Chapter 2

Bobby rubbed his knee under the table, trying to knead away the pain that was gnawing there. He leaned back and stretched, then rubbed at his whiskers. He'd been waiting for two hours.

"You look like you could use one," the weathered old man said, offering Bobby a smoke.

He almost turned it down, but instead he gave him a smile. "Thanks," Bobby said. He leaned forward to accept a light from the old man, too, and took a deep draw. It had been so long he had to pinch back a cough.

The smoke calmed his nerves, though. He savored the cigarette, and his whole demeanor changed. He was young again, cocky.

"I didn't think you'd show," the man said, sitting down in the chair across from him. He turned it sideways so he could keep his eyes on the room.

"You look like hell," Goren said.

"With good reason."

"What do you want from me?"

"I need somebody I can trust."

"Look, maybe I don't want to get mixed up in this," Bobby said. He rubbed his sore knee again.

The man looked down at Bobby's hand, then met his gaze. "Maybe you already are," he said.


Alex watched as the address popped up on the screen. The name didn't register with her at all. "Celia Walker." She wrote it down and then typed it in for a search. Nothing more than drivers' license, and birth certificate. Celia was no criminal.

She sat back and sighed. Bobby rarely spoke of his Army days, except to talk about Declan. She really knew nothing about that part of his life. She stared at the picture.

He was thin and strong. Except for the cigarette hanging loosely from his lips, he was a picture of health. A smile played at his lips, and he seemed to radiate confidence.

She sat back and thought. It was before Korea, so maybe from basic training? Or shortly thereafter. That marked the first time in his life he'd been free of the responsibilities of holding together his dysfunctional family. Out from under his mother, no longer watching every moment for Frank to show up unexpectedly, off the grid as far as his abusive father was concerned. Finally earning respect for his intelligence. Of course he was happy. It was Bobby's first taste of what life should have been like.

Celia… she might have been an old girlfriend from that time. That would explain her possession of the picture. But why she would send it to him now… that was the mystery.

It made sense. Bobby would drop everything to help someone he cared about. Maybe she asked for his help?

Alex suppressed a yawn and rubbed her tired eyes. She pulled Bobby's phone out of her pocket and looked at his call list. Nada. The last call he'd placed on the phone was to her. As well as the eight calls prior to that. She switched and looked at the incoming call list. Again, she was accosted by her own name, multiple times. The only other name on the list was Lewis, and that was from two weeks ago. She packed up her things and rubbed her eyes again. Bobby didn't appear to have very many friends these days.


"I told you once already, I haven't seen him!" Logan held the man by the shirt, trying to judge if he was telling the truth. Frustrated, he let him loose. "Give me a lead," he demanded. "Somebody has to know."

"Try Ripper. He's always out by the entrance to the subway tunnel. Goren talks to him almost every day."

Logan gave the man a nod and wound his way out of the bar. His ears were ringing when he hit the sidewalk outside. The city sounds were a stark contrast to the noisy barroom.

With a frown on his face, he headed for home. "Damn Goren," he muttered under his breath.


Bobby limped down the street and found a cheap hotel. He paid with his credit card and made his way to his room. Once he was locked in, he hobbled over to the bed and sat down hard against it. Taking a deep breath, he rubbed his knee again, and then he scraped his fingers through his hair.

This was a fine mess he was in. Fucking Frank! He thought angrily. As he tried to wrap his head around what had happened, and what needed to happen, thoughts of his partner intruded. She would be worried. He picked up the hotel phone and dialed her number.

"Eames," She said, and he could hear the sleep heavy in her voice.

"Alex, I just want you to know I'm all right."

"How bad are you hurt, Bobby?"

"Huh?"

"Tylenol 3?"

"Oh, that. It's just my knee, Eames. I'm okay."

"Where the hell are you?"

"I'm… I'm taking care of something."

"Something to do with Celia Walker?"

"You—" Bobby stopped, then. She had been worried. She was investigating him. "Yeah. Look, Eames, it's personal." He had to keep her away from this.

"Are you in some kind of trouble, Bobby?"

He sighed and glanced around the room. "No more than usual. Look, I'll be gone a week or so. I don't want you to worry."

"It's a little late for that."

He frowned.

"You don't have your phone."

"I know."

"I don't like being out of touch. Are you going back to your place?"

"N-no. I'm kinda… far away."

"Bobby, is there some way I can help?"

"No, Eames. Thanks. Look, I'll try to keep in touch, when I can. Like I said, it should only take a week or so."

"It's been a week already."

"I know. Trust me, Alex."

While she was grateful to hear his voice, this call was doing nothing to make her less concerned. "I do trust you, Bobby. It's all those other bastards I don't trust."

He dropped his chin to his chest with a smile.

"I'll be expecting your call," she said.

"I'll do my best."