have them come to rest on another photograph. It was one of Roy and Johnny together in front of the old engine they’d restored, one arm draped around each other’s shoulder. Gage wore a huge, proud grin; DeSoto’s softer smile spoke of his more reserved personality.

Joanne felt in shock, in disbelief over what had happened. Yesterday when Hank had asked her if she’d seen Johnny, she’d felt a twinge of concern, but never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that Johnny could be gone forever. Not in the same horrible way Roy had gone. Worse yet was that it appeared that Johnny had died while trying to find Roy.

Why had he gone out alone? And why had he left the hospital so early to do it? Why would Johnny go out into the water when he was ill to look for Roy? Why had he just never been able to accept that Roy was gone forever?

Hank had no answers. He knew why John had left Rampart early, but didn’t intend to divulge that to Joanne.

Chet had asked the same question on the way to the DeSoto’s house, and finally Cap had told him about Brackett’s plan to admit John to the Psych ward.

Chet was stunned. “Jeez, Cap. Johnny was a little nutty sometimes, but he wasn’t crazy. Not like that anyway.”

“I know, Chet.  Guess Dr. Brackett was just worried about what impact all this was having on John. That’s what he told me anyway.”

“Cap, Johnny’s been okay at work. Gil said he was. Why couldn’t Brackett see that?”

Hank shook his head. “I don’t know. But now we know all the crap John’s been going through for months. First Roy’s death, then being accused and followed, selling his house and herd, and his breakup with Michaela. That’s a lot of baggage to carry around and keep to yourself. Frankly I’m amazed he was able to function at all. Maybe Brackett was right.” He shook his head again.

Joanne’s sniffle brought Chet back to the present. She was now sitting quietly on the sofa, her red puffy eyes staring at the floor. Tears had dried to her face smearing her makeup.

Hank patted Joanne’s hands, which were folded into her lap. It was time to go. They’d been there nearly an hour. “Joanne, Chet and I have to head over to Rampart. We’ve got…some more people to talk to.”

Joanne looked up, her face filled with sorrow. “Michaela. Oh, that poor girl. Maybe I should come.” She looked at the both of them.

Until now, all she had thought about was how rotten and guilty she felt, and how she was going to have to tell Chris and Jennifer. They would be devastated. Despite the fact that she’d kicked Johnny out of their lives, he’d still been the closest thing to a father that they’d had since Roy’s loss. Losing Johnny would reopen all those gaping wounds that had only just started to heal. She’d forgotten that there were other people who would be equally devastated at John’s loss.

Hank’s voice was gentle. “Joanne, did you know that John and Michaela had broken up?”

Her eyes widened. “What? When?”

Guess Johnny didn’t tell her either. Hank told her what he knew about their breakup and about John’s move.

Joanne’s hand went to her mouth. This news made her feel even guiltier. How could she have shut Johnny out of their lives when he was going through all this? What would Roy have thought about how she treated him, and how was she going to live with herself now?

They talked a while longer, then Hank called Rampart to see if Dr. Brackett was available. He’d been lucky to catch the doctor in his office, and was told that Detective Fahey was to stop by at noon to talk to him.

Hank gave him the bad news about finding Johnny’s diving items. Dr. Brackett was obviously shaken, the halting tone of his voice giving away his emotions. He too had some guilt to deal with.

“Dr. Brackett, I’d like to stop by and talk with Dr. Marcantonio, if she’s available. I’m sure she’d…want to know.”

“I’ll make sure she’s available, Hank. I can tell her for you if you’d like.”

“No, no. I think I should be the one.”

“In that case, why don’t you join me for my meeting with Detective Fahey? I think you deserve to hear any news he might have about Johnny.”

“Yes. I’d like to be there. Chet Kelly and I will be stopping by. He’s ah, Fahey’s cousin, you know.”

“Yes. That’ll be fine. We’ll see you soon then.”

Hank hung up the telephone and glanced at Chet. He told him of the meeting with Fahey. “You sure you want to go?”

“Yeah Cap.” His voice was slightly irritated now. “I want to talk to Don. I’ve got some of my own questions I’d like to ask him. I haven’t talked to him since Thanksgiving.”

It was decided in the end that Joanne would accompany them. She had no desire to sit at home alone with her thoughts, and Hank thought it might help to have a woman there to be with Michaela when they told her. Neither of them knew of the bitterness the beautiful doctor held toward Joanne.

Joanne went to get the baby and her purse, and the three of them left for Rampart.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Michaela stared mournfully at herself in the restroom mirror, lifting her slender fingers in an attempt to wipe the dark circles out from under her eyes, hoping it was just smeared mascara. It wasn’t.

She hadn’t slept since she’d found out Johnny was missing. Her whole world felt like it was crashing. Dixie had tried to talk her into taking some days off, but she knew it would be worse if she didn’t have something to distract her from her anguish. So she’d kept working, praying that Johnny would be found, even though she knew in her heart it wouldn’t happen.

In a few minutes, she would be walking into Kel Brackett’s office for a meeting with Detective Fahey, a man she loathed. Apparently, he had some new information on Johnny, and Kel had asked her if she’d like to sit in on the meeting. Apparently Hank and Chet were to be there as well. She’d come into the bathroom to try to prepare herself for what she thought would be devastating news, proof that Johnny really wasn’t coming back.

Thankfully, no one was there to intrude upon her misery. The blue tiled wall blurred in the background as her eyes focused in front of her. A slow drip from a leaky faucet ticked like a clock.

Frozen from exhaustion, she seemed unable to tear herself away from her reflection, unappealing as it appeared. Her eyes narrowed as her gaze dropped to her neck. Fingers rose to reach for something that wasn’t there. Frantically, she tore at her lab coat and the neckline of the dress underneath, gasping in dismay at the bareness of her neck. The locket was gone!

A strangled cry erupted from her throat at the thought of having lost it, and what it had meant to her. It only seemed to reinforce the possibility that Johnny was gone forever from her life.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fahey knocked once, then entered the doctor’s office upon hearing Brackett’s “Come in.” His brows rose as he beheld a room full of solemn faces. He recognized everyone except for Dr. Morton.

A very tired and dispirited looking Dr. Marcantonio sat farthest away. Her hair was pulled back in a rather disheveled fashion, her white lab coat wrinkled and unbuttoned, as if she’d slept in it. Her eyes bore into his with a malevolent stare.

Next to her was Dixie McCall, then Joanne DeSoto, looking equally depressed. Captain Stanley occupied a chair opposite of the others. Don met Chet’s eyes for a moment before he looked uncomfortably away. Chet’s glare told him that all was not forgiven since their argument on Thanksgiving.

Rather than express dismay at seeing them all, Fahey decided to plunge ahead. Maybe having everyone together to question at once would be beneficial; he was going to have to talk to them all anyway; having them all here now would save him time.

