Right of Way Chapter 6, an awake fanfic

Right of Way 6

Author's Note: Things are set to get both confusing and paradoxical in this chapter as for the first time BOTH worlds feature simultaneously and, like the show itself, the chapter will flash back and forth between the red and green realities. For those of you who have made it to this point of the story, I congratulate you. Because of word constraints, plotting will be tighter and the pace more frantic in terms of action. You will have to keep up with what is happening to whom and which reality we're in, however, given the characters are completely different in the realities, it should be obvious.

Recap time: in the red reality, Michael had begun working a double homicide case concerning the King family and is currently investigating a man named Enrique Espinosa, someone neither he nor Vega trust for a second. They have already found the killer dead in a motel room and evidence of Espinosa's involvement, but are struggling to find the right links to bring him in on solid charges.

Now, as we return to the green reality, Michael finds himself burning a candle at both ends and closing on a truth that may prove mind-blowing…

Please Read and Review to validate the direction of this story.

Enjoy.

oOo

"Dad?"

"…"

"Dad, are you listening?"

Michael looked up from his cereal to find his son frowning at him. He leaned forward. "Hmm?"

"I said are you still okay with me going over to Emma's after school?"

"Yeah, of course. Just make sure you're home before ten. It's still only Monday, okay?" Rex nodded in agreement, but still looked concerned.

"Are you okay? You've been acting weird today."

"Yeah, I'm fine. I was just thinking about one of my old cases." What the man was actually considering was how best to approach Espinosa and his possible killer servant Rico once he travelled back to Hannah's reality. CCTV footage had confirmed Rico had visited the motel Burgan was staying at that afternoon, some three hours before they arrived at Espinosa's house. But there was no evidence to suggest he went to Burgan's room and executed him, just a theory. It was frustrating.

"Did you solve it?" Michael blinked, having only heard the tail end of his son's question.

"What?"

"The case you were thinking about just now; did you close it out?"

"Nope, too tough a nut to crack for me." Rex did not look too convinced by that assertion.

"Really? Mom always said you had one of the highest conviction rates in your precinct."

"Yeah, well it doesn't always guarantee results. This one stumped me."

"Nothing stumps you, Dad." Michael smiled at the unusually open compliment.

"You stump me. You're like a Rubik's cube; I could never figure those damn things out either." The teenager rolled his eyes and smiled.

"Terrible."

"It's too early for decent material." The man said before nodding his head in appreciation, "Thanks for the vote of confidence, kiddo."

oOo

Michael was stood transfixed by the sight before him. It all just seemed so unreal and yet somehow expected all the same. Bird had received a callout to a homicide in the suburbs. It was a common enough if not unfortunate scenario for both veteran officers to come across. But then they pulled up outside the King residence. Going inside the house he had already scanned in minute detail before felt strangely ethereal, but the real haunting aspect of the situation was the victim. Alex King lay dead on his bedroom floor with multiple stab wounds. His parents stood distraught and inconsolable in the kitchen, having gone to wake him to find someone had murdered the boy during the night. The differences between these two realities began to echo his own; parents survive in one, the child in the other. Seeing Alex sprawled on his back with chalk-white skin and a pool of coagulated blood beneath him made Michael visibly shiver. Bird picked up on his partner's distress immediately.

"You know this kid, Mike?" Michael shook his head.

"No, no, never seen him before. I just keep thinking about Rex. This kid can't be much older than him." The big man nodded in complete understanding of his companion's feelings on such a senseless tragedy.

"Yeah, I know what you mean. Want to hear what Mr and Mrs King were able to give us?"

"Yeah, let's hear it." Michael said crouching down over the body. He gestured to Bird, silently asking whether forensics had already examined Alex. His partner nodded before beginning his initial report. While Bird spoke, Michael took the opportunity to quickly glance over the teenager for any evidence of his killer. He already had a suspect in mind, a BIG suspect in mind.

