"You got something." A CSU officer slapped some papers down on Bobby's desk, "the prints, on your door, we matched them."
"You what?" Bobby closed his eyes, shaking his head, as if trying to shake some thoughts loose.
"The prints you submitted, they hit to him." The CSU officer tapped his finger on the papers.
"Oh, right, thanks." Bobby rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. He was tired, and he was off shift, so he had been thinking about going home and trying to grab some sleep. He was so preoccupied he didn't even notice the CSU officer had left and Alex Eames had taken his place.
"What do you have there?" she asked.
"What?" Bobby jumped, and took his hands away from his eyes.
"You got something?" She tried to see the papers the CSU had just left behind, but Bobby was shoving them into his portfolio.
"Nothing new," he replied, not wanting to include Alex in the fact that he personally took prints from his door and rushed them through the lab without exactly following the proper channels.
"Well, I'm done for the day," Alex looked at Bobby, her concern almost palpable.
"Right. See you tomorrow." Bobby did not look at her.
"Do you, uh, do you need anything? Help with anything?" she asked, she knew something was up, she knew he was holding back. For a long moment, her question was met with silence.
"No." He shook his head, still not looking at her. She stood quietly, waiting for him to say something different. Then with a shiver of frustration, she strode off.
After Alex had stalked off, Bobby retrieved the papers from his portfolio. He recognized the name immediately. CSU had matched the prints to Michael Burke, 15, brother of Sean Burke, 13, sons of Nora Burke, who lived a few doors down on his hallway. Apparently, the boy's prints were in an FBI data base. The mother probably had both her boys finger printed as part of a campaign heightening awareness of missing and exploited children.
Bobby remained at his desk, trying to imagine how a teenage boy came to leave fingerprints on his apartment door. Bobby was certain it was from cleaning up the blood. He needed to talk to the kid. He picked up his phone and dialed the Burke's home phone number, listed on the contact information CSU had provided.
"Yeah," A young male voice answered.
"Is Michael there?" Bobby asked, not introducing himself.
"No man, he's at the game."
"Great, thanks," Bobby replied. He hung up the phone, drumming the fingers of his left hand on his desk.
"Detective," Ross loomed over him. "Calling it a night soon, I hope," Ross continued pointedly. Bobby stood, collecting up his things.
"Yeah, Captain. See you tomorrow," Bobby automatically replied.
"Or not," Ross shook his head, looking exasperated. "Tomorrow's your day off, I'm hoping not to see you tomorrow," Ross supplied.
"Right," Bobby pulled on his coat. "Night." Bobby stood in the elevator thinking about what game Michael Burke might be attending. It was basketball season, he knew that Michael played basketball, so Bobby gambled, thinking maybe there was a game at the High School tonight.
Bobby had seen the boy often enough to be able to pick him out of a crowd. He stood out front of the school for a moment, thinking about how to proceed. He had been right; the school was still open for a basketball game. The game had ended about 20 minutes ago, and Bobby could see people starting to trickle out from a side door that probably led directly into the gym. So, Bobby walked toward the door, hoping to catch Michael inside.
"Michael." Bobby called his name, he was easy to spot, a tall athletic boy, though he was not on the varsity team that had played tonight. Bobby thought maybe next year, when Michael was a junior, he would make the varsity team. Michael looked in his direction, and Bobby could see recognition in the boy's eyes. He watched Michael move in his direction. The boy's stride was long and loping, and beyond the initial glance, he did not meet Bobby in the eye. "You know what I'm here for?" Bobby asked. He watched Michael shrug. Bobby looked around, making sure they were out of ear shot of passers by. "I need to know what happened the other night."
"What d'ya mean?" The boy tried to play it off. Bobby was looking at him, looking for any cuts or bruises, thinking that maybe the boy had been the one pounding on his door. But why?
"Two nights ago…" Bobby kept his tone even, he kind of leaned sideways trying to catch the boy's eyes. "My door…"
"I dunno." Michael straightened up, brows creased, he looked away.
"You don't know." Bobby again tried to catch the boy's eyes. Bobby could tell the boy was agitated, anxious.
"I wasn't home." Michael turned at briefly met Bobby's gaze. "We were at my cousin's. We weren't home." He shrugged.
"You weren't home." Bobby was struggling to put it together.
"I said we weren't fucking home," Michael ground out the words. "We weren't home," Michael repeated, his voice breaking.
Bobby breathed in deeply. Then it clicked in Bobby's brain, and he understood. He figured out who was home the other night. Michael's mother, Nora Burke, was home. Nora Burke had come to his door. She was the one who needed help. She was the one who was bleeding. Bobby could see it on the boy, in his posture; Bobby could hear it in the boy's words. Someone had beaten up the mother. Too often, that kind of thing happened right next door. That was why Michael was so upset. He hadn't been there to help his mother.
"You and your brother Sean, you were both at your cousin's," Bobby repeated.
"I said that, right?" Michael looked away.
"Yeah, yeah you did." Bobby took in a deep breath, expelled it slowly, thinking about how to proceed. "So, your mom, she came to my door, she was hurt, she needed help, something happened…" Bobby paused, watching Michael's shoulders tense, his fists clench. Whoever was doing this, was someone Michael knew, was someone the family knew. The father? "You came home the next day, you saw your mother, you saw the blood, you figured out the police had been by. I mean afterall, it was my door. I'm police." Bobby was thinking out loud. "Where is your mother?" Bobby asked.
"Home." Michael replied.
"Alone?"
"Sean's home," Michael mumbled, "I should get home."
"Let me take you," Bobby said. Michael looked around the gym, as if looking for another way to get home. The crowd of kids had thinned considerably. Finally, Michael shrugged, acquiescing to Bobby giving him a ride. Bobby figured he would take a look at the mother, make sure he was putting things together in the right way.
They rode to the building in silence. They walked through the lobby in silence. They rode up the elevator in the same silence. When the elevator doors opened on their floor, the silence was sharply broken as gun shots rang out.
TBC...
