A Case For Conners

Chapter 19

Chapter 18: An Old Fiend

Conners lay on the couch in his shrink's office, and was actually finding himself annoyed. This was their fourth meeting so far, and Conners already hated the man. It wasn't that the man was dark or evil, but he persisted in chasing issues that had no point whatsoever: such as who Conners was before the hospital.

"But Conners," he was saying, "What if you have a family in the past, maybe even a wife?"

"No ring, therefore not married; at least not happily. If I had any family, they'd think I'm dead. So, what good would it do me to show up and say I can't remember them? It won't make me happy, and it'll make them sad. It's kinder to everyone if I just forget about it all, excusing the pun."

"But, how can you just not care about your past? It's what made you."

"Ignorance is bliss. What if I'm a man who still lives at home with his mother and an abusive father? What if I was a r****t, or contracted aids, or was in a cult? The list is endless. Maybe my life was good, maybe it wasn't. Maybe I was loved, maybe I wasn't. It doesn't matter. We're done."

He got up and left. He'd made it halfway through the session, shattering his old record. Granted, he'd only really made it that far by examining the man's nostril hairs while he spoke. Thoroughly in need of a puzzle, he hailed a cab to the police station. It didn't take long for him to get what he was after. As soon as he walked in the door, the lieutenant of police came over to him waving a file.

"Conners, glad you're here. I was actually about to call you. We got a guy here asking for you."

Conners raised an eyebrow at the lieutenant, "Who is that?"

"Not sure what his real name is and his DNA doesn't match any records, but he's known by 'Hunter.' Does that mean anything to you?"

Conners' eyes widened, recalling his life of crime and murder.

"No!" he said quickly. "I don't know the man. I've never met him."

Conners had afforded a lot of leniency and relaxation within the station, but they couldn't know about his gang activity… especially not the kid with blonde hair.

"Conners?" asked the lieutenant slowly. "Are you feeling all right?"

"No, I'm not! I need to go home."

Conners turned quickly to walk out of the door.

"But what about Hunter?" asked the lieutenant.

"Your boys can handle him. Don't text me; I need to think."

He walked quickly back to his apartment and shut the door. For the next several hours, Conners tried to distract himself. He smoked, played with his rubix cube, smoked, mastered a few yo-yo tricks, smoked, played a text adventure on his computer, and smoked a bit more. Nothing helped.

As he was trying to lure his live-in mouse out of its hole, there was a knock at the door.

"Go away," Conners said. "No, I don't want your case. No, I don't want to buy your stuff. No, I'm not interested in donating to charity!"

The door opened anyway.

"And how about talking to a good friend?" Lawrence asked.

"Ah, it is good to see you!" Conners said, as he jumped up and embraced her.

"Conners!" she gasped, surprised at him. "Are you feeling all right?"

"All right?" Conners repeated. "Of course I'm all right. I'm fine—better! I'm better than fine, I am fantastic! I am fantastically fine… I'm good."

She raised an eyebrow disbelievingly.

"Michael," she said slowly.

That brought him to a halt. She never called him by his first name unless she was really worried that something was deeply wrong with him. It wasn't a professional thing. It was just how their relationship worked. He was Conners, she was Lawrence. Only now, she used his first name.

"I can't tell you," he said, dropping his playful demeanor.

She looked at him, and for a moment, he let her truly see him without all his guards in place. She looked right into his eyes, and he could tell she saw all this pain and self-doubt.

"Please."

Conners sighed and lit another cigarette before sitting on the couch. He motioned for her to take the chair opposite. He couldn't ever refuse her, not really. After all she'd done for him since Bill's murder, and especially with Richards, how could he ever hide anything from her?

A part of him still feared that this would be their last conversation. He had long ago made peace with the possibility of paying for his crime, and would even welcome it. But to never see Lawrence again… That would haunt him for years.

"You've known me for a few years, right?"

"As well as anyone."

"About two years before we met, before I got papers, I was nearly broke and grabbing work anywhere I could. I don't even know why I did it."

"Joined your gang?"

Conners took two deep drags before continuing.

"I found a man called Hunter and I figured if no one else would help me, I'd have to join his gang. At first, it was simple jobs. Deliver this package here, hide this in a safe place for a while. I was making enough to buy food and water. I was happy."

