HAPPY FAMILY: MISSING SCENES
Detective Lynn Bishop slipped behind the wheel of the SUV. She was still adjusting to many things about Detective Robert Goren, but his allowing—wanting—her to drive was not one of them. From her Academy days until she reached Major Case, her partners had insisted on driving. Bishop admitted that her early driving of the massive vehicles Goren favored worried her, but she had no idea how Goren felt about it, or if he felt anything at all about it. He was too lost in studying the contents of his leather binder when they were in the car. ("What," Bishop wondered. "Does he keep in that thing?" She'd seen him misplace his badge, leave his ID in or on his desk, even forget his gun, but Goren clung to that binder the way a kid clung to a favorite blanket.) She liked driving after a while, even the giant SUVs. Goren liked them because he fit in them; Bishop liked them because they gave her a sense of power she'd rarely experienced. She'd confessed this to Alex Eames, who'd smiled with understanding.
"One good thing about Goren," Eames said. "Is that he isn't into any kind of power trip. He's also the least sexist guy I've ever met. The worst thing he'll try to do is try to protect you. But he does that with everyone, male or female."
Once she got past thinking of Eames as the competition, Bishop liked Eames. It was, she thought, impossible to dislike Eames. She was tough and funny and smart; she couldn't and wouldn't be pigeonholed. She was the girl in high school that the queen bees couldn't sting because she knew high school wasn't forever. She was the girl everyone could talk to, the one who finished second or third in all of the contests and whose congratulations to the winners were always true. Bishop would've liked to have disliked Alex Eames, but couldn't because Eames was so good and didn't realize there was any competition. Bishop's lawyer father and executive mother raised her to be competitive. She knew her father wanted her to be a boy—the fact her first, unused name was George proved that—but Bishop suspected he would've pressed a male heir in the same way. He was certainly raising her half-brother that way, if the stories she heard were true. She was usually grateful for the way she was raised. It prepared her for the NYPD and the questions about whether she could cut it not only because of her gender, but because she was Stanton Bishop's daughter and a descendant of a family that gave trinkets to Manhattan's original human occupants on one side and the granddaughter of Councilman James O'Hara on the other.
But it didn't prepare her for Robert Goren, who didn't seem to know or care what her background was. He didn't seem to care what anyone thought about him, except for Eames. Lynn Bishop was a very ambitious woman. She viewed her Major Case assignment as a great career step, and she had some hopes of making the temporary post a permanent one, or at least giving her the sort of attention that would move her closer to at least a captain's bars. But she couldn't compete with Alex Eames, especially the Alex Eames Robert Goren carried in his head. From the first days of their partnership, Bishop heard Goren thinking, "Eames wouldn't have done that" every time she moved or said something. Upset at something Goren did—she couldn't remember if it was when he poked a corpse's nose or sat down at a suspect's dinner table—she rushed into Captain Deakin's office and found Eames there. Before Bishop could say anything, Eames smiled sympathetically and said. "He drove me crazy at first. Still does."
"At least once a week," Deakins said wryly.
"C'mon," Eames said. "I'll buy you a drink. And you can buy me a decaf iced tea…"
They had a long talk that day and more than one drink and iced tea. Bishop knew they'd never be close friends, but they were friendly. And Eames understood what it was like to work with Robert Goren.
"I'll talk to him," Eames promised her. "Get him to give you a break…But you gotta give him one too…He does things for a reason…He's not the usual cop. But he's a great detective and a good man. Just give him a chance."
Things got better after that. Bishop tried to listen, tried to watch, tried to give Goren every break. And she had to admit that Goren also tried to listen, to watch, to give her every break. Bishop thought that she could see him often taking a deep breath and counting to ten before he responded to her, but he was trying. But there were moments when Goren disappeared into some place in his head where even Eames wasn't allowed. After that first session, Bishop shared several drinks and coffees—always nonalcoholic and decaf for Eames—with Goren's real partner. Bishop knew Eames was Goren's partner, just as Goren was Eames', something that became clearer the more she worked with Goren and spoke with Eames. She realized her position in Major Case wasn't going to be permanent, and that it might not be a step to bigger and better things. Goren equally pleased and infuriated his superiors, and one day Bishop found herself sharing his glory; the next she found herself shunned with him by the Brass and other cops. It didn't seem to matter to Goren how the rest of the NYPD felt about him as long as he was allowed to do the job. Bishop didn't feel she had that freedom.
