Cases
of the Shot Heard Around the World, aka
By DocPaul
Series: Michael Guerin, The World’s Greatest
Alien Investigator
Episode: Eight
Author’s email: DocPaul2002@yahoo.ca
Rating: PG
Spoilers: none,
Disclaimers: The concepts and names are the same, but
the characters belong to me. I give them life, more life than
Warnings: This is not canon, so if you expect it,
don’t. Things change. People change. It happens.
Summary: A
Michael POV documenting his investigating technique as the World's Greatest
Alien Investigator and a greater insight into what makes him unique.
Author’s note:
This is a fluff piece for me. Thought you could use a relief from angst…or
prolonged angst. The idea of this story is taken in part from the movie Zero
Effect with all parts after the first part completely mine. The Michael Guerin
of this story is a montage of Daryl Zero and Michael Guerin of
The
Case of the Shot Heard Around the World, aka
Michael Guerin:
The World's
Greatest Alien Investigator
I
already mentioned in a previous chapter the pitfalls of being notorious.
Notoriety is at times cloying and basically—the pits. A problem of being well
known for a certain talent, say—investigating, is that people assume a lot at
times.
My
current case is not a case that came to me from outside, but rather, it is a
case that involves me personally. I am my own client.
Needless
to say, this case has severely challenged my good humor (though my trusty
assistant claims I have none), and I was on the verge of doing something I
hadn’t done in a long time—something I thought I would never do again. I
almost killed a man.
With
that said, I should say this. When you are ‘known’ or a public figure of
sorts, people think they know you. Maybe it is about something they read, or
they think that somehow by nature of your manner or job, that you have given
clues about yourself—clues that can easily be read. Or maybe their assumptions
are based on rumor, or even misconception—but however it comes about, the
truth is, no one really knows you unless they are a real acquaintance. All else
is mere conjecture.
Often
I am accused of doing things I never did, thinking things I didn't think. There
are so many rumors about me, some true, some false, and some are a mixed up
version of half-truths. So thusly, this next case was a hodgepodge of
assumptions, making the truth hard to discern since it was founded on a
non-truth.
It is
difficult to investigate a crime when a motive is lacking. So in the case of the
shot heard around the world, or at the very least, my world—
Michael
moved deeper into the bedding, his brow creasing in sleep, as Maria’s hand
moved on his stomach in comfort. She always seemed to ‘feel’ his unease as
he slept. Through the years, he never asked if she shared his dreams or visions
that he at times had during sleep, but always, her hand was there to smooth away
the shadows even though she rarely woke.
It is hard to say, for one such as Michael, whether
he lived on a rough edge of awareness due to his alien nature, or perhaps to his
highly honed detecting skills, but either or, they served him well in the most
portent of times.
Michael laid there in the dark of their bedroom
pulling Maria even closer to his side. What woke him, he knew not. Listening to
the silence of the house, discounting the normal creaking and noises, a frown
pulled at him as he tried to clear the stupor of sleep from his brain.
It was a ratcheting noise that made him act on
instinct.
Rolling, he pulled Maria with him off the bed, as
they tumbled to the floor, his body cushioning, but soon rolling to cover hers.
The unexpected action caused Maria to startle awake, and with a cry of surprise
that was barely uttered, it soon changed to a scream of distress as a gunshot
rang through their bedroom.
The breaking window coincided, and the room exploded
in a burst of sound and lights as the pelts of gunfire riddled across their
room, lodging into the walls and tearing into their now empty bed.
Michael grunted at a sting on his back, hit high on
his shoulder, but he remained covering his wife, until as fast as the world
exploded, it was followed by a hushing silence that was as soundless as a void.
They laid there on the floor in the dark, both of
them breathing in heavy pants, neither moving as shock and disbelief moved in.
It was the sound of sirens in the night that finally broke the stillness, and
Michael lifted a bit to stare into the darkened green eyes of Maria.
“Michael?”
He did not answer as his hands moved over her in
agitation, quickly checking her out, one hand immediately covering the small
swell of her stomach. He could feel his son, and Maria’s heartbeat strong,
beating in tandem. Giving a relieved sigh, he rolled off her and to his feet
reaching for a light.
“What happened?” Maria asked the obvious as they
both stared at the room riddled with gunshots. Michael shook his head, unable to
speak. He couldn’t say what kept him silent, but the best name he had for it
was rage. The power in his body was barely contained, and if released, he
wasn’t sure of the damage he could do.
Slowly circling the room, he tried to clear his
mind, and remember the events leading up to the moment he grabbed Maria and
rolled off the bed. He stood with his back to Maria, staring at their torn bed,
his eyes not moving from her pillow that was now ripped open and bleeding
feathers.
Maria was staring at his back, the strong lines of
his body tense and aloof, but she didn’t see that exactly. All she saw was a
rivulet of blood moving down his bare back from his shoulder.
“Oh God! You’ve been shot!” Maria DeLuca-Guerin
did something she never did before, and something she would never admit to. She
fainted.
Michael, hearing her cry, turned quickly and watched
as she crumbled at his feet before he could catch her. Sweeping her off the
floor, he never felt the pain in his shoulder as he took her from the room to
find someplace else to lay her. His only response was, “oh crud.”
***
“Michael, you need to go to the hospital or call
Max.”
Michael sat on the sofa edge, holding one of
Maria’s hands. He glanced back at Jim, and shook his head. “No, I need to be
here.” Michael glanced up at the ceiling. He could hear the crime scene
investigators going over their bedroom.
“Michael,” said Jim again, staring at the blood
on the young man’s back.
“I can’t call Max. He’s—out of town.”
Michael didn’t offer any more information than that.
“I’ll call Liz, and she can stay with Maria
until I can get you patched up.”
“Liz is with Max.”
“Michael.” Maria’s eyes fluttered opened, and
she gained Michael’s complete attention as Jim’s suggestions met deaf ears.
