Midnight Hero by Diana Duncan Page B

hurt?”
    He blinked, as if he could not process her question.
    She grabbed his shoulders. He was shaking. Her confusion blasted into fear. Steady, reliable, unshakable Con was trembling. “Con? What happened out there?”
    A horrifying possibility speared into her. “Is it the hostages?” Even as her appalled mind rejected the thought, she blurted out, “My God, did the robbers kill Nan, Mike and Letty?”

Chapter 5
    3:00 p.m.
    B ailey was waiting for him. Depending on him. The thought had speared the painful haze clouding Con’s vision and forced him to keep moving. He couldn’t remember finding his way back. Now that he’d reached her, his legs collapsed, and he slid down the wall.
    â€œCon, are you hurt?” She dropped to her knees in front of him. Her hands reached inside his jacket, gingerly feeling along his ribs and over his abdomen. “Answer me!”
    It hurts like a bitch. He nodded, then shook his head no.
    â€œWhich is it, yes or no?” she demanded.
    He shook his head no again.
    She left and he heard rummaging noises before she returned. “Open.” Her fingers pressed his jaw and his mouth opened. Liquid poured over his tongue. He swallowed. Sticky, and far too sweet. “Gack!” He shuddered and the fog receded.
    â€œDo you want more?”
    He coughed. “Hell, no. What was that?”
    â€œInstant glucose. Toy stores don’t sell brandy.”
    â€œHuh?” He swiped his hand across his mouth and shuddered again.
    â€œCandy syrup in a miniature wax bottle. Little kids drink it all the time with no ill effects. Well, except maybe excess energy. Better now?”
    â€œYeah.” His reply emerged graveled and raw, like his insides.
    She cupped his face in her chilled hands, her eyes wide with fear. “Con, is it the hostages? Are they—”
    â€œNo. They’re okay, for now.”
    â€œTell me what happened.”
    He still couldn’t believe what he’d seen. The past thirty minutes were a disjointed nightmare. “The head honcho, the robber giving all the orders—” He swallowed again, the sweet aftertaste turning bitter in his mouth. “He’s wearing my father’s watch.”
    She gasped. “What? Con…he’s been dead for nine years. How can you be sure?”
    â€œMy brothers and I gave the watch to Pop for Father’s Day, the year I was ten. Liam and Grady did chores to buy the face from a thrift store, and Aidan and I tooled a leather band with Celtic symbols and attached a new buckle in shop class. It’s one of a kind. Unmistakable. And that criminal is wearing it.”
    She gripped his shoulders and held his gaze, her expression troubled. “Did you see his face?”
    â€œNo, he still has on the Kevlar hood.”
    She frowned. “He couldn’t possibly be your father?”
    For a few horrible, sick moments, he’d wondered. The ugly rumors had sunk their claws into his chest and ripped out his memories…held them up, torn and bleeding for examination. Uncertainty had shredded his confidence. Doubt had lacerated his faith. The O’Rourke boys had endured scorn for nearly nine years, along with whispered speculation, not-so-subtle innuendos and outright insults.
    Ever since their father had been investigated by Internal Affairs for being dirty. A cop on the take.
    Not everyone swallowed the accusations. Veteran cops who had known Brian O’Rourke defended his integrity to this day. His wife and four sons believed in his innocence. Internal Affairs had never proven he’d taken the half million dollars missing from the armored car robbery.
    Unfortunately, Brian O’Rourke had never proven he hadn’t.
    He’d been quietly shuffled off to ride a desk. Bitterly unhappy, he’d accepted the undeserved punishment with stoic fortitude inherited from ancestors who emigrated from famine-riddled Ireland. Maintained his dignity