CSI: NY
Post "Silent Night"
Disclaimer: CSI: NY and its characters aren't mine.
Note: dialogue in "quotes" is spoken English; dialogue in italics is assumed to be signed, but is written as interpreted into English; dialogue in bold italics is spoken and signed.
Cole opened his eyes and looked dazedly around the tiny room. It was empty except for the narrow bed he was lying in, a stainless steel toilet and sink, a towel rack with a towel and washcloth, a couple of shelves, a small desk bolted to the wall, a stool bolted to the floor in front of the desk, and his shoes, neatly lined up in front of the bed. Three walls were white-painted concrete block. Sun streamed through the narrow windows on the east side of the room. The west wall was made up of metal bars. Even the door was made of bars. The metal was painted white, but it was unmistakable what they were. And where he was.
Cole closed his eyes. Images of the last two days flashed through his mind: confronting Allison, arguing about their baby, Allison trying to grab the shotgun and accidentally pulling the trigger. Allison falling to the ground, dead. All the blood. Elizabeth crying. Climbing out the window and driving away. Pulling into a motel parking lot and sitting there, trying to figure out what to do. How to save Elizabeth from having to live the life he'd lived. Realizing the only way was to take her away and make sure she got the CI. Knocking Mr. Mitchum out and getting in the car. Mrs. Mitchum's expression when he aimed the gun at her and told her to drive. Elizabeth crying. Trying to comfort her. Then, Mrs. Mitchum driving straight at some sort of barricade across the road. Hitting it. The car swerving wildly and coming to a stop. Somebody outside, police probably, silently yelling. His transmitter hitting the ground outside. Turning from Mrs. Mitchum to the man outside and back, trying to figure out what the man was saying, trying to explain why he had to take Elizabeth.
And then Elizabeth was gone. Somebody came in from the other side of the car and took her when he was looking the other way. Then the man outside came and grabbed the shotgun. Somebody pulled him outside and handcuffed him.
Now he was in jail. Probably for the rest of his life. Nobody would care that he didn't mean to kill Allison. Nobody would care that he was trying to help Elizabeth. Allison was dead, and Elizabeth was gone. Now she would have to live a life like his, a life of silence, unable to understand what anybody was saying, unable to belong.
Heavy footsteps moving across the concrete floor jarred the bed, and Cole opened his eyes.
A dark-haired man and a blond man with a mustache, both wearing uniforms, stopped outside the cell. Prison guards, probably. One of them reached up with a key and unlocked the door.
Cole turned away and closed his eyes again. He didn't care what they had to say. Elizabeth was gone. Allison was dead. Nothing they could say would change that. And he probably wouldn't understand what they were saying, anyway. Not without his transmitter or even the almost-useless hearing aid he used to wear before he got the cochlear implant.
One of the men tapped him on the shoulder.
Cole looked up.
The blond man said something, quick and almost invisible behind his mustache.
"Get up. Detective Taylor is ready for you," the dark-haired man signed.
Cole stared at him. He didn't expect to have an interpreter. And he didn't know any Detective Taylor.
"He has to ask you some questions," the dark-haired man explained.
Cole looked away. He didn't want to talk about what happened.
The dark-haired man tapped him again. "Let's go," he signed.
Reluctantly, Cole sat up. He glanced down at himself. Apparently he'd fallen asleep in the clothes he'd been wearing yesterday. At least he wasn't wearing some awful prison outfit. Not yet, anyway.
Slowly, he pulled on his shoes and laced them up.
The blond man gestured impatiently to the door.
The dark-haired man nodded at Cole and led the way down a long corridor of rooms just like the one Cole had woken up in.
Where he'd probably wake up every day for the rest of his life.
And Mrs. Mitchum would tell Elizabeth her father was a criminal. A murderer and a kidnapper who deserved a life behind bars. That she was better off without him. Without speech or hearing.
The dark-haired man tapped his shoulder.
Cole jumped. He hadn't noticed that they'd stopped in front of a room. A tiny room with no windows; just a table, some chairs, and a huge mirror.
The blond man gestured at the chair across from the mirror.
Cole sat.
The dark-haired man sat in one of the chairs across from him. He didn't say anything.
Cole waited.
He didn't have to wait long.
After a few minutes, a serious-looking man in a suit and tie, carrying a bag, walked in and sat in the empty chair.
