Chapter 10

McCormick took a deep breath and knocked. Hearing the answering invitation, he stepped inside and closed the door behind him. The look of sheer disbelief on Frank Harper's face would have been absolutely hysterical under other circumstances. Unfortunately, he was fairly certain that the walk he had just made from the parking lot represented his last taste of freedom for several years, so he wasn't really in a laughing mood. He settled for a small smile of greeting. "Frank."

The lieutenant didn't waste time with small talk. "Do you know there's an APB out on you?"

McCormick nodded slightly. "I heard your message to the judge this morning. I know things look pretty bad, but I'll say again that it wasn't me."

"The burglaries aren't even the issue any more, McCormick," Harper said heatedly. "Hardcastle gave you an alibi for last night."

"What?"

Harper related a brief explanation of the judge's all night garage vigil, and he saw the sudden, surprised gratitude light McCormick's eyes. Then he saw the light die almost as quickly when he explained that the APB was issued after Hardcastle filed the stolen vehicle report. "You weren't expecting that, I guess?"

"Nope." McCormick worked hard to keep the hurt from his voice. "But I'm not exactly surprised, either."

Harper glared at the young man's seeming lack of concern. "I can't believe you ran," he said coldly. "I told you how bad that would look for Milt."

"First of all, Lieutenant, I didn't run. I had business to take care of. And, secondly, I told him I'd be back." He shrugged slightly. "I'm back."

"So why are you here instead of there?"

McCormick allowed himself a tiny grin. "I figured it was marginally safer."

"We'll see about that," Harper said darkly.

McCormick swallowed hard, not appreciating the threat, but figuring it was only gonna get worse, anyway. He reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out a cassette tape. He tossed it onto the desk in front of Harper. "This is for you, Frank. Do what you want with it, but it should help you clear a few open cases, if you're interested."

"What is it?" Harper asked as he rummaged through his desk, looking for a player.

"Should be my key to freedom," McCormick answered. "Too bad it's probably not gonna work out that way."

Harper had found a portable cassette player and was listening to McCormick's earlier conversation through the headset. "This Archer, by any chance?"

McCormick's mouth dropped open in surprise. "How'd you know?"

The lieutenant almost grinned. "Hardcastle isn't exactly new to this kind of thing, you know; he had some ideas in mind." He sobered completely. "He was a hundred percent behind you, McCormick, right up until this morning. Too bad you couldn't have waited one more day to pull your vanishing act."

McCormick shook his head sadly. "No way I could've expected him to believe me after you found the medallion, Frank. I had to take matters into my own hands. But, anyway, what're you gonna do about Archer? He should be at the track now, if you want him. He's too messed up to know I was setting him up."

"We'll pick him up, and get him to give up his friend," Harper said as he set the headset aside. "And what about you?" he asked somberly.

"That's up to you," McCormick answered evenly. "I can go home or I can stay here; I won't argue about it either way."

"I think it might be best if you stay here," Harper replied, almost apologetically.

McCormick nodded slowly. "Not a problem."

Harper rose from behind his desk and started toward the door. "Wait here for a few minutes, Mark, while I dispatch a unit. Then I'll have to put you in a holding room. In the meantime, why don't you use your phone call to talk to Milt?"

McCormick looked at the detective despondently. "I don't know if I can, Frank. Would you tell him I'm here?"

"You can't avoid him forever, Mark," the lieutenant said gently.

"I know. But I think I can only deal with this conversation once. It's not like he'll let it go with just a phone call."

"No, I don't imagine he would." Harper indicated a chair in front of his desk. "Sit down and wait, Mark. I'll be back in a minute."

McCormick dropped into the chair and waited, trying to think about anything except the next several years in prison. Fortunately, Harper returned quickly, saving him from his useless effort.

"You really don't want to talk to him?" the lieutenant asked as he rounded his desk and picked up the phone.

McCormick shook his bowed head wordlessly.

Harper dialed the familiar number and waited for the more familiar growl. "Hardcastle," he heard over the line.

"Milt, it's Frank. I wanted to let you know that McCormick's here at the station."

"You picked him up?"

"Not exactly. He turned himself in, Milt."

