A/N: Still the same as the previous chapter.
Chapter 2
Jack stopped at a coffee shop later that morning for a jolt of caffeine. As he waited in line, he thought for a moment about the dream he'd had last night – "the phone nightmare," he called it. It had been a while since he'd had it – he was prone to recurring dreams, but this one seemed to have finally given him a break. The conversation with Ruthie, and those accident photos – that must have triggered it. He'd had too many reminders yesterday. He would have to avoid them today.
When he arrived at work, he ran into Jamie and Adam in the elevator. Jamie smiled at him.
"How was your dinner?"
"Good." Jack nodded.
"What dinner?" Adam rasped.
"Jack had dinner with Ruthie Miller last night," Jamie advised him.
"Are you in the habit of having dinner with defense counsel in the middle of a trial?" Adam asked, but Jack could tell the question wasn't serious – just Adam being curmudgeonly – and he ignored it.
"What time is your flight this afternoon?" Adam continued.
"One o'clock," Jamie answered for him, "We're meeting with Rigg and his attorney at four."
"When are you coming back?" Adam asked.
"The flight is scheduled for Saturday afternoon," Jack said, "Depending on the answer we get, we might be able to get something done on Saturday."
"Saturday." Adam sniffed, "Sure."
"It's worth a try. We have to be back in court for Blair on Monday, this is our only chance."
"I got a call last night," Jamie said, "Briscoe and Curtis made an arrest last night, we should be getting the paperwork this morning. Did Briscoe get a hold of you?" She asked Jack.
"He left a message, I got it this morning." Jack nodded.
"What's the case?" Adam asked.
"The defendant's name is Josh Burdett," Jamie said, "He's accused of killing his wife to conceal the fact that he's black. They put their baby, who has noticeably African-American features, up for adoption, and the wife changed her mind, wanted the baby back. "
"How has he managed to hide his race?" Adam asked.
"Apparently he's very light-skinned, " Jamie said, "From what Curtis told me, it seems he had everybody fooled. His whole life was a charade. It's pathetic."
The elevator doors had opened on the tenth floor by this time, and the three of them began walking.
"Maybe thirty, forty years ago it made more sense." Jack said.
"Back then they had lynch mobs and bull whips. Now they use toilet plungers. Progress. You confirmed that he's the father of this child?" Adam asked.
"We're just waiting for a blood sample from the baby." Jack answered.
"What else?"
Jamie thought for a moment, remembering what Rey had told her the night before, "Weak alibi, forensics to establish the manner of death."
"His motive being that he didn't want anyone to know he was black. Why?"
"Shame, loss of friends, his work. I can just imagine what he was afraid of." By this time they had reached Jamie's desk.
"Don't imagine it, prove it." Adam headed off towards his office, and Jamie looked over at Jack as the phone on her desk began to ring. She ignored the phone for a moment while she pulled a small piece of paper out of pocket and handed it to Jack.
"Madeleine's phone number. I promised her you'd call." She turned to answer her phone, leaving Jack to stare at the number.
Why did I agree to this? He wondered. He contemplated trying to get out of it, but slid the paper into his pocket. He'd enjoyed his dinner with Ruthie last night – most of it, anyway – why not give it another try?
Jamie hung up, and Jack looked over at her.
"That was Curtis," She said, "The adoptive mother's disappeared with the baby."
"Do we have their address?" Jack asked. Jamie searched her inbox and pulled out the file.
"It's in Queens," She said, "Mr. and Mrs. Jerry O'Brien."
"Let's get over there, then," Jack sighed, "With any luck, we'll be able to get this out of the way so we can catch our flight."
Jamie pulled her keys out of her purse.
"Let's go." She sighed, glancing over at the work she'd planned to finish that morning. It would have to wait – again.
Mr. O'Brien and his lawyer were anything but helpful, turning the sojourn to Queens into a futile trip. O'Brien was not going to allow anything that threatened their adoption of the baby, an emotion Jack could understand - if this family had not been standing in the way of a homicide case.
"We need that test." Jamie commented as she and Jack left the O'Brien's.