Cole recognized the man from that night before, the one who distracted him when the other cop took Elizabeth; the cop who grabbed the shotgun and pulled him out of the car.
The cop reached into the bag and pulled out a transmitter. He set it on the table and nodded at Cole.
"Thank you," Cole said. He grabbed the transmitter before the man could change his mind, and turned it on. To his relief, the status light blinked readiness. He put the transmitter on and turned back to the cop. "Where is Elizabeth?" he asked.
"She's with her grandparents," the cop replied. "She's fine," he added, his expression softening a little.
Cole nodded.
"You ready to get started?" the cop asked.
Cole hesitated. He really didn't want to talk about what happened. But he knew he had to.
He nodded.
"Good," the cop said. "I'm Detective Taylor, and this is Officer Santucci. We've got a few questions for you."
It turned out to be more than a few questions. Detective Taylor's questions went on and on. The first few were easy. Address, phone number, job, that kind of thing. Then he started asking questions about Allison, and their relationship, and Elizabeth.
"And then you tried to kidnap Elizabeth," the detective said. It wasn't a question.
Cole flinched. "No. I went to talk with Allison."
"You brought a gun, Cole," the detective said.
"I tried to talk to her!" Cole said. "She didn't reply to any of my messages. She didn't even tell me she was pregnant." He looked away, remembering the day he ran into one of Allison's friends from school. He asked about Allison, and she told him Allison had a baby, and he was the father.
Allison had never told him.
The detective slammed his hand on the table, jarring Cole's attention back to the present. "You brought a gun to the Mitchum's house," he said.
Cole closed his eyes and nodded.
The detective said something.
Cole opened his eyes and looked at the interpreter.
"Tell me what happened," the interpreter signed.
"I found out about my baby. Elizabeth," Cole began. "Allison didn't tell me about her. She didn't tell me she was pregnant. One of her friends told me. So I tried to contact her. I had to talk to her. But she didn't return any of my messages. So I went to talk with her. We were arguing. I wanted my baby to live a normal life. But Allison didn't. She said God made her that way. I couldn't let her ruin our daughter's life. So I went to get her. I was holding the gun, and Allison tried to grab it, and it went off, and she fell, and … I didn't mean to kill her. It was an accident."
"I know," the detective said. "And I know you could have killed Mrs. Mitchum, too, and left with Elizabeth. But you didn't. You left, and came back for Elizabeth later. But when you came back, you knocked Mr. Mitchum out and took Mrs. Mitchum and Elizabeth hostage."
"I just wanted my baby," Cole said dejectedly. "I didn't know what else to do."
"You could have petitioned the court for a paternity test, and then petitioned the court to grant you joint custody."
Cole looked at the interpreter. He felt his heart sink even lower after he realized what the detective said. If only he'd known he could do that, ask a judge to make Allison let him help raise his baby, none of this would have happened. Allison would still be alive, and he'd have Elizabeth. Not always, but at least some of the time. He could have found a way to get her a cochlear. But now there was nothing he could do. He'd never even see her again. And she would live in a world of silence, cut off from everybody, just like he had.
"Cole, I know killing Allison was an accident. And you wanted to help your baby. But, you hurt people, even though you didn't mean to. And there are consequences for that. You are under arrest …"
Cole turned away. He heard the detective's voice saying something, but he stopped listening. He ignored the interpreter, too. He didn't care what they had to say. He was going to jail. Maybe for the rest of his life. He might never see Elizabeth again. He wouldn't be able to give her a normal life. He wouldn't be able to give her anything.
He could feel tears flowing down his face, but he didn't care if they saw.
He just sat there.
Finally, it was over, and the guard led him back to the cell.
Somebody banged on his cell door, and Cole turned away from the window he'd been staring out.
"You have a visitor," the guard said.
Cole nodded silently.
The guard unlocked the door and headed down the long corridor.
Cole kept his eyes on the floor, trying not to look at the endless rows of cells or the people inside, and followed.
The guard led him to a row of chairs in front of glass windows, a telephone sitting next to each one, and gestured at one of the chairs.
Cole sat down and looked through the window.
Mrs. Mitchum and Mr. Mitchum were sitting on the other side.
Seeing them, everything that happened the last week came back. Everything he'd been trying so hard not to think about. He did not want to face them. But he owed it to them. To Elizabeth. And to Allison.
He stayed where he was and forced himself to look at them.
They didn't look angry. Just sad.