"So, what happened?" Lawrence asked.

"Soon, he noticed I was trustworthy, and we had bigger and bigger jobs. After a bit, I had gun on me at all times. After half a year, I was taking a shipment of cocaine to a man. The trade was going to go smoothly enough, until someone saw us."

He stopped to take another drag and try to calm himself.

"It was a boy, young one. He probably didn't even understand what we were doing. I heard a noise and got scared… I didn't mean to do it, but I reacted instantly. I pulled out my gun and shot him. It was quick, but I shot him right in between the eyes."

He chocked out the last sentence and hung his head. Lawrence didn't move, didn't say a word, but he knew she was on the verge of tears.

"I wasn't sure what to do!" he continued, "I ran out of the area as fast as I could. I had more money than I needed, and could travel quickly and afford new clothes so as to keep hidden. I don't like shooting anyone, even if I have to, but the boy… I deserve death for what I did to him."

"But you didn't mean to," Lawrence said.

Conners didn't know if she was trying to convince him or herself.

"That's a comfort to his family, I'm sure. It's why I became a detective. People who do what I've done are the ones who need to be caught."

"I don't follow you."

Conners stood slowly, lighting another cigarette.

"I had a plan," he said slowly, opening a part of himself he'd never shared, even with Bill. "I never had to think about this… it just made sense. I was going to do casework as long as I could. I figured that was the closest I could get to… penance or whatever you call it. Finally, when I'd spent as much time as I could solving murders and trying to fix things, I was going to end it. I thought maybe that could start to undo what I'd done to the boy…"

"Michael…"

"I still see him, all the time. I can't sleep, because I keep seeing that f*****g kid. I hate myself for it."

"But you can't torment yourself with this."

"Jessica, look. I don't want your pity or your words. The Hunter knows what I did and is here to get me back for it. I can't face him. I can bring down ignorance, topple arrogance, and destroy a man's power. But this man doesn't have any delusions about being able to stop me. He's stronger than I am with just a few words."

Conners realized tears were slowly dripping down his face, but he refused to reach up and wipe them. He heard Lawrence get up and assumed she was disgusted and prepared to leave. However, she surprised him. She moved next to him and wrapped her arms around him tightly.

"I don't know what happened then, Conners. I don't know the man who would deal drugs or kill people. I know you. I know a good man who wants to do something good in this world. I know a goofy, eccentric, damn good detective who has outwitted our police force at every turn. I know a man I… care about."

Conners stiffened. He and she had been flirting with each other ever since they met, but it had always just been a joke… hadn't it? He stopped and looked at her. His brilliant mind was stuck. He didn't use his emotions like this. He felt for people, sure. He had people he liked and people he hated. But he never felt… love.

With Lawrence, she was a spot in his life, and he couldn't think of it without her. Sure, he'd been fine before meeting her, but he was much better for knowing her. She was someone he could rely on, joke with and someone who trusted him no matter what. He liked her, and didn't want to lose her. Was that what love was supposed to be? He supposed so, but it seemed like there should also be… more. So, maybe he couldn't say he loved her, but he did care about her.

"I care about you too… a lot."

For several long minutes they stayed like that, and Conners was grateful to her for that moment. He didn't have to pretend that everything was all right, or that his past wasn't getting at him. He could be human and she stood with him, holding him as long as he needed her to.

In that moment of being completely vulnerable, he understood that she cared about him, despite his demons. It reminded him of when Bill had died. Lawrence had known he needed her without him ever saying a word. She was truly an amazing, unique woman.

He wrapped his arms around her and held her a little closer to him. The mood wasn't romantic or dramatic. It was just calm, relaxed. He was healing, and she was there to help him through this. It gave him a feeling of companionship he couldn't explain or reason out. It was like they owned each other, only because they were willing to be owned by the other. There wasn't another person on the planet he would consider being so open and natural with, and there wasn't anyone else she would be this close to… They were for each other, completely.

"I guess that's why you're always a smartass, huh?"

"Partly," he admitted. "I always was in a way, but it just makes it easier to deal with pain and stuff if you can laugh at it all. It makes it hurt less. I mean, we deal with death, murder and disgusting people day after day."