Bishop glanced at Goren. He sat in the passenger seat, his binder open on his lap, his thoughts apparently deep in analyzing the case. She'd seen him do this at the end of every case. It was as if his brain was recovering after his abuse of it. It wasn't that he seemed only physically tired—although Bishop often felt waves of exhaustion coming from him—but that his mind and spirit were also spent. And this most recent case seemed to have hit him on a very deep level. She'd seen some cases strike him hard, but this one appeared to have opened old wounds. She wondered if Goren had come by his knowledge of the behavior of institutionalized children from something more than just research.
They were nearly at One Police Plaza. One of the things that excited Bishop when she arrived at Major Case was its close proximity to the Brass. She was surprised to discover most members of the Squad did not regard this as an advantage and tried to avoid the Brass. Goren, even with his occasionally sore knee, opted to climb up or down several flights of stairs rather than share an elevator with a member of the Brass. Within a few days, Bishop discovered she was also going out of her way to avoid the residents of the upper floors of One PP. Part of the reason was because the way some of the Brass looked at her, but Bishop was used to being regarded as something less than a good cop because of her age and gender. Another reason was because some of the Brass who knew who she was and where she worked tried to pump her for information about Captain Deakins and the Major Case Squads' inner workings. The final and largest reason was because some of the Brass who knew who she was and where and who she worked with wanted to know about Robert Goren. She grew weary of questions about how and why Goren did things, largely because she didn't how and why he did.
But as she worked with Goren, Bishop slowly realized that the man came by his knowledge through his constant reading and research. He didn't—as so many people thought—pull his ideas out of the air. He worked, and he worked very hard. He was smart and possessed a terrific memory, but he was frequently embarrassed by his talents. She started to listen to what Alex Eames and Captain Deakins told her about Goren and to regret that she hadn't studied his cases. Bishop suspected that such studies would have told her much about Goren. She realized that Robert Goren, in addition to having a brilliant mind and a great capacity for work, had great insight into people's minds, and that insight came at an equally great cost.
They reached the One PP parking garage, and Bishop chanced another look at Goren as she turned into it. Seemingly unaware of his surroundings, he stared at his open binder.
"Are you ok?" she asked cautiously.
He started at her voice. He appeared to have forgotten her presence and to think that the SUV was driving itself. He roused from his study and closed his binder. "Uh…Yea…Just…" He waved one of his large hands in the way Bishop had first found irritating but now thought rather endearing. "Thinking about the case…"
Bishop eased the SUV into a parking spot. "You don't think there's any problem…"
"Not…" Goren frequently bristled at her challenges, especially in their early days together, but as Bishop showed more tolerance to him, he showed more to her. "There's no question Jason did it and why he did it. The questions are about his state of mind, how much Sam helped him, and how much both sides of his family knew."
"I'm sorry I had so many questions about this case," Bishop said carefully. "It's just…"
"I know," Goren said. "It's hard to think of any child killing a parent, but especially a kid like Jason, who seems to have be a good and talented one…"
"I hope…I know he did a horrible thing…But I hope he gets some help…"
"He may," Goren said ruefully. "His family has money and position…He and Sam may get the help they need."
"Will it save them?" Bishop asked. "I…I don't know a lot about this sort of thing…I should've paid more attention in psych class."
"I…I don't know," Goren said softly after considering the question for several minutes. "I…I hope so…At least…They have people who love and care about them…Who were willing to take a murder charge for them…They have a lot stacked against them…But having one person on your side can save a kid…Having a lot of them should help…"
Bishop felt as if Goren had cracked open a window to show her part of his mind and his past. "Jason and Sam," she said tentatively. "You…You understand them…Did you…"
Goren sat silently, and Bishop cursed herself for intruding into his thoughts.
"I…I never went through what they did," Goren whispered. "But…There were some things…" He shut his binder and opened the car's door. As he did, Bishop saw him shut the window he briefly opened. "We…We need to get upstairs…"
He stepped from the SUV, and Bishop silently followed him.
END