Maria’s hand went to touch Michael’s face, his eyes too stormy, and she
could feel the anger just barely contained. “You’re hurt.”
Michael took her hand off his face and placed a kiss
her palm. “I’m better now.”
“What happened? The bullets, and …”
“The police are going over the room right now, and
outside.” Michael already formed his own conclusions, but there was no time
for that right now. His eyes never left Maria. “I need to send you to your
mom.”
“Right, you and what alien army?”
“Maria …”
“Don’t tell me to be reasonable! You, with a
damn bullet in your shoulder, are bleeding all over my new carpet!” Maria
glanced at Jim. “Take him to the hospital,” she ordered.
Jim was uncertain. Michael had been treated before,
but something like a bullet removal he wasn’t sure. “Maybe if we call
Max—tell him he is needed here, and …”
“No.” Maria sat up with Michael’s help. “No,
that’s not possible. Him and Liz are in
“Will you calm down if I call someone to take care
of my shoulder?” Michael asked, frowning at her. He could see her heartbeat
along her neck, and it was pounding. This wasn’t helping. The doctor told them
that she needed to remain calm and stress free.
“Yes.”
Michael reached for the phone. It took him a few
moments to not only find the number, but to locate Adam. He talked to the man
for a few moments before standing and offering Maria his hand.
“C’mon. Adam is on duty tonight. He said he
would meet us at the side entrance to the Emergency Room.” Michael nodded to
Jim. “You want to come? If he sees you he might think my need to have a bullet
dug out isn’t so—strange.”
“You mean he might not think you’re doing
something illegal.”
“Yeah, that’s what I said.”
“What about the house?” Maria asked.
“I’ll talk to the investigating teams while
Michael grabs clothing for you both. They'll be a bit longer. They were still
digging out buckshot from the walls trying to pinpoint the location of the
shooter.”
Michael kissed Maria before going to get a shirt and
something for Maria to wear. His shoulder was starting to actually hurt a lot.
Before there had been a certain amount of adrenaline, but it was wearing off,
and now his pain receptors were screaming. Before he could hoof it upstairs, the
front door swung open, and a disheveled Sean scowled at Michael.
“What the hell is going on?!”
Michael called back into the other room. “Honey,
the house-sitter is here.”
***
“You live a very interesting life, Michael,”
said Adam as the buckshot hit the pan.
“I’ll need that.”
“I’ll give it to Deputy Valenti.”
“Nope. My shoulder—it’s mine.” Michael made
a face as Adam added an additional antibacterial wash to his open wound.
“They’ve got plenty from my bedroom walls.”
“This doesn’t seem to be a very stress-free
environment for Maria. Is she having any contractions?”
“None that she'll admit to.”
“Hmm.”
Michael knew Adam felt he owed him, but this still
felt like a favor and Adam already paid him back more than once. Since meeting
the young Dr. Persinsky, he had found a need to talk to the man not only for
advice, but references a few times. In his mind, he owed Adam more than Adam
owed him. It wasn’t long after he met the man that he committed a cardinal
sin, or a lifetime one. He told Adam who he was, what he was, and everything in
between.
Maria accepted his admission to Adam without
reproach or even a sarcastic remark about how Max had been held in contempt for
doing the same. Maria understood. They were expecting an alien baby, and no
matter how much they wanted to imagine the baby would be normal by human
standards, they couldn’t avoid the fact that it may not. Adam was a solution,
and once told, he proved to be a very interesting ally.
“I really appreciate this.”
“I can’t get how you avoided doctors in the
past.” Adam took a few more 4x4 sterile pads and continued to clean the wound.
“None whatsoever?”
“Maria does. I don’t.” Michael scratched his
brow, wincing at the pain in moving his arm. “I never get sick, and really
don’t care much for authority figures, social workers, or doctors.”
“Doctors in general?”
Michael shrugged. “Not much experience with them.
When I was six, I told you I was found deserted in the dessert, and I couldn’t
talk. They put me in the hospital for a while, and I didn’t like the probing.
Later, when I got into scrapes or hurt, it was easier to let it heal on its own
than take a chance that some doctor would report cigarette burns or bruises.”
Adam glanced at Michael sharply. “I’m sorry.”
Michael had failed to mention that part of his past history.
Michael shook his head, more at himself. Why the
hell was he admitting this crap? Maybe he needed to have someone—someone like
Adam that might someday be able to understand him, and his children—understand
why they were different. Maybe it wasn’t about being alien, but being abused.
He couldn’t say, but there was something special about Adam—a special
kindness that precluded judgment.
“Not your fault. My foster father, Hank, he
wasn’t what you call real parent material, but he was all I had, and I think
the fear of someplace worse kept me quiet.” Michael tried to glance over his
shoulder to see the wound. “All I remember about my childhood was pain, but in
truth, I was more afraid of not feeling anything—at least the pain made me
feel alive.”
Adam was quiet as he worked on Michael’s shoulder.
“I guess I can understand that.” Perhaps he understood a bit more. There was
a lot of gossip about Michael Guerin, and staring at the man’s back, Adam was
becoming to understand even more. Michael Guerin didn’t open his life up to
people, not easily, and it was hard not to be flattered that the silent man had
sought him out a few times for advice and a reference. “Since Valenti brought
you in, I don’t think I am breaking any rules by not informing the authorities
of a GSW.”
“Hard to be held accountable when all those damn
cops are climbing over my house right now.” Michael jumped down as Adam placed
the last tape over the bandage.
“It will be sore, draw a little, and then seep.
You need to fill this prescription for antibiotic cream, and keep it clean and
dry. I only closed with butterflies. It wasn’t too deep. You’re lucky it was
a ricochet, and not a direct hit. It kept it from being too deep and causing too
much damage. It should heal quickly.”
“Hurts like someone ran me through with a hot
poker.”
“Lucky for you, it wasn’t that bad. It didn’t
hurt anything but the muscle. It will pull a bit as the wound closes. I want to
recheck it in four days to make sure infection doesn’t set in.”
