Friday 12th June
St Luke's Place, Greenwich Village
Goren placed his jacket and folder on the kitchen counter and stepped through the doors onto the small terrace he had constructed with the help (or was it hindrance?) of Lewis in the spring. His heart skipped a beat when he saw her. The pregnant love of his life, due in only five days, seeming to stumble about and in obvious discomfort. Holding the bulge of her belly she claimed was the size of "a brick outhouse" and making painful noises.
He took a breath and mentally reminded himself what they said at the hospital two days ago. That Caro and the baby were doing great and that his or her head had engaged fully ready to be born. He'd read in that baby book she once threatened to throw away, only five percent of babies arrived on the predicted date. A few days either way right now should not be a problem if she was in labour. He swallowed rising panic and in an almost normal voice managed to say "Caro?"
Then, as she came around the table, his powers of observation came into play. Seeing that Caro seemed to be limping, not having a contraction and that she had the weight all on the toes of her left foot. A left foot that had two bright red nails.
"Heeyah" she moaned pressing her foot into the paving.
And on the table there was a small bottle of scarlet polish.
Goren knew he had the answer as Caro's toes wriggled and she lowered herself back into a chair. She had cramps. But just in her foot.
"Let me do that sweetie" he said squatting to take the foot and massage the toes which felt hard and rigid.
"Thanks Rob" she sighed.
As he rubbed Goren gave it some thought. Why a woman never painted her fingernails that sort of shade and never her toenails, would suddenly decide she wanted the latter the colour of a fire truck. Or, given the size of her, how she ever managed to reach them. Little wonder she got cramp. But then he had given up on logic explaining a lot of things since Caro got pregnant.
"Better?"
"Yes. Thanks"
As he stood up he gave her mouth a soft kiss and her belly a little stroke.
"I suppose it's pointless me asking Caro? Why, when only last week you claimed it was months since you saw your feet, you decided to paint your toenails?"
She gave him that smile always melted him and reached for the jug to pour him some iced tea.
"Uhuh. You can finish them later. Instead of checking that damn hospital bag for the fifty-fifth time"
"It pays to be prepared" he shrugged "And it's only fifty-three times up to now"
"What's the betting we end up going without it?" Caro said as he took a long swallow. "Now tell your bored, knocked up girlfriend how your day went"
Goren decided not to remind her she would be his bored, knocked up wife if it had been left to him to fix the day. He had done that once before in the middle of a squabble. It had just made her mad and then made her cry and he really could not bear that. He reached out for the hand she had promised he could put a ring on in the future and started with what happened in court that morning.
Vestry Street, Soho
Jack McCoy stopped the vehicle in its parking spot just as his cell phone began to ring. He grabbed it from the passenger seat with a quick glance at who it was.
"Hi Al" he said switching off the engine.
"Um Jack...Elliot just brought a guy in who...never mind...but because of the time..."
"Because of the time there's only you to ride shotgun on the interview which means you are gonna be late" he finished the sentence for her in one form or another he knew only too well.
Come to that, it was as often him making that call with some problem at the DA's office or the Mayor needing someone to give him some backbone. So getting mad or sounding hurt because he was on the receiving end this time, would achieve nothing.
"Yeah"
"Okay Al. I'll just hold dinner for another hour. Was only going to be something cold anyway"
"So long as there's a beer with it"
"Don't be too late then. Or I will have drunk them all" he growled. "See you later. Love you"
"You too"
McCoy got out of the Jeep Wrangler he picked up a month ago, hefted a small grocery sack under one arm and headed for the elevator. Alex had teased him mercilessly about it. Claimed he wasn't so much entering his second childhood as his "second puberty" to buy a car like that. Especially one in Canary Yellow. Perhaps there was an element of that in it? Especially after his brush with his own mortality last winter. And for someone who mocked, Al was pretty damn quick to grab the keys herself whenever they went anywhere together.
Inside the apartment he set down the sack and reached into the pocket of his jeans. Pulling out the small black velvet box and opening it. Unsure about how and when he was going to ask and more scared about what her answer might be.
"The Lite Byte", Pearl St, Manhattan
It was a corny name for an Internet Cafe but they had nothing like it in Gainsborough, Iowa. Apart from a general dealers, a drug store/diner and one bar, all of the other businesses on Main Street were geared to farming. The machine shop only sold gas as a sideline, dust from the feed and grain merchants blew out on the sidewalk and the nearest movie theatre was fifty miles away.
The young woman took a seat near the window and ordered a salad and chocolate shake. No not skinny thank you ma'am. The number and varieties of the way tea, coffee and anything with milk came in the City was still something of a mystery. To a girl grew up with only full fat and a choice of five flavours for a shake. They warned her. Her folks back on the farm. That New York would be overwhelming. They were right. But so far, thanks to her sound country sense and some helpful tips from the Colombia Student Society it had not been the dangerous den of inequity her Dad had feared. Not for her, though she had seen and heard a fair amount of "inequity" going on amongst her fellow students at the dorm.
But Colombia was Colombia and being both smart and hard working, she had managed to get a local bursary went a long way to helping her major in chemistry. And "The Lite Byte", though filled with loud, young and rather intimidating locals, had one thing going for it. It had an excellent view of Roark's across the street. She could never pass as 21 to order anything alcoholic in there. And word was it was "a cop bar". Not something you had in Gainsborough either, when policing consisted of Deputy Sherriff Buddy Gibson driving through once a day and sometimes stopping for a soda or a burger.