"Basically Mrs King went upstairs around eight when Alex didn't show for breakfast. She found him just like this on the floor. Attempts were made to revive him, but it was already too late by then. Neither Mr King nor his wife heard anything last night. The doctor says he was probably killed sometime between two and four a.m. this morning. On the initial forensic workup, it appears the kid tried to fight his attacker judging by the defensive wounds on his arms, but was seriously overpowered. See the bruising on his wrists? Those indentations are human fingers; this guy, whoever he is, must've been huge to have hands like that. Also had something stuffed in his mouth to stop him screaming. The guys already bagged that though. Kid was stabbed five times, puncturing two vital organs and causing massive internal bleeding. Most likely weapon is a hunting knife. No sign of sexual assault." Michael paused to stroke the boy's hair and felt some part of him wanting to cry. He pushed the sensation back, noticing something entangled in Alex's hair, just above his left ear.

"Look at this." Michael said displaying a green contact lens between his thumb and forefinger for Bird to see. "What do you think about that?"

"I think that's a big-ass clue for forensics to miss."

"I recognize it."

"Say what?"

"This and the doctor's workup, about this being done by a big man, points to a guy named Ronald Burgan. Ever heard of him?" Bird's jaw tightened when he heard the name. He adopted a heavy frown and nodded.

"Yeah, actually I have. He used to work in the circus, right? They called him the green-eyed giant or something?" Michael smiled; both he and Bird were on the same page already with the direction of this investigation. It was a good start.

"Yeah, that's who I've got in mind." Bird folded his arms, considering something internally.

"Yeah, well, if I remember rightly Burgan was involved in a double homicide a few years back."

"He was never formally charged though."

"But what's his motive?" Bird came to the crux of the situation and it was here that Michael had all the answers about Espinosa, the lost investment money and hiring Burgan as the assassin. But he was going to need to remain tight-lipped on the matter until they both got that far.

"I think we need to speak with the Kings for that."

oOo

David and Laura King were motionless as they sat in the lounge. When Michael and Bird entered the room, the couple barely seemed to notice. The two men observed them for a few moments, assessing how bad a state they were in and how helpful they were going to be at present. Laura King was totally inconsolable, but her husband, although suffering the same agony as her, had an expression more akin to guilt than grief. Michael was sure he knew the answer to why. If King had been alive in the other reality, the man could have confirmed Espinosa threatened him and helped Michael piece the circumstances of the case together. But he could not be sure other details of this case were not different as well. Perhaps King had not met with Espinosa a fortnight ago here. It would all have to be subtly uncovered through careful questioning. Michael sat down. Bird chose to stand.

"Mr and Mrs King, I'm Detective Michael Britten and this is my partner Detective Isaiah Freeman. We've been assigned to this case and need to ask you some tough questions. I know this is a difficult time for you, but…"

"What the hell do you know about this being difficult for us?" David King snapped, a vicious, accusative look etched on his face. Michael composed himself. He was already getting a distinct impression of King's character that had not been evident on the paperwork in the other reality.

"I recently lost my wife in a car accident." King's response was to remove the confrontational element from his face and replace it with a softer, empathetic expression.

"I'm sorry, Detective. I hadn't realized."

"It's fine. Let's talk about Alex. Can you think of anyone or any reason for what happened here?"

"No. Alex was…" King paused to swallow the lump in his throat. It was an eerie similarity. "He was a good boy and never had a problem with anybody he came across. I can't imagine any scenario that ends like this."

"Mr King, would it be possible to speak to you in private for a moment?" Michael inquired to render everyone else in the room silent, including a grieving mother and his long-time partner. The man had decided he could either sit here and pull teeth for information he already had, or he could speed this up and break new ground that might conceivably lead not only to a conviction in this reality, but also the other. Besides the victims, Michael found much of the initial details and timings were almost interchangeable. It was time for a brief on where they all stood. David King, despite his bemusement, agreed to speak with him in private. Bird had meanwhile been tasked with trying to glean something from Mrs King. Once they were alone in King's home office, Michael clarified his position.

"Mr King, are you familiar with a man named Enrique Espinosa?" Michael saw recognition immediately. King's jaw tightened and he gave up the most fleeting blink of shock before collecting himself and shaking his head.

"No, should I be?" Michael already knew the man was lying. He decided to unveil his findings.

"So, you didn't have a meeting with a man named Enrique Espinosa approximately two weeks ago in which you told him you had lost two million dollars of his money in failing stocks?" King's eyeballs practically popped out their sockets in utter astonