Max sleeps soundly in his small hospital bed. The cold sterile room is quiet except for the small hum coming from the IV beside him. A dim light glows just above the sink, giving his nurse enough light to carry out her menial tasks.

That's what I like to see, Melinda smiles approaching his bedside. She's been a nurse for ten years, the last five in ICU. She hopes to continue her career until she retires. Doing quick checks on the machines, she walks out of the room. She no sooner steps into the hall when Max starts thrashing around.

"No, Rachel, please stop, please, you're hurting me," he begs, tossing back and forth in the bed.

Hearing his desperate pleas, Melinda runs to his side. "Mr. Webb, Mr. Webb wake up, Sir?" she says, gently shaking him.

Max sees a pretty young woman dressed in white when he opens his eyes. Terrified, he springs up in bed. "Who are you, where am I, what happened?" he blurts out, anxiously scanning the room.

"I'm Melinda, your nurse. You're at Carroll Regional Hospital. Someone stabbed you at your house. The police found you and brought you here."

He turns his head towards her, a dumbfounded look on his face, trying to grasp what she just said. His cheeks turn ghostly white. "Where are my wife and kids, are they alright?"

"Mrs. Webb and the kids are at home, Sir."

"Are they alright?" He presses, worried there's something she's not telling him.

"Yes, Sir, they're fine, the intruder didn't get them."

"Thank God for that," he says. Relieved he lies back down.

Melinda straightens the crumpled linen. "Your wife has been with you all day. She planned on spending the night, but the doctor insisted she go home, get some rest. She told me to tell you she loves you and she'll be back first thing in the morning."

That's my Bonniekins. "I bet she'll be back before daylight," Max chuckles. "Oh that hurt," he says, wrapping his arms around his middle.

"The intruder did a number on you, so I imagine you'll be sore for quite some time."

He glances towards his abdomen. Seeing it's wrapped heavily in bandages, he anxiously asks, "How bad am I hurt?"

"You have several superficial wounds, but the doctors did a marvelous job, so you should be good as new in no time." Should I tell Mr. Webb about his heart condition or let the doctor explain it to him in the morning? She decides on the latter.

"Will I be able to dance?" Max asks, an ornery smile on his face. He's known to be quite the joker.

"I don't see why not, once you're healed, of course." Within reason.

"That's good because I never could before."

"Aren't you a humorous one," she laughs. Fluffing his pillows she continues, "That must have been some nightmare for you to thrash around like that."

"I guess."

"You don't remember your dream?" She places the pillow behind his head.

"No." He knew exactly what it was but didn't want to say anything just yet. Not until he could wrap his head around the harsh reality.

"You were screaming don't hurt me, Rachel."

His face turns pale. "Oh." How am I going to explain that? I'll say it was just a meaningless nightmare, a figment of my imagination, that I've been worried about Rachel a lot lately. They'll believe me, right?

"Do you know anyone named Rachel?" she asks, checking his IV.

"A few, but I don't see any of them hurting me. I'd like to get a little more sleep if you don't mind." He turns away from her.

"Of course, if you need anything, let me know, alright."

"I will."

Turning off the overhead light, Melinda steps out of the room.

Was the intruder really Rachel? Why would she try to hurt me after all these years? I've been a good father, haven't I? I brought her into my home, gave her everything she needed. I know that doesn't erase all the hell she's been through, but I tried to make it up to her, I really did.

He remembers their long conversation explaining what Jennie had said. I thought she believed me about Jennie's lies, telling me Rachel isn't mine. Maybe she only said she did to appease me. What should I do about the current situation? As her father, I want to protect her, despite what she's done to me, but as an officer of the court, it's my duty to see that justice is done. If I do the latter she'll end up in prison, and I don't want my daughter behind bars. Not after barely surviving a horrendous childhood. What am I going to do, what am I going to do? He sobs into his pillow.

***
Jerry is sitting at his desk reading the history of their last victim. Pulling an all-nighter is a part of the job I hate. He glances down at a picture on his desk. I'm doing this for you guys. He carefully touches their smiling faces.

