Chapter Three
Goren sat down wearily at his desk with a soft and disheartened "harumph". Eames looked up at her partner. He looked tired, but she'd seen him more tired... He tossed the short stack of police sketches across his desk to hers.
"None of these perps look enough like each other to be the same guy," he sighed. "These murders either aren't connected, or someone wants us to think they're not related."
Eames looked through the pictures for what seemed the hundredth time. It seemed like each witness saw a different person. How could that be? "So how many similar murders did you say there were before we were alerted to them?"
"We thought the commissioner's son was the first. Actually, the first one was three months ago. They follow, about once a week, up to and past the Commissioner's son...fourteen in all."
Eames shuffled through the sketches again. "They all look pretty young..."
Goren slid a few of them over to his desk. They DID all look young; that might be the only thing they had in common. Some had their faces partially covered, some did not.
"The victims - they were all ages... the youngest was seventeen, the oldest in his fifties." Goren pondered out loud.
Mike Logan wandered over from the desk-space he and Wheeler shared. "Any leads?"
Goren shook his head.
"Goren! Logan! My office." Ross' voice interrupted their fruitless discussion. They exchanged curious glances, first with each other and then with their partners.
"What did you do now, Goren?" Mike smiled at the younger detective as they headed for the captain's office.
Ross waited for them and closed the door when they were both inside.
"Goren,do we have anything on this bum case?"
His detectives looked at each other. Goren shook his head. "Too many possible suspects; we can't even get a solid picture of the perp. Or perps."
Ross sighed. "I think it's time we approached this from a new angle..."
Several days later, near the end of her shift, Alex Eames heard a snicker and turned to see her partner, unshaven in the best of times, enter the squad room. He was positively furry. He was accompanied by an almost equally scruffy Mike Logan.
Eames' face lit up in a smile not often seen in the dramaof their current case. "Hey Goren, do you want to borrow my lady gillette?" She threw a comment his way.
Goren's face wrinkled with what could have been amusement, and Logan chuckled.
"Don't laugh, partner," Megan Wheeler stood beside Eames' desk. She and Eames had been working the case along with Goren and Logan, while the men had become bums in the shortest time possible. "You don't exactly look like you're ready for a GQ photo shoot."
"Wheeler, I'm insulted," Logan deadpanned. "That's just what I was aiming for."
"Goren, Logan!" Even Ross couldn't keep the trace of a smile from his face. "My office."
The two detectives-slash-bums followed their captain into his office, very aware of all the unprofessional giggling going on behind their backs.
Ross motioned for them to sit down, and they both did. "You two really got slovenly in record time. Thank you for agreeing to work the case this way."
The detectives shrugged their shoulders. "We weren't getting anywhere with the traditional investigation," Goren commented.
Ross laid out a map on his desk. "All but one of the attacks occurred in this relatively small area." he pointed. "That's where we'll start. You sure you're up for this?"
Both men nodded. "Good. Take these-" He handed each of them a tiny transmitter/receiver. "Don't leave one another alone unless there's no choice. Keep your service weapons in ankle holsters. We'll have blue-and-whites on the streets, but we can't risk scaring the perp - or perps - away. Any questions?"
Logan swallowed a smart-ass comment and shook his head. Goren sat silently.
"OK. You start tonight. Good luck out there. Be careful."
The detectives stood, as Ross opened the door for them. They headed to their desks to check in with their partners before they got ready to head out.
"Good Luck," Eames told them. "Please watch out for each other."
"Hold down the fort while we're gone," Logan smiled.
"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," Wheeler deadpanned as the two men headed for the elevators.
--
Two homeless men wandered into the alleyway. At first glance, they looked just like the rest. If one was close enough, and knew what he was looking for, one would have noticed that their fingernails were a bit cleaner than the others. Otherwise, nothing seemed "off" about them. They wore cheap casual pants, lightweight jackets over t-shirts, and fingerless gloves on their hands.
Goren and Logan sat down on top of a row of trash cans, looking every bit as disheveled as their compatriots.
"How did you get that beard in so fast?" Goren asked.
"You mean cuz you already had a head start?" Logan smiled. "What canI say?Pure unadulterated male hormones."
Goren smiled a half-smile,despite the reason for their current condition and location.
"Should we try to blend in some?" Logan asked.
"Give it some time," Goren suggested. "They're like a family. They'll know we don't belong."
Logan knew that Goren had informants who were homeless, and they had a true feel for the pulse of the street. They had to, because it was their home...
