Goren sat at the bar, silently looking into the glass cradled in his hands. His emotions were spinning beyond his control but, flanked by Eames and Logan, he felt anchored. It was okay for him to feel what he was feeling, the grief, the anger, the shock. They would not judge him. Long ago, they had both earned his trust. Silent, he sat there, and they let him remain silent and lost in his thoughts.

It took several drinks before his rational mind kicked in and began working again. There were things that had to be done. He coughed, and, without looking at either of them, he said, "We have to go to Canarsie tomorrow, to the local precinct. My brother...he said the baby's father was a guy named Rutherford, my mother's psychiatrist. We need to see the file of their investigation...and the social worker's file as well from the county office."

Eames looked at Logan. After all, the case was still his and Wheeler's. "Bobby," she said gently. "You can't. You're way too close to this."

Logan placed his hand on Goren's arm. "Look, there's no need for you to deal with this in front of God and everybody. Wheeler and I will take care of all that and you can look through my casefile at the end of the day. Full disclosure, buddy. I promise."

Goren hesitated. "I, uh, I forgot... It's your case. I'm sorry."

"Don't be. I'll keep you in the loop. We'll do right by her, Bobby. You have my word."

Goren nodded. "I...thanks."

"Don't mention it."

He fell back into silence, and after two more drinks, Eames tried to lure him out. She leaned closer to him. "Hey," she said gently, nudging his arm. "What's going on in there?"

He didn't react for a moment. Then, he turned his head to look at her. The pain in his eyes struck her like a physical blow. When he spoke, Eames and Logan could both feel his grief. "A sister," he said. "I...I had a sister, and I never knew. How...How could she do that to me?"

"What did Frank tell you?" Logan asked, his voice softly encouraging. "How did it happen?"

"Her psychiatrist...He did that to her...and she didn't want to burn in hell for killing a baby, so she carried the pregnancy to term. She had a psychotic break after the birth, and they took the baby from her, adopted her out."

"Why didn't Frank call you?" Eames asked.

"She didn't want me to know, and he promised her he wouldn't tell me. Only fucking promise he ever kept in his life."

The rage built up quickly and explosively. He threw his glass at the far wall. Eames grabbed him as Logan assured the bartender they had him under control. Goren yanked his arm away from her and lurched toward the exit with Eames right behind him. Logan threw a couple of bills on the bar and ran after them.

Goren started toward his car, pulling his keys from his pocket. Eames snatched them from his hand. "Oh, no, you don't. You're in no condition to drive."

He turned on her. "How could he do that? How could he violate her trust...her...her..."

She grabbed his arms as Logan came up beside her. "Bobby...come on...get a grip!"

He pulled away from her again, more roughly than he intended, and Logan grabbed him. He threw him against a wall and held him there, pressing his forehead against Goren's. "It happens, man. The people we trust most are the ones who hurt us the worst. It happened to me when I was a kid...and he was a goddam priest. No one should ever do that, but it fucking happens, and there are always innocent victims who have to pick up the pieces while the bad guy gets away. You know this, Bobby! You know this. Come on, man...pull it together."

Goren closed his eyes as Logan's voice got softer. His ragged breathing calmed and he braced his hands on Logan's shoulders. Softly, Logan repeated, "Pull it together, buddy."

Eames watched the two men, and she knew they shared something she never could, a bond forged through their common experiences at the hands of abusive parents. She had been raised in a close family by loving parents; they had survived something she could never truly understand.

Goren nodded slowly. "Thanks," he whispered.

Logan patted the side of his head. "Let's take you home. Wheeler and I will go to Canarsie first thing in the morning. We'll find whoever did this to her, and we'll find out who she was for you."

Goren nodded as Logan stepped away, and he reached out to Eames, pulling her into a hug. He kissed her head. "I'm sorry," he murmured into her hair.

Sliding her arms around his waist, she returned his hug. "You're fine, Bobby."

"No. No, I'm not."

They walked to the car and she unlocked it. "Yeah, you are. You just don't know it yet." She leaned up and gave him a brief kiss. "Get in the car."

Logan pulled up outside the 69th precinct station house, and he and Wheeler got out of the car. He looked up at the brick building. "Let's go play nice with the natives, Wheeler."