Hardcastle was immediately suspicious. "What kind of game is he runnin'?"

"I don't think it's like that," Harper replied. "He brought evidence to clear the burglaries. It was Archer and some other guy."

"Hah!" Hardcastle snorted. "What kind of bogus crap did he lay on you? Pretty convenient; I still say they're probably in it together. Anyway, whatever it is, I'm sure you can just start drawing up the charges against him." The hours of waiting had only served to fuel Hardcastle's anger, and he was well past feeling any amount of uncertainty over his next course of action.

"Milt…"

"Don't 'Milt' me," the judge shouted. "I'm not interested in any more of his fast talking lies. Just do me a favor and lock him up. I'll fill out the paperwork tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Milt, I don't know if I can keep him in a holding cell this time."

"I'm not asking you to, Frank. I want you to book him and put him in the cooker. I'll call the warden and let him know the kid will be back to Quentin in a couple of days."

Harper was shocked. "I think you're getting ahead of yourself. Why don't you come on down here and talk to the kid?"

"I told you, I'm not interested in anything he has to say, Frank. I'll be down tomorrow for the papers." The sudden click made it clear that Hardcastle considered the discussion closed.

Harper replaced the receiver slowly, not certain what to say to McCormick. The ex-con saved him the trouble.

"He's not coming, is he?"

"He'll calm down," Harper assured the young man, though he wasn't sure if he'd ever heard the judge so angry.

McCormick smiled weakly. "I doubt it, Lieutenant, but I appreciate you saying so." He gave a half-hearted shrug and tried to hide behind his usual carefree attitude.

"Oh, well. I knew what I was risking when I left. At least no one in Quentin plays basketball at six in the morning, and there's not a single hedge to be clipped." He rose slowly from his chair. "Might as well get this over with."

But Harper didn't rise. "Hang on a minute, Mark; sit back down. Let's give it a little while. He'll come around."

The detective didn't even hint at how much he hoped he was right. As badly as he had wanted McCormick away from Hardcastle when it looked like the kid was bad, he now wanted nothing more than for the ex-con to stay put at Gull's Way. Something about this smart-mouthed, hotheaded kid was good for Hardcastle, and Harper was willing to buy a little time while his friend figured that out for himself.

"I don't know, Frank…"

"You got someplace you'd rather be?"

McCormick grinned ruefully as he folded himself back into the chair. "Lots of 'em, but I don't think they're on today's itinerary." He squirmed in the chair until he made himself comfortable. "So how long do you think?"

Harper shrugged. "Hard to tell with him. But I know he doesn't really want you in jail. And, it's easier to keep you out than get you out, which he full well knows, so he's gonna want to stop me before I get too far along in processing you. So, hopefully, not too long."

It seemed a logical argument, McCormick thought, except for the fact that it was built upon an incorrect foundation; Hardcastle did want him in jail, of that he was certain. But Harper knew the judge better than he did, so maybe things would work out. And even if they didn't, a few extra minutes in an office instead of a cell was okay by him. He leaned his head back and closed his eyes, prepared to wait until Hardcase decided his fate.

00000

Hardcastle sat glaring at the phone he had just slammed down. Why in the hell was Harper trying to get in the middle of this? He, of all people, should understand that McCormick could not stay here when he so clearly could not be trusted.

But—

But nothing, Hardcastle argued with himself. So what if McCormick had taken in some kind of evidence to wrap up the burglaries? The kid was just doing that for himself, just making sure he wasn't the one taking the fall.

Somebody had to.

Hardcastle shook his head roughly. It wasn't his fault the kid got himself into a jam. The past always has a way of catching up with you. And it wasn't his responsibility to go chasing after every cock and bull story the kid could concoct to try to get out of that jam, especially when the kid wouldn't even tell him the story, but just went running off on his own.

Your custody, your responsibility.

He's a grown man; he should take some responsibility for himself.

He did. Now you're putting him in jail.

The judge pulled a hand across his mouth. He deserves worse, running out on me like that. He swore he wouldn't run, and I suppose he thinks it's okay just because he turned himself in.

He told you he'd be back.

Can't trust him anymore; said he'd never lie to me.