They settled in for the first of what they hoped were not many nights on the street...
Bobby leaned back against the cool brick of the building, while Logan drew his knees up to his chest, draping his arms loosely around his legs. Studying the group of homeless men settling down for the night, Mike said:
"I figured you'd tell Ross you weren't coming out here."
"I almost did," Goren admitted with a chuckle, scratching his throat through his beard. "I – This case is so damn frustrating but I wasn't keen on leaving Charli and the twins alone."
"But yet here you are…"
"And so are you," Bobby countered. "And you've been married less than a week."
"Yeah, well," Mike shifted into a more comfortable position. "Bailey and I don't have what you and Charli do."
"You seemed to be enjoying each other at the reception," came the soft response. Bobby studied Logan's profile in an effort to read Mike's reactions. "It's obvious you aren't immune to her."
"Immune? Hell, no, I'm not immune." Goren heard the sardonic chuckle but didn't respond. "Molly has me so wrapped around her finger it's not funny and Bailey – all she has to do is smile at me and …" Mike broke off shaking his head.
"And you'd do anything in the world to keep her safe. She smiles at you and nothing else matters but her and the future you want with her," Bobby finished for him.
"But what if she doesn't want a future with me?"
"What do you mean?"
"Bailey's got – issues that are preventing her from wanting to try to build any sort of relationship with me…"
"You're in love with her," Bobby stated and Mike swung his head around to stare at him. "Have you told her?"
"Her? I hadn't even told myself," Logan replied softly, as the truth of Goren's words sunk in. It had been a subtle fall, he realized as his gaze strayed back to the men farther along the alley. She had gotten under his skin, and into his heart, without him even knowing it. He ran his hand through his messy hair with a heavy sigh.
--
Bobby scuffed along the sidewalk, keeping his head down and his hands stuffed in the pockets of his dirty trousers until he came to the pay phone outside a donut shop. He pulled out several coins from his pocket and reached for the receiver.
"Hello?"
"Hi, Chuck," Bobby was unprepared for the emotion that caught in his throat at the sound of her voice.
"How are you?" she asked. "Are you OK?"
"I'm fine," he assured her. "I smell to high heaven, I'm filthy and tired, and I miss you…"
"I miss you, too," Charli told him. "Have you found out anything helpful?"
"Not really. It's damn frustrating," he sighed, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck. "I want – I need to see you." Bobby's voice dropped to a husky whisper.
Without hesitation she asked:
"Where?"
Charli pushed the stroller containing Jake and Emma through the small park, enjoying the feel of the late summer sun on her face. Walking by a group of teenage boys sitting around and on a picnic table, she paid them no attention, but one of the boys watched her with great interest.
Sitting on a bench, Charli turned the stroller so that she could see the twins, both of whom were sleeping before she turned her attention to the activities of the people around her as she waited for Bobby. There were several men in their mid to late twenties playing Frisbee, a group of youngsters on a jungle gym and parents sitting on benches visiting with each other as they kept close watch on their children.
"Hey, baby, you want some company?"
Charli looked up to see one of the teenage boys approaching her with a self-confident swagger. His jeans hung too low and he wore a sleeveless white T-shirt in an effort to accentuate his well-defined upper arms. His head was covered with a black bandana and Charli was certain it was an indication of a gang affiliation.
"No, thank you," she shook her head. "I'm waiting for someone."
"Don't be like that, chica, you don't know how much fun I can be," he sat on the bench alongside her.
"I have all the fun I can handle," Charli replied, rising to her feet and grasping the handle of the stroller.
"Whoa, don't go away," the boy jumped to his feet and reached for her wrist.
Charli pulled her wrist from the boy's grasp and her green gaze was ice cold as she looked up at him.
"Do not touch me," she stated. "If you know what's good for you, you'll go back with your friends and leave me alone."
"Looks like the lady don't want you, Chooch," one of the other boys called from the picnic table and the others chuckled, causing Chooch's face to turn crimson with embarrassment and a slow building anger.
"The lady'll want it well enough when I give it to her," Chooch called back to his friends, reaching for Charli's arm again.
"The lady told you not to touch her," a deep, masculine voice growled from behind Chooch and the young man dropped his hand. Swinging around, the boy looked up at the tall, imposing figure. Although he was apparently homeless, the man's brown eyes were clear and alert and Chooch took a step backwards.
"This don't concern you," Chooch stated with more bravado than he felt at the moment.