"How are you?" Mrs. Mitchum asked.
Cole shrugged.
Mrs. Mitchum and Mr. Mitchum looked at each other.
"I want you to see something," Mrs. Mitchum said. She pulled out a phone and tapped the screen.
Cole bit his lip. He did not want to see whatever it was. It was probably something horrible. A photo of Allison after she died, maybe. Or a picture from her funeral.
Mrs. Mitchum turned the phone toward him, and he squeezed his eyes shut.
Somebody banged the table, and he opened his eyes.
"Look!"Mr. Mitchum demanded, speaking as he signed.
Shakily, Cole looked at the phone.
It wasn't the horrible picture he thought it was.
On the screen, Elizabeth grinned at the camera and took two wobbly steps toward it before losing her balance and falling down. Her grin faded for a moment, but she got right back up and tried again.
She took a few more steps this time. This time when she fell, she turned away from the camera and looked to the side.
The camera followed her glance. She was looking at Allison.
And then Elizabeth did something Cole would never have guessed. She looked away from the camera, raised her little hands, and signed "milk". It wasn't quite right. Her fingers were spread apart, and the motion was a little different. But it was obvious what she meant.
Elizabeth dropped her hands to the ground and crawled over to Allison, who held out her arms and picked her up.
"You want milk?" Allison asked.
Elizabeth smiled at Allison. She signed "milk" again. Then she signed "please".
The video ended.
Cole sat there, frozen in shock. Elizabeth was just a baby, but she could already talk! He was sure he couldn't talk until he was old enough for school. He couldn't talk well enough for his parents to understand him, most of the time, until he was a lot older.
Elizabeth wasn't even a year old yet. And she could already talk to her mother …
And then Cole remembered. Elizabeth could never talk to her mother again. And he was sure he would never get to talk to her. Or even see her. Not in person.
"Cole," Mrs. Mitchum said, hitting the table to make sure she got his attention.
Cole wiped his eyes and looked up.
"Elizabeth is fine," Mrs. Mitchum said. "That video was from a month ago. She's walking now, really walking. And she knows almost fifteen signs."
Cole nodded. "She's really smart," he said.
Mrs. Mitchum smiled. "Yes. She is."
She could have a totally normal life, Cole thought miserably. She can already talk with her grandparents. If she got a CI, she could learn English, and she wouldn't have to struggle through hours and hours of speech therapy just to learn a few words that most people couldn't understand anyway. She wouldn't have to watch people talk, wishing she could understand even a little of what they were talking about. She could be fine.
Mrs. Mitchum waved for his attention, and Cole looked up.
"We're not going to testify against you," she said.
Cole shook his head, sure he'd misunderstood her rapid signing.
"In court," Mrs. Mitchum said out loud. "We're not going to testify against you in court. We know you wanted what's best for Elizabeth, and you didn't mean to hurt anybody."
"Thank you,"Cole said mechanically, but he didn't feel any better. He killed Allison, even though he didn't mean to. He didn't mean to kidnap anybody, either. He just wanted his daughter to be with him. And he didn't know how else to make that happen. But he knew the police didn't see it that way. And thinking about it now, he knew he'd made a huge mistake. Lots of huge mistakes. He deserved to go to jail.
"You're going to spend some time in jail,"Mr. Mitchum said.
"I know,"Cole said.
"It will probably be for a year or two. After that, you'll be on probation, and you'll have to do community service,"Mr. Mitchum continued.
"You will get to see Elizabeth," Mrs. Mitchum said.
For the first time, Cole felt a tiny glimmer of hope. But no. She couldn't have said what he thought she said.
"What?"he asked.
Mrs. Mitchum nodded. "You won't be allowed to see her alone. But you obviously care about her. And she deserves to have a father."
Cole felt as if a huge weight had been lifted from his heart. Maybe he hadn't ruined everything after all. Maybe if he did everything right from now on, he'd get to be the father he wanted to be. To give Elizabeth a normal life. Maybe they'd let him get her a CI someday. Or at least a hearing aid. But at least he could be a father. He could get a job as soon as he got out of jail, and buy her whatever she needed. And he would talk with her. He wouldn't ever be too busy to try to figure out what she was saying. In whatever language she wanted to speak in.
Cole smiled shakily at Mrs. Mitchum. "Thank you," he signed silently. "I'll be a good father. I promise I will."
Mrs. Mitchum nodded. "I know," she said.
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