"We need to turn up the heat on O'Brien," Jack agreed, "If he's getting paid off by Burdett, he's on the hook for a lot more than contempt." Contempt was the only thing he'd been able to think of as far as charging O'Brien.
"I'll get Briscoe and Curtis on it," Jamie replied quietly, thinking of how much they'd love hearing from her again. Their workload was at least as heavy as hers, maybe more so.
"And talk to Burdett's employers, let's nail down his motive."
"I'll have to do it on Tuesday," Jamie sighed, "That is, if we can finish up the Blair case on Monday."
"Blair is testifying on Monday," Jack reminded her, "Once we get that tape in, she'll probably agree to a plea. Plan on Tuesday, and we'll just have to see what happens."
Jamie looked at her watch, "It's already eleven," She said, "We're going to have to hurry if we're going to make it to LaGuardia in time."
Jamie dropped Jack off at the office, which gave him a chance to grab his overnight bag and make a few quick phone calls. As he changed clothes, Madeleine's phone number slipped from his pocket. He looked at it for a moment, then picked up the phone again.
"Madeleine Lerner." Her voice sounded businesslike, almost stern.
"Hello, Madeleine? This is Jack McCoy, Jamie Ross gave me your number. She said you'd be expecting my call?
"Oh," her voice changed, instantly lightening, "It's nice to hear from you. I was wondering if you'd actually call."
"Jamie didn't make me out to be reliable, did she?"
"It's not that," Madeleine had a very pleasant voice, "She did say you're busy, which I can understand."
"Well, I can squeeze in dinner, occasionally."
"Would Monday night be one of those occasions?" Madeleine asked.
"I think I could fit that in," Jack said, and they worked out the arrangements.
Jack met Jamie in front of the Commonwealth Airlines ticket counter at LaGuardia, forty-five minutes before their flight was scheduled to leave. She was already holding her boarding pass, and gestured towards the long line in front of the counter.
"Don't wait in that," She said, "Check in at the gate, otherwise we'll miss it."
The two of them headed over to the security checkpoint.
"So," Jack said, "I gave Madeleine a call."
"Is that why you're late?"
"No –" Jack began, but he was interrupted.
BEEEEEEEEEEP.
"Please step back and remove any metal objects from your pockets," the security agent waved him back. Jack rolled his eyes and emptied his pockets.
"All right, now try it."
Jack stepped through the metal detector.
BEEEEEEEEEEP.
"Sir, there must be something metal you're not remembering. Any jewelry?"
Jack scowled. He looked through the metal detector at Jamie, who was trying to hide the fact that she was laughing.
"No," He said, checking his pockets again, "Here's a quarter, could that be it?"
"Try it." The security person held out the basket.
BEEEEEEEEEEP.
"What the hell!" Jack exclaimed. Jamie gave up trying to hide her laughter.
"Sir, check your pockets again," The security agent rolled her eyes. Jack fought back his anger and dug into every pocket he could find. He pulled out a keychain he thought he'd lost ages ago, and dropped it into the basket.
"All right, try it again."
Jack sighed and walked through the metal detector. No beep.
"I thought I'd never see you again." Jamie teased as she handed him his bag.
"Ha, ha, very funny." Jack said.
"So, you were saying you gave Madeleine a call?"
"I did. We're meeting on Monday night for dinner."
"That's wonderful!" Jamie exclaimed, "You don't waste any time, do you?"
"Only when trying to get through airport security." Jack replied.
The flight was already boarding when they reached the gate. Jack received his boarding pass from the gate agent and lined up behind Jamie.
"Do you have the Carlson file?" He asked.
"Sure, right here." Jamie reached into her briefcase and handed it to Jack.
"Inflight reading." He said.
"I can think of better things," Jamie pulled a novel out of her bag, "Inflight entertainment."
The flight took off fairly quickly, given the usual traffic congestion at LaGuardia, and Jack skimmed through the Carlson file during the hour long trip. Lindsay Carlson had shot Dr. Mayer, who had testified at her father's murder trial, along with one other man. Apparently Carlson blamed him for her father's conviction. The ballistics report hinted that the gun that shot her father's victims was the same gun Carlson used to shoot Mayer, but they needed the gun to prove it. They'd already visited the Albany DA to see if she could help convince Carlson's father to tell them where he'd hidden the weapon – she'd grudgingly agreed to offer him a chance at parole as part of a deal. He scribbled a few notes in the file, then slipped it back in his briefcase.