"It concerns me more than you'll ever realize," the man replied easily. "Now, you've got two choices - go back with your friends with your rep intact or stay here and I'll show them what a worm you really are."
Even as Bobby spoke, two uniformed police officers walked towards the trio carrying what appeared to be their lunch.
"Are you having trouble here, ma'am?" One of the officers questioned, eyeing Bobby with distaste.
"This young man got the wrong impression about my presence here," Charli replied. "This gentleman was simply helping me," her gaze strayed to Bobby and their eyes met.
"Come on, Chooch, we gotta go!" another of the teenagers called. The group of boys waited as the police officers considered the situation before one of them nodded for the teenager to leave.
"Anything else we can help you with, ma'am?" The same officer asked.
"No, thank you. I'm fine," she assured them.
"Man, you tanked!"
"Shut up!" Chooch ordered. "If that bum hadn't shown up…" he grumbled.
"That bum could kick your ass."
"He ain't nothin'," Chooch looked back over his shoulder to see the auburn haired woman smile up at the homeless man. "And I'll show him he ain't nothin'…"
"I love you, more than anything, but you reek!" Charli couldn't help but laugh up at her husband.
"So my chances for a kiss are slim to none?" he teased, sitting on the bench to peek into the stroller. "They're OK?"
"I think they miss you. They know something's not right. Daddy's not home and they don't understand," Charli sat next to him, reaching into the bottom of the stroller and retrieving a bag, holding it out to him.
Bobby removed the fingerless gloves he wore before he accepted the bag and looked inside, pulling out a sandwich. Charli watched him eat and her heart ached to touch him. She knew what he was doing was important. Men were dying horrible deaths and this was the only way to stop it, but she missed him.
"You look tired," she said.
"Logan and I are taking turns sleeping, but a brick wall is a far cry from a warm wife," he told her and the look in his brown eyes brought a soft blush to her cheeks.
"I called Bailey and told her that I'd be seeing you. She asked that you tell Mike to be careful and if he can call her, she'd like to talk to him…"
Mike Logan sat on a picnic table across the park from where Goren visited with Charli. He sipped a cup of coffee he'd bought from a street vendor with the few coins he'd had left in his pocket. He watched Don Cragen approach him and saw the amusement on the Captain's face.
"Don't even start on me, Donny," Logan warned.
"I just really wish I had a camera," Cragen laughed. "Your wife kick you out already?"
"Goren and I are working a case," Logan shrugged, scratching his cheek. "I've only got a few minutes and was hoping you could help me out."
"What do you need?" Don Cragen wanted to know.
"I've got some questions and I wasn't sure where else to turn," Mike began a bit hesitantly, before adding: "I know a woman who's been raped and I was hoping to get some advice on how to help her. She's locked herself in a cocoon since it happened and won't let anyone in…"
"Has she had counseling?" Cragen asked, sitting on the table alongside Logan.
"No. From what I've been told her family sided with the rapist, no one believed there'd been an attack and she didn't have the option of pursuing it."
"She didn't report it?"
"She reported it – rapist was a deputy sheriff at the time. The evidence disappeared…"
"In my experience, the aftermath is hell on the victims. If she's open to counseling, she should get it," Don stated thoughtfully. "If there's man in her life – he'll need to be patient. Slow and gentle. It could be a long road."
"Do you have a counselor you'd recommend?" Mike asked, looking up to see Goren and Charli walking slowly along the paved path.
"Sure," the older man reached into the inside breast pocket of his suit jacket and retrieved a business card. "Sylvia Kessler – she's had some great results."
"Thank you," Logan slid off the table. "Donny – I appreciate this."
"Mike, the statute of limitation is seven years. If we're still in that time constraint and your friend decides she wants to pursue this, have her come see me."
"I'll talk to her. Thanks."
"All you ever have to do is call, Mike," Cragen assured his friend. "Be careful with whatever you're working. You've got a beautiful family to take care of now."
"There's Mike," Charli nodded towards where Logan spoke with two men. "I wish you had more time," she looked up at Bobby.
"Hopefully, it won't be much longer. We need to catch a break soon," he smiled down at her. "Where are you parked?"
"Over there," she pointed to the SUV. "I'll be fine," she added, reading his thoughts.
"I'm going to follow behind you, make sure those kids aren't hanging out anywhere," he stated and Charli knew not to object. "I'll call you as soon as I can."