"Let me do the talking, Logan."

"Knock yourself out."

They went into the building and walked up to the desk. The desk sergeant, a career office who looked bored and tired, glanced at the badges clipped onto their jackets. "What can I do for you, detectives?"

"Detectives Wheeler and Logan, Major Case," Wheeler said. "We're investigating a homicide that involves a 26 year old rape case that took place in your jurisdiction. We need your files for the investigation of our case."

"26 years ago? You're kidding me, right?"

"Do we look like we're kidding?" Logan said, earning himself a glare from Wheeler.

"Files that old? They're in a warehouse waiting to be, uh, 'digitized into the database'."

"How long would it take to get a copy of the file?"

"Fill out a requisition and we'll send it to you. It'll take a week or two."

"We're working an open homicide, sergeant. We need it sooner than that."

He handed her a form. "I'll put a rush on it."

Wheeler gave him a look as she took the form, grabbed a clipboard and sat down to fill it out with the information Logan had given her about the rape of Frances Goren. While he waited, Logan looked around at the officers who came and went. The case was older than most of them were, it seemed. Most, but not all. "I'll be right back, Wheeler," he said.

He approached the desk of a plainclothes officer who looked about his age, maybe a little older. "Hey," he said to get the other officer's attention. He extended his hand. "Logan, Major Case."

The man looked up and accepted the extended hand. "Jordan," he answered. "What's Major Case doing out here in the trenches?"

Logan laughed and motioned at the chair beside the desk. "You mind?"

Jordan shook his head and motioned at the chair. "Nope. Help yourself."

Logan sat down. "Guys move around a lot. Where'd you come here from?"

"Bed-Stuy. Where were you before Major Case?"

"Staten Island. Manhattan before that. The 2-7."

"I started off here, before Bed Stuy. Then I came back. Wife wanted me in our home precinct."

"Makes sense. Were you here in the early 80s?"

"Yeah. I made detective in 1980."

"Do you remember a case, back in 81? A rape. Psychiatrist took advantage of a patient named Frances Goren."

Jordan closed his eyes. "Goren..." he repeated. "Yeah...schizophrenic, right?"

"Yeah. Her son is one of us now."

"Really? He cleaned up his act?"

Logan was puzzled for a moment. "Oh, you mean the older son. No. He never did. The younger son was a cop with the Army CID in Germany at the time. He's in Major Case with me now."

He nodded. "That's right. She kept threatening to call the army and get her son to make us stop harassing her. That woman was full of piss and vinegar. Shrink had a lot of guts, taking advantage of a spitfire like her. We tried to interview her, several times. She didn't want any part of the investigation. Nice lady."

"Yeah, well, that kinda stuff happens when they don't take their meds like they're supposed to."

"That's why we never believed her when she threatened to sic the Army on us. What brings you around looking for info on that case? It's a closed case."

"Body found by the mayor's wife, near Gracie Mansion."

"Oh, yeah. I read about that. Thought it was a Jane Doe."

"She is and she isn't. Turns out her DNA popped the profile of my buddy, Mrs. Goren's son. Never knew he had a sister til now. We still don't have an ID yet, but we know who she is. Do you remember any more about the case?"

"Do you remember your first big case as a detective? Yeah, I remember. Besides, not that many shrinks get so deep in that kinda trouble, then get off damn near scot-free. Press had a field day with us over that one, if you can imagine."

"Oh, I can, believe me. How did he get off scot-free? He made a baby. That's DNA evidence with a bow tied around it."

"It was the 80s. We got DNA off the little girl when she was born and proved he was her father, but by the time we got the tests back, mom had signed off on the kid. She was in the process of getting adopted. The shrink...uh, Reynolds...Richards..."

"Rutherford."

"Yeah, that's him. He wanted nothing to do with the baby. Too bad none of the other women got pregnant."

"Wait, other women? There was more than one?"

"Logan, he only saw female patients. His patient list read like a Who's Who of the DSM."

Logan was glad this cop wasn't an ignorant ass and he was sure Goren would know what his comment referred to. "Be careful what you say about that if you ever meet Goren. He's real sensitive about that kinda thing. So how many of his patients was he doing?"

