He’d found this bar while recovering from his gunshot wound. He didn’t want to go to the usual haunt filled with cops. During his recovery, he didn’t feel like a cop. He just wanted to be alone in a place where no one knew him, or more so, knew what happened. The doctor and his lieutenant were right. He didn’t want to talk about Steve Mason. He just wanted to forget about the shooting that took his partner’s life. A few drinks, in his mind, were the best remedy to help him forget. He’d been luckier than his partner that night. His partner had been his shield. The bullet went through his partner and hit him. Riley played the night over and over in his head. If he’d went first, instead of Steve, then he’d be dead and Steve would be at this bar playing the night over in his head. They’d met at the academy and lucked out as partners and then were invited to the elite drug operations task force. Riley had known him for ten years.