"I'll be waiting," Charli assured him. She crooked a finger at him, indicating that he should lean down and he did so. Charli pressed her lips to his and Bobby drank in her taste and scent, longing to hold her close, but knowing he couldn't.
"I – you said I reeked," he reminded her, his deep voice barely a whisper.
"You do, but I love you too much to care," she told him. "Please be careful."
Chooch waited until the bum emerged from the park. He walked with another man who was an inch or two shorter, but just as unkempt. If the uniformed officers hadn't interfered, the vagrant would already have been taught a lesson. Instead, Chooch would simply bide his time until the opportunity arose and he'd show the big guy who was in charge.
--
The sound of the telephone ringing startled Bailey out of the light slumber she had fallen into. Reaching for the handset before Molly woke up, she answered.
"Hello?"
"So, I hear you miss me."
Bailey could hear the amusement in his voice and she couldn't help but smile.
"I had to take out the garbage and the smell reminded me of you when you left here," she replied and heard his deep laugh on the other end of the phone.
"Cute," he chuckled. "But at least you're missing me. How's Molly?"
"Anxious for you to come home. She knows you're working but she doesn't understand why you can't come home at night," Bailey answered softly. "Are you OK?" she asked. "You and Bobby are staying together, right?"
"Missing me and worried?" Bailey could picture him, dirty and unshaven but with a pleased smile on his face and it warmed her. "Don't play games with me, Mrs. Logan."
"I'm just getting used to having you underfoot," she teased. "I wouldn't want anything to happen to you."
"Bailey, I talked to someone today about – about your situation," Mike began cautiously.
"What? Why? You had no right," Bailey sat up in bed and ran a hand through her shoulder length hair.
"I want to help – I want us to be able to work towards having a relationship."
"I told you that's not possible, Mike. You need to stop…"
"He gave me the name of a counselor, B. I thought maybe you'd be interested in seeing her." There was something in his tone that dissipated any anger she might have felt. "For you – for us."
"There's that hopeless romantic again," she tried to avert the seriousness of the conversation.
"Will you at least think about it?"
"Logan…" she began but he cut her off with his gentle request:
"Please, just think about it, for me? I've got to go, Goren's waiting for me. Give Molly a kiss for me and tell her I'll be home as soon as I can."
"I will. Be careful, Mike. Come home safe."
"I have no intention of making you a widow, especially before I've had the chance to make you my wife," he told her in a tone that seemed to drip with innuendo and Bailey felt a blush cover her cheeks. "I'll call you as soon as I can."
--
"Everything OK at home?" Bobby asked as he and Mike made their way back along the alley to where they'd be spending yet another night.
"Did I ever tell you that my wife can be a real smart ass when she wants to be?" Mike chuckled.
"Seems like she married the right man," Bobby remarked, slowing his pace when he saw one of the older men waiting in the area that he and Mike had been sleeping. "You need something?" he turned his attention to where the man sat.
"Just wanted to make sure that you know to be on your guard out here. We've had some problems lately and it's not safe to be alone." The man's voice was as grizzled as his appearance.
"We usually stay pretty close to each other," Mike replied. "But thanks for the heads up."
"My name's Sam," the man said, extending his hand.
"Bobby and this is Mike," Goren shook the man's hand, before Logan took his turn.
"You plan on hanging out here until you catch the cowards doing this?" Sam wanted to know.
"We're not here to catch anybody," Bobby scratched his cheek through his beard while Logan leaned his back against the side of the building he and Bobby had been camping next to.
"That's funny, because I'm sure I saw you here before – only you were dressed a hell of a lot better and were climbing around in a dumpster looking for evidence," Sam couldn't keep the humor out of his voice when Bobby lowered his gaze and rubbed the back of his neck.
"Good going, Goren," Mike laughed and met Sam's gaze evenly."He does stand out in a crowd, doesn't he?"
"I'm just relieved to see the police taking this seriously," the older man stated. "Of course, if it wasn't for the Commissioner's son, I doubt there'd be much interest in a bunch of homeless folks being murdered…"
"The Commissioner's son did draw our attention to what's been happening out here," Bobby admitted.
"You aren't going to try to convince me that he was looking for a place to bed down," Sam stated, looking from Logan to Goren.
"No. He – he had a drug problem and it looks like he was too stoned to get himself home," Bobby explained. "He stumbled into the alley where he was killed."
"And so far you don't have any solid leads," Sam pointed out.
"No, sir, we don't," Goren said.