Making himself comfortable on the edge of Brackett’s desk, he got started. “Most of you already know me; I’m Detective Don Fahey; I’ll be the one investigating John’s case. Is everyone aware of the items found by the Coast Guard belonging to Mr. Gage?”

Everyone nodded somberly. Once they’d all assembled in Dr. Brackett’s office, Hank had announced the devastating news of finding John’s knife and diving gear to Michaela and Dixie, the only two that didn’t know yet. Though she was devastated herself, Dixie did her best to hold back her own tears as she tried to comfort Michaela.

“Good. I have some questions I’d like to ask concerning his disappearance. Any of you, feel free to speak out. Any information you can supply will be appreciated.”

Hank Stanley uncrossed his leg and straightened. “We have some questions as well, Detective.”

“I’m sure you do. I’ll be more than happy to answer any I can, but if you’ll bear with me for a few moments, I’d like to go ahead.”

Hank nodded, and Don started, summarizing a step-by-step account of everything that had happened with Johnny for the last two days until his disappearance. Wanting every detail, he wore them all down with the questioning. Soon he had a room full of tired, agitated people.

His patience waning, Stanley finally interrupted. “Detective, I’d like to know why your department thought it necessary to follow Gage. John certainly wasn’t guilty of any wrongdoing in Roy’s death. On the contrary, he worked tirelessly trying to figure out what had happened to him. They were best friends for God’s sake.”

Fahey opened his mouth to answer, but Hank continued.

“And even more importantly, Johnny’s private detective, whom I assume you are aware of, told John someone else other than police were following him. John wouldn’t admit it, but I could tell he was worried. Why weren’t you investigating that instead of trying to pin guilt on John? Shouldn’t that have been much more important?

Joanne stared at Hank in shock. She had no idea that the police or anyone else had been following Johnny, nor that he had hired a private detective.

“We were, Captain. We still are. We haven’t been able to determine the other source that was following John yet. We think it may involve DeSoto’s disappearance, but haven’t been able to connect the two yet. As I brought up earlier, charges of fraud were made against Mr. DeSoto. We felt there was significant evidence that Mr. Gage could be aiding or abetting his friend in hiding. You see; we weren’t as convinced as you all are that he died.”

“You don’t actually think Roy is still alive, do you?” Hank glanced at Joanne, who had a pained look on her face. “Sorry, Joanne.”

She only nodded.

“We’ve never found indubitable evidence of his death.”

At that point, several of those in the room spoke out, challenging Don’s statement with facts about Roy’s disappearance, facts that clearly pointed out that he’d died.

Don argued back, reaffirming his reasons why Roy would have faked his death, and why John would have helped him.

“Don, that’s a bunch of crap and you know it,” Chet spouted.

Joanne was so angry she shook. “Roy never cheated anyone! He wasn’t that kind of man. Yes, it’s true our son needed surgery, but Roy wouldn’t have committed fraud to get money. Roy died in an accident, Detective Fahey, while trying to help others. That’s what he did. Johnny certainly wasn’t helping him hide, as you accuse. As Captain Stanley said, Johnny went out of his way to help find Roy.”

Don was worried that the conversation was getting out of control. Maybe it would have been better for him to interview one of them at a time. “Look, all of you, please try to calm down. I understand you’re upset, but you have to understand that we have to look at all the evidence, even if it points to unpleasant things.”

Chet jumped in. “Don, your ‘evidence’ is just speculation. You can’t actually believe the crap that crumb David Martin fed you.”

Fahey crossed his arms self confidently. “Okay, Chet. Then explain this. Gage had a herd of horses, very valuable horses. He recently sold them. He also sold his residence. None of that money ever saw his bank account. That leaves us with a couple of questions. First, why was Gage liquidating his assets? And second, where did the money go? Did he stuff it into his mattress? Not likely. Does he have a gambling problem? No. A drug problem? No. So what do you suppose happened to all that cash? There’s only one logical answer. Gage is helping someone, and we think that someone is, or was DeSoto.” Fahey glared at Chet knowingly. “I wouldn’t even rule out the possibility, however, that he was being blackmailed.”

Chet glared back at him, ready to punch his lights out if he mentioned that Amie girl in front of everyone.”

Fahey went on. “So now, suddenly, just when the heat gets turned up on Gage, he disappears too. Liquidates all his assets and then dumps his diving equipment into the water to make it look like he’s dead. What are we supposed to believe, that they both disappeared into some sort of Bermuda Triangle? I’m sorry, but I don’t think so. From all the evidence I’ve been able to see, I think what’s most likely going on here is that the two of them are involved in some kind of a scam.”

Michaela couldn’t take any more. “That’s the biggest bunch of bullshit I’ve ever heard.” She uncrossed her legs abruptly.

Everyone stared at the Brazilian woman, who was now standing. The three-inch heels she wore added to her already impressive height made her look formidable.

She continued, her voice shaking with rage and indignation. “Detective, you have got to be the most pathetic cop in all of LA. The only mystery here is how you got put in charge of this case in the first place. If you were capable of conducting a real investigation instead of chasing your fantasies for the last four months, Johnny would probably still be here.”

“Insults aren’t going to solve this case, Miss Marcantonio.”

“Doctor.” She corrected angrily. She looked around at everyone, as if debating her next words. Then she took a deep breath, having decided. “Johnny wouldn’t approve of what I’m about to tell you. But since he’s gone…” Her voice broke slightly, and she set her jaw. “You are partially right, Detective. Yes, it’s true, Johnny sold his herd, and he sold our home. He even had me move away because he was afraid for my safety, because he wanted your men to stay the hell away from me, and he wanted me far away from him in case whoever else was following him was dangerous. And Captain Stanley was correct, Mr. Fahey.” It wasn’t an accident that she used ‘Mr.’ instead of ‘Detective’. “You should have been working to find out who else was following Johnny. But instead, you’re more interested in scapegoating two innocent men.

“Johnny sold everything he owned, including land he inherited from his parents in Montana. It was all he had left of them. But he wasn’t funneling that money to Roy DeSoto, as you fantasized. Not directly anyway. He was helping Roy, but not in the way you insinuate.”

She had Fahey’s attention now; he listened raptly, waiting for justification. Everyone else in the room sat on the edge of their seat waiting for her to continue.

“I can only tell you now because Johnny’s…gone. He didn’t want anyone to know, you, least of all, Joanne.” Michaela looked at Joanne wretchedly, bitterness edging her expression. “The money Johnny got from the sale of his assets was sent to Children’s Hospital anonymously, to pay for the surgeries Roy’s son needed to stay alive.”

Every mouth save Mike Morton’s gaped open.

Michaela turned to Fahey, pointing at him. “If you had done your job, you would have concluded what everyone else did including the Coast Guard – that Roy died by accident, and let Joanne collect the money from her insurance company that was rightfully hers. Then she could have paid for her son’s operations instead of Johnny. That little boy almost died because of you, Detective.

