AN: Thanks for the continued support!
Chapter 4 – Opening Rounds
A few weeks later:
Major Case Squad, 54th Precinct
"Greetings, everyone," Detective Daniel Reagan called out as he made his way into the squad room.
Maria Baez looked up at him from her position sitting at her desk. "You're in a good mood today, aren't you?"
"And why shouldn't I be? We solved that bank heist case yesterday, didn't we?"
"Another inside job."
"That's right. You can't trust those bankers. Always trying to rip off their customers. Literally, in that case."
"Reagan, Baez," Lieutenant Carver called across the room. "In my office."
"Reagan, what did you do this time?" Baez stood up and began walking to their supervisor's office.
Danny shrugged. "Nothing. Why do you assume this is something I did?"
"Playing the odds," Baez retorted. "Good Morning, Lieutenant," she greeted as they entered Carver's office.
"Good Morning, Detectives," Carver returned. "Reagan, you remember sending out an e-mail last month asking to be notified if the name Walter Barton came up in anyone's cases?"
Danny thought for a moment. Barton. That attorney who they suspected was stealing client funds, and the suspicious death at his law firm they hadn't been able to tie him to. "Yeah?"
Carver held a thin file out to him. "Well, his name came up in this missing persons case. Mark Lorne, from Westchester. Drove down to meet with his attorney yesterday morning and hasn't been seen since."
"And that attorney's name was Walter Barton?" Danny surmised as he took the file.
"You got it. And since the detective assigned the case is overworked, and you were looking into Walter Barton, it's now your case. Enjoy."
Danny took a quick glance through the file. "Okay. Come on, partner. Let's go see my favorite attorney about a missing person."
==BB==BB==
St. Vincent's Hospital Emergency Room
"You make sure that's in your report, copper. That dumb chickie broke my leg! Damn female drivers!"
"Damn drunks," Jamie muttered to himself as he walked out of one of St. Vincent Hospital's emergency examination rooms and met his partner at the nurses' station. "Well, partner, Mr. Stafford in there is still insisting he was just standing on the sidewalk, minding his own business, when the driver jumped the curb and ran him down. What's her story?"
Eddie flipped open her notebook. "Jasmine Amerson, 16, from Long Island. First time driving in the city, and she says it's her last also. Insists your Mr. Stafford stepped off the curb in front of her and she couldn't stop in time. Which fits with what literally every other witness said."
"You going to write her a ticket?" Jamie asked.
"No," Eddie scoffed. "She didn't do anything wrong. Your drunk friend Stafford is the one who should be cited. That poor girl is just starting to explore the city, and he goes and ruins it for her. I can't believe you let him get away with traumatizing her like that," she huffed. "He's the one you should be giving a ticket to, for jaywalking if nothing else. In fact, I'm going to go give him a ticket if you won't."
Jamie snagged his partner's arm. "Whoa, there, partner. Relax. I already wrote him up for public intoxication and jaywalking."
"You did?"
Jamie nodded. "I did. And with that broken leg, he's not going to be walking in front of vehicles for a while, so it's safe for Jasmine to drive."
"Good. So we can go get lunch now?"
"Ed, we've only been on shift for two hours! It's not lunch time yet."
"Come on, Reagan," Eddie whined. "I'm hungry."
"Fine. But don't complain when it's end of shift and you're starving."
"Good. Because the cafeteria here has the best fried chicken. You gotta try it."
Jamie grimaced. "Hospital food? You want us to eat hospital food?" And why did Eddie have to have the same taste in food as Joe had? Hadn't either of them met a green vegetable they liked? Or a red vegetable? Or a purple, orange or yellow one? Or any non-fried food?
"Jamie Reagan, are you dissing my hospital's cooking?" Linda Reagan asked as she approached the duo. She dropped a patient's chart into the holder on top of the desk. "I hear the cafeteria does have some good food. Just avoid…"
"The green Jell-o," Jamie said at the same time as Linda. "Hey, Linda."
"So, do you two need to leave for lunch right now, or do you have a minute?"
"We have time, Lin. What's up?"
"My patient in Room 5, Mary Ellen, is a six year old girl who shows signs of being abused. She's here today for a broken bone in her hand, but I see some signs of other injuries, and this isn't her first trip to the ER. Her mother says it's because she's autistic and clumsy. Says the girl loses control and hits things. But that's not what it looks like to me."
"You think the mother's the abuser?"
Linda looked back at the room. "No. The mother, Shannon, has some bruises also. She blames the visible one on her daughter, and she's trying to hide other ones. I think it's someone else in the household. The father, probably. I think she needs some advice on how to get out of that situation."
"You called Child Protective Services?" Jamie asked.
Linda shook her head. "Not yet. I know I can't let that girl go back to an abusive home, but if I call CPS and the mother won't leave the home, they might take her into protective custody. Putting an autistic child in the system wouldn't do her any good. I'd hope you could convince the mother to take her daughter and leave the home."
"Sure. I'll see what I can do." Jamie straightened an imaginary tie. "Time for Lawyer Jamie to go to work. C'mon, CopGirl, let's go save the day."