Didn't lie; he came back.

But, still.

He came back.

Hardcastle reached quickly for the phone, hoping it wasn't too late.

00000

McCormick sat silently in the holding room, waiting and wondering. He was relieved the judge was coming to see him, though he had no idea what he'd say when the donkey finally showed up. God, how could things have gotten so screwed up? Just a couple of weeks ago, he had thought his life might finally be turning around, and now…now he was just another ex-convict who couldn't make it on parole and was facing a long stretch of time looking at life through bars. He shook his head with a slight smile and tried to focus on something else; he hated it when he got morose.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of the doorknob turning.

"What have you got to say for yourself, kid?" Hardcastle closed the door behind him, but didn't move into the room.

McCormick opened up his mouth to respond, ready to lay into the judge with all of his pent up anger and frustration and fear. "How about I'm sorry?"

McCormick had surprised himself with the response; that surely was not what he had intended to say. But as soon as the words were out of his mouth, he recognized their truth. He was more sorry than he would ever have imagined.

"What were you thinking? And if you knew something, why didn't you take me with you?" Hardcastle struggled to keep his voice calm.

"I needed to go alone," was the only explanation. "Besides," McCormick added, "you made it clear you weren't looking for anyone else. You thought you had your guy."

Hardcastle winced at the betrayal he heard in McCormick's voice. "Your attitude wasn't making my decision any easier, you know," he said by way of defense.

"I suppose," McCormick admitted grudgingly. He paused, then looked over at Hardcastle earnestly. "I would never have left you hanging, Judge. No matter what."

"I know that, kiddo," Hardcastle answered with a heavy sigh. He moved into the room and seated himself at the table across from McCormick. "I appreciate you coming back."

McCormick shrugged off the gratitude. "It's not like you didn't have people looking for me. We both know I would've ended up back here one way or the other."

"It's the way you chose that matters to me."

McCormick felt a small rush of pride from Hardcastle's gentle words. Too bad he wouldn't be hearing more of them. He smiled slightly, and ventured into a new topic. "Harper told me you spent last night in the garage, Judge. Wasn't really necessary, but I sure was glad you could alibi me for that latest burglary."

"I needed to know for sure, McCormick, one way or the other, and I thought I had it figured out. Until I found the note." Hardcastle knew it was McCormick's turn to hear betrayal, and he didn't try to hide it in the least. This wasn't going to get mushy, but it had to be honest.

"God, Judge, I'd apologize a million times if that would make it better, but, somehow, I don't think it will. I only wanted to find out who was setting me up, not cause you any more trouble than I already have." McCormick thought he saw Hardcastle ready to argue that he hadn't been trouble, but the moment was brief, and then hardness returned to the judge's eyes.

McCormick sighed silently. He had hoped to patch things up with Hardcastle before returning to San Quentin, but he didn't seem to be making much progress in that regard. He dismissed the idea and forced himself to ask the question that burned in his mind. "So…how long am I looking at, Judge?"

Hardcastle thought for a long moment. "Well, you've got three years coming from your original sentence, and probably another seven to ten for taking my truck. I doubt if the D.A. will try to make a case for escape, even though they probably could, so I guess that's it."

"That's it?" McCormick was astounded. "You tell me I'm gonna spend at least the next ten years in prison, and all you have to say is 'that's it'? God, Judge, by the time I get out, I'll have spent almost half of my life behind bars!" He turned quickly away, not wanting the judge to see the terror he was feeling.

"Sometimes—"

"Don't say it!" McCormick interrupted forcefully, as he rose from his chair and leaned over the table to glare at Hardcastle. "I don't want to hear again about how sometimes the past catches up with you, or sometimes life isn't fair, or any of the other profound words of wisdom you're always spouting off. I've heard 'em all before, and I sure as hell know how true they can be, so I don't need to be reminded now."

He shoved the chair out of his way and strode angrily across the room to the single window. He stared sadly out the small opening, wishing it were large enough to crawl through, then knowing immediately he wouldn't do it, anyway. He cursed himself inwardly. How could he be so committed to this damned 'arrangement' while Hardcastle clearly had no problem calling it quits? He tried to ignore the stocky figure that crossed the room to stand close to him.