“Johnny felt he had no choice; he couldn’t think of any other way to get enough money to save that baby. And he would have done anything for Roy’s son.”  A tear rolled down Michaela’s cheek as she looked over at Joanne. “He gave up everything for Jimmy, Joanne. He wouldn’t have had to. And now he’s given up his life trying to find Roy. He wouldn’t have had to do that either, if you,” she glared at Fahey, “had done your job instead of conducting a three-ring circus.”

Fahey stared at her, obviously stunned but fighting not to show it.

“Oh, and for your information, Detective, Johnny didn’t leave the hospital before dawn the other day because he was hiding from you, or anyone else.” She glanced at Kel. “Dr. Brackett should be able to clear that up for you.”

Kel Brackett was caught off guard by her statement. His eyes were full of guilt and apologies as he watched her move toward the door.

She choked on her last words, barely able to get them out. “Johnny gave up everything. And he died with nothing, including the support and understanding of his friends and coworkers.” She grasped the doorknob firmly, yanked it open, and fled the room.

A pin could have been heard dropping for a good thirty seconds. Everyone was too stunned to speak. Dixie was the first to move. She arose wordlessly, an almost vindicated expression on her face, leaving to go after Michaela.

The baby in Joanne’s arms yawned, opened his eyes a moment, then closed them again. Joanne hugged him tightly against her, weeping softly as her tears fell on his blanket.

Hank and Chet stared at each other in incredulity, eyes wide with the shock of Michaela’s confession. 

Kel Brackett sat slumped at his desk, in shock, his gaze fixed on the wall. It wasn’t a posture he often displayed.

Mike Morton sat quietly, his eyes roaming over the faces of each of the people in the room.

Looking extremely uncomfortable, Fahey worked to gather himself and broke the silence. “I will, of course, have to substantiate all that.”

Just as Chet opened his mouth to give his cousin a piece of his mind, Dr. Morton spoke softly but firmly. His arms were crossed in front of him. “It’s all true, Detective.”

Fahey looked flustered. “What do you know about it, Doctor?”

Morton ignored his question. “John did pay for the surgeries.”

Brackett looked at him questioningly. So did everyone else.

Morton explained. “I have a good friend at Children’s. I suspected it when I found out that John had sold his house and his horses and that he was living in his car.”

“His car?!” Hank burst out in disbelief.

“Yes. After he moved, Gage camped out in his car. That’s why I invited him to move in with me.”

Hank’s hand pinched at his temples as he blew out a lungful of air, once again incredulous that he hadn’t known about any of this.

“He told you about paying for the surgeries?” Chet asked incredulously.

“No, no. He obviously didn’t want anyone to know. I checked it out on my own. The money came from an LLC in Montana called Winding River Grande.” Morton looked at Fahey meaningfully, shrugging one shoulder. “Gage is from Montana.”

Don chewed on the end of his pen. “That doesn’t necessarily mean he paid for it.”

“Check it out, Detective. I think you’ll find it to be the truth.”

Fahey’s jaw worked as he thought. He turned to Brackett. “Doctor, suppose you explain why Gage left the hospital in the middle of the night before he was discharged?”

Kel leaned forward angrily. “I’m sorry. I’m not at liberty to discuss my patient’s history.”

“I can subpoena the medical records, Doctor Brackett. It would be much faster if you saved me that trouble.”

Brackett’s eye twitched as he considered. There was a long pause. “There were some tests I wanted Johnny to undergo that would have required him to remain in the hospital. He got wind of that before we had a chance to tell him and left. Johnny…didn’t like being a patient much.”

“What tests?”

Brackett’s face hardened. He wasn’t going to do Johnny any more indignities. “I’m sorry, but that’s patient/doctor privilege. That information shouldn’t have any bearing on your investigation.”

“I’ll be the one that determines that, Doctor.”

“Sorry. Guess you’ll have to get your subpoena then.” Dr. Brackett answered coldly.

Fahey drew in a breath. Quickly closing the tablet of paper he’d been writing in, he slid off the edge of the desk. His mind worked to argue against everything that had been revealed, but he was stuck. What he needed was to get away from all these people’s accusing stares and think the situation through. This new information he’d been enlightened to today threw a big wrench in his theories about Gage and DeSoto. The money trail had been solved, and he was back to square one with no answers. Looking like a fool wasn’t a feeling he enjoyed. Suddenly, he was terribly tired.

Don glanced around the room. “If any of you have any more information to offer, you can call me.” He reached in his pocket and fished out a business card. He set it on the edge of Brackett’s desk. “I’ll be in touch.”

No one answered him. Hurriedly, he left.

He passed Dixie on her way back in. She hadn’t been very successful in comforting Michaela, so she’d decided to leave her alone. Silently, she sat down in a chair next to Kel’s desk.

With the exception of Joanne, who was sobbing quietly, everyone else looked around at each other, in shock.

“Unbelievable,” Kel murmured.

Hank nodded. “I never would have guessed in a million years that it was Gage who paid for those surgeries.”

Chet raised his chin. “Me neither. But we should have.” He looked around at everyone. “That’s how Johnny was, Cap. He was always doing stuff like that for other people. Remember when he took our barbecue money and bought a layette for that little baby he delivered?”

“Yeah. But that was all of our money, Chet.”

“What about when he broke the TV and he just gave us his own set to use?”

“You mean when you both broke the TV.”

“Whatever. I’m just saying he was a generous guy. And what about that guitar he gave me a few years ago?”

“Chet, you’re right, but giving you a guitar or the station a TV isn’t the same as selling everything you own to help someone else. I mean, how many people would do something like that?”

“No one that I know of,” Dixie said softly. “Guess that just goes to show you what the power of love can do. And decency.”

Joanne looked up at Dixie with watery, red eyes. “Oh God, those two did love each other.” Her voice hitched up and down as she talked through her tears. “It sounds silly to say that about two men, but,” she hiccupped, “they were closer than brothers. And Johnny…Johnny loved our kids like they were his own…” She broke down crying again. Jimmy must have sensed his mother’s mood because he began crying as well.

Dixie got up and went to her, handing her a tissue, then taking the baby and rocking him.

The baby quieted. Except for Joanne’s soft crying, the room was silent. Two full minutes passed without a word from anyone, all of them caught up in their own private thoughts.

Dixie glanced over at Mike Morton. His face wore a thoughtful expression; he seemed a million miles away. She wondered what he was thinking and feeling, especially since he and Johnny had seemed to forge an unlikely friendship in the past few weeks. “Mike?” she asked softly. “What are you thinking?”

Startled from his private thoughts, he met her eyes. After a long moment, he said, “Actually, I was thinking about a poem.”

That wasn’t an answer she was expecting. “A…poem?”

“Yes. A poem.”

Wondering for a moment if she should be more concerned about Mike’s state of mind than the poem, her curiosity got the better of her. “What poem is that, Mike?”