“I have to come here?”
Adam laughed. “No. I’ll come by if Maria can
talk her mom into making me a blueberry pie.”
“Done.” Michael buttoned up his shirt. “I
heard that Amy talked you into one of her ‘charity’ things.”
“Sure. The free clinic was completely
understaffed, and even though I don’t have that much time, she made it
impossible to refuse.” Adam sat back on the side counter. “She’s an
awesome lady. Pity she's marrying soon. I hate to see her move to
“Me too. Doug is a nice man—for a lawyer. Maria
doesn’t like him, but then I didn’t expect her to like anyone that takes her
mother away.”
“Hmm. Amy doesn’t seem old enough to be a
grandmother, let alone Maria’s mother. I swear, she hardly looks to be in her
mid-thirties.”
“Lucky me.”
Adam lifted a brow in inquiry. Michael shrugged.
“If Maria ages anything like her mother …”
“You will be very lucky. They are both beautiful
women.”
Michael frowned at Adam. The man was unusually
quiet. Usually the resident was pretty enthusiastic about his work, and a pretty
interesting conversationalist. Tonight, he seemed subdued. Before he could ask
some probing questions, Adam changed the subject as Maria let herself back into
the examination room. She was eating a bag of honey mustard pretzels.
“So any news from Max and Liz, and the Parkers?”
Adam asked casually.
“They're in
“My cousin is a strange woman, but she's an
incredible doctor. I think she was intrigued by your friend Max’s blood
abnormality.”
Michael and Maria shared a look, but both of them
remained closed mouthed. It was hard to know how to thank Adam, and even with
his reassurances, it was still a risk. They all realized it, but the alternative
was something no one was willing to consider.
“Abby
is a strange bird. It would take her twenty years to write a paper, and in the
meantime, she'd guard her findings like a miser.”
Maria munched thoughtfully on her pretzels. “How
come your cousin is so much older than you?”
Adam laughed. “Late baby. My parents couldn’t
have children, so they had pretty much given up, until Abby talked them into
letting her try helping them with fertilization. I was one of the first of her
fertility efforts. My parents were unfortunately too old to repeat the
experiment, so I remained an only child, with all my parent's siblings’
children much older than me. Abby might be the closest to me in age, and she is
still twenty-six years older.”
“Bet you were spoiled.”
“Rotten. A miracle child, they shamelessly let me
have anything I wanted.”
Michael handed Maria the prescriptions for the
cream, painkillers, and antibiotics. “See, I’m telling you, five children is
the way to go! See what a brat Adam is? Do we want Hetfield to end up this
way?”
“We are not naming the baby Hetfield.”
Michael grunted as Adam followed them out, chuckling
under his breath.
***
I
knew it was a risk to talk to Adam, to tell him everything, but it was the only
possible solution I could find to the dilemma of Max and Liz. It is easy for
people who do not know about our being aliens to wonder why if Liz couldn’t
have a baby, why they didn’t have Max impregnate a donor egg in a petri dish
and then have a surrogate mother carry the baby to term. That of course excluded
cost considerations.
The
thing about infertility, and all the ‘alternative’ methods of conceiving was
that Max’s sperm would be tested. How do you explain alien sperm to a normal
doctor?
It
wasn’t just the sperm, but the blood testing, urine and everything else in
between. The only alternative Max and Liz were looking at was Max impregnating
another woman the ‘old-fashioned’ way.
Either
way, I knew that it still wouldn’t solve the Liz problem. Liz needed the baby
to be hers too. A child with another woman would be the same as Zan, the child
Max had with Tess. My trusty companion, and insightful mate, immediately saw the
pitfalls when Liz asked for her help. Normally, Maria would’ve done anything
for Liz. She would carry a litter of young Parkers for Liz—but for two things.
First,
me. I am a problem. Maria was very astute in realizing that I would not handle
seeing her carrying a child that is not mine. Especially, a child that is
Max’s. If you consider that conception has to occur by actual
intercourse—no, there is no way. Call me selfish. Call me territorial. It
doesn’t matter. I would never touch Max’s wife and I expect him to return
the same respect. If Max and Liz used Maria for their own purpose, and in turn,
used me, it would once again be all about them, Max and Liz, being more
important, and Max being the King. My wife is not his property, and I am not his
loyal subject.
Second,
is Liz herself. Though she asked Maria the favor, it would be the one favor that
she would never forgive. The thought of Maria knowing her husband, Max, in that
manner, that intimately, and to share with him a bond that she herself could not
share—it would slowly destroy their friendship. I don’t know if what Liz
feels about Max is actually territorial or a selfish possessiveness, and to tell
the truth, I won’t try to name it since my feelings for Maria run pretty much
the same. I do know that Maria looked into Liz’s eyes, and she saw the
desperation, the bitter need, but also the pain. In that moment she knew that
this would be bigger than the two of them, the final stroke of the blade
severing their friendship—so she said no.
I can
honestly admit that I love that she said no for me. She might have understood
how it would effect Liz in the long run, but her immediate response was in
regards to me. I think at that moment, all the pain I carried from the past,
from that time that Maria and I were parted had finally passed. Never has she
wavered or regretted or failed to support me, even when I am wrong. But in this,
Maria proved to me so much more—she sees me, knows me, and above all others,
she chooses me.
I am
selfish enough to adore that. I couldn’t love Maria DeLuca more if I tried,
and I know that for me, there never could be any other woman or person closer to
me than she. Every day, I think—this is it. This is as much as a body can love
another, and then without trying, she proves me wrong as the feeling continues
to deepen. I should be worried over how much of my life revolves around her, and
how utterly lost and devastated I would be without her, but I can’t. It feels
natural to me, like this is just who I am.
So
after all that, I knew that I owed Maria something. I owed Liz too. So I am
trying to fix things for Liz, because it is the greatest gift I can give Maria.
This is my present to her, for all those times she believed in me when I gave
her little reason to, and all the times she stood at my side even at great cost
to herself, but mostly I am giving this to her because I love her, and want her
happy, and even though I don’t always understand it—she loves Liz.