"All of 'em from what we could tell, but not one made a credible witness. Half of 'em were hearing voices telling them to screw him, and the other half thought we were the mind police, sent to steal their thoughts. Your buddy's mom was in the second half. So we tried to get him on soliciting, since they paid him for the treatment they got. The DA laughed at us. Our hands were tied. I tell you, that was the most frustrating case of my career. Some way to start off thirty years as a detective, huh? Glad they weren't all like that."

"Do you remember what led you to Mrs. Goren in the first place?"

"Her son called us, the junkie. We didn't pay him any mind, either, at first. Some family, huh? Your buddy's normal? What was he, raised by a distant uncle?"

"No. She raised him. I guess you could say he's the normal one. He's not a nut job or a junkie, despite what people may say about him. He's got his quirks, but he's a good guy, genius-smart. A good cop."

"That's a miracle from what I saw of his mother."

"When did you start believing Frank?"

"When his mother turned up pregnant and we found out there were other complaints."

"And the DA still wouldn't prosecute?"

"It was the dark ages, my friend. Mentally ill witnesses didn't count."

"Did you do any follow-up? You know, after the kid was born?"

Jordan shook his head. "Aside from the DNA sampling, nah. After the third or fourth try, we gave up trying to see her. And we had a hundred more open cases to clear. We moved on."

"Thanks, man," Mike said as he rose and extended his hand again.

"Glad to help. Good luck with your case."

Wheeler handed in the form and left the building with her partner. "Any luck?" she asked.

"Yep. He worked the case and he remembers it."

"After 26 years?"

"One of his first cases as a detective and a frustrating one. Some cases just stick in your craw. Yeah, even after 26 years, he remembered."

He tossed her the keys as they walked to the car. "Next stop is the Kings County Courthouse. The kid was adopted out through Brooklyn family court."

They'd stopped by Kent's office, waiting while she talked a judge into signing the order to release the adoption records of Frances Goren's daughter. He'd filled Wheeler in on the information Goren had gotten from his brother. "How did he take it?" she asked.

"Not well," he answered, and that was all he said about it.

Logan was being very protective of Goren at the moment, and he wasn't about to discuss Goren's mental state with her or anyone else. He could only imagine what his friend was going through, and he was going to do everything he could not to make the case harder for him.

The clerk in the courthouse was even less cooperative than the sergeant at the 6-9 had been. After entering the information into her computer, she looked at her screen and said, "That was a sealed adoption, detectives."

Logan leaned over the desk and held up the court order. "And this is a court order, signed by a real live judge, ordering the release of those records. We're investigating a murder, lady, and if you don't cooperate, that's called obstructing the progress of a murder investigation."

"Detective..."

"We don't like it when people obstruct us. That's why there's a jail term connected with it."

She glared at him before snatching the order from his hand and looking it over. "Where should we send the file?"

"Detective Logan, Major Case Squad, 1 Police Plaza, 11th Floor."

He watched her write down his information. "Expect it in seven to fourteen days," she snapped coldly.

"Make it two to five. We have a body waiting to be claimed and parents who don't know where their kid is."

She opened her mouth to argue, but he leaned over the desk. "Two to five, or we'll be back."

Turning, he left the office. Wheeler paused before following him out the door. "What was that, Mr. Personality?" she asked as they left the courthouse.

"What was what?"

"You think they'll send us the file when you want it?"

"Yeah, Wheeler, I do, because she doesn't want us coming back to see her. Sometimes, it pays to be a pain in the ass."

Back in the squad room, Logan wrote up the information he'd received from Detective Jordan while Wheeler reviewed the crime scene reports. He looked up from his notes. "We need to get information from the AMA about a psychiatrist named Rutherford. He was the victim's biological father."

"And that's all you have on him? A last name?"

"Just how many psychiatrists named Rutherford do you think were practicing in Canarsie in the 70s and 80s?"

"I guess we're going to find out, right?"

"As soon as we eat lunch."

She looked across the squad room to where Goren and Eames were working. "Are you going to tell him?" she asked.

"Do you think I can not tell him? Come on, Wheeler. This was his mother."

"And she's dead now, Logan. What purpose can it serve..."

"He wants to know, and I owe him that."

She raised her hands. "Okay, fine. You tell him."

"That was the plan," he retorted. "Now what did CSU find out?"