He looked around at all of them as if they should make the correlation. “The Thousandth Man.”

“The Thousandth Man,” she repeated slowly.

“Um hm.”

Kel looked at him carefully, recognition dawning at his reference.

Dixie nodded her head slowly. “Rudyard Kipling,” she said knowingly.

Hank and Chet exchanged glances. “Who?” Chet asked.

“Rudyard Kipling,” Mike repeated. “Ever read it?”

“It sounds familiar,” Hank admitted.

“Basic English Literature, required high school reading,” Mike told, then began to quote softly, ‘One man in a thousand, Solomon says, will stick more close than a brother...’”

Brackett finished the last two lines for him. “’…the Thousandth Man will stand by your side to the gallows-foot -- and after!’”

“I got a D in English,” Chet said. “But it does sound kind of familiar.”

“Go to the library and check it out sometime. It’s…Gage.”

“That it is, Mike,” Brackett agreed.

No one said anything for a long time. Everyone was thinking about the poem and Johnny and Roy.

Joanne’s crying seemed to be getting worse. Finally Hank put his arm around her and patted her shoulder. “It’s going to be all right,” he consoled.

“No. Not for me,” she said nasally.

“It will, Joanne. Eventually. Not today or tomorrow, but eventually. What happened was a terrible tragedy we’ll all have to learn to live with.”

“I’ll never be able to live with myself.” She swallowed, then took a tissue and blew her nose.

“What are you talking about Joanne? You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Oh but I have.” She looked into Hank’s eyes. “I kicked him out of my life.”

“Who?”

“Johnny. I…I couldn’t stand it any more that he kept insisting Roy was alive. When he suggested to the kids that maybe Roy would be back for Christmas…I…I blew up at him. I basically told him to leave and not come back.” Her face crumbled. “Why didn’t he tell me, Hank? Oh God, why didn’t Johnny tell me?”

Hank sighed and hugged her against him, patting her back. “I’m sure Johnny understood.” As he sat there comforting her, he couldn’t help but feel guilt for the way he himself had treated John. All the times he’d rebuked John for continuing his search for Roy, threatening to make him undergo psychological treatment, the write ups, and even the disciplinary suspension made him feel like a rat. I should have stood up for him instead, been his advocate. He probably felt like he had no one on his side. No friends to turn to…

Mike Morton looked upward in dismay, then stood. “I’ve…got to get back to work.” He got up, nodding to Brackett once before he left.

“Thanks, Mike,” Brackett murmured, not knowing what else to say.

Chet had had enough. He was feeling his own guilt. Somehow finding out about Johnny’s extreme generosity made his death so much more tragic. Worse, finding out that Joanne DeSoto had cut him out of her life almost felt like a personal asssault. He knew that must have killed Johnny. He turned to his captain. Suddenly, he wanted to get away. “Cap,” he said gently, “we’ve got to tell the other guys.” It was a good, and necessary excuse to leave.

Hank nodded. “And Headquarters. They’ll need to know.” Slowly, he disconnected himself from Joanne, coaxing her up. There was nothing he could do for her. All of them were going to be feeling crappy for a long time.

Having calmed the baby, Dixie handed him back to Joanne and watched the three very somber people leave the office.

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Fahey’s mind was a cyclone of thoughts. He couldn’t get the sick feeling out of his stomach that he had made a massive blunder of the whole investigation. Him. Not just his men. His mind reeled with the fact that he’d missed picking up on such a significant piece of information. Hell, a doctor at the hospital had been able to find out where Gage’s money had gone with one phone call!

Why hadn’t he put two and two together? It had never even occurred to him that Gage would have used his assets to pay for DeSoto’s kid’s surgeries. But what kind of nut would do something like that? No one, he told himself. Gage must have been utterly out of his mind. No one sells thousands of dollars worth of personal assets, leaves himself in the poorhouse, for someone else. Nuh uh. Doesn’t happen. Not in today’s world.

What a chump. Got duped by his so-called best friend.

The first thing Don did was to verify what Morton had said. It only took three phone calls to find out that Wolf, the name the LLC was under, was Gage’s mother’s maiden name. He knew then that it was true.

Next, he went to see the fortuneteller, Matilda. After threatening to subpoena her, she verified that John came seeking knowledge of Roy’s whereabouts, and that she told Johnny where to find him. Much to Fahey’s dismay, the puzzle pieces were finally beginning to fit together, just not in the way he’d intended.

Fahey didn’t have any qualms about insinuating that her information likely got John killed. After all, she’d sent him out into the middle of the ocean to search for someone that wasn’t there. Shaken, tearful, and questioning her own abilities, he left her that way.

After that he went back to his office to attempt to put it all together. As much as he tried to discount it, everything that the Fire Dept. and the Coast Guard said defied any mystery. Both men had likely died by drowning, their remains inside of several fish by now. It was finally getting through his head that there was no smoking gun.

How was he ever going to admit that? He would be a disgrace and a laughingstock. How was he going to salvage his career over this?

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Roy DeSoto glanced nervously at the speedometer. The driver in front of it didn’t seem concerned that he was going fifty-five in a forty. Guess government types don’t have to worry, he mused.

Trying to relax, he leaned back as they passed two more cars. He was going home. And that was all that mattered.

It took nearly a day and a half to finish the debriefing after he’d finally disembarked the ship. The pleasure of being out in open air and feeling the sun on his face did miracles for his disposition. Just being on dry land was an indulgence; he still felt like he was slowly bobbing up and down. If he never saw water again, he wouldn’t be disappointed.

The sun had just set; the sky’s pastel palette of colors was fading fast. They were about ten minutes from his home. As they drew nearer, Roy became more and more anxious. For so long he’d ached to go home so badly, nearly to the point of risking jumping overboard to escape. But now he felt uneasy. How would Joanne and the kids react after thinking he’d been dead for all this time? They’d had a funeral for him, for God’s sake. It scared him to imagine his wife’s and children’s reactions. It even occurred to him that she might be angry. He’d been gone for so long and hadn’t bothered to let her know he was okay. But it was Christmas Eve, and all he could hope for was that his homecoming would be everything he’d imagined it would be. It would be the most joyous Christmas ever.

They were a block away; then they turned the corner. Roy could see his house now. Just the sight of it made his stomach flip. He felt elated and frightened at the same time. The sweat under his arms saturated his shirt. His hands were clammy.

Now they were pulling into the driveway. He stared at the house, its familiarity calming him. Everything looked the same, then he noticed the colorful Christmas lights on all the shrubbery and lining the roof. How did… He knew the answer almost immediately. Johnny. He smiled to himself.

His hand slid into his pocket to make sure he still had the card he’d been given. On it was a name, Admiral Harrison Fischer.

‘If you have any problems, questions, or need anything, call me.’ The man had then shaken Roy’s hand and wished him luck. No apologies. Few explanations. All he left with was what they told him he could or couldn’t say during the debriefing. Now he was on his own.