All
that said, this is what led me to Adam, and to confessing a truth about myself
that I have only confessed to very few people, my own mother-in-law and Sean
being among those, Hal, and Laurie Dupree. I needed Adam to check my sperm, to
tell me if it was unusual, or so obviously not human. Giving up the sample
wasn’t something I would like to relive, but thankfully Maria decided to give
me a helping hand, as it were.
My
sperm, and in turn, Max’s sperm appears to be completely human. It is in the
head of the sperm that holds the DNA that perhaps our alien nature comes to
bear. We never knew that. We never knew how different we were, but it appears to
be at the cellular level in blood, DNA, and epithelial cells that most of the
differences reside, that and an increased mental ability.
Worried
about Max’s blood, and the messing with his alien DNA in his sperm, Adam
offered a very unique suggestion—his cousin Abby, who is a geneticist and
fertility doctor. It is still a risk, but it fixed one of two problems for Liz.
Now her husband does not have to sex up another woman to breed. That has to
account for something.
With
that solved, I turned my extreme mental prowess to the problem of the baby
needing to be part of Liz, and the fact that she no longer has any viable ovum.
The solution was obvious. Liz had it right to some extent, but she didn’t
apply it to its full consideration. That’s where I came in.
“About time you got here!” Sean was still in a
disheveled state. His shirt was unbuttoned, and he obviously had been running
his hands through his hair. “Aunt Amy is driving me nuts! She has called every
ten minutes demanding updates, and her phone, and now yours is ringing off the
hook.”
“Spectators?”
Sean rolled his eyes at Michael. “What else in
this town?”
Michael glanced at Maria. She looked tired, and now
that she ate three bags of mustard pretzels from the vending machine, sleep was
setting in.
“C’mon, time for sleep.” Michael turned her
around and marched her upstairs with Sean on his heels. Michael got to the top
of the stairs and remembered their destroyed room.
“I made up the guest bedroom,” said Sean.
Michael grunted in response as he pulled Maria with
him into the bedroom across from theirs. She barely hit the pillow, and she was
out. Michael watched her for a few moments, his hand hardly able to remove
itself from hers before going to rejoin Sean who was staring at their bedroom
from the door.
“When the investigators leave?”
“Half an hour ago.” Sean stared at Maria’s
pillow. He entered the room and picked it up staring at the hole. “She slept
with this pillow since she was seven. It’s like a security blanket, but she
would never admit that.”
The room rattled, and Sean quickly glanced at a
stony silent Michael.
“You okay?”
“No, not even close.” Michael took the pillow,
and the bedside lamp exploded. “I’ll find the person, and then I’ll kill
them.”
Sean searched his sort of brother-in-law’s face.
“I’ll help you,” he said quietly.
***
“The shooter was here,” Sean said, bending to
the ground. “He stood under the tree, and perhaps contemplated his actions for
a while.”
Michael noted the pile of smoked cigarettes. “It
wasn’t an easy decision,” he concluded. “He must have smoked through an
entire pack.”
“Well, hate to tell you, but most people consider
you a bit—daunting. Perhaps he wasn’t sure he wanted to take on the
world’s greatest investigator,” Sean teased.
“World’s Greatest Alien Investigator,” Michael
corrected. “At least get it right. In everything, precision is key.”
“Yeah,” Sean tossed a cigarette butt to the
ground as he stood, “let’s see you put that on a business card.”
Michael only snorted as his hand reached out and
touched the tree. His body stiffened, and then he removed his hand.
“You get anything?”
“Bleeding images, nothing I can piece together.
Mostly, I get a sense of anger. This man, he was angry at me.”
“You sure? You and not Maria?”
“Definitely me. I could see flashes of my face.”
“So who have you pissed off lately?”
Michael shrugged. “Who haven’t I? Hard to
say.”
Sean rubbed a hand over the disarray of his curly
hair. Damn, he needed a haircut, if his hair got any longer, he would run the
risk of being—cute.
“Fine, then I guess a suspect list with careful
questioning of possible shooters would be a waste of time.”
“Only if you don’t mind questioning the entire
town.”
“Frick that!”
“Exactly. That will be the cops' method, but I
don’t—can’t wait that long. This person has enough anger at me to take a
shot at my home, risk hurting my pregnant wife, then they can come again.”
“True. We find this person, and we take care of
him with extreme prejudice.”
“I’ll have it no other way.” Michael glanced
at Sean. “You learn this new aggressiveness in the service?”
“I learned a lot of things. First, I really dig
commanders’ daughters. They are a lethal attraction for me, which explains my
extended tour in the Gulf. Second, I miss home. And finally, there is nothing
more noble than protecting your family, and their lives. Some bastard shot at my
cousin, and that's enough for me.”
Michael went over to the tracks on the ground noting
the darkened marks on the payment. “He took off in a hurry. Burned rubber
getting away.”
“I can measure the wheel base and send it to a
buddy of mine in the crime unit. He can tell us the make and model.”
“Not necessary. It’s a later model truck. The
wheels are far apart. Modern models are closer together, and look at the tread
marks.”
Sean stared at the tracks, and though he knew what
they were, in truth, in his work onboard a battle cruiser, he rarely found the
need to compare types of treads. “They look like tire tracks to me.”
“No, note the bald tire on the left, and there's a
gouge in the right side tire.”
“So we are looking for?”
“A man. Approximately six feet in height, a little
on the heft side, perhaps an extra fifty pounds. Right handed, smokes camel
cigarettes, filtered, wears size eleven boots—work variety not biker, and he
drives an old truck—about fifteen or twenty years old in need of a tune-up.”
“Damn, hate it when we have no real leads,” Sean
said sarcastically. “Why right-handed, and around six feet? Actually, for that
matter—how do you know he's over fifty pounds overweight?”
