Numb3rs

Disclaimer: I do not own 'nor claim to own the rights to Numb3rs or any of it's characters. The following story is written for entertainment purposes only.

"If I'd Only Known"

by Lorrie Ellis

3 Disagreements

Mob connections

2 bullets

1 Father's anguish and retribution

Chapter 1 - If I'd Only Known . . . I Wouldn't Have Agreed to this Client

Don flipped through his notepad as he listened to Charlie's rhetoric. "Charlie! I said that's enough." He yelled.

"Don, I don't like it any better than you do, but there's no way to narrow it down without more information."

Slightly fuming, Don muttered. "Then I'll get it for you, there's no need for you to come down to the office."

"Fine!" Charlie shouted as he gathered his things and left. "And you had better leave dad a note. I'm pretty sure he's still in the shower."

Don quickly gathered his papers, pulled on his suit coat and headed out behind his younger brother. "Fine." He muttered. "Leave dad a note. I'm a grown man, for Pete's sake, why would I leave my dad a note telling him that I've gone to work?"

After his shower, Alan hurried to finish putting away the breakfast dishes. Don and Charlie both had long left the house for work, leaving Alan to clean up the kitchen while waiting for news on his latest business venture. He knew that they had been arguing this morning; he had heard their shouts over the running water. He only hoped that they would be on speaking terms by this evening when they both returned, that was unless Donnie was still upset, if so, he would probably just go to his apartment. He wished that Don would cut Charlie a little slack sometimes. Afterall, he was only trying to help.

As he was wiping the table, a small notebook on the floor caught his eye. "Wonder which of the boys left this?" He mused as he bent to pick it up. Seeing there was no name on the outside, he opened it to the first page and found that he couldn't bring himself to put it down. It appeared to be surveillance notes from Don's last stake-out, including names, addresses and phone numbers. "What in the world?" Alan asked himself, getting up from the table and comparing the addresses in Don's notebook to those in his briefcase. The ringing of the phone pulled him away.

"Hello." He answered.

"Dad, did I leave a small notebook on the kitchen table?" Don asked.

Alan smiled. "Yes, Donnie, shall I drop it by on my way to meet with Stan?"

"I don't know if that's such a good idea dad. I'll double back for it." Don replied, as he mentally detailed the notes inside the book.

"Don, you do realize that several of the addresses in here are properties that Stan and I are negotiating renovations on, don't you?" Alan replied.

Don's brow furrowed deeply. "What, you read my notes? Dad, sit tight until I get there, OK?"

"OK, but Stan is expecting me at the office . . ."

"Dad, just sit tight. Don't leave the house until I get there, OK?"

"OK, Donnie, but what is all this about?" Alan asked.

"I'll explain when I get there." Don replied and threw his cellphone into the passenger seat.

Twenty minutes later, Don pulled into the driveway. Alan had the front door open for him. "Now, what is all of this about?" The elder Eppes demanded.

Don pinched the bridge of his nose while trying to decide where to begin, how much to tell his father. "Dad, have a seat."

Alan sat down, followed by Don. "First of all, you shouldn't have opened the notebook."

"How else was I supposed to know if it belonged to you or your brother?" Alan defended.

Don shook his head. "OK, but you didn't have to read it, and that's the only way you would have known that the address match those of the houses you're negotiating on. Which, by the way, you probably need to stop negotiating on."

"It may already be too late for that. Now, Donnie, I'm going to ask you again, what is going on?" His voice was patient, but demanding.

Don hung his head. "It's a case I'm actively working. Charlie's working on it too. He came up with those addresses yesterday through some algorithm he's created. They're probable addresses of members of a gang that's wanted for drug manufacturing, distribution, kidnapping, and as of late, murder."

The color drained from Alan's face. "Murder?"

"Dad, I need to know who contacted you and Stan about these houses. Did you talk to them personally, or what?" Don asked.

"I, I, Stan talked to them, but I think it was just by phone. Don, we submitted a bid yesterday, they're supposed to call back this morning." Alan stood up abruptly. "I need to call Stan."

Don stopped him before he reached the phone. "No, no, no, dad. Let's head down to your office. I'd like to talk to Stan anyway."

Father and son climbed into Don's truck and headed towards Alan's office, unaware that they were being followed.

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Devon and Duane Haverly pulled out behind Don's truck. Far enough behind that they wouldn't be spotted, but close enough so not to lose them.

"That's definitely the same Fed, but who's the old geezer with him?" Duane asked.

Devon shrugged. "Don't know, bro, but 'the man' said to hang with the Fed, so that's what we gonna do."