"CopGirl?" Eddie protested. "Hey, it's SuperCopGirl. And I want a cape."
"Okay, you two. Let me go introduce you to Shannon Barton." Linda led the two officers to the treatment room door. "Stay here for a second," she instructed them.
"CopGirl," Eddie huffed again. "And what's Lawyer Jamie's superpower? The ability to file motions at lightning speed?"
"Jamie, Eddie, come on in," Linda called before Jamie could respond.
Jamie walked into the room with Eddied following close behind. Linda stood near the door with a woman in her mid-thirties. A young girl sat on the bed, her lower left arm encased in a cast, intently working on the page of a coloring book.
"Officer Reagan, Officer Janko, this is Shannon Barton. She's Mary Ellen – Ellie's – mother," Linda introduced. "Shannon, Officer Reagan is my brother-in-law."
Jamie extended a hand. "Ms. Barton." He noticed a fading bruise on her arm; one that had clearly not been made by a six-year old child. The finger-shaped bruises were more the size of a large man's hand. "Linda tells me you might be having a problem at home?"
"Officer Reagan," Shannon greeted stiffly. "We're fine. It's Ellie's Asperger's. She loses control and hurts herself or me sometimes. We're working on it with her therapist."
Eddie also shook Shannon's hand. "Shannon, that bruise on your arm doesn't look like it was caused by Ellie. We can help you, if you'll let us."
Shannon crossed her arms across her chest, trying to hide the bruise. "It's not what you think."
"So what is it?"
"I told you. Ellie acts out when she gets overwhelmed. It's not her fault."
"We know it's not her fault. But we also don't think she's the one hurting you. And hurting her also."
"It's not what you think," Shannon repeated. "Walter is a good husband, and he provides for Ellie. Makes sure she gets whatever she needs with therapy and medical care. He even takes time away from his law firm to coach her for the Special Olympics."
"Mrs. Barton, it's not what we think that matters. It's what Ellie thinks. Do you want her thinking it's okay for her father to hurt you? For him to hurt her?"
"And what makes you so sure that's what is happening here?" Shannon argued.
"The size of that bruise you're trying to hide. Your daughter's injuries. The multiple trips to the hospital. It's a pattern we've seen too many times. And the fact that you haven't denied that your husband is the one who's hurting you and Ellie."
Shannon glanced over at her daughter.
"Think about Ellie," Jamie argued. "The nurse has a duty to report Ellie's injuries, if you don't take steps to protect her yourself. I don't think it would do much good for Ellie for Child Protective Services to get involved."
"Don't you think I want to stop this?" Shannon angrily swiped at a tear that was running down her cheek. "I've thought about leaving before. In fact, I have a friend who's offered to open her home to Ellie and me, but I'm afraid Walter will come home while I'm packing up, and I don't know what he'd do."
"Mrs. Barton, it's just…"
"And before you tell me it's 'just stuff,' it's not." Shannon interrupted Jamie. "Not to Ellie. It's her medication, and her favorite blanket and pillow, and her favorite dresses, and her favorite toys and books. Her routine is very important to her."
"In that case, why don't you have him arrested? You swear out a complaint against him and we can pick him up," Jamie argued.
"And he'll stay locked up for how long? A big-shot attorney like him? All the judge will see is a handsome, charming, upstanding citizen, and he'll be back home in no time. And I'm sure you cops know how well restraining orders work. Walter tells me all the time how his clients ignore those and get away with it."
Jamie nodded. That usually was the case, and why they often recommended that the abused spouse leave the home.
"Shannon, what if Officer Reagan and I take you home and help you pack up?" Eddie suggested. "Would that work? We'd be there to protect you if your husband, Walter, happens to show up."
"Office Janko, that's not something we'd normally do," Jamie told his partner quietly. But, a voice whispered in his head, if you went for that promotion to patrol sergeant, this is the kind of decision you'd be making, and you know you'd authorize an officer helping the Bartons in a second.
"Yeah, Reagan, but this isn't a normal situation. Come on," Eddie whispered back at him.
Jamie nodded. "Mrs. Barton, would that work for you? If we escorted you back to your place and stayed while you packed up a few things?"
Shannon nodded. "It won't take me long. Maybe an hour."
"Okay. We'll give you a ride over to your place as soon as Ellie's ready to go."
==BB==BB==
Danny Reagan stormed down the courthouse steps to his car. "She lied to us," Danny Reagan seethed to his partner. He slammed his hand on the top of his car. "Walter Barton's assistant freaking lied to us. He was never in court today at all. We wasted an hour at his office and driving here, and another hour waiting for him, and he was never even there."
Baez hung up her cell phone. "And he's not back at his office. The receptionist confirmed he took the afternoon off."
"He's dodging us," Danny surmised. "Which tells me he's guilty of something."
"Yeah, and I don't have a good feeling about our missing Mr. Lorne's chances."
"Nope," Danny agreed. "So. Not at his office. Not in court. Where else would a big-shot attorney be at 11:00 in the morning?"
"His home?" Baez guessed.
"Good a place as any. Let's go."
TBC...