“He rested his left shoulder against the tree, you
can see the squashed leaves where he leaned. If that is shoulder height, then
his full height would be …”
“Six feet. Fine, how about right handed?”
"Left shoulder against the tree, and he
probably used it to hold his shotgun. Left shoulder brace against the tree
leaving the right arm free implies …”
“Right-handed.” Sean picked the clues up easily
once Michael pointed them out. He refused to ask about the weight.
“He was standing in a soft flower bed around the
tree. Maria had just dug it for bulbs. I can stand in the soft bed, and my feet
only sink a certain amount, but his prints are deeper indicating some heftier
weight, and since I am a few inches over six feet with a large frame …”
Sean waved it off. He got it. “So we are looking
for a man. Approximately six feet in height, a little on the heft side, perhaps
an extra fifty pounds. Right handed, smokes camel cigarettes, filtered, wears
size eleven boots—work variety not biker, and he drives an old truck—about
fifteen or twenty years old in need of a tune-up.” Sean couldn’t help it.
“The tune-up?”
“That’s what woke me from a sound sleep. I heard
the engine of the truck when he pulled up, and when he turned the engine over to
leave, it sputtered and struggled to restart.”
Sean searched his clothing for a cigarette. He
didn’t smoke, not really, but over the past few years, he had grown a habit of
bumming smokes, especially in times of stress. Crap. He didn’t even want to
think about it. If Michael had woken out of a deep sleep, if that truck’s
engine hadn’t needed repairs—so many ifs, and Sean couldn’t even think of
it. If Maria had died or been severely hurt, there was no accounting for the
amount of damage Michael might have done.
“You wouldn’t know any men fitting that
description would you?”
“A few. Off hand, three I would like to talk to
immediately to start with.”
“Only three?” Sean was impressed.
“I said to start with,” Michael pointed out.
***
Maria sat watching Michael move about the house
ready to begin the hunt. Glancing at her cousin, her pretty face frowned.
“Sean—Sean, you’re not going to let him get into trouble, right?”
“Absolutely not.”
Maria’s eyes narrowed. “Why don’t I believe
you?”
“Because you have a lifetime of distrusting me.
Trust me, I’ll keep him from blowing up anything or killing anyone.”
Sean’s eyes moved over his little cousin. She was leaning back in the chair,
and without knowing it, her hand was rubbing her stomach in comfort. It was hard
to imagine her a mother when only yesterday she was a knobby-kneed teenager with
her hair cut in a short pixie cut and wearing shiny lipgloss.
“You grew up on me, M, and I’m not sure how to
feel about that.”
“You tried to knock Michael out at my wedding, I
think you should consider working out your issues.”
Sean sniffed. Michael deserved it. It wasn’t until
that moment that Sean had realized that all those years that Michael had been
sleeping with his cousin. So he had been a bit late on the uptake, but it was a
family honor thing, even if the man was marrying her.
“You don’t have a dad,” he pointed out.
“I don’t need one.” Maria laughed. “I asked
you to give me away, not walk me down the aisle and then punch my future husband
in the face.”
“Are they still talking about it?”
“What do you think?” Maria rolled her eyes. Her
wedding to Michael Guerin had caused such a sensation alone, that Sean knocking
the groom on his ass in front of Father Gutierrez was just icing on the damn
cake.
Sean laughed, sitting back all smug and happy. Good.
Maria deserved a sensational dramatic wedding. He was happy to have obliged.
“Sean …”
“M, calm yourself. I’m not letting him out of my
sight, but you have to understand something,” Sean was completely serious, his
tone more mature than she ever remembered it, “he will do what he has to do,
and so will I. This bastard could’ve killed you, and that isn’t something
either of us are going to walk away from.”
“Sean, I love him. I need him, and if you think I
am going to cart our baby to prison for weekly family time, you’re crazy. I
know he won’t let me come this time, but you swear to me that you will keep
him out of trouble.”
“I swear. If it comes down to it, I’ll take the
blame.”
“Oh, damn. Damn you both!” Maria couldn’t
believe them. They were impossible; they were men. She was going to call her
mother, and they deserved whatever Amy DeLuca dished out.
***
“Maria,” Michael patiently waited for her to
look at him. “I won’t be long.”
“Michael …”
“I’ll be back soon. Just do me a favor and stay
in the house. Don’t follow me. I need you to stay here, and stay safe.”
“I’m okay. No one is trying to hurt me!”
“Maria, for once, could you do as I ask and not
involve yourself in this?” Michael watched as Maria went to open her mouth in
protest. “I mean it, Maria! If you go off and get yourself killed …”
Maria grabbed his head and kissed him hard to stop
the flow of words. She wanted to follow, but his request was hard to refuse. It
didn’t take a Michael Guerin expert or even the world’s greatest alien
investigator to see he was on a pretty tight edge.
“Okay,” she agreed huskily. “Go.”
Michael backed away, his feet hesitating, but he
quickly turned, and he and Sean left.
Maria was sat quietly for a while. It took all her
strength to remain in the house, to not grab her coat and follow him. Sighing,
she stared at the phone, and thirty minutes felt more like a day—two days,
forever. Rubbing her stomach, she tried to remind herself that she was supposed
to stay calm, stress free, but it was impossible.
Going upstairs, she stood in their bedroom and
surveyed the damage. Michael hadn’t let her go back in there since it
happened, but now looking at the holes and the damage to their bed and room, she
knew why it kept pulling at him.
Maria grabbed her jacket and bag and headed out. She
really meant to stay home like she promised, but there was something she needed
to do. Shutting the door, she didn’t even get down the front porch stairs when
a voice to her right stopped her in her tracks.
“Maria, you know Michael wants you to stay
home.”
“Max.” Maria turned to look at Max Evans sitting
in a chair on their front stoop. “When did you get home?”
“Don’t change the subject. You know you’re
supposed to be resting, and taking care of yourself and the baby.”
“God! I can’t believe he put you on guard
duty!”
“Maria, please. Go back inside. I’ll make you
tea.”
