Another.
SILVER LINING: MISSING SCENES
"I can hear you thinking over here," Alex said quietly.
Bobby blinked as he looked up from his open binder. "Uh…Sorry…"
"No need to apologize for doing your job," Alex said patiently. "Just an observation." She carefully parked the SUV roughly a block away from the surveillance van. "Think this is far away enough?"
Bobby studied their surroundings. "I think so…But with this guy…" He shook his head. "He's awfully good and smart."
"You admire him?" Alex asked.
"He's good," Bobby said. "What puzzles me…He's never used violence…Not any…Not even resisting arrest…Murder…Particularly in such a personal way…It's not his style…"
"But if he was involved with her…That would bring the personal into it," Alex said.
"Yea…" Bobby acknowledged. "But the only evidence we really have pointing in that direction is what the son says he saw…And I'm skeptical of him…"
"Well," Alex said as she stepped from the SUV. "Maybe we'll get lucky and get to ask the master thief in person…"
Bobby left the van and joined Alex as they crossed the street. "If you're right about him having an affair with the victim, I'll buy you a margarita."
"Right now, my beverage of choice is coffee," Alex said.
Bobby raised the thermos he'd brought.
"Excellent," Alex smiled.
When she received the post to Major Case, Alex's colleagues in Vice offered her congratulations and envy. One female cop said longingly, "No more long nights in the cold in skimpy outfits for you." "Get to live the life of luxury," another cop—one whose advance Alex had to constantly slap away—grumbled. Some of her family members also thought she now had an easy professional life. During her first week at Major Case, Alex was at a crime scene when her cell phone rang. She recognized her older sister's number, and fearfully answered the phone. Alex had repeatedly stressed to her family that they were to call her cell only in cases of extreme emergency. Her sister was stunned to discover Alex was at a crime scene and that she was angry—very angry—about the call. "I thought you'd be getting better hours now," her sister whined. "I need to talk to you about the weekend…"
"I can't drop everything to talk to you now," Alex said and snapped her phone shut.
She was at Major Case for nearly three years before her family—with the exceptions of her father and older brother, who already knew—realized that being a First Grade Detective at one of the NYPD's most prestigious squads meant more and harder work rather than less and easier. "You spend more time with that partner of yours," her mother complained once. "Than you do with anyone in the family. At least when you were married to Joe, we got to see you."
"My partner," Alex said through clenched teeth. "Has a name. It's Bobby Goren. And he's pretty good company when we're on the job."
"He is good company," Alex thought as she and Bobby settled in the surveillance van. On these long nights, Bobby took his own shift and then some when it came to standing guard. He always brought good, strong coffee and provided excellent conversation. Tonight Bobby carried a large book in addition to his leather binder. As their watch began, Bobby spoke to the techs and other cops. He exchanged comments with Alex about the prospects for New York baseball and listened to stories of her family, especially her nephew. As the night moved into morning, Alex's energy waned.
"It's ok," Bobby said after he kept her nodding head from slamming into the van's side for the third time. "Grab a nap…"
"You'll wake me up for my turn?" Alex fought against yawning.
"Yea…" Bobby said. "I've got plenty to read to keep me awake." He lifted the heavy tome.
Alex regarded the book skeptically. "You'll be asleep before me if you read that…"
But within a few minutes Alex's eyes were shut and her head rested on her arms. Bobby glanced at her in between reading pages. The techs in the van were oblivious to Alex and Bobby aside from their comments about the lack of criminal activity in the area. At some point Bobby removed his tie and slipped it into a pocket. Alex slept deeply and peacefully, and Bobby envied her ability to rest anywhere, anytime. Sleep was difficult for him. He had to be in his own bed, in his own room, with the blinds drawn and the air cool and the world as silent as he could make it. He usually also needed a warm shower to wash away the day, and no matter how tired he was he had to brush his teeth. Even then, sleep often wouldn't come, and, after tossing and turning and trying various combinations of pillows, Bobby would surrender and pick up a book or a case file and try to make something positive out of his restlessness.
"She must have better dreams," Bobby thought. He stretched, and checked the time. It was near dawn, and it was becoming clear that their silver thief wasn't following his usual patterns. Bobby sighed. Deakins would be upset, and Bobby couldn't blame him. Alex might have to stand up for Bobby again, and he was tired of her having to stand up for him. "Have to wake her up," he thought. He unscrewed the top of the thermos, poured a cup of the coffee, and waved it beneath Alex's nose.
Her nose crinkled, she blinked, smiled and reached for the cup. "Thanks," she said.
Bobby's insides turned to goo.
She sat up, brushed her hair from her eyes, and studied Bobby. "Don't you ever sleep?"