"You wouldn't happen to have anything that would help us?" Mike wanted to know.
"I wish I did, but I'll keep an ear out and let you know if I do. In the meantime, why don't you boys join the rest of us?" he invited, nodding along the alley where a group of men were settling down for the night.
Mike sat with his back against an old box spring that rested on its end against a wall. Although his eyes were closed, he was finding it hard to sleep.
"Your partner called you 'Goren' earlier," Sam's voice was soft as he spoke. "Any relation to a Frank Goren?"
"Frank's my brother. Has he – do you know him?" Bobby couldn't hide his concern.
"He was out here for a while," the old man was certain Bobby was well aware of the fact. "He came into some money and got himself an apartment a few blocks over.Far as I know, he's still there."
Bobby said nothing to this, but simply nodded as if the knowledge brought him some sense of comfort.Sam bid him 'good night' and wandered off to get some sleep. Leaning back against the box spring, Bobby closed his eyes, expelling a soft sigh.
"I didn't know you had a brother," Mike commented without opening his eyes.
"We don't – I haven't seen him in months," Bobby told him."He's self-destructive – drug and alcohol addictions – I made a conscious decision to not – I won't support his habit."
"And it's eating you up."
"He's still my brother."
"You can only do so much before you have to wash your hands," Mike responded with a certainty that caused Bobby to look at him curiously. "My mother," Logan opened one eye, meeting Goren's gaze.
--
The local homeless community was becoming more close-knit, by necessity, since the murders had begun a few months back. They watched each other's backs. They traveled mainly in groups. Anything they could do to present less of a target.The life expectancy of a homeless person was not very high anyway, but now the killer - or killers - were artificially lowering it.
A slight man hung in the shadows of a nearby tenement. He was hyper-alert, high on adrenaline and God knows what else. A brown bag - with a bottle inside - in his hand, he fit right in with how everyone pictured the drunken bums he stalked.
The alley was quiet. Too quiet. The slim man slipped around to the back of the building and entered the alley from the back side, where there were fewer sleeping people in the shadows...
He slipped the bottle out of its bag. It wasn't booze, but something more flammable. He slid a hand into a pocket and pulled out a lighter, and headed for the closest bum, fast asleep on a dirty old mattress...
"Noooooooooooooo!"
Goren and Logan were both jolted awake by the scream. They leapt to their feet and saw, to their horror, that their worst nightmare was alive in the alleyway. They sprinted to the end of the alley, where a man ablaze ran towards them.
The two detectives tackled the bum to the ground and rolled him quickly, both throwing their lightweight coats on him until the flames had been extinguished. Goren pulled out his cell phone - only to be used for such an emergency - and called 911, as they knelt over the bum. Then he slipped the cell back into his pocket, before the others gathering around could see it.
Logan rolled the bum gently onto his back. "It's Sam!" He placed his fingers on the man's neck and was relieved to feel a pulse.
"Hang in there, Sam," Goren laid their coats more comfortably around the old man. "Help is on the way."
After the ambulance had left, with Sam stabilized and on his way to the hospital, the family of homeless men approached Goren and Logan, who were now sitting on the curb.
"Hey, man," one of them offered his hand. "Thanks."
Goren and Logan stood, and shook the man's hand.
"I know you guys are new here," the homeless man went on. "But that was real - real selfless, you puttin' out the fire and takin' care of Sam like that."
"No problem," Logan answered him. "He'd have done the same for any of you - of us," he caught himself.
"Did you guys see anyone in the alley before this happened?" Goren asked. He had only been sleeping lightly when the attack occurred, but he and Logan both felt guilty that they hadn't been able to prevent what happened to Sam.
The homeless men shook their heads. No one had seen who had lit Sam up. Another dead end.
Goren and Logan slipped on their coats, now full of the smokey smell, and sat back down on the curb...
--
Bailey had just finished writing up the last of the deposits that she needed to take to the bank for the real estate agency she worked for. It was a busy office but Bailey rarely had to deal with the public; her work as a bookkeeper kept her behind the scenes, which she preferred. So it was a surprise when she received a call from the receptionist alerting her that she had a visitor.
Mike had made a point of stopping by a few times a week, if time allowed, but Bailey knew that he wouldn't be making an appearance as long as he and Bobby were undercover. Curiously, she made her way to the lobby, and felt her stomach tighten at the sight of Cynthia Denton waiting for her.
"Cynthia, what can I do for you?" Bailey asked, keeping her tone cool.