The driver put the dark blue government sedan in park and offered his hand. “Good luck, DeSoto,” he said with a small smile.

Roy said thanks and got out of the car. He was glad it was almost dark so his neighbors wouldn’t see him. The lights were on, and as he walked toward the front door, he strained to catch a glimpse of anyone who might be inside.

Force of habit caused him to search in his pocket. Even if he’d had a key, he wouldn’t have entered, for fear of scaring his family. It felt weird to be pushing the doorbell on his own house. But he did.

Ten seconds passed. Then fifteen. The door opened slowly, as if in caution.

Joanne stood there, her eyes narrowing for just a second as she attempted to focus on the person who was on her front porch. The green bulb in the front porch light cast an alien hue over his face. She’d just started to say, “Can I help y – ” when it registered. Her hands flew to her mouth. Her eyes widened as if she’d just seen a ghost; of course, she thought she had.

Joanne let out a little scream and took a step backward in disbelief, almost tripping over her own feet. There on her front porch step was her husband. Her dead husband. For a moment, her head reeled, and she considered that she’d gone mad, that all the stress and exhaustion had finally taken its toll on her. Even as her heart beat roared into a staccato, her mind quickly worked to convince herself that it was another man on the porch who just looked an awful lot like Roy.

Then he offered a hesitant smile, exposing his teeth. There was no other smile in the world like that.

A huge lump grew in Roy’s throat, almost preventing him from speaking. Unbidden moisture came to his eyes. “Hi Honey. I…I’m home.”

The voice told her she wasn’t imagining it. It was unmistakable. Still, how could it be possible? “R – Roy?” It came out in a frightened breath.

“Yeah. It’s me.” He held his arms out tentatively.

Joanne screamed again. “Oh my God! OH MY GOD! ROY!” Joanne began to tremble, her hands went to the sides of her head in absolute astonishment.

“Can…can I come in?” he asked with a smile.

She stepped aside dumbly, allowing him entrance, then turned to him, still stunned. She tried to talk, but her words just came out as babble.

Roy suddenly reached for her, pulling her into his arms and tightly against his chest.

That’s when she knew it was real. He felt thinner but his height was the same, and so was everything else, even his scent. She pulled back slightly, framing his face with her hands. She couldn’t stop touching him as her fingers ran over his features and combed through his hair.

Roy did the same, drinking her in, finally planting his lips atop hers for a long kiss.

That was when he heard Christopher screaming. “Daddy! Daddy! Jen, Daddy’s home!”

Roy’s face lit up at the sight of his two children running toward him and he crouched down, ready to scoop them up. They barreled into his arms, one on each side, and he lifted them off the ground, burying his face in them, holding them in a firm embrace.

Roy loved his children fiercely, but had never been overly demonstrative with physical affection. Now his kisses smothered them. Their laughter mixed with tears as their shouts of excitement filled up the room. Roy couldn’t get enough of them. Reaching up for Joanne’s hand, he pulled her down to their level, and the four of them fell to the carpet in a heap.

Joanne was still in shock. Her heart swelled with a greater joy than she had ever known, yet her mind demanded an explanation. What could ever explain the purpose of what she and her family had gone through in the last four months? Her voice trembled with joy, frustration, and exasperation when she blurted out, “Where the hell have you been?!” so frazzled that she didn’t even realized she’d cursed.

The question sounded so absurd that they both burst out laughing, yet tears filled their eyes.

Roy leaned forward and hugged her again, kissing her face several times before pulling back. His tired blue eyes conveyed sadness and apology, yet behind that Joanne saw the pained traces of the ordeal he’d been through.

“It’s a long story. I’ll tell you everything in a minute. I just want to…” Once again, he reached out to them all, and they reached back, holding on like they’d never let go again.

Finally, Roy looked toward the upstairs, then at Joanne. “Jimmy. I want to see Jimmy.”

That reminded Joanne of what Roy must have gone through worrying about his son all this time. He seemed to know that Jimmy had survived, but how? Slowly, she stood up, not letting go of his hand. She couldn’t wait to tell Roy of all that had happened. “He’s napping. I’ll…I’ll get him.”

“No wait. I’ll go up with you.” Roy didn’t want to take his eyes off her for even a moment.

Looking relieved, she walked toward the stairs, and the four of them went together to the baby’s room. Roy picked up Jennifer and carried her while holding onto his son, Chris’s, hand.

The subtle scent of baby powder and lavender brought instant familiarity. Above the crib, a Winnie the Pooh musical mobile hung, slightly swaying, a single note escaping as they neared. A Peter Rabbit nightlight lit the room, casting soft shadows across the floor. His heart swelling with anticipation, Roy peered down into the crib, amazed. “He’s so much bigger!” he whispered.

Joanne nodded happily at the way her son was recovering. Still small for his age, he looked a hundred times better than he had a few months ago. His color was pink and healthy, his appetite had improved tenfold, and he’d finally learned to smile. In a couple more months, he might be crawling.

Roy marveled at his son, the awe he felt swallowing him up the same as it had the very first moment he’d laid eyes on him. He reached down to touch him, and Jimmy drowsily wrapped his tiny hand around Roy’s finger, blinking sleeplily. “Hi, Tiger,” Roy said softly.

Jimmy blinked again and looked up at his father.

“Can I hold him?” Roy asked hesitantly.

 

Joanne felt her heart lurch at the fact that her husband actually felt like he’d had to ask. “Of course you can. He’s your son.” When Roy made no move to pick him up, Joanne did it for him, tucking the blanket around him before placing him in Roy’s arms.

Roy gazed down at the baby as he yawned, then stuck his tongue out a few times. “He looks fantastic.”

Joanne looked up into his face. “Oh Roy, I have so much to tell you.”

“Let’s go downstairs and we’ll talk.”

“Okay.” The five of them descended the stairs.

When they reached the living room, Chris ran to the Christmas tree, plugging in the lights. They hadn’t bothered to light it before. Most evenings it had remained dark, matching their moods. Now it added a happy glow to the room.

Roy carefully eased down onto the sofa with the baby. Joanne sat next to him, Jennifer crawling into her lap to be close to her daddy. Chris joined them on Roy’s other side.

Joanne regarded him, noticing how thin and tired he looked. He’d obviously been through a great deal. As much as she wanted to hear his story, she took the time to think about his needs. “Roy, can I get you anything?”

He smiled widely at her, his happiness overwhelming. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

She smiled back. “I mean, are you thirsty? Do you want a drink of water or something?”

He thought about this a second. “You know…I think…I’d like a beer. I haven’t had one in…”

“Three months, twenty-four days, and…” she looked at her watch, “about eighteen hours.”

He nodded somberly. His heart caught at the revelation that he hadn’t been the only one counting the days.

