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On the Wings of Maybe	By : OpenPage Category: 1 through F > 21 Jump Street Views: 1468 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own 21JS or the characters. I do not make any money from the writing of this story. All characters and events in this story are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead is coincidental.

Chapter List
- 17
- 18
- 19
Monday 6.18 p.m.
It had taken Fuller two hours to get the Watkins’ case records released to him and another hour to crosscheck the names of the witnesses against the names and addresses listed on the two open pages in the phone book found in Booker’s apartment. But his efforts had proven fruitless; there was no match.
“Damn it!” he yelled in frustration. “When I find Hanson and Booker they’ll be confined to desk duty for a year! How dare they disobey my orders and go investigating on their own.”
Doug’s expression became morose. “If we find them,” he muttered, “and anyway, we don’t even know if this is linked to the Robbie Watkins’ case. Booker might have been looking up a friend’s number in the phone book.”
“Oh trust me, it’s the Watkins’ case,” Fuller stated angrily. “What else could it be?” Those two have been acting strange ever since—”
“Captain!” Judy called out from across the busy room. “I think I’ve got something.”
Whilst Penhall and Fuller had been busily cross-referencing the names and addresses against the list of witnesses, Hoffs and Ioki had been placing calls to the residences in the open phone book. However, it had proved to be a frustratingly slow business. Those who answered immediately slammed down the phone when they knew it was the police. It was a common problem in the lower socioeconomic areas surrounding the city. The police were the enemy, not to be trusted and those that had already spoken to Dennis and Tom were feeling intimidated. No one wanted to get a reputation as a snitch.
“What is it Hoffs?” Fuller asked as he hurried over to her desk with Penhall following close behind.
Judy pointed to an address written on her notepad. “So far, this is the only person who has spoken to me. She told me that Tom and Dennis visited her on Saturday looking for a Jarrod Pilkington.”
Penhall asked the obvious question, “Who’s Jarrod Pilkington?”
Hoffs’ eyes danced with excitement. “He’s a senior at Franklin High. I ran the name through the police database and guess what? He’s got priors and every single one has been in association with Robbie Watkins… they’re related.”
“Jackpot!” Penhall yelled. “Pilkington is one of the names in the phone book! It’s too much of a coincidence Cap’n, Jarrod must know something about Tom’s disappearance.”
Fuller’s mouth set into a hard line. “Go talk to him.”
**
Monday 6.20 p.m.
“FUCK!” Tom yelled and in a fit of anger, he threw the army knife down the stairs. “Why won’t you come out you sonofabitch!”
Collapsing on the top step, he buried his face in his hands and started to sob in frustration. He had been trying for hours to remove the final hinge pin but it was jammed in harder than the other two and he could not get enough leverage to pull it free. At first he had remained calm and instead of giving up, he had once again tried to knock the door down. But when that did not work, his frustration had slowly mounted. Now, three hours later, he was at breaking point. They had been in the basement for thirty hours and apart from Booker’s fleeting moment of awareness, he remained unconscious.
The chink of faint light beneath the door slowly vanished and the basement once again became shrouded in darkness. Tom carefully made his way down the stairs and kneeling down, he fumbled in the dim light until his fingers found the discarded knife. He shoved it in his pocket and sitting down on the cold cement floor, he pulled Dennis into his arms. “I’m sorry,” he murmured in a teary voice. “I’m so sorry.”
Booker’s body twitched slightly and Tom’s eyes widened in excitement. “Dennis,” he whispered against his ear. “Can you hear me?” When he received no response, he tried again, “Dennis, are you awake?”
Seconds passed and just when he began to think he had imagined it, Booker’s body convulsed violently in his arms.
When Tom realized that Dennis was having a seizure, he cried out in alarm, “DENNIS! NOOO! Dennis don’t die! Oh GOD, don’t leave me Dennis! Don’t leave me! Somebody help us! PLEASE! DENNIS! DENNIS! DENN-IIIS!”
But nobody answered his desperate screams and when Booker went limp in his arms, he held him close and sobbed uncontrollably.
**
Monday 7.38 p.m.
Penhall’s car screeched to a halt outside 1832 Sparrow Road and jumping out, he unholstered his gun. Two patrol cars with lights flashing pulled up behind him and several officers disembarked, each with guns drawn. Fuller had insisted they take the time to get a warrant and the waiting around had almost driven Doug insane. But they had finally arrived and with paperwork in hand, he and Ioki rushed towards the front door.
“Police! Open up!” he yelled as he banged on the door. “We have a warrant to search the premises.”
Jarrod’s pale face appeared at the window. “Go away!” the boy shouted in a shaky voice. “I ain’t done nothin’ wrong.”
Doug gave him a hard stare. “I’ll give you five seconds before I break down the door. One… two… three… four…”
The battered door opened and Doug charged inside. “WHERE ARE THEY?” he screamed in the teenager’s frightened face.