He was glad Jamie had insisted on flying for this Attica trip, rather than driving. Ten hours in a car would have wasted time they didn't have – they'd been lucky to fit this meeting in at all, with the Blair trial going on – but the time constraint was not the only reason for his reluctance.
Jack turned and looked over the head of his sleeping seatmate to catch a glimpse of the clouds sailing by the window.
Rochester Airport was much smaller than LaGuardia. It took only twenty minutes before the two of them were on their way to Attica.
"God, I haven't been up here in ages." Jamie looked out the window at the landscape along the Thruway.
"So we offer the possibility of parole as the deal," was Jack's response. He didn't want to talk about the last time he'd been to Attica, and that seemed to be the direction the conversation was headed.
"I hate the idea of letting a murderer loose on society," Jamie frowned, "Is that all we have? I know the Albany County D.A. agreed, but…"
"I can't think of anything else. We can also offer to reduce the murder charges against Carlson."
"All right," Jamie sighed, "Do you think if we get this over with fast enough, we can fly back tonight?"
"If we get a deal, we'll have to discuss his testimony with him tomorrow, or come back here in a few weeks."
"Damn. I have no desire to spend the night here."
"Neither do I," Jack replied, "But we may have to."
The counsel room at Attica where Rigg's attorney had scheduled their meeting was on the opposite side of the building from wing which housed the death row inmates – and Attica's execution chamber. Rigg's attorney met them there, while one of the guards went to get Rigg from his cell.
"Look," the attorney began, "This case has been a nightmare for me."
"Imagine that," Jamie replied sarcastically, "You mean you don't enjoy defending murderers?"
The lawyer opened his mouth to speak again, but he was interrupted by the metallic sliding of the door. Gerald Rigg, an older, heavyset man in a prison jumpsuit, ignored them all as he sat down next to his attorney.
"I was finished with this case a year ago," The lawyer continued.
"When I ran out of money," Rigg interrupted him.
He looked at Rigg.
"I did the trial, I did the direct appeal, that's all I was required to do," He looked over at Jack, "Now I drive all the way from Albany to listen to this?"
"We're prepared to drop murder one down to murder two against his daughter, and we're giving your client an opportunity you haven't been able to offer." Jack countered.
"An opportunity to sell out his daughter for a chance at parole in twenty-three years? He'd have better luck claiming I screwed up."
It wouldn't surprise me if you had, Jamie thought. She turned to Rigg. "I read your brief. I wouldn't pack your suitcase just yet."
"Maybe you haven't read Acevedo v. US down in New York," Rigg snarled, lacing the words "New York" with contempt.
Jailhouse lawyers. "You should give the dissent a closer read," Jamie replied, "You're here to stay, Mr. Rigg."
"You tell us how your daughter ended up with your gun, you get a chance at parole." Jack added.
"Parole after fifteen years," Rigg's attorney jumped in. Jack looked over at him.
"You're lucky to get any offer at all," He said.
"I wouldn't wish this life on anybody," Rigg glared at them both, "Especially my own kid. Even if I could answer your questions, I wouldn't." He stood and began moving towards the door, "You can all go to hell."
He yelled for the guard to open the door, and his attorney followed him out.
Jack sighed and began putting his paperwork back in his briefcase. An hour long flight, followed by an hour long drive, and all for nothing.
"Well, it was worth a shot. Niagara Falls is only forty-five minutes away, you ever been?" He asked Jamie. He was only half joking.
"When I was nine," Jamie sounded unhappy, "My brothers tried to push me in." She thought for a moment, then looked up at Jack, "Maybe we don't need Rigg to connect her to the gun."
"If Albany homicide couldn't find the gun…"
"They don't know what we know," Jamie interrupted, "They tracked Rigg, not his daughter."
Jack thought about this for a moment, then took his briefcase.