She hugged him and got up, practically bouncing to the kitchen. There were still two bottles of beer stuck in the back of the refrigerator from before he’d left. Popping off the top, she brought it to him, the lightness in her step showing her absolute joy.

Roy took a long pull on the bottle, savoring its taste. He wasn’t a big drinker, but still, that occasional weekend beer had been only one small freedom taken from him that he wanted to recapture.

Chris smiled happily, elated at having his father back. He’d often lamented over the last several months who was going to show him all the things a boy his age needed to know. Every time he’d been around any of his friends’ dads, an empty pang cut in him, cruelly reminding him of his loss. “This is the best Christmas ever!” he stated.

“It sure is!” Roy agreed.

Jennifer piped up. “Mommy! Uncle Johnny was right! He said Daddy might come home for Christmas, and he did!”

The smile slid off Joanne’s face. How was she ever going to tell Roy that Johnny had died?

Roy smiled at his daughter in surprise. “Did Uncle Johnny say that?”

“He did!” Her face fell then.

 He toussled her hair. “I always said Uncle Johnny was a pretty smart guy.”

“Oh, Daddy…” Tears came to Jennifer’s eyes.

He looked at her in concern. “What’s wrong, sweetheart?”

Joanne looked despairingly from Chris to Jennifer, shaking her head slightly in warning. She didn’t want to tell Roy about Johnny just yet. She wanted to let him hold on to this happiness for just a big longer before she devastated him by telling him about the loss of his best friend.

She’d only told the children yesterday about Johnny. It had been awful. Jennifer had been inconsolable, crying herself to sleep late into the night. Chris had cried as well, but had reacted by racing to his room and slamming his door. Joanne hadn’t been able to coax him out all evening. This morning the two of them had arisen, their faces slackened with desolation, and puffy from tears, the weight of what they’d been made to bear too much. They’d spent much of the day staring into space, almost in shock, both refusing to eat.

 Joanne deeply feared how they would handle this latest unfairness, her own guilt at what she’d stolen from her kids making her feel wretched.

Joanne couldn’t stop Jennifer. Her face contorted as she cried, “Oh, Daddy, Uncle Johnny’s dead.”

Roy’s mouth opened in surprise. “Dead?”

“He was looking for you,” Chris said, his voice cracking. “And he drowned.”

Roy smiled sadly, disheartened at what his children had endured. First him, and now Johnny. God, I hadn’t even thought about that! Johnny’s been gone for what, three days? Everyone must think he died!

Joanne was astonished that Roy didn’t look more upset, that he was actually smiling!

Roy reached out with an arm and hugged Jennifer. “Honey, don’t cry, he’s – ”

“He was a hero, Dad,” Chris sniffled, his lower lip trembling. “He wouldn’t give up looking for you.”

“Sshh. Sshh. Listen kids.” He looked from one to the other, glancing up at Joanne, whose eyes were also filled with tears. “What would you say if I told you that Uncle Johnny’s not dead?”

All three of them looked at him in confusion, the slightest inkling of hope blooming in their eyes.

Joanne regarded him warily. Was he going to be like Johnny now? Was he going to deny John’s death as John had denied his? How would Roy know John was alive? The Coast Guard had found his belongings…”

“What do you mean, Daddy?” Jennifer asked.

“What if I told you that Uncle Johnny was the one who found me, and that he’s not dead!”

Joanne’s eyes widened. “He…found you? But…where is he? They found his knife and diving equipment at the bottom of the ocean – ”

Roy sighed. He had a lotttttt of ‘splainin’ to do. He took another long pull of his beer and set it down, ready to tell his very long story. “Johnny’s not dead. He’s in a hospital right now, recovering. He’s gonna be fine.” I hope. “As a matter of fact, if it hadn’t been for Johnny, I probably wouldn’t be sitting here right now.”

Joanne gasped at this information. Could it be true? Could Johnny really be alive? It would be a miracle if it were so. But Roy’s being here WAS a miracle. “Roy. Tell us.”

Roy took a deep breath and began.

And so he told. He started at the beginning, with the rescue. A lot of that was hazy, and he relayed of waking up in strange surroundings; he wasn’t sure where. He later found out he was aboard a US Navy ship, that they had been nearby when the accident happened, and had scooped him out of the water after the helicopter left. 

He was sick for a long time, at least a month. He had a concussion, and had swallowed and breathed in a lot of water. He was hypothermic. If he had stayed in the water a few minutes longer, he would have died, but he didn’t tell his family this.

Fortunately, his other injuries weren’t life threatening. They were able to do x-rays on board the ship and determined that he had no skull fracture, and that there was no bleeding. They watched for pneumonia, and stabilized him.

“So why didn’t they take you home?” Joanne wanted to know.

That was where the explanation got a bit cloudy. He could only repeat the sketchy details he’d been told, that the crew of the ship was on a special training mission, and that there were strict orders that there was to be no communication with anyone. That included everyone on board. That included him.

Joanne argued, not understanding how they could keep him so long without notifying his family. She wanted to know what type of mission they were on that wouldn’t allow any communication.

“I don’t know,” Roy answered somberly. “They wouldn’t tell me anything. They didn’t want me to know. Maybe it’s better that I didn’t know.” He looked at her meaningfully. He told of how they’d kept him down below most of the time, rarely letting him up on deck.

“Oh, Roy.” Joanne felt sick for what he’d endured.

“I didn’t even know I was on a ship for the first several days. I wasn’t in any shape to care for a long time anyway.” He’d spent weeks in bed recovering, not feeling well enough to get up. He’d experienced severe headaches, dizziness, and nausea for a long time, because of the blow to the head. He’d also caught a nasty cold, making him even more miserable.

“That’s why you’re so skinny,” she observed sadly, her hand patting his abdomen.

“Yeah. And even after I got better, I didn’t feel a whole lot like eating.” By the time he’d been well enough to be up and around, nearly six weeks had gone by. He didn’t mention the severe depression and anger he’d gone through, not wanting to frighten the kids. But Joanne knew; she could see it haunting his eyes as he recanted the story.

He had no answers to many of their questions. There was no explanation as to why the Coast Guard never saw the ship, either the night of the accident, nor the days to follow. Roy reasoned that they left to get out of the storm, and probably traveled far out to sea to continue their mission, well out of the search area. He had no idea where they were or what they were doing.

“I didn’t know anything. You can’t imagine; I didn’t know how you were or what they told you.” He looked into her eyes, which were glistening, and saw the same pain there that he’d felt. He knew then that she had gone through the same hell that he had. He swallowed. “I didn’t know if anyone was even looking for me.”

“We were,” Joanne said softly. Johnny was, after we abandoned you.

“Worst of all, I didn’t know how Jimmy was. I begged them to find out; I told them how ill he was, but…nothing. I wondered…if he’d died.”

Joanne’s head dropped, her hand reaching up to rub her brow. She looked back up at him, her eyes squinted in pain. “Oh Roy, they were so cruel to you! How could you stand it?”

