Close Encounters Read Online Free PDF Page A

She wanted to plead with them to please make it stop, but she couldn’t talk or open her eyes. She took a shuddering breath and groaned softly.
    “She’s back. I have a reading. Pressure’s going up.”
    “That was close…” someone muttered.
    “Carol, can you hear me?”
    “Pulse is one-ten. She’s looking good.”
    Carol slowly nodded her response.
    “We’re in business again.”
    “All right, let’s get her stabilized.” A young doctor leaned over her and patted her arm. “You’re going to be okay.”
    “When was the last time you had to see a shrink?”
    Lee glanced toward the window. His eyes burned. He rubbed them briefly and shrugged. “Probably not since my second or third year.”
    “What happened? Did you shoot someone? Kill someone?”
    “No. My partner was shot. He was paralyzed after that.”
    The man behind the desk slowly took a Hershey’s Kiss from a crystal dish on his bookcase and carefully peeled the paper. He chucked a second one across the desk to Lee, who deftly caught it.
    “How did you feel about that?”
    “That he took a bullet? Angry. He was a good cop. A good friend. The guy that brought him down was out of jail in under four years. He’s dead now. The shooter, I mean.”
    “But it doesn’t make you feel any better, does it?”
    “I got over it. Shit happens.”
    The man behind the desk rocked gently in his executive-style chair. He made a tiny silver ball of the candy foil and tossed it into an ashtray that was already filled with similar balls. “Is that how you feel about what happened yesterday morning? It was just so much shit?”
    Lee’s brows drew together and his jaw clenched. Once again he experienced that odd, tingling heat on his skin, just like he had for a few seconds after the shooting had stopped.
    He shrugged; his voice was tired and hoarse. “Occupational hazard.”
    Silence followed as Dr. Amos waited him out. Finally he asked, “Are you prepared to tell the woman who got shot that it was an occupational hazard? Do you think she and her family, or 99.9 percent of New York’s black population, are going to accept that? Can you handle the fallout?” He watched closely as Lee shifted restlessly in his chair. “How did you sleep last night?”
    “Look, it could have been a white woman. It could have been someone old. No one was out to get her .”
    “Well, as long as you’re satisfied with that…”
    “Of course I’m not,” Lee cut in, incredulous. He stopped and clamped his mouth shut.
    There was another long silence.
    “How about guilt?” the doctor asked him. “Did you ever feel guilty when your first partner got shot?”
    Lee stared at him. “What for? ’Cause it wasn’t me? No, never. I felt… helpless because I couldn’t do anything about what happened. Then I was pissed off because I knew I’d have to break in someone new.”
    “Detective Peña?”
    Lee shook his head. “There was someone else before her.”
    “What happened to him? Her?”
    “Him. He quit the force after about six… seven years.” A wry grin lifted the corner of his mouth. “And became a priest.” Dr. Amos chuckled in appreciation. Then both men sobered.
    Lee was remembering all the times he’d seen people shot, all the times he’d felt the righteousness of being the good guy. None of those other incidents had mattered… except for when his former partner had been hit.
    And except for Carol Taggart the morning before.
    “Lieutenant?”
    The voice shattered the peace Lee was trying to build for himself. He looked blankly at the doctor.
    “Want to tell me what you’re thinking right now?”
    Lee pulled himself together. He cleared his throat. He couldn’t say because he didn’t know. He only knew he was seriously confused. And angry. He shrugged. “Not much.” The doctor waited patiently. “I was just wondering… is this going to go on my record? That I was here to see you?”
    “Worried about what others will think?”
    “Worried about