"I guess that's longer than you were expecting?" the judge asked, more to get McCormick's attention than anything else.

McCormick didn't turn from the window. "I didn't really think you'd press charges for the truck," he replied bitterly. "Not that it would've mattered. I would've dragged my dumb ass back here anyway, though God only knows why. But I thought…. Never mind. Doesn't matter what I thought."

"Why did you come back?" Hardcastle asked suddenly.

McCormick shook his head slightly. "Stupidity." He paused for a moment, and then continued, still staring at the outside view. "Remember you asked me before if it would feel different going to prison for something I didn't do instead of for parole violations?" He looked briefly over his shoulder to meet the judge's eyes. "I decided it would. I couldn't let you put me in jail not knowing the truth." Turning back to the window, he added softly, "Again."

Hardcastle wiped a hand across his weary face. "What am I gonna do with you, McCormick?"

"The last time you said that, Judge, I ended up in a cell before the day was over. I guess we're ahead of schedule this time."

"Look, hotshot, running out on me like that was wrong, no matter what you thought you were doing, and—"

"I know," McCormick interrupted sullenly, "I'm not arguing abou—"

"And taking the pickup was just plain stupid, so—"

"I know, Judge, I—"

"So from now on," Hardcastle continued firmly, determined not to be led astray by the continual interruptions, "the rules are, you tell me what you're doing before you do it. In fact, I seem to remember something about not breathing without my permission."

McCormick turned slowly, too stunned to comprehend what he was hearing. "What? From now on? I don't understand."

"Try to stay with me, McCormick," Hardcastle began in a borderline condescending tone that McCormick suddenly hoped he'd have a chance to grow to hate. "The problem here is not that you went after Archer, or even that you took my truck. The problem is that you did it without me. There's a whole lot of legal reasons that's not a good idea, but the only thing you really need to know is that I won't tolerate it again. Tonto does not ride alone. Is that clear?"

McCormick bobbed his head up and down quickly as he felt the relief beginning to flood over him, but he hardly dared to believe Hardcastle would let him off.

"It's clear, Judge, absolutely crystal. You're right, I won't breathe without asking. I'll stay at the house when we're not working, and I'll do the chores. I'll do anything you say, Judge. And I'll even try to watch the mouth; won't complain about things, just tell me what you want. I can—"

Hardcastle laughed and held up his hands to stop the rush of words. "McCormick! Don't make promises you can't keep. It sets a bad precedent."

"I suppose so," McCormick answered with a slight grin. "Then tell me what to say, Judge. I really will do anything. Or at least," he amended quickly, "I'll try."

The judge was amused by McCormick's eagerness. "I thought you had the right idea before, kiddo: just follow my rules and don't ever lie to me."

The gratitude shone in McCormick's eyes as he finally and completely understood that Hardcastle really did intend to take him home today. "Absolutely. I won't. I mean, I will. I mean, I will and I won't. I mean, I will follow your rules, and—"

"McCormick, stop blubbering; I get the point." The judge sobered quickly. "But, listen, I'm serious about this, kiddo. I absolutely want this to be the last time I put you in a cell…ever."

"You and me both, Judge," McCormick answered fervently.

"Then you have to understand that your freedom is more up to you than it is me, McCormick. I know you, and this will be hard. Now, I'm not worried about lies; you're practically truthful to a fault. And most of the rules I figure you'll bitch and whine about, but you'll stick to them."

"Then what's the problem, Hardcase?"

"You're too damned independent for your own good, hotshot. You cannot forget what I said."

And then McCormick laughed in that way he had that said he was already a step ahead of everyone else. "Don't worry, Judge, I've got it. Tonto doesn't ride alone."

He threw his arm companionably around the judge's shoulder and walked him toward the door. "And it won't be a problem, because the Lone Ranger never rides alone, either. You and me, we're partners." He winked at Hardcastle. "Indefinitely."

Hardcastle laughed and shrugged off the arm. "Now you're cookin', kiddo," was the only thing he said as he shoved the young man out the door, thinking that, suddenly, indefinitely didn't seem all that long at all.