"I thought we should talk," the woman gave the younger woman a once over, taking in the black trousers and white blouse that Bailey wore. "And I understand congratulations are in order – you and Detective Logan…"
"We can talk in here," Bailey indicating an empty office that was used by the salespeople to prepare sales contracts. Closing the door behind them, she met Cynthia's condescending gaze evenly as she asked: "Why exactly are you here?"
"The custody hearing starts next week and I wanted to give you the chance to reconsider this foolishness. Molly is as much Rick's daughter as she is yours. Right now, his visits need to be supervised because of your insistence. Don't you think it would be better if we all tried to get along, rather than to continue this battle?"
"Get along? Your husband is unstable and I won't allow him to take my daughter away from me," Bailey replied. When it came to Molly, she had no trouble speaking her mind.
"Which is why you married a cop, is that it? You think your husband will give you the edge you need to retain custody? Are you aware of his reputation, Bailey? Did you know that he was persona non grata for years because he publicly attacked a city councilman? That he just returned to the city a few years ago after being forced to work on Staten Island?"
"My husband has been completely honest with me about his past. And from what I've been told, a lot of people think his actions were justified," Bailey replied. "Rick, on the other hand, has no rationalization for anything he's done."
"Anything he's done?" Cynthia repeated. "And just what has he done? You ruined his marriage to your sister – you wouldn't leave him alone. He's told me how you chased after him until he couldn't fight off your advances anymore. That you teased him with your pregnancy and then hid from him and your family and that he had to track you down so that he could see his own daughter? All of this will come out during the hearing, Bailey. Does Mike know about this – is it something you want him to learn so soon after your marriage?"
"Actually, I was hoping to have my sister testify at the custody hearing, Cynthia. I'm sure she'd be happy to let people know what Rick did to her before she divorced him," Bailey studied the well-dressed, manicured woman. "And I have the evidence to prove it this time."
"What do you mean – this time?"
"Rick has spun a wonderful tale for you about this lurid affair that we had and that Molly has been a dream come true for him, and how I've tried to keep her away from him. Why don't you ask him to tell you the truth? Ask him about how he raped me, how the evidence disappeared from the hospital and how he never knew about Molly until she was almost two. And the only reason he's bothering with her now, is because you want a child."
"You're being ridiculous," Cynthia began but Bailey shook her head, saying:
"No, I'm being truthful. You want a child and he can't stand the thought of adopting someone else's child so he wants Molly. I don't care if you believe me or not – ask Rick. Watch his reaction and then you tell me if I'm being ridiculous."
Bailey turned and pulled open the door to the office. She paused and ran a hand through her shaggily cut hair.
"If you have any compassion at all, do not bring a child into this marriage, Cynthia, whether it be Molly or someone else."
Cynthia Denton watched Bailey leave the office and stared after her, somewhat dumbfounded. On the several occasions they had talked, Rick had been with them and Bailey had been cold and reserved. Today, she had accused Rick of an unspeakable act but she had been self-assured and concerned only for Molly's well-being. Shaken, Cynthia left the office and headed home, determined to talk to her husband.
Bailey closed her office door and sank into her chair, aware that she was trembling. She buried her face in her hands and wished she could call Mike. He'd know exactly what to say to calm her nerves – and to make her smile. The knowledge that she truly missed him left her more shaken than her confrontation with Cynthia. A future with Mike Logan was not a dream she could allow herself to believe in.
--
The homeless men were finally settling down for the evening. No one had slept a wink since Sam had been bussed to the hospital, and the inevitable fatigue was settling in.
Goren and Logan were sitting, yawning, and leaning back on their old box spring. They were both dead-tired, having been on high alert and losing the adrenaline that had kept them going for nearly a whole day.And both wondered how much longer they would have to be here, away from their families...
"Hey, you OK if I go stretch my legs before we bunk down?" Logan asked.
"Go ahead. I'll hold the mattress down." Goren half-smiled back.
Logan walked to the end of the alley, and found a lonely man near the entrance to the street,stopped to ask yet another person if he'd seen anything before Sam was burned...
Goren watched after his friend, until a noise in the alley drew his attention. Two of the homeless men were fighting. Goren sighed and heaved his bulk off the ground, and went to break them up. Everyone was tense; he felt it, too.
A shout brought his attention immediately back to the area where he had last seen Logan. All Goren saw was a rush of flame, and he ran towards where he had last seen his friend. "Logan!"
End Chapter 3