As the salad and shake arrived she took from her purse a much creased photograph and set it on the table. One eye on her plate and the other on the comings and goings across the street. Smiling inwardly at the idea she was on some kind of "stakeout".
Sunday 14th June
St Luke's Place, Greenwich Village
Caro lay on the lounger it had taken care to get onto and looking over the mountain of her belly at her feet. Convincing herself she did not need to go pee again so soon and admiring her ten red toes. Wondering why maternity clothes for this stage all seemed to come in small floral prints and still thinking Rob was no fun to not let her paint his toenails. Maybe she could forgive him for that as his suggestion about what they did next was far more satisfying. She was just wondering many weeks pregnant she was when her brain finally turned to mush, when she heard the paper rustle.
A few feet away he sat at the table pretending to read it. But Caro knew that far away look and almost imperceptible frown. That was him thinking and not about whether the yellowing back yard grass would survive this heat wave they seemed to be having. She gave herself a quick waft with a magazine deciding if (and it was a big "if") they ever considered a second child she would make sure their timing was better. Wear Rob down to a puddle of sweat to conceive in summer and thus avoid being what her Mom called "nine months and a minute" this time of year again.
As he finally looked in her direction she felt hotter still. Damn the man for making her love him so much and to still want him as badly as she did that first brief and gentle time. Though maybe part of that now was all that pelvic pressure the book told you about? In which case that was his baby and so his fault too.
"You ready for some lunch?" he asked.
"My breakfast didn't get down yet Rob" she said kindly, knowing he knew how cranky her digestion could be right now. "You go ahead though"
"Too hot anyway"
There was a pause pregnant in every sense as Caro knew he was working up to something. She decided to make it easier on him.
"So did you decide yet? About the Academy?"
"Not just about me is it?"
"It is really"
She waited as he got up, made for the lounger beside her and got his balance perched on one end.
"It's you has to do the work. Whatever you do"
"I just keep thinking about the baby Caro"
"Kind of hard to ignore"
She stroked her belly some instinct told her held his son, despite them not wanting to know for sure.
"Since all things are about equal financially it's...it's just practical. I'll have regular hours, be able to fit in better with her routine..."
"His" Caro said automatically and knowing Rob's instinct, if not his desire, was for a girl.
"Whichever"
"I knew what it could be like Rob. Before this happened I mean. Still said yes but at the same time I know you...know you will fret about missing bath time and feel you are not doing enough with the baby"
She reached out to stroke the downy hair on his arm. "But you have to do what is all round best for you. What's the good of you doing your share of diaper duty or us saving a few bucks on nursery when I go back to work, if you really hate it?"
"I doubt that" he replied in a not totally convincing tone. "Not once I get over the sheer terror"
Caro laughed softly. "I doubt your students will bite. Not hard. And if they do they won't try it a second time. Not if they have any brains"
He took her hand. "I love you"
"I know you do. And I love you...it's just..."
"Go on"
"The job is part of what made you how you are Rob, part of what you are. What I love. We both know a baby can threaten a relationship as much as make it stronger. Perhaps we've been lucky or worked hard enough at it so far but could switching jobs be..."
"Be one more change in my life I have to handle somehow? One too many?"
"Yes. Does that help?"
"Not at all" he laughed. "But then you knew that"
The sound of their phone cut him off.
Goren stood up. "This had better not be what I think it is"
Two minutes later he was back, slipping on his shirt, apologising and explaining a fireman had been found dead in Midtown.
Ten minutes later Caro could ignore the urge of her much pressured bladder no longer and wished she'd asked him to haul her up before he went.
Vestry Street, Soho
"Umpfph"
Jack McCoy loaded another heavy box into the back of the Wrangler. It always seemed to him that Eames family picnics required the same amount of provisions as an aircraft carrier due at sea for three months. Though since that one clanked with the sound of beer bottles, maybe he could forgive some of the excess.
"That's it" said Alex tossing a large canvas bag on the rear seat. "Let's go"
For once allowed to drive his own Jeep, McCoy got in the driver's seat and did not point out they should have left twenty minutes ago. "What's in that bag?"
"Swimsuit and towel. I packed yours too"
"It will be too cold in the lake to swim" he muttered backing out of the parking space.
"Coward"
Alex put on her shades as they headed up the ramp.
"It's okay for women. They like everything to shrink a little"
Eames sniggered "Your implant won't"
"Exactly Al. One third of my genitalia is temperature immune. The rest isn't. Everything looks...ends up lopsided...unbalanced"
"I think it looks cute"
"You shouldn't be looking"
"Then bath on your own in future"
He decided to let that go and instead wondered if he should have brought that ring after all. Gone ahead with the idea of "finding it" during a romantic walk in the woods. But as they stopped at the lights and her cell began to ring, McCoy was fairly certain walks in woods, swims or anything else might well be off the agenda. In the city traffic and with the soft top down, he did not hear too much of the conversation as she ended the call.
"Where to Lieutenant?" he asked as neutrally as possible.
"Sorry Jack. Second and Fifty-First"
He bullied the Jeep across the lane to make the next right.
"It's a girl. Sixteen. Missing since yesterday"
"So why you Al?"
She could sense McCoy exerting the same kind of temper and frustration control she had to at times because of his job.
"She's the daughter of a diplomat at the UN"
"Oh I guess that makes all the difference then"
"Please Jack. I know we both agree on this kind of thing and it's not like you never..."
"Jump or ask how high when certain people are involved?" he yelled above the engine of a truck they were passing.
To be continued...
AN : If you want to know about McCoy's brush with mortality and the implant you'll need to read "Death's Eternal Cold".