Embarrassed, he stared down at his book. "There's a lot to do…"
He apologized to her as they drove back to One Police Plaza. "Guy didn't show up," he said. "You didn't get to sleep in your own bed…And now we have to face Deakins…" Bobby shook his head. "Maybe I'm wrong about this guy…"
"What? You're not infallible like the Pope?" Alex grinned.
"I'm not sure about him," Bobby said. "I know I'm not…"
In spite of his initial failure, the next few days were the sort that gave Bobby reason to live. He had a case—a tough, intriguing case with an intelligent and unusual perp—and he was working with Eames. More than that, he got to spend a lot of time with Eames as they travelled to and from Pennsylvania. She drove; he thought; they debated; and they finally caught their thief, and their murderer.
"A double play," Alex said as they followed the cars carrying Wesley and Sheila back to New York.
"Yea…"
"I hear a 'but' coming, Goren," Alex said.
"I…I'm still not convinced Wesley's our murderer. Especially with this baby coming. Murder is very high risk, and Wesley is all about low risk right now. His desire to steal silver is almost a compulsion…And his desire is to steal really high end silver…And he cares enough about this baby to change…At least a little…" Bobby explained.
"So…It's a question of when did Wesley know about the baby?" Alex asked.
"Yea…That and his whole history…This isn't a violent guy," Bobby said. "And I know we've both seen enough to know very peaceful people can become violent…But it just doesn't fit…"
"The magic gut speaks," Alex smiled.
Bobby frowned.
"Don't worry…I know the "magic gut" works because you work very hard, Bobby." Alex studied the cars in front of them. "Sheila…Now she strikes me as the violent type…Especially if she thought anything…Or one…Was coming between her and Wesley…"
"Yea…" Bobby nodded thoughtfully.
"Tag team when we get to Major Case?" Alex asked. "You get Wesley…I get Sheila…"
"Good idea…I think I can connect with Wesley…And you with Sheila…"
"You relate to the poor boy jealous of the rich kids?" Alex immediately hated her smart ass mouth. "Sorry…That was…"
"I would've had to have known some rich kids for that to happen," Bobby said. But he was quiet for the rest of the trip back to New York, and Alex sensed it wasn't just because he studied his notes.
Their encounters with Wesley and Sheila were profitable. There were no confessions, but neither Alex or Bobby expected them. They learned about the dynamics between the two, and when Bobby stepped from the interrogation room he was convinced that Wesley wasn't a killer. Of course Bobby also didn't have proof that Wesley was the man Deakins had dubbed "The Silver Surfer", but the Captain, Carver, and Bobby all believed that he was. Bobby watched as Alex questioned Sheila. Other cops might forget that Alex was an extremely effective cop—Bobby never did. She was as good at interrogation as he was—better in some cases. This was definitely one of those cases. She didn't get a confession from Sheila, but she got the increasingly defensive woman to reveal a great deal. Bobby felt what he knew was unreasonable pride as he watched Alex interrogate Sheila. He had nothing to do with the fact she was a great cop, much better than him in nearly every way, but he had taught her a few tricks. It wasn't much, especially in comparison with what Alex had taught and given to him, but it was gratifying to see her employ some of his techniques, particularly if it was one about which she'd previously expressed some skepticism.
He heard Alex say, "He's just like my partner. My partner's into only one thing. He just wants to catch bad guys."
For several moments Bobby couldn't focus on the interrogation. Did Alex really think it was the only thing in his life? Worse, was she right about that? He was glad that he stood behind Carver and Deakins and that neither man could see his reaction. He wondered if they thought the same thing, or if they cared.
"If it is the only thing I'm into," Bobby thought as he roused himself from his dark mood. "I'd better get in there and do it."
"I hope," Bobby said to Sheila as he entered the room. "That you don't think of yourself as meat loaf…"
The case and its conclusion kept Bobby's mind happily occupied for the next days, but his dark thoughts returned as he and Alex watched the police cars carrying Wesley and Sheila drive away.
"Sheila brought him down," Alex said as they walked to their SUV. "If she hadn't killed that appraiser, Wesley probably wouldn't have appeared on our radar."
"Probably not," Bobby agreed. "And he's so good…It might have been a long time before anyone picked up on him."
"What was that last thing he said to you?" Alex asked. "That this would be the last time you met…What do you think he meant by that?"
"I don't know," Bobby said as he settled in the passenger seat. "Either that he's giving up stealing or that he'll never work in New York again. I'm betting on the second…But the kid may change him…"
"So," Alex said when she was behind the steering wheel. "You want to stay here overnight and follow the cops carrying Wesley and Sheila in the morning or just head back home?"
"It doesn't matter to me," Bobby said wearily. "I won't sleep just as well in the car or a hotel as I won't in my bed."
"Or the crib," Alex said softly. "Which is where you'll probably wind up if we go back." There was a gentle reprimand in her voice.