"Go over it with Briscoe and Curtis when we get back," He suggested, "Maybe they can help track Carlson's whereabouts two years ago."
"I'll call them on Monday morning," Jamie agreed as she flashed her identification for the guard and signed the sign-out sheet. Jack followed her, and the heavy metal door clanged shut behind them.
"Well, do you want to head back to the airport? It's only six, maybe we can hop a flight back to New York tonight," Jack suggested, "Or we could go to Niagara Falls. I promise I won't try to push you in."
"Airport," Jamie said, "I'm not taking any chances."
"I'm sorry, sir, but it is Friday night. All of our flights into New York City are full." The airline's counter agent had a practiced tone to her voice, as if she'd repeated this phrase for a thousand crabby travelers. Jamie groaned.
"What about tomorrow morning?" She asked.
"We have plenty of seats on the morning flights. I have a 7:10, an 8:35, a 9:42…"
"7:10." Jamie said, and it was Jack's turn to groan.
"No problem," the agent replied, typing into her computer, "I have you both set up for the 7:10am flight." She handed them the new tickets.
"Well, I guess we're stuck," Jamie sighed as they left the counter, "I hate spending the night away from Katie."
"We could try driving to Buffalo, see if we can get a flight out of there," Jack suggested, "Or we could drive back to New York."
"I'm not spending eight hours in a car," Jamie shot back, "We'll get there almost as fast if we just wait for that flight in the morning."
"Up to you." Jack shrugged.
When they'd checked in at the hotel, Jamie thought she saw Jack's eye wandering towards the door of the hotel bar. She decided to intercept him before he made the suggestion.
"I am really starving," She suggested, "I saw a restaurant… do you feel like joining me?"
"Sure," Jack replied amiably, "It's been a while since lunch."
"This is a step down from the places I used to stay when Neil was footing the bill."
"I told you when you first started, get used to being on the county's budget," Jack said, smiling. Jamie rolled her eyes.
"I just want to get back to Katie," She sighed, "Poor kid, she has to spend the night with her father."
Jack raised his eyebrows at Jamie.
"No, I don't say things like that in front of her. Besides, Neil isn't bad at being a father. He was a lousy husband, and he's turned into an evil little man, but he loves his daughter."
Jack only nodded, and Jamie sighed again.
"You never told me how your marriage ended," she said, "You know all the down and dirty details about mine."
"There's not much to say," Jack shrugged, "We grew apart. By the time I knew what hit me, she had moved to California and married someone else. It was a long time ago."
"I bet you didn't try to sue your ex-wife for custody every three months."
"No. I had my daughter on alternating holidays and for two weeks every summer. I thought of asking for more, but I didn't want to disrupt her life. She turned out pretty well, you know."
"No thanks to you," Jamie teased, and it was Jack's turn to roll his eyes.
"Is Neil at it again?"
"No. At least, not this week. I just don't trust him."
"I don't blame you." Jack remembered his encounters with Jamie's ex-husband – Jamie's "evil little man" description fit him perfectly - "But the last time you had to face him in court, you did pretty well."
Jamie smiled.
"That was really more satisfying than it should have been," She admitted, "The Ellison case was a killer, but I enjoyed the ending."
Jack nodded again, remembering the night the jury had come in with the death penalty against Heidi Ellison's murderer, a studio boss represented by Jamie's ex-husband. The verdict was a fairly major victory, a nice little plum for the resume, but Jack hadn't been able to celebrate. The emptiness of that moment – no one to celebrate a victory with - had been overwhelming, another painful and glaring reminder in a life that was suddenly filled with them.
Jamie noticed the change in Jack's expression.
"What?" She asked, "Is something wrong?"
"No," Jack tried to come back to the present, "that was one hell of a win."
"All right," Jamie said, "Then which case are you proudest of?"
"Jamie, I've been a prosecutor for twenty-something years. Who remembers?"
"You remember," Jamie said, "I remember every trial I've worked on since I graduated law school."
Jack thought for a few minutes.
"I have to admit, I enjoyed sending Willard Tappan to prison, that was one of my better moments."
"I remember reading about that. He had some lawyer killed?"