“I don’t want tea. I have things I need to
do.”
“Maria,” Max sighed seeing the look on her face.
The firm chin, and the prominent cleft was her stubborn look. “There’s
nothing I can say is there?”
“Nope.” Maria took pity on him. “But, I’ll
let you come.”
“Geez, thanks.” Max stomped on a cigarette he
had been smoking. It was a terrible new habit he picked up since Liz asked him
to leave. Following Maria down the steps, he took her car keys. “Can you at
least—I don’t know, hit me across the face with something hard enough to
leave a bruise, so Michael knows I tried to stop you?”
“Oh, don’t be silly! I’m not going to hit
you.”
Max groaned. Dammit, at least with a bruise Michael
might have shown mercy when he blew up. “No I guess you wouldn’t.”
***
Sean was talking on the phone as Michael headed out
of town. “That was my pal in the firing range. He looked at the bullet that
came out of your shoulder. He says it's buck load, standard packing weight. The
person who shot at you probably used a 30 gauge shotgun with buckshot he packed
himself. It isn’t standard grade found in pre-pack shots you can buy from the
store.”
“Buckshot?” Michael nodded. “Yeah, that makes
sense. It would explain the scatter pattern.”
“So your three men? Any of them hunt or press
their own ammo?”
“Not sure. We’ll start with Buddy Rae Barker.”
“He got a grudge against you?”
“I solved a case a few weeks or month back
involving a horse of his friend Richie Parsons. Buddy has a thing for Maria, and
is devoted to Richie. Add in that he got a huge fine for obstruction of justice,
he could carry a bit of a load.”
“Richie? He’s married to Patty Lynn Talbot.”
“Not anymore. They’re divorced—thank God!”
“She was a bit on the looney side.”
“You’ve no idea. Richie completely deserved her,
and it's a source of fascination to think of them out there harassing the single
population again.” Michael glanced at Sean. “Didn’t Patty Lynn have a
little thing for you?”
“Not that I noticed.” Sean wouldn’t admit it
even if it were true. They pulled into Buddy’s ranch, and the horses were in
the front padlock with Buddy working near them. He stopped when he saw
Michael’s SUV, and it made Sean snicker when he noticed how the other man’s
face dropped when Maria obviously wasn’t with them.
Sean listened carefully as Michael questioned Buddy,
and in fact it wasn’t so much a questioning or interrogation, but a very
subtle threat. Buddy immediately disclaimed any knowledge or involvement in the
episode.
“I swear, Mr. Guerin! I would never do anything
that could harm Mrs. Guerin, why …” Buddy looked on the verge of tears,
“Mrs. Guerin is alright isn’t she?”
Sean was still laughing when they drove away from
the ranch. The look on Michael’s face, and the stuttering Buddy was too much.
“I don’t think it was him.”
“Shut up.” Michael knew that immediately. Buddy
was left-handed.
Next stop was the Miles farm. Michael had discovered
the involvement of Roger Miles in the baby alligator episode, and his father,
Roger Miles, Sr., wasn’t a man that forgot or forgave easily. It didn’t take
long to determine that Miles was not a possibility. The man was in the hospital
with the gout for the last week.
The third possibility was a field hand by the name
of Carmichael that lived in a trailer outside the city limits. He had been
hunting illegally on the Reservation, and Michael had turned him into Valenti
once he discovered where he was placing his traps.
“Guerin!” Jimmy Carmichael was meaner than a
rattlesnake, and just as creepy. He came out of his trailer scratching his naked
stomach just above his jeans, stretching. Sean noted the large beer belly and
extra weight. The old truck was parked outside the trailer and there was a
shotgun on the rack in the rear window. “I heard some unlucky bastard took a
pot shot at you.”
“Heard that did you?”
“Why unlucky?” Sean asked.
“He’s still standing isn’t he?” Jimmy
smirked. “If it was me, I would make sure he didn’t get up. Not him, not his
pretty little wife.”
Michael’s hands clenched, he made a threatening
step towards Jimmy, but Sean’s hand stopped him. “Well, shoot, Jimmy. I knew
you were stupid, but until this moment, I hadn’t realized just how stupid you
could be.” Sean smiled a nice pleasant grin, a real good ol’ boy one. “I
think you just implied that my sweet little cousin would maybe find her way in
front of your gun.”
“I—I didn’t say that!”
“Then what did you say?”
“I …” Jimmy looked between the two men.
“Nothing! I said nothing! I was just going to say that one of my hunting
buddies, you know Jason Lee?” Michael and Sean both nodded. “Yeah, well
he’s been a bit drunk lately, seeing how Marge tossed his ass out like a flea.
I guess he’s been bedding Emily Marks from the Cow Patty time and again, and
with their place flooded, they were staying with his parents and he was
humiliated when they took Marge’s side.”
“Can you spit it out? What the heck does this have
to do with me?” Michael demanded.
“It’s just he’s been angry, and your name kept
comin’ up and all. That’s all—I swear.” Jimmy backed away a bit. “You
know I was just making noise, right? I mean, Ms. Maria is well liked. She always
has a kind word and smile for everyone. I—there ain’t anyone I know that
would purposely try to hurt her—not especially since she is all in a family
way, and everything.”
Michael’s jaw was a mass of muscle as he clenched
and grinded his teeth. Jason Lee? The man fit the profile, but Michael hadn’t
placed him on the list of possible suspects since as far as he knew, he had no
dealings with Jason Lee in one way or another.
“Stumped?”
“Mystified. I don’t remember any incident with
Jason Lee or anyone in his immediate family. The Hartungs are pretty well known,
but nothing that sticks out as a motive.”
Sean’s cell phone rang, and he grimaced when he
saw the caller ID. “Hey, Aunt Amy—huh? No, I—what? I—no, we’re just
going to go talk to Jason Lee Hartung for a few minutes. No. No. Umm, yes
ma’am.”