His gaze looked distant. “I don’t know. They weren’t exactly cruel to me, I mean, they did save my life. They gave me what I needed to survive, medical care, food, a bed to sleep in, books to read. But that was all. I was totally cut off from everything else.”

He told them about Geno, his roommate, who was a good guy, and the closest thing to a friend he’d had. Geno kept him occupied with card games, and hopeful with promises, most of them empty.

“And then finally, Johnny showed up.”

That got their attention. The kids’ eyes were wide with fascination. “Uncle Johnny came on the ship?!” Chris asked.

Roy smiled. “Yeah. I was just sittin’ there in my quarters one morning and I looked up, and there was Johnny, standing in the doorway, staring at me.” He gestured enthusiastically with his hands.

“You’re kidding!” Joanne was incredulous.

“Nope. I thought at first I was dreaming, you know? I mean, it was pretty incredible to see him standing there. He kinda looked at me the same way…I don’t know if he recognized me, see, I had grown a beard and mustache while I was on the ship, my hair was longer, and I was a lot skinnier.”

A beard?! Joanne tried to imagine what he might have looked like. She’d never seen him not shave. 

“The next thing I knew, he was running, and some of the crew were chasing him.”

“How on earth did he get on board?”

Roy smiled wider. “Now that’s another story in itself.” Roy had been clueless about any details until Geno filled him in. Roy’s family listened in rapt attention as he told of Johnny’s daring climb onto the ship. “Apparently, he was out on a boat, then swam underwater to get to the ship, because he had his dive suit on.”

“That was Uncle Chet’s brother’s boat!” Chris supplied. “Uncle Johnny stole it!”

“What?” Roy looked at Joanne, rather shocked.

“I’ll…tell you about it later. You finish your story first.”

“Yeah! What happened then, Daddy?”

“Well, a bunch of guys on the ship started chasing Uncle Johnny. They thought he was an intruder, see? Johnny tried to get away from ‘em, but he started running funny, sort of drunkenly.”

“Uncle Johnny was drunk?” Chris asked incredulously.

“No, Chris, he wasn’t. I’ll explain that in a minute. So, they finally caught up to him, and Johnny kept running, so…the one guy tackled him. And on the way down, he, ah, hit his head on a pipe.”

Joanne clasped her hand onto Roy’s wrist. “Oh, no. Was he hurt?”

Roy looked at his two kids, deciding how much to sugar coat. He would tell Joanne the more unpleasant details later. “Well, he got a pretty good bump. And the reason he was running funny was that he was sick from diving.”

“How can you get sick from diving, Daddy?”

“Well, Chris, when you go scuba diving, you have to take short breaks on your way back up to give your body time to adjust to the difference in pressure. If you don’t, you end up with nitrogen in your bloodstream, and it makes you sick. That’s what happened to Johnny. I guess he forgot to make his safety stops.”

“I’m surprised Johnny would make a mistake like that,” Joanne pondered.

“I am too, honey. I don’t know how it happened; I didn’t get the chance to talk to him much after it happened.”

“Did you talk to him?”

“Yeah; just long enough for him to tell me that you all were all right, including Jimmy.” Roy looked down at the baby and smiled softly.

Joanne looked at Roy rather timidly. “How did Johnny react to seeing you?”

Roy smiled, remembering John’s expression. “He was surprised. Happy. Said I looked like Captain Nemo.”

They all laughed.

“Who’s Captain Nemo, Daddy?” Jennifer asked.

“We’ll tell you later, Jennifer,” Joanne stated.

As the evening wore on, they decided they were hungry, especially Roy. It was the first time he’d had a real appetite in a long time.

Joanne had prepared nothing for dinner, so the kids suggested they make their favorite meal: macaroni and cheese and hot dogs. Joanne didn’t think it was good enough for Roy’s homecoming, but Roy thought it sounded wonderful. So that’s what they had. Nothing had ever tasted so good to Roy. It wouldn’t have mattered if she’d fixed him a bowl of cereal or a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Anything coming from this kitchen would taste wonderful.

Joanne let the kids stay up a little later to spend time with their father, but by eleven o’clock they were all exhausted. Joanne had much more to tell her husband, but preferred to do it after the kids were in bed. So, for the first time since September, Roy put them to bed, including Jimmy.

Now it was time for Joanne to tell her story. Like Roy, she started with his disappearance, what happened that night, how Johnny went out with the Coast Guard to search the next morning, but then how they refused to let him go out again. Her face darkened with the memory of the news of first finding Roy’s coat, then his life jacket.

Roy looked puzzled. “I don’t remember losing either of the jackets, but I was pretty out of it.”

Joanne’s stomach still flipped when she thought of her husband out there floating in the rough sea during that storm. “By the time Johnny came back from that first search, we had little hope that you’d survived,” she said sadly. She told him how the Coast Guard, the Fire Department, and the Harbor Patrol kept looking. “They had helicopters too,” she offered. “Eventually…they called off the search; they changed it to…body retrieval.” She had to look away.

Roy reached out and held her a moment, imagining how awful it must have been. After a minute, he leaned back, still holding her hand. His voice turned flat. “So…then they quit looking for me.”

Her eyes lifted to meet his. “Everyone except Johnny,” she almost whispered. “He…he rented boats…on almost all his days off, to look for you. He searched the islands, went diving…he never gave up. On the days he didn’t go out, he was helping me, and the kids…” Once again, the guilt welled up in her. At least now she would get the chance to apologize to Johnny.

Roy was deeply touched. The picture of the two of them in front of the old engine caught his eye. “Johnny’s an amazing friend. I owe him a lot.”

“Yes,” she agreed. “Much more than you know right now.” She saw his curious expression and held up her hand. “There’s so much to tell.” She stopped, her eyes narrowing slightly as she worked to recall the events in the right order.

“After weeks went by…Jimmy got worse. The doctor said the only hope was the operation. But I didn’t have the money.” She then told him about remembering about the life insurance policy he had, and that gave her hope, until David Martin began questioning her motives and the dominoes began to fall. “They found out that Johnny didn’t think you were dead.”

Roy’s eyes opened wide. “Johnny thought I’d survived? Why?”

She threw her hands up. “I don’t know, Roy. He said he just ‘had a feeling’. He couldn’t explain it. He seemed so certain!” There was pain and apology in her eyes as she sought his. “But all the evidence said you couldn’t have possibly be alive.” She looked down at her hands.

Roy could only try to imagine what that must have been like for his family. He’d often thought about it during his captivity. Softly, he said, “Johnny told me…you had a funeral.”

She looked up at him in remorse. “Yes. I think it was about two months after you went missing. I felt I had to. The kids needed to say good-bye. I needed to. It was just so hard…you’d been gone for so long. It seemed like there was no hope,” her voice cracked.

“I understand,” he said sadly.