"Whatda ya think this is all 'bout anyways? I mean, everything's a'right, ain't it?" Duane asked.

"Hey, you know as much as I do, bro. We just do what 'the man' says to do and get paid for it, ain't that enough?" Devon replied.

"I just want to know that 'the man' ain't stiffin' us and the rest of The Demons. You sure we gettin' the whole worth for the stuff?"

Again Devon shrugged. "Hey, that's Jo-Jo's department. She's the brains, and we're the muscle. She set up this whole deal with 'the man' and you know Jo-Jo ain't gonna get stiffed. She likes the bling bling too much to let the stuff go for less than its worth, especially with The Demons taking all the chances."

Duane nodded. "Yeah, I guess." He noticed that Don's truck was turning into a small strip mall where Alan's office was located. "Hey, I brought Jo-Jo down here yesterday to meet with a couple of old guys about renovating some of the buildings."

Devon stopped the car and they watched Don and Alan get out and go into Alan's office.

Duane shook his head. "That's the same office, man!"

"You sayin' that the Fed got to the guy she met with?" Devon asked

"Yeah, that's what I'm sayin'." Duane shook his head and picked up his cellphone. "We'd better call her."

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"Stan!" Alan shouted as he and Don entered the office.

"Yo, Stan!" Don shouted as Alan took a quick look around. He picked up a note off of his desk as Don checked the rest of the small area.

"Well, you can stop looking." Alan announced. "He got a phone call from another client. He'll be back around noon."

Don nodded. "Maybe you can hand me over the information you have on this new client; the one with addresses that match what Charlie came up with."

"Son, I can't do that without talking to Stan, it wouldn't be ethical." Alan replied in astonishment and seemed somewhat annoyed that Don would even ask for the files.

"Dad, this is an open investigation. I thought . . ."

"Well you thought wrong!" Alan shouted. "Just because you're my son doesn't mean you have the right to trample my business ethics!"

Don half smiled, hoping that his father was joking, but once he realized just how serious he was, he took a different tone. "Dad, don't you trust me. I mean, you can't be serious, we're talking about a murder investigation. I can get a subpoena, you know."

Alan nodded. "I know you said it was a murder investigation, but . . ."

Before Alan could finish or Don could reply, a spray of bullets shattered the glass front of the office. "Get behind the desk!" Don shouted to Alan.

Alan threw himself behind the desk. He heard Don in motion and peered around the desk as Don moved towards the front door, weapon drawn. "Donnie!" Alan shouted spontaneously as he watched a gun emerge from the car window again, aimed at his eldest son.

Alan watched in horror as Don fired two shots, announcing that he was a Federal Agent and the gunman in the car should drop his weapon. For an instant, he thought Don had convinced the man, but then the barrel of the gun slipped into view again. He heard the shot and cringed as he saw Don forced into the door frame. He remembered saying his name, but seemed to not hear anything.

Everything seemed to slow down for Don as he saw the gun emerge. He fired two shots before the gunman in the car fired. Don was sure he heard his father's voice as he felt the impact of the bullet hitting his chest. The shear force of the projectile forced him hard into the door frame. He looked down and saw a crimson stain beginning to form on his stark white dress shirt, near the center of his chest.

As the car sped away, Alan reached Don just as his legs began to give. "Easy son. I've got you." Alan helped ease him down to the sidewalk and cradled his head against his chest.

"Dad?" Don gasped.

"Shh. Don't try to talk." Alan reached for his phone and realized that he had left it in Don's truck. "Damn!" He swore. "Donnie, where is your cellphone?"

"P-p-p-ket." Don sputtered as he tried to make his arms move to reach for it.

"Shh. Lie still Donnie. You're going to be OK." He found Don's phone and dialed 9-1-1. "My son's been shot!" He yelled into the phone. "He's an FBI Agent. Please hurry!"

Alan left the phone on, but turned his full attention back to Don. "Donnie, are you still with me?" He asked softly.

Don nodded his head slightly. "Hurts." He whispered.

Alan could no longer hide the tears. "I'm sure it does, son. The paramedics will be here soon and they'll give you something for the pain."

"Dad, call . . . Megan, . . . 'kay?" Don was again struggling to breathe.

"I will."

"Give . . . her . . . files." Don whispered.

Alan began to cry audible now and hugged Don close to his chest. "I'm so sorry I didn't give you those files, Donnie. If I had, maybe we wouldn't have been in here when

they . . . Can you forgive a stubborn old man?"

"Dad . . . don't." Don pulled in another ragged breath and stared into his father's eyes. "They followed."

"Still Don, you need to know that I am sorry. You're my son. I trust you, but above all, I love you."

TBC