"Yeah, that's why I like having you around. Each day is just pain and exhaustion. People are crying and in pain and I want to help them, but it's just so never-ending that it places a strain on us. It's why so many cops turn to alcohol. It numbs the pain, but you do that for me. You show up and make proper asses out of everyone. It's just funny to see you strut around and usually be right."

"Well, anytime you need my legendary wit, I'm happy to provide."

She smiled at him and kissed him softly on the cheek. Conners felt his brain stop for just a split-second at the contact of her lips on his skin.

"Come on. Let's get you to your boogie-man from the past."

"I'll be sure to check under the bed," he responded softly, trying to joke.

He grabbed his cane and headed out the door, prepared to face his demons from the past.

In twenty minutes, Conners and Lawrence both came strolling through the doors of the station and found the lieutenant waiting for them.

"Thank goodness you're back," said Guston. "I can't get anything out of him."

"Of course not, he asked for me, what moron told you to try and talk to him?"

"You did."

"It simply couldn't have been me because I'm not stupid. Must be your mistake. Don't let it bother you, you make a lot of them."

Conners tossed his cane to the guard and went downstairs into the interrogation rooms. He caught a glimpse of his target. His mind took a snapshot and broke it down instantly. Hunter's face was sunken from malnutrition, and his arms were thin with little muscle or fat. His clothes though were of the finest nature, expensive even for a city boy. Despite lack of nutrition, the clothes fit him properly. So, he was still making money.

Then, why was he so underfed if he was rich? Answer: he wasn't. Perhaps he had a tapeworm, but if so, he had the money to handle it. Most likely answer, he was dying and didn't care to eat properly. He needed to test it.

Entering the room, Conners shook his head at Lawrence and sat across the table from Hunter.

"It's been a long time, Michael," said Hunter. "Thought you'd forgotten me."

"Hardly able to," said Conners. "You hungry?"

"Not at all," said Hunter, confirming Conners' theory. "Never thought I'd see you working with the pigs."

"I never thought I'd be the one to get your confession."

"I'm not here to confess."

"So why are you here?"

"I need you to keep the heat off my boys. We're having some trouble right now and need the heat taken off. If you don't, I'm afraid that family will know what happened to their boy."

Conners was stalled, but only for a moment.

"And what if I was to shoot you right now, or just strangle you. You certainly couldn't fight me off."

"Come on Conners," said Hunter. "You won't kill me. Not that it would matter much if you did. I'm only around for a few months more, but while I am, I want to be able to run my boys without your oppression."

"I've already got the mob pissed at me; I don't care about you and your gang."

"Maybe not, but you still won't kill me."

"No, you're right. I won't. But I'm not going to back off either. Catch you later."

As he got up to leave, his quick eyes caught the shift in the man's weight, the flick of his wrist. He had a wooden shiv. Maybe Hunter hadn't been set on it, but it was clear that he wanted to kill Conners in the station, and make a statement to the streets. Conners jumped left to avoid the lunge and caught Hunter's wrist. Then he twisted hard to the right, causing enough pain to make him drop the weapon. Conners picked it up.

"You piece of s**t!" Conners said. "Tell you what, I'm still not going to kill you, but I am going to stop you. You're under arrest for attempting to murder me. Lawrence, let's get a uniform in here."

No one said a word, but quietly moved Hunter to a jail cell. Conners went outside the station to start smoking. He hadn't really come to terms with the man yet, but he knew that he'd handled it in the best way he could. In a moment, Lawrence joined him.

"How are you feeling?" She asked.

"Fine," he said. "Better than I thought I would be anyway."

"You just cost me a hell of a lot of paperwork."

"True… Sorry about that. You doing anything later?"

"Not really."

"Well then," he said, putting out the cigarette. "I know this nice little place in Deerings. That is if you want to blow off that paperwork for now…"

"Love to," she said and the two left together.

It wasn't until their cab arrived at the restaurant that Conners felt his phone buzz. Pulling it out, he read the text.

Well done, detective. I doubted you would have the guts to actually do what needed to be done. I look forward to meeting you… in time.

- The Watcher