"Yea…" Bobby said. "You…You're a good detective, Eames. Good observational skills…"
"I've found you there not sleeping enough times," Alex responded. "It really doesn't matter to you?"
"Nope…Really…I'm not being passive aggressive…I don't care…"
"Well…If you promise me you can take over driving if I get too tired…" Alex steered the SUV towards the highway. "I'd like to get home tonight…Or this morning…"
"Sounds good," Bobby said. In truth, for all his claims that he didn't care, he preferred trying to sleep in his own bed to attempting it in a strange hotel room. "I'll buy the coffee."
"You could try to get some sleep," Alex suggested gently.
Bobby shrugged. "Like I said…I have enough trouble sleeping in my own bed."
Alex moved cautiously out on to potentially thin ice. "Have you ever thought about getting some help for that?"
Bobby wasn't sure if it was because he was experiencing the combination of excitement and exhaustion that accompanied the conclusion of a case, or if Wesley Kenderson reminded him of too many things about himself, or if he felt closer to and safer with Alex, but he was remarkably willing to entertain the question.
"I…I hate taking anything," he said. "When I was in Narcotics…I saw what happened to people…And with my family's history…My brother…My Mom…And…I have gone to the doctor and got some things…And they left me feeling so…Groggy and foggy…And I hated that…"
Alex's grip on the steering wheel tightened. Bobby rarely mentioned his mother or brother, and it was always a sign of great trust when he did. "But…Aren't there new things…"
Bobby shook his head. "If there are, I haven't found something that will work well. Warm milk and a shower work as well as anything."
"Not as addictive…"
"Or destructive," Bobby said, and turned to the notes in his binder.
The conversation appeared to be over. Alex was grateful for the glimpse Bobby had allowed her of his life, and then he surprised her.
"Eames…Earlier…When you first questioned Sheila…You compared Wesley to me…"
Alex snorted. "You're not a self-pitying thief who's getting back at all the people who made fun of him when he was a kid…"
"But…You said I was like him…That I only wanted to do one thing…To catch bad guys…"
"You gotta admit, Bobby." Alex shifted into another lane. "You're pretty focused on that. But it's a good thing. You don't get distracted by side issues…Like politics…"
"But…Is that all you think…Is it all I think…That I want?" Bobby's questions seemed directed as much to himself as to Alex.
"Bobby…You're worried about that…You know I was playing Sheila…Good grief…You have more interests than any man I know…"
He stared out the window. Alex checked the traffic, slowed, and pulled the car to a stop on the shoulder. Bobby turned and blinked in shock.
"Eames…What?"
"For the smartest guy in the room, you can be pretty dense sometimes," Alex said.
Bobby took several moments to remember to shut his open mouth.
"How many languages do you speak?" Alex asked.
"Uh…"
"You're the best dressed straight man I know," Alex continued. "You know about food from places I've never heard of. You read…Everything…" She shook her head. "You'd never eat meatloaf when steak is available. None of that sounds like a man who just wants to do one thing. You're very good at that one thing, and you do want to be left alone to do it. But it isn't the only thing in your life." She pulled back out on the highway.
"But…I mean…Kenderson…He at least has Sheila…The baby…" Bobby muttered.
"He can have Sheila," Alex declared. "And she can have him…Although I wonder if she ever had him."
"Yea…" Bobby was grateful for the shift in subject. "I don't think he would've married her if she wasn't pregnant."
"And she wasn't going to have the baby if she didn't get him," Alex said. "Poor kid…I wonder if Mrs. Kenderson will have more luck with this kid than Wesley. What did you find out about Mr. Kenderson?"
Bobby looked in his binder. "Divorced pretty early on. In and out of Wesley's life. Insisted that Wesley go to Kenderson's old prep school, in spite of the fact the old man rarely paid the costs on time. Wesley was a very bright kid…Won a scholarship…Teachers loved him, the kids less so…"
"Another bad dad," Alex said cautiousl.
Bobby smiled wanly. "For Mr. Kenderson to have been a bad dad he would've had to have been around more. Don't worry, Eames. I admire Wesley Kenderson's skill and intelligence, but I don't excuse him. I don't identify with him. And God knows I don't want to be him. What I think about him is what a waste."
"Think he shoulda been a cop?" Alex smiled.
"Or a silver appraiser…"
Alex stifled a yawn.
"Hey," Bobby said gently but firmly. "Pull off at the next exit. We'll get some gas and coffee, and I'll take over…"
She didn't argue with him. His crisis seemed to have passed. Several minutes later Alex, in spite of the triple mocha she was drinking, started to drift in and out of sleep in the passenger seat. She turned to face Bobby, who was wide awake.
"Bobby…" Her voice was thick with sleep. "You ok?"
"Yea…I'm fine…Don't worry…I'm not going to sleep…There's too much to do…"
END