Chapter 48

word count 1302

The entire block was a war zone with debris spilled over into yards and onto roofs, the KABOOM having smashed windshields, frightened dogs, and awakened the neighbors. And the police cars and fire trucks zoomed in from all parts, then lined up all along this block and onto the next. It had to have been the most incredible night the neighborhood had ever seen. Those weary people emerged from their homes and stood along the sidewalk or in their yards, tip-toeing over bits and pieces of debris, rubber-necking to catch a view of the scene inside the yellow crime scene tape.

Hank and Gil emerged from the Crown Victoria, their jaws dropping at the sight of charred rubble and wafts of smoke filling the air.

"My Gawd! It's a good thing they were all out of the house!" Hank coughed as a wisp of smoke made it down his throat.

"Yeah, boss! How are we going to tell them their house is gone! And the poor kid! Doesn't he have a enough problems without losing his house and home?"

"Oh Gawd, yeah," Hank replied remembering the little boy and how sad he was when he left him with Lisa. He knew Adam was spending the night with a friend tonight. He wished now the boy was back with Lisa so she could keep an eye on him, hold him close. It just didn't seem fair for a little tyke to have to go through so much.He could only hope things would turn out all right. His eyes canvassed the area. Spotting the fire marshal, he took off in long strides to talk to him.

"Any idea what caused all this?" He flashed his badge, although it wasn't necessary. The two already knew each other from working the field.

"Hank! Well, buddy! There's no doubt this one is arson. Lab sample found fire accelerants in the basement."

"Arson?" Hank was shocked. Who in the world would want to burn up Buzz's house? It was interesting it happened when no one was home or was that just lucky coincidence?

"Hank!" Gil called from afar. Gloves on both hands, he held up a remnant of metal before placing it in an evidence bag. Hank high-tailed over.

"What do you have there?"

"Part of a license plate! And you know what, it has a police insignia on it...see?"

Hank studied the charred metal. Sure enough, part of a star in a circle showed on the corner of the remnant. "Yeah, but it's probably the boss's car."

"I dunno. I found this piece way out here on the driveway. And there is every reason to believe Buzz's and Jeannie's cars would have both been be in the double garage. I've been gathering up pieces. I hope we can determine the model, and the license plate number from what is here." He ran a finger along the plastic bag to show scorched etchings on the metal.

"Good job, Gil! I really want to catch who did this, for the boss, and for Jeannie." Hank said the name, Jeannie, in a softer tone, a warm sound he barely whispered. Gil shot him a puzzled glance, but quickly got back to work.

***
Adam and Elliot sat huddled on Elliot's bed, their heads bent over something that captivated both boys' attention.

"Where'd you get it?" Adam asked. It was dangerous, he thought. But the way things had been going, dangerous sounded okay to him. He felt disconnected from all he knew, and the sharp-bladed knife Elliot showed him not only took his mind off his problems, but offered an exotic thrill. Just watching the light glint off its shiny metal sent his imagination soaring. "Why don't we play like we're knights or something?" he asked.

"Nah, wait! I want to show you something first." Elliot took the knife and placed it on the skin of his inner arm. He bit his lip in determination, caught his breath, then pressed. The sharp metal slid along boyish, pink skin, cutting through to release a line of vibrant red rushing up, next to run in rivulets down his arm. His eyes gleamed with excitement and his face flushed. "Look how cool the blood is, oozing out." He grabbed some paper towels that were laying on the dresser and blotted the cut.

"What the heck are you doing?" little Adam asked.

"I cut myself. You wanna try it?" He held out the knife for the other boy.

"It looks like it hurts." That must be what caused those scars on his arms, Adam thought.

"Only a little. I do it when I feel upset. It makes me feel better."

"How in the heck can cutting yourself make you feel better?" Adam's eyes remained riveted on the knife.

"I dunno. It just does. It's my skin, and I can cut it whenever I want. And it hurts, but it's a good hurt, ya know. It's like a rush."

"But if you push the knife in too much, wouldn't that hurt you bad?"

"Yeah, I guess. But why the heck would I do that?" Elliot looked at Adam like the boy was crazy.

But Adam had his own ideas. If he had a knife, maybe he could finally kill his dad. He could get a knife and stick it in him and cut him really deep so he would die. "Where can I get one of those?" he asked.

"I got this from our kitchen. But you don't have to use a knife. Anything sharp is good.  My mom is so drunk all the time, she didn't even miss it."

"I'm gonna get a knife," Adam said. "A big one."

***

Buzz heard noises, clanging sounds, pumping and whooshing, beeps, and the low drone of people talking somewhere. His eyes felt too heavy to make the eye lids go up, but he could see light, bright light, peeking under the lids. He startled when he realized how his stomach felt, bloated and empty, all at the same time. He could feel the same old pain in his knees, and trying to turn his head proved his neck was still troublesome.  And worse, it felt like a tube was either up nose or in his mouth. A long line of expletives escaped his mouth, so the tube must have been up his nose. The joy of cussing sent his eyes flipping wide open. Oh my Gawd, he was in a hospital bed again! What the hell happened?

Then he remembered the stomach pain, the ambulance, or rather fighting with the guys from the ambulance. He'd felt so sick he just had to yell at someone. Then they must have given him something to sedate him, because the rest was a blur.

He wondered where he was, what part of the hospital? With all the tubes and monitors, shit, it must be ICU. This was no patient room, although he did have a roommate. He took a chance and tried to turn his head to see the other bed. His neck lit on fire with pain, but he was determined to see. He had to know what kind of person he was sharing space with.

Holy shit! It's a woman! Are they going coed in the hospitals these days, he thought. He strained to look further. Then he recognized her. His roomie was Jeannie!

She looked so frail, a rag doll in the bed, her face pasty and pale, and her hair knotted and matted and spread out on the pillow behind her head. And she was so still. An even more diverse collection of tubes and monitors than Buzz had surrounded her. My Gawd! Why is she here? What happened to her? His heart lurched as he spied her frailty, her gentle beauty, his Jeannie.