Sean handed the cell phone to Michael, who quickly
waved it off. “No! I don’t want that!” Michael scowled as the phone was
thrust in his hand. “Oh, um, hi Amy. What? I—yes ma’am.” Michael
listened, and his eyes kept darting to Sean who was avoiding making eye contact,
but listening in. “Right. I will. Right.” Michael hung up.
“What did she want?”
“You didn’t hear?”
“Well, most of it. Something about not getting
arrested. Not worrying her baby, and something I didn’t catch.”
“She told me to leave it alone—that she would
take care of it.”
Sean made a face. “So you going to go home and let
Aunt Amy look into things?”
“Nope.”
Sean gave Michael a sharp look. Yep, Michael was
very angry. No one disobeyed Amy—not if they knew was good for them. “Okay,
then we finish it.”
“Yep, we finish it.”
***
The old Hartung place was a nice family house in
Roswell. It had a large expanse of lawn, and over four generations of Hartungs
had lived there. Jason Lee and his wife, Marge, had moved back into the family
house after their place had been damaged during an unusually bad spring, and the
place had flooded. With them came three children of various ages. Jason’s
youngest sister also lived with their parents with her two children after her
divorce from a man from Las Cruces became final, so when they arrived, the
Hartung home was very full and busy.
Jason Lee and his wife were on the front porch
arguing. Obviously Jason hadn’t been let back into the house, and from the
pile of bags on the porch, it looked as if Marge was completing the move out.
When Michael got out of the SUV, Jason looked over,
and instead of having the normal reaction that most people had towards Michael,
the forty some year old man turned a brilliant red.
“How dare you come to my place! Come to get your
fee, you good for nothing snoop? You ruined my life! I—where's my damn gun?
I’ll finish the job right this time, and …”
Jason barely had it out of his mouth before Michael,
in less than three steps, was upon him. Now years later, people would still talk
about it. There must have been a small earthquake in that region that evening,
because people swore the ground shook. Observers remembered seeing Michael’s
hand moving, and without much effort Jason Lee went flying through the air! The
stories! Tales of Michael’s enormous strength and fighting ability ran the
gossip circuits almost as fast as the other explanation that poor Jason Lee was
knocked over by the tremor.
Sean barely had the strength to pull Michael back,
and before Michael could shake off Sean and finish off Jason Lee, or at least
see if he had killed him, Valenti’s SUV drove up and Amy DeLuca was out of the
passenger side that fast.
“Michael! Stop it!”
Marge, horrified by the violence, was trying to help
her husband to his feet as the rest of the Hartung family came out on the front
porch. She looked at her woozy husband and the angry Michael Guerin. “What is
going on?”
Before Michael or anyone could answer, Amy did.
“Your husband shot his gun into my daughter and Michael’s home last night,
almost killing my children! That gutless coward you call a husband couldn’t
even face them, but shot blindly into their darkened bedroom. Michael and Maria,
and my unborn grandchild could have been killed!” Amy’s voice was
shaking with rage.
“No! That is not possible.” Marge looked at her
husband. “Tell them Jason Lee! You tell them that you had nothing to do with
it.”
Jason was quiet, and Marge shook her head, dropping
his arm as she backed away from her husband in disbelief. “Why? Why would you
take a shot at the Guerins? What did they ever do to you?”
“He knows,” Jason spit out in spite glaring at
Michael. “He went and told you that I was cheating with Emily Marks! The
bastard ruined my life, sneaking around town, knowing everyone’s secrets, and
he goes and tells you! I lost everything. My children, my family, and you—all
for how much? How much did he charge to get the dirt?”
“Nothing,” Marge screamed at Jason.
“Nothing?” Jason couldn’t believe it. “He
did it for free!”
“No you idiot! He didn’t tell me you were
fucking Emily Marks—you did!” Jason stopped in his tracks and stared at his
wife in disbelief. Marge nodded. “I didn’t know for sure, but I suspected,
and I confronted you like I knew, and you admitted it! That's when I threw your
sorry cheating ass out! Mr. Guerin had nothing to do with it! I don’t even
remember talking to him in my life!”
“I was so sure—I mean, everyone knows that he
knows things, and …”
Jason never got to finish as Amy DeLuca’s fist hit
Jason Lee Hartung in his face with a brilliant right cross that had more punch
to it than should’ve been possible from a woman of her size. She wasn’t
finished.
Michael and Sean both moved at the same time as they
pulled the small woman away screaming angry curses and threats at Jason Lee, who
was now nursing a bloody nose, and being read his Miranda Rights by Jim for
attempted murder, discharge of a weapon in city limits, and as many other
charges as Jim could think of.
Michael and Sean pushed Amy into the SUV and left
the scene before Amy broke free and attacked Jason Lee again. The stupid man had
suggested to Jim that he wanted to press charges for assault against Amy, but he
took one look at Amy’s face, and his voice died in his throat.
Michael glanced at his mother-in-law, and the anger
he had carried since last night was slowly easing. She told him to leave it
alone, but he couldn’t, and obviously, neither could she.
“What were you thinking?” she demanded, her
anger turning towards him. “You have a family now—one that needs you. You
can’t go off doing things like you’re alone.” Amy glanced at Sean, hitting
upside the back of his head.
“Hey! Cut it out, Aunt Amy! What did I do?”
“You were supposed to keep him out of trouble.”
Amy’s eyes met Michael’s again. “You have family, Michael—you have us,
and we would rather you didn’t risk leaving us—any of us.”
“I took Sean with me,” Michael pointed out.
“Exactly. No wonder I was so worried.” Amy
glanced back at her sweet nephew, who had been away far too long. “I know how
much trouble he can get into.”
“Now Aunt Amy!” Sean smiled his devilishly
charming smile. “You were awesome!”
Amy turned pink at the compliment as Michael added
his praise, but her pleasure didn’t last long as she tried to use her hand.
“Ouch! Um, I think I broke my hand.”
Michael calmly turned his car around and headed for
the hospital. “You really were great,” he reassured his mother-in-law.