As morbid as it was, he couldn’t help but imagine what the funeral had been like. Did they have a casket even though there was no body? Did someone stand up and speak about me? Was there a somber parade of fire trucks on the way? A…tombstone somewhere?

Joanne crashed his thoughts. “Johnny refused to come.”

He blinked. “What?”

“I was so angry at him, but he wouldn’t come to the funeral. He said he wasn’t going to mourn someone who wasn’t dead.” She looked at him earnestly, somehow trying to justify the awful way she’d treated him, knowing it didn’t. “It killed the kids, Roy. They didn’t understand why he wasn’t there. Everyone was angry at him.”

Roy was torn; should he be grateful that Johnny refused to give up on him, or angry that Gage wasn’t there to support his family when they needed him most? It was hard to imagine that Johnny wouldn’t have come, but on the other hand, it was so like him given his stubbornness.

“Roy, there’s something else you need to know. Something you’re going to have to straighten out after everyone knows you’re back.”

Roy braced himself for bad news. He couldn’t imagine what it would be, but could tell from her tone he wasn’t going to like it.

“All during this time, the police began to suspect that you had faked your death so that I could collect the life insurance money to pay for Jimmy’s surgery.”

Roy was flabbergasted. “What?! Faked my death?”

She nodded. “They said it was too coincidental that you disappeared right when your son needed life saving surgery that insurance wouldn’t pay for,” launching into how David Martin went to the police and an investigation began. “I waited and waited; they never came up with evidence to prove their theory, but American Mutual still refused to pay until the LA Police had definitive proof that you had truly died accidentally.”

Roy wiped at his face. He wanted to jump into his car right now and drive down to the police station in person and tear into them. Then he remembered what Johnny had said. “But Johnny told me that Jimmy had the operation – two of them. Isn’t that what happened?”

“Not at first. Johnny and the guys at the station organized garage sales at Rampart to raise money. They raised a lot, but not enough to pay for everything. Then, a miracle happened. Children’s Hospital called me one morning and told me that someone had made an anonymous donation in Jimmy’s name to pay for the surgery.”

Roy’s jaw went slack.

“It happened twice, actually. About a month after the first surgery, Jimmy needed another operation on the other chamber of his heart. Just when I was about to give up hope, another donation came in.”

Roy was shaking his head in absolute astonishment. “Who? Who would have donated the money? Was it a charity group or something? Your church?”

She shook her head. “I didn’t know at first. No one did.” She stopped, pressing her lips together. “I only found out who it was a couple of days ago.”

“Who?” Roy demanded to know.

Joanne swallowed, tears already blinding her vision. “Johnny.”

Roy thought he’d heard her incorrectly. “Wha…Johnny?!” Roy stared at her, dumbfounded. “But…how? Johnny doesn’t have that kind of money.”

Joanne began to cry. Her throat was so tight with emotion she couldn’t speak.

Roy wrapped his arm around her in comfort, his mind still spinning in total disbelief. “Honey…tell me what happened.” Some part of him began to sense an unpleasantness, something untoward. How would Johnny have come by that much money? Dread tickled his stomach. What if Johnny had stolen money to save Jimmy? Could he have been that desperate? No! Not Johnny. I don’t believe he’d be capable. Oh God, please don’t let it be that.

His wife’s voice cut into his thoughts.

“He…he sold his herd of horses first… Then…then later, he sold his…his house, and apparently he had some land he owned up in Montana. He sold that too. I guess…I guess after he sold the house, he was living in his car…”

The clock on the mantle ticked quietly as Joanne’s throat closed up and couldn’t speak.

Roy sat frozen, totally overwhelmed. His eyes were wide and his heart was pounding. It was too much. He stared at her in shock. When he finally tore his gaze away from her, he let it roam around the room, attempting to absorb the enormity of what Johnny had done for him.

“I…I don’t believe it,” he finally whispered. Gage, the guy that didn’t have a quarter to tip the valet driver when we went to that party at that movie star’s home. Gage, who takes his dates out to dinner and spends eight dollars and forty-two cents. Gage, the guy who wanted to make a profit when he sold me this house back. Gage, the guy who sold everything he owned…to save my son’s life.

The two of them looked at each other, the incredulity of their expressions matching like bookends.

Roy’s fingers raked through his hair. “How could he…it’s too much. It’s just…too much…” Roy didn’t know how to complete that thought. He turned abruptly, facing her. “Are you sure, Joanne? You said you just found out a couple of days ago.”

With that, Joanne replayed the progression of events after Johnny had sneaked from the hospital then turned up missing, the meeting at Rampart with everyone, Michaela’s outburst and how she came to reveal John’s secret, their breakup, and then Mike Morton’s affirmation.

“Why?” Roy breathed. “Why did Johnny want to keep it a secret?” And how the hell did he manage to keep it a secret?

“I don’t know.” She looked away guiltily, not wanting to tell Roy that she and Johnny had been at odds during his absence. She knew it was likely why Johnny wanted to remain anonymous – because he knew she never would have accepted the money from him. She lifted her gaze again. “A lot of people…thought Johnny was a little…off…because he kept insisting you were alive, kept looking.” She frowned miserably. “Maybe he thought he’d be criticized for going to such lengths.”

Roy looked away, reminded of all the times he himself had thought his partner was a bit of a nut. And impetuous. And dogged to the point of being annoying. But that determination, that tenacity, was what had saved his life and the life of his son. All those qualities were what made Johnny the most loyal friend he’d ever had.

  Joanne wiped her eyes with the back of her fingers. “Roy, there’s more.”

“More?” He was already blown away.

She nodded. Finishing her tale, she told how Johnny had hired a private eye to help him since the police weren’t doing their job. Then she unloaded the news about Johnny being followed by the police, and followed by someone else; they never found out whom.

As the wheels in his mind churned, Roy had a pretty good idea who they might be.

“They were out to get him, Roy. They thought he was helping to hide you. Apparently they knew about the sale of his assets. They thought he was funneling money to you. David Martin, the insurance agent, even insinuated,” her lip curled in anger, “that Johnny and I had something going on, and that Johnny might have had something to do with your disappearance.”

Roy rose and walked to the window, his jaw clenched in anger. A lone car slowly crawled by, turning the corner, its soft headlights falling across the wall of their living room.

Roy wondered what it must have been like to know you were being followed and not know who it was. Johnny must have been terrified. Yet ‘terrified’ wasn’t an adjective that he’d ever thought about using to describe Johnny.

The urge to talk to Johnny suddenly felt overpowering. But right now Johnny was in a military hospital over an hour away, and he’d only just returned home. He needed and wanted to stay with his family. He wouldn’t be able to see Johnny this time of night anyway.

As if in response to his thoughts, the mantle clock chimed twelve. It was midnight.

Christmas day.

He turned to look at Joanne, her face aglow by the Christmas tree. He thought of his three children tucked in their beds upstairs. He was happier than he thought he’d ever been in his life.

Part 10