"Mmmhmm. Some lawyer who had found a big chunk of his missing money. He managed to manipulate some poor schmuck that he'd already swindled into shooting the guy."
"How did he manage that?"
"Curran – that was the shooter's name – was already a little off the rails over losing his life savings in Willard Tappan's investments, and he managed to find Tappan at the halfway house he was staying in after the feds let him out of jail. Tappan told him that the victim was hiding his money, and Curran went over to the victim's office and shot him in the head."
"Murder two, depraved indifference?"
"That's what we filed initially, but Curran claimed Tappan hired him."
"Did he?"
Jack shrugged, "That's what he testified to."
"But did you believe him?" Jamie asked. Jack shrugged again.
"As Claire said, the story was awfully convenient. The jury believed him, that's what counts."
The casual mention of Claire Kincaid's name caught Jamie's ears. Jack rarely spoke about her – he tended to avoid the subject.
"Jack, that's suborning perjury." She said.
"No," Jack corrected her, "I had no reason not to believe him."
"Well, all right, maybe you're on the side of the angels, but you were close to the line."
"That's what Claire said," Jack admitted, "and you're both right. But Tappan did manipulate Curran, and therefore he's responsible for the murder. Curran's convenient story just made our case that much stronger."
Jamie shook her head, "That's your proudest moment?"
"Five people committed suicide after being swindled by Tappan," Jack replied, "I think he deserves to spend the rest of his life in prison," He took another swig of the beer he'd ordered to go with his sandwich, and continued, "Then there was the woman who arranged the kidnapping of her child as part of a custody dispute."
"You're kidding," Jamie gasped, "Who would do a thing like that?"
"Karen Gaines," Jack replied, "Her daughter was killed by the kidnapper, and during the kidnapper's arraignment she brought a gun into the courtroom and shot him."
"Oh, I remember hearing about that." Jamie nodded, "I remember thinking I probably would have done the same thing if someone had hurt my child."
"Maybe, but I doubt you would have paid someone to kidnap Katie just to get back at Neil Gorton. And I doubt you would have shot him if things didn't go the way you wanted them to."
"You think she shot the guy to shut him up?"
"I'm not sure if I do, it wasn't something we could conclusively prove. Claire didn't. She was more generous than I was. Strange, though, because she was in the courtroom when Gaines shot Capetti – she ended up covered in blood. If Gaines hadn't been such a good shot, she…"
Jack stopped dead. Claire had been pretty shaken up after the experience – and although Jack refused to admit it, even to Claire, so had he. That was part of the reason he'd been so eager to get Karen Gaines – she had come within inches of shooting the person who, he realized at the time, was the most important in his life. Claire was better able to depersonalize the incident – she was understanding, at first, until their investigation revealed the truth about Karen Gaines' involvement in her daughter's death.
He did not want to talk about this.
Jamie was waiting for him to continue.
"It's just a miracle no one was hurt." He finished. Jamie nodded and took a sip of her iced tea.
"You don't talk about Claire Kincaid too often." She said, after a pause.
"No," Jack acknowledged, "I don't."
"But you miss her." Jamie continued.
"Hey, it's getting late," was Jack's reply, "We have to make a 7:10 flight in the morning."
"Don't change the subject," Jamie ordered, "Answer me."
"You didn't ask a question."
"Do you miss her?" Jamie rephrased.
"Yes," Jack shot back, "and I don't want to talk about it."
"Why not?"
"Because I don't," Jack said, "Can we drop this?"
"No," Jamie insisted, "Obsessing in silence is not healthy."
Jack rested his head in his hand for a moment and ran his fingers through his hair.
"Yes," He said after a pause, "Of course I miss her."
Before Jamie had a chance to question him any further, Jack signed for the bill and stood, stretching a little.
"That was pretty good, given the general quality of two-star hotel restaurants," he said, "But it's late, and you committed me to an early morning tomorrow."
"You're right," Jamie said, standing and giving up the conversation, "But this time, when we get to the airport, check your pockets before we go through security."
Chapter 3 coming soon...
(And yes, it was possible in 1998 to get through airport security without a boarding pass. Don't try it now, though...)