Disclaimer: Some guy named Dick Wolf apparently owns Law and Order: Criminal Intent. Not me. No infringement intended; this is just my way of saying I like the show.

Zeugma

Chapter 1: Penumbra

"I can't talk right now. I need to be alone." Bobby Goren said as he sidestepped Detective Alex Eames to get to his apartment.

"Yeah right," she said to herself as she turned to follow him. He had been fighting back tears since he saw his mother's body in the morgue. No, she mentally corrected, not fighting tears, more like he was fighting falling apart.

He knew she was following him, but at the moment he absolutely couldn't stand to talk to anyone, even her. He ran up the stairs to his apartment. He locked the door behind him, but only a moment later he heard it unlock. She must have brought out her spare key while she was chasing after him.

"I said I don't want to talk," he reiterated angrily.

"I know," she said soothingly. "I'm not asking you to. I just don't think you should be alone right now."

She saw his irritated wince. He began heading toward the bedroom, where he could lock himself in and wait for her to leave, but he collapsed on the floor in the middle of his living room, sobbing and insensate. Eames knelt next to him and rested her hand on his shoulder.

"She was all I had," he managed to say between sobs. She sat silently, knowing nothing she could say would make him feel better. He finally cried himself to sleep. She found a blanket and tucked it around him, then got a blanket of her own and fell asleep beside him.

He woke up before dawn. It took him a minute to recognize where he was and remember why. He looked over and was startled to see Alex's face in the dull light. He stared at her like he had never seen her before, like she was some new species he'd never even read about. Then he lowered his head to the floor and fell back asleep, emotionally exhausted.


"He would have bled to death slowly. Someone should have heard his screaming," Eames reasoned as she examined the crime scene photos.

Captain Ross nodded. "He was probably unconscious when he was taken to the kill sight. They probably chose that place because it's isolated and has a fire hydrant. They hosed off the body, making sure we wouldn't find any evidence on him."

"Has he been IDed?"

"No wallet, prints aren't in the system. He did have a unique tattoo." He dropped the photo of the tattoo in front of her. "Checking it against known gang tatts turned up nothing."

"Am I interrupting?"

Eames and Ross looked to the door, where Goren stood, looking tired.

"I didn't think you were coming in today," Ross said, glancing at Eames. "I thought you were taking some time off." He sincerely hoped Goren wouldn't say anything stupid, like that he didn't want to take any time off on account of his mother's death.

"I'm...I just wanted to...drop off some files." He handed a stack of folders to Eames.

"Thanks," she said quickly as he retreated out the door. She dropped the folders on the side of her desk, but then noticed one loose slip of paper drift to the floor. "Oh, no."

"What?" Ross asked, wanting to get back to discussing the John Doe with the odd tattoo.

Eames picked up the scrap of paper. "Address and phone number of the funeral home. It must have been stuck to one of the folders. I'll be right back."

She raced out of the police station and caught up with Goren as soon as he reached his car. "Hey! You dropped this."

"Thanks," he said akwardly as he took it from her. He couldn't look her in the eye. He opened his mouth like he was about to say something, but didn't.

She waited. Of course she realized he let that slip of paper fall deliberately; he had something he wanted to say to her in private.

"About last night..."

She still waited.

"I don't...understand what you did for me."

"It was nothing. I checked on you at your apartment to make sure you were okay, and I dozed off."

His swollen eyes fixed on his shoes as he said hesitantly, "You couldn't have known..."

"We don't need to talk about this," she assured him.

He nodded, then climbed in the car. "If you need me...for the case...call, okay?"

"We'll be fine. I'll be in touch with you later." She went back to the office as he drove away.

"Is he alright?" Ross asked when she got back.

"Of course not." She didn't elaborate, but just went back to the crime scene photos. "The cuts on his chest and arms...they don't look right."

"They're not stab wounds, they're slash wounds. Very shallow; the ME thinks from the angles of the slashes that they came from two knives held by one person, one in each hand, pointing down. The wounds on his arms are defensive, which tells us his wrists were tied down after the initial attack."

Eames scrutinized a photo of the victims head. He was a very young man, probably early twenties, with curly ginger-brown hair and light freckles. Clean shaven. His face was bruised in several places. Far less blood than there should have been, only thin slashes hedged by puffy white skin. The blood had been washed away with the evidence. "Anything on his tox screen?"

"Clean."

She nodded thoughtfully. "Then the needle marks on his feet were part of the torture. That brings the total number of methods used on him up to six. They must have tortured him for hours, if not days. Someone should have reported this boy missing. I'm thinking drugs."

"Most dealers this age are also users, and there's no evidence he was. Let's not jump to conclusions." He looked at her questioningly. "You sure you want to investigate this alone?"

"For now." She looked back at the photos, shaking her head slightly. "I wish I knew if he ever told them what they wanted to know."

"Find out."