Jarrod burst into tears. “I never meant to hurt no one,” he sobbed. “I thought it was just a game and my uncle would let them out. I’m sorry… I’m sorry!”
Stepping forward, Harry placed a reassuring arm around the trembling youth’s shoulders. “Just tell us where they are.”
**
Monday 7.56 p.m.
Tom’s eyes flew open and lowering Booker’s head onto the makeshift pillow beside him, he scrambled to his feet. He was certain that somewhere in the distance, he had heard the wail of a siren. Standing still, he strained his ears and he cried out in excitement as the familiar eee-ooo-eee-ooo-eee-ooo whoop, whoop, whoop of a police car siren grew steadily louder. Help had arrived.
“They’re here! They’re here!” he screamed in excitement and rushing up the stairs, he banged his fists on the heavy door. “Help! Help! We’re in the basement! Get an ambulance! Help!”
“Tommy!” Doug yelled from the other side of the door.
“Doug!” Tom cried out in relief as tears streamed down his face. “Booker’s really hurt! He needs help, oh God I think he’s dying!”
“Stand back!” Doug called out. “We’re going to break the door down.”
Hanson ran down the stairs and gently pulled Booker’s body away from the steps. “We’re clear!” he yelled as he cradled his lover in his arms.
Seconds later the door broke open and fell onto the stairs. The weight caused several steps to give way and the door crashed to the ground below. Penhall’s hulking frame loomed in the doorway. “I’m coming down.”
“Be careful!” Tom called out and he watched nervously as his friend climbed down the broken staircase.
Kneeling down on the ground, Doug placed a gentle hand behind Tom’s neck and gazed into his dark eyes. “Are you okay?” he asked softly.
Tears welled in Tom’s eyes and he nodded. “I’m fine,” he replied in a wobbly voice. But Booker… he’s having these seizures and I didn’t know what to do.”
“The paramedics are on their way,” Doug reassured quietly. “Now let’s get you upstairs—”
Tom’s head moved violently from left to right. “No, I don’t want to leave him alone.”
“Sure pal, whatever you want,” Penhall murmured softly. The level of concern Hanson felt for Booker puzzled him somewhat, but he did not question it. The two young men had been through a terrible ordeal and he figured it was only natural for Tom to worry about his fellow officer’s welfare.
Sitting down, he kept a reassuring arm around his friend’s shoulders as they waited for the paramedics to arrive.
**
Monday 10.23 p.m.
Saint Mary’s E.R. was quiet for a Monday night and the only sound was a small child whose paroxysmal coughing was slowly driving Penhall crazy. He turned his attention to Tom but it did not take long for his friend’s incessant pacing to grate on his nerves. “For God’s sake Hanson, sit down!”
Tom gave Doug an apologetic look. “Sorry,” he muttered. He sat down but nervous energy continued to pump through his body and he could not keep his legs from jittering up and down. “I just want to know how he is.”
Penhall handed him a packet of sandwiches he had bought from the vending machine in the corridor. “You need to eat something.”
Shaking his head, Tom stood back up and continued his pacing. “I’m not hungry.”
Sighing heavily, Doug placed the sandwiches back down on the seat next to him. “You must be hungry Tommy, you haven’t eaten in nearly two days.”
“I’m fine,” Tom muttered distractedly as his eyes caught sight of their captain walking briskly down the corridor towards them. When he glimpsed the grave expression on his superior’s face, he let out a sob. “Oh God.”
Penhall got slowly to his feet and stood next to Tom. “How is he Coach?”
Fuller’s facial expression remained grim. “I’ve just spoken to a doctor in ICU. The head injury Booker received when he fell down the stairs has caused a blood clot in his brain.”
Tom chewed nervously on his lower lip. “But they can fix it, right?” he asked in a hopeful voice. “I mean, they’ll give him a drug and the clot will disappear.”
Penhall looked deep into his captain’s eyes and he immediately grasped the gravity of the situation. Placing an arm around Tom’s shoulders, he gave them a squeeze. “Tommy, I think it might be a bit more serious than that.”
“No!” Tom yelled, unwilling to believe the worst and pulling away from Doug, he raked his fingers through his hair as he once again began to pace frantically around the room. “He opened his eyes! He spoke to me! It can’t be that serious, it can’t!”
Stepping forward, Fuller laid a gentle hand on Tom’s arm. “None of this is your fault,” he soothed in a gentle voice. “But you have to accept what has happened.”
Tears filled Tom’s eyes. “Tell me he’s going to be all right,” he whispered. “Please tell me he’s going to be all right.”
Fuller’s own eyes misted over and he noisily cleared the lump that had formed in his throat. “The clot has blocked a blood vessel in Booker’s brain. I’m sorry Tom, he’s had a stroke.”
The shock of the news coupled with a lack of food finally took its toll on Tom’s body. His eyes rolled back in his head and he fell to the floor in a dead faint
- 17
- 18
- 19
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On the Wings of Maybe