Jerry has been a cop for nearly ten years, a detective for five. He decided to switch from a military career to law enforcement after his wife and daughter were killed in a drive-by. "I want to make sure other families don't have to go through what we have." He tearfully explains when questioned about his change in careers.

Yawning, he picks up a piece of paper from his cluttered desk. Yawning again, he grabs his cup and gulps the last of the cold bitter mix. Yawning for the third time, he glances towards the picture. I have to do this for them. Rubbing his dry, tired eyes, he starts reading again.

"Why don't you call it a day, Jerr, get a fresh start in the morning," Joe suggests.

"I'll be alright in a minute, Boss." He walks to the coffee pot. "Want some?" Jerry lifts up the pot.

"I've had all I can take of that gut-wrenching shit," he says, holding his stomach.

Jerry laughs. "Suit yourself, Boss." He watches with admiration as Joe works on a report. I wouldn't be here right now if he hadn't done what he did.

Jerry went into a deep depression after his family was killed. The doctor told Joe he's going through a grieving process and that he'll eventually work through it. Joe knew he had to do something when it went on for months.

~~~

"OK, Jerry, enough is enough," Joe says, stomping towards the couch.

"Leave me alone, Joe." Jerry pulls the covers over his head.

"So you're just going to give up like some yellow-bellied coward?"

"I have nothing left to live for, Joe," Jerry sobs.

"You have me."

"That's a big comfort," he says, rolling on his side.

"I didn't want to do this but you've left me no choice." Joe jerks the cover away.

"Leave me the hell alone, Joe," Jerry hisses, reaching for a filthy sheet.

Joe snatches it away. "You have ten seconds to get off this couch."

"If I don't?" he asks, crossing his arms in protest.

"I'll dump this bucket of ice water on you." He lifts up the large container. 

Jerry glances at the pail then back at Joe."You better not."

"Eight, seven, six," he counts, a stern look on his face.

"I'll kill you if you do," Jerry warns.

"At least you'll be out of bed. Four, three, two." Joe tips the bucket.  a large drop of water splashes Jerry's face.

"Please don't, Joe, please," he begs.

"Get up and I won't."

Jerry looks at the bucket then back at Joe.

"I warned you." Joe dumps the frigid liquid on him.

Screaming, Jerry jumps off the couch. "You're a dead man now, Joe."

"You have to catch me first." Tossing the bucket aside, Joe darts down the hall.

Filling the bucket with cold tap water, Jerry runs after him. "I'm going to get you for this," he screams.

Their chase continues until both men are soaked, exhausted, and gasping for much-needed air.

"I haven't had that hard of a workout since our military days," Joe says, wringing out his shirt.

"Me either." Jerry laughs, feeling completely ridiculous.

"Now we've showered and exercised, let's eat." Joe waves his hand above the array of foods.

~~~~

That man saved my life.

"What are you working on, Jerry?"

"I pulled up Vinnie's work history. According to the records, he was Mrs. Brown's maintenance man for nearly twenty years."

"I thought he was a registered sex offender?"

"He was, but somehow he got by with working close to children."

"Someone was sleeping on the job."

"That's for sure, Boss. What I don't understand is why Mrs. Brown would allow someone like him near her children." He scratches his head, something he often does when he's deep in thought. Joe teases him about it, says he's trying to jumpstart his withering brain. Realizing what he's doing, Jerry self-consciously drops his hand.

Joe snickers. "Maybe she didn't know."

"That's possible I guess. Here's something interesting, Boss, Frank Walsh is on the list too."

"Yeah, but Max isn't."

"True."

"Since we can't do anything else, why don't we call it a day, get a fresh start in the morning."

"I'm alright, Boss, honest." His eyes start watering trying not to yawn.

"I saw you dozing off a few minutes ago."

"I'm alright now." Feeling another one coming on, he turns away.

"Jerry."

"Yes, Boss?" he mumbles through his yawn.

"As your superior, I'm ordering you to the bunks."

Jerry stomps his foot.

"Don't make me write you up."

"Yes, Boss." He trudges towards the back.

Jerry acts like such a child sometimes. Snickering, Joe walks out the door.