A WINTER'S NIGHT

(With apologies to Charles Dickens, Frank Capra, James Stewart, Dick Wolf, Rene Balcer, Warren Leight, Vincent D'Onofrio, and anyone else who might be insulted by this. They had nothing…NOTHING…to do with this except as inspiration.)

CHAPTER ONE

"So, you think he's a jumper?" the younger cop asked as he carefully moved the squad car across the bridge and past the large, solitary figure leaning on the rail.

"I don't know," the older cop sighed. He and his partner had passed the figure three times, and each time the sergeant hoped and feared that the man would be gone. It was Christmas Eve, and the heavy snow and cold appeared to have kept everyone inside. Ted Mayo hoped he might get through his shift and to his family at a reasonable hour. It wasn't that Ted Mayo was a lazy or bad cop—far from it. He'd volunteered to show Josh Lee the ropes, and that included working with the rookie on Christmas Eve. The NYPD knew Mayo as a good guy. It was just that he preferred spending this evening with his family and not trying to talk a guy down from the Brooklyn Bridge during a blizzard.

Ted sighed. "C'mon, kid," he said. "Let's check this guy out. It's not just that we'll get blamed if anything happens—it's that I'll blame myself."

The rookie carefully parked the car and joined Mayo in the biting wind.

"Thanks for telling me about the lining for the jacket, Sarge," Lee said. "It's a big help…Big help…"

"You got good warm socks on?"

"Yea…Hunting socks…My cousin who lives in Maine got them for me."

Mayo stamped his feet. "I may want that cousin's name."

They approached the large bulk carefully. As they moved closer, the two cops saw a big man leaning on a rail. Mayo felt some hope when he saw that the man stared out at the horizon and not down at the river. The man wore a thick, heavy wool coat and black leather gloves. Snowflakes speckled his graying, curling hair, and his face was very white in contrast to his dark clothes.

"Hey, buddy," Mayo called. "Everything ok?"

"Ok," the man said. "Would be an exaggeration. But I'm fine."

Lee looked at Mayo for guidance on how to respond to this man, who wasn't acting the way suicidal people had been presented in classes at the academy. Mayo found the man puzzling as well.

"Actually," the man said. "I'm on the job. I'm a detective. If I could get my badge and ID…"

Mayo nodded, but both he and Lee were on their guards as the large man reached inside his heavy overcoat. He pulled out a badge and ID and handed them to Mayo, who examined them. Beside him, Lee looked from the ID to the man.

"Robert Goren," Lee said excitedly. "You spoke at the academy…One of the more useful speakers we had. What are you doing out here on a night like this?"

Mayo was curious about the same thing. He handed the ID and badge back to Goren. The name rang distantly in his mind, but he couldn't remember why.

Goren accepted his certifications gratefully. "Waiting for an informant…I know…" he said in response to the cops' faces. "Not the best or most likely time…The guy obviously was pulling my chain…" Goren shrugged.

Most of the detectives Mayo knew wouldn't be out on the Brooklyn Bridge on Christmas Eve in a snowstorm, but Goren was more than polite and calm enough.

"Well, if he was around, we probably scared him off," Mayo said. "Sorry about that."

Goren waved a large hand. "Not a problem. Like I said, I don't think he intended to show."

"It's great to meet you," Lee said. "It's good to know that you practice what you preach."

Goren smiled wanly. "I try to."

"We'll leave you alone," Mayo said. "Get out of this lousy weather."

Goren nodded. "Thanks for the concern."

"Not a problem," Mayo said. "Merry Christmas."

"Merry Christmas," Goren said softly.

Mayo had rarely seen Lee so excited. Goren was clearly a hero to the kid.

"Wait a minute," Mayo said as they neared the car. "Goren…Isn't he the weird guy from Major Case?"

"Maybe," Lee said. "All I know is that what he said in two hours was worth nearly everything else I got from the academy."