“Remind me that later when I have to walk down the
aisle in a cast.” Amy stared at her hand in remorse. “Do you think a
raspberry colored cast will match my dress?”
***
Maria watched as Steve and George plastered the
bedroom wall, smoothing over the bullet holes. Max was at the window supervising
the replacement of the bedroom window.
“Maria, you will have to repaint the entire room
once the plaster dries. We’ll come back and sand it down tomorrow, and start
the repaint,” said Steve as he put his trowel in the bucket of plaster.
“Thanks guys. Can you take the old mattress out?
The replacement should be here soon.”
“Dump it?” George asked, looking at the room.
Maria had removed the bedside tables and lamps, both that had been broken, and
the table had nicks from flying buckshot. The wall over the bed was patched with
plaster marks, and the window was replaced with the old curtains removed.
“Yeah. City dump is good enough.” Maria flipped
through her notes. She ordered new window coverings, new bedding, and a new
mattress. The new bedside table and lamps would come with the mattress. “I
really appreciate that you came right away.” Maria looked at hers and
Michael’s bedroom. “I want it back to normal as soon as possible.”
“Not a problem, Maria. We know Michael will calm
down faster if he isn’t reminded constantly.”
Maria smiled at Steve. He really was a wonderful
man. “Exactly.” She stood out of the way as Steve and George took the old
furniture and mattress away.
Max joined Maria after the glazer finished the
window and left. “That was amazingly fast getting everything restored,
Maria.”
“It helps to have contacts. I’ll take that cup
of tea now.”
Max laughed. “Right.” They went downstairs and
Max put on the kettle as Maria rooted around for forbidden food. Her stash of
HoHos was exactly what she needed. Adding Tabasco to the chocolate cake, she ate
three before Max got the tea poured.
“So, how did it go with Adam’s cousin?”
“Fine. She is a strange lady, but I liked her. She
had all types of theories on my unusual blood type, most that made no sense to
me.”
Maria laughed, but her eyes were compassionate and
earnest. “And Liz?”
“She went with us, and I think she's hopeful.”
“But?”
“She is afraid to get her hopes up.”
“So how soon will you know?”
“In about three weeks we’ll try the first
harvest. If it fails, we’ll try again in a month. I think for Liz, the wait
will be excruciating, but she seems excited.” Max stared into his tea cup.
“She moved back in with her parents.”
“Will she stay there if it happens?”
“Maybe. She doesn’t want to miss anything.”
“And Mrs. Parker? How does her mom feel about
it?” Maria didn’t want to ask about Max and Liz’s relationship. It was a
sore point for Max, and things were finally looking hopeful, but like Liz, Maria
suspected that Max didn’t want to get his hopes up.
Max laughed, rubbing his face, he shook his head.
“I don’t know. She seems okay with it, but it is strange to carry her
daughter and son-in-law’s child. I don’t know what will be
stranger—letting her daughter raise her child and treating the baby like a
grandchild, or for Liz to raise her own sister or brother as her own child.”
“Well technically, it’s not really Mrs.
Parker’s baby. She’s just carrying the baby for Liz. I thought the ova was
being donated by Liz’s first cousins, Lisa and Mary.”
“They both donated, and they will donate again in
another month or so. We asked not to know which one is used. It makes it more of
a spontaneous thing, and a surprise. If it works, we want to try again in a few
years that way both children will have a bit of her mother, and the other a bit
of her father.”
“Liz and Lisa don’t look too much alike, but
Lisa does look a lot like Nancy.”
“Mary does look like Liz. They could almost be
twins.”
“I know.” Maria put extra sugar in her tea.
“So was Nancy’s ovum too old?”
“Not really, but the percentage of birth defects
was high. In comparison, Liz’s cousins are around her age, so there is a
better chance of having a perfectly normal pregnancy.”
“The cost?”
“Expensive, but we’re not paying for it. My
parents and Liz’s are footing the bill for us. I guess they want to see us
happy.”
“We all do.” Maria sat back. “Only Michael
would think of having a grandmother carrying her own grandchild.”
“My sperm, and donations from Liz’s close
family—only Michael would come up with that solution.” Max agreed. It was
something he never imagined. He never thought he would ever father another
child, not without it being the normal way, and since Liz couldn’t conceive,
he gave up all thoughts of children.
“Actually,” Maria confessed, “it was Liz’s
idea with a twist.” Max frowned, and Maria shrugged. “She asked me to donate
and carry.”
“Oh!” Max sat back in shock. “That—that
would’ve been impossible, even if we artificially inseminated. Michael, he
would’ve …” Max didn’t finish the statement.
“Well, he did his part.” Maria laughed at Max.
“He found Adam and gave up his own sperm to make sure it was possible.”
“Don’t think I don’t appreciate that,” said
Max with a hint of amusement. “I found giving numerous ‘samples’
difficult.”
“I thought Liz would help you with that, since
it’s her baby too.”
Max actually laughed as a red blush moved up his
neck. “Well, she was—helpful.”
Maria sipped her tea laughing over the rim of the
cup. It was good to see Max looking young again. The shy boyish grin reminded
her of Max from when she first met him. It was amazing how a little hope could
wash away the years.
***
Michael stood in the doorway looking at what Maria
had done while he was busy. Their bedroom looked different, but surprisingly the
same. Except for the need to repaint the walls, everything looked as if nothing
happened. Less than twenty-four hours, and so much in his life changed.
Maria was lighting candles. She glanced at her
husband who was paused in the doorway. “What’s wrong? The smell of the
plaster? We can sleep in the other room if …”
“No. It’s not that.” Michael breathed in
deeply trying to get his bearings. On the bed was Maria’s old pillow, now
stuffed in a new pillow cover.
Maria went over to pluck at the front of his shirt.
Bunching up the shirt at his waist, she pulled him into the bedroom. “What is
it then? Is your shoulder hurting? We could call Max back, and he could heal it
faster.”
“No, it’s fine. It’s my lif