Thursday 7th October
US Airways Check In, JFK
Eames paced the area by the doors getting anxious as the line for the flight got shorter and the large clock kept ticking. She already had a massive headache and she didn't want the bigger one of having to board the flight without her travelling companion and then have to wait for him to catch up. Which might take most of the rest of the day with relatively few direct flights, which meant changing in places like Cincinnati, Dallas/Fort Worth or even LA, having over flown Phoenix.
As she wore out the tiles, hands in the pockets of her jeans, she knew the main causes were simple stress and lack of sleep. It was late by the time she got home last night after using the resources of the NYPD system to access any shred of information about their destination might be useful. Mike had changed up bills to hand to her a quite astonishing sum he'd collected to cover their expenses and try to help Goren. Even Jimmy Antonelli had called her from the lab. Where he and others in the CSU team Goren so often frustrated with his own forensic expertise, had made her up a basic kit. Equipment and materials she might find useful if they ended up having to do some evidence collection for themselves.
That was checked with her other baggage and by the time she got home to speak to Caroline Reese and Lewis once again, Eames was in no mood for Dave Seaborn's response when he heard what was happening. Her fire investigator boyfriend for the last five months was only reacting naturally she supposed, by expressing his concerns. It was what they were meant to do, but she was in no mood to be treated the way she accused him of doing. Like a kid or being patronised was unfair and Eames knew it as the words were coming out of her mouth. The trouble was there had been one or two things lately made her think Dave was looking to get more "serious and heavy" than she was ready for. Something they might have to address very soon and frankly.
Quicker than she might expect to if this turned into a wild goose chase after all. One she'd be happy to have been sent on if it meant Goren was free and clear to continue on this odyssey of his. In a piece of German engineering well past its "use by" date. He'd do the same for her and it was one of the comforting predictabilities you could be sure of with a man not always known for that.
Eames sighed with relief as a cab pulled up and Ron Carver got out to pay the fare and collect what looked like a baggage cart full of items from the trunk. In the dark blue suit, camel overcoat and beautifully co-ordinated accessories he looked every bit what he was these days. A slick, big city, private lawyer unlikely to go unnoticed in the sort of place Bethlehem appeared to be. When they spoke last evening Eames got no clue why he was doing this for Goren. Other than the obvious regard for him so many had shown through the day once news broke. They had an almost six-hour flight for her to find out.
The Yard, Bethlehem Police Department
Goren shivered a little despite the PD windcheater they lent him, after him more or less demanding a period of exercise. He paced hands in front, since cuffs gave you no choice in the matter and he'd no intention of testing Newcombe's resolve on the matter of the area he was permitted to walk in. He was altogether too fond of that shotgun though his buddy Carl Hogan, standing by the gate was more relaxed.
He'd been fed breakfast, hadn't passed blood and persuaded them to let him out for a while. Goren knew he wasn't great in confined spaces for very long and while he was far from "losing it", the more he could be out of his cell the better. It was the hours left in a tiny hole during his Army training that had come closest to breaking him then. Though what Uncle Sam permitted during interrogation was at a whole other level to that any Police Department would be able to use.
He had also declined their invitation to speak with Drummond again that morning in the absence of counsel and learned as a result, Henry Banks had quit or been fired. The only person in a position to do that was Lewis and it wasn't until he was stretched out on the hard cell bunk with its inch thick mattress last night, something had occurred to him. Which rather proved to Goren how the mind does soon begin to fail you in adverse and distracting circumstances like he'd been subjected to all day.
During his questioning, Drummond had made mention of his cell phone and how he came to have Whitney Raybold's number in the directory. Goren had a suspicion or maybe two how that got there, but if Drummond had the phone he wasn't sure Lewis could have called Caro. He had a feeling she was unlisted in Boston and not always good in a crisis, Lewis might have forgotten about Massachusetts General being where she worked. And there was little doubt he must have been questioned as a possible co-suspect as well. In fact, there was possibly only one number, other than his folks, Lewis would think to call. One in New York.
If he had and was getting some really expert advice, things were not suddenly better so much as different. Goren turned his fully bearded face to the warm fall sun and the scrub desert landscape for a few moments more.
US Airways Flight 400, JFK/Phoenix
Eames rested her head against the seat and stared out into the clouds. She was no closer to learning why Ron Carver had volunteered himself for this unusual expedition and it didn't really matter. Whatever it was he was on board in every sense and she might have known from the time they were working together, Ron would come fully prepared. With more than just an expensive wardrobe of clothes.
As the DA once attached to Major Case, her own and Goren's working relationship with him began the same time as their partnership. It was rocky at times, especially between him and Bobby, but they kind of grew into it together and she liked to think a little of their unconventionality rubbed off on him. Just as his considered caution did them no harm on occasions either. Was certainly one of the best she ever worked with and all respect to Theresa Randle, who was operating under a different regimen at the top, Eames preferred Carver.
They had spent the flight so far, with her giving him all the details she knew via Lewis and it was no real surprise he sat for a while with his nose in a copy of the Arizona Statutes. But he'd also had the foresight to come with something else and rather proved Ron's ability to think "outside the box". Eames had no powers as a police officer in Arizona and Carver had wondered if her relationship to Goren could actually impede any investigations they might need to do.
When witnesses they spoke to or the Bethlehem police discovered she was his regular partner. With more personal incentive to prove his innocence if need be, than existed even in the attorney/client relationship. So he'd taken the "precaution and liberty" as only Ron could say it, of doing something else. She was now, according to a card in her purse, on the payroll of Franklin & Levi, his law firm. As one of their investigators, though whether she could follow his last instruction to "get some sleep Alex" like he was doing, Eames was less certain.
The Desert Inn Motel, Bethlehem, AZ
"Sorry about this Lewis" said John Belray.
"Forget it John" he said unloading various and assorted bags from the Dodge Ram truck. "I understand and thanks for all you did"
"I'll be back after work this evening" said the top hand from the Mesa Creek Ranch.
"So long as it doesn't get you into more trouble man"
"Screw them" he shrugged. "What I do in my own time is my business and I might be able to help this hot shot lawyer and the luscious lady cop you got coming in to rescue Bobby"
"She's mine" grinned Lewis. "And don't you forget it Running Through Mesquite With His Ass Hanging Out"
The curse he got before the truck bumped across the uneven tarmac back onto the road was in Navajo. Lewis turned to the façade of the"Desert Inn", juggling his belongings mostly returned by the cops and bracing himself. Mrs "Ma" Harkness hadn't been delighted to see him yesterday, when she realised who he was and mostly who his friend was. But she let him book two rooms. Lewis understood the value of a dollar himself. About the only place to stay in town and now off the main highway, the motel must suffer severe competition from the chains like the "Days Inn" lined the freeways of the US.
The single story looked more like a converted run of stables than anything else and nothing like it's more illustrious and sadly lamented namesake in Las Vegas. When they went by the other day, getting a tow from Johnnie's truck, trust Goren to know the place where Sinatra and the rest of "The Rat Pack" hung out in its heyday was gone now. And that Howard Hughes bought the place in the sixties, when the proprietors wanted back the two floors he was renting in his bizarre seclusion.
Lewis had not yet given up on his ambition to persuade Bobby they should go to Vegas. Maybe a spell in jail would give him more incentive to let his hair down? Longer than it had grown in recent weeks and had given him the first chance in years. To tease Goren about the curls it tended to form.
He walked towards reception, the large and leathery-faced figure of Ma Harkness and that badly cross eyed son. Appropriately called Sonny. Lewis just hoped "The Rat Pack" here was not the four legged kind. He never could stand them.
To be continued…