Bobby Goren didn't hear Lee's last words. He did hear Mayo's "weird guy". "Yea," Bobby thought as he turned back to the rail. "The "weird guy." Who else would spend Christmas Eve on a bridge in a snowstorm…" He stared out at the city. He could only see a few feet. The snow muffled the city's sounds and dulled its bright lights. He could easily imagine he was alone in the world.

"I wish," he thought. "That I was alone. Then I wouldn't hurt anyone." He looked down, following the snow's descent into the freezing water he knew was below him. "Now I can't jump…Those cops would get into trouble. I can't do anything tonight. Even if I went home and blew my brains out…If anyone found out I talked to them, there'd be questions." He shivered. It was terribly cold, so cold that little needles pricked through the wool of his coat, and his hands and feet felt like blocks of cold concrete.

"At least the bruise seems to be getting better…" He gingerly touched the spot above his right eye. It'd finally stopped bleeding. Ross and Alex were probably right. He should've gone to the ER to get it looked at instead of rushing away to play Santa. He'd scarcely noticed it after Pablo Torres sprang from his chair and lurched towards Alex in the interrogation room. All Bobby saw at that moment was a vicious drug dealer and pimp Alex and he knew had tortured and killed several prostitutes and drug addicts. Bobby knew he was pushing Torres close to his breaking point, but he pushed anyway. And then Torres went for Alex. He didn't get anywhere near her; Bobby's leap across the table took care of that. But all Bobby saw in his head was Torres seizing Alex's head and snapping her neck. That vision haunted him all day, even as he rebuffed Alex's efforts to get him to come to her family's celebrations and as he played Santa. He managed to concentrate on the latter task, but one perceptive child asked Santa if he was all right. "I'm fine," Santa assured the child. "It's just that it is my busy day."

The comment satisfied the child, just as the story about the informant did the cops. There wasn't any informer, any more than the man playing Santa was all right. Bobby closed his eyes and turned his face to the sky. The snow stung his cheeks.

"I wonder," he muttered out loud. "I wonder if it would've been better if I'd never been born…Maybe my birth…Maybe it destroyed my Mom…Reminded her of what happened…Ruined the marriage…Maybe she wouldn't have gotten sick…And Frank would've had a chance…Deakins…I probably ruined his career…And Ross…Maybe I'm ruining his…And Eames…Eames…She'd probably be a captain by now…"

He leaned on the rail and looked down. After booking Torres, Alex and he had stopped at the cafeteria for coffee. As they walked in, a sharply dressed woman with an air of authority greeted Alex warmly. Alex introduced her as Lieutenant Susan Rhodes. "A classmate from the academy," Alex said. Rhodes regarded him skeptically, an attitude that grew when Alex introduced him. He left to get coffee for Alex and himself and heard Rhodes say, "So that's the Major Case whack job." Bobby maintained his usual stoic face, but as he got the coffee, he saw Rhodes and Alex having an animated conversation. Rhodes stood, said something, and walked away. She saw Bobby, and her look froze his spine. When he brought the coffee to Alex, she said nothing, and Bobby felt he had no right to bring it up. But he knew that Rhodes undoubtedly had told Alex that her career was tainted by her association with Robert Goren, that Alex could easily be a lieutenant or captain by now if she hadn't remained partnered with him.

"It would've been a lot better if she hadn't met me," Bobby thought. He stared into the dark grey beneath the bridge. His right foot rose and rested on a higher rail. It wouldn't be hard. Just bring his left foot up by the right and repeat until most of his body could lean over the side of the rail. Then lean over and let gravity do its work. There might be a bit of mess for the two cops, but Bobby had lied well to them. The fall would likely kill him, and if it didn't, the shock of hitting and sinking the cold water would lead to drowning. He'd read drowning wasn't such a bad way to die. His left foot rose and joined the right. He let his right hand fall by his side; his left gripped a beam above his head.

"So simple," he thought. "So easy. Everyone's troubles will be over. There won't be many questions. Even without a note…It won't surprise anyone…The whack job finally offs himself." He let go of the beam and swayed in the cold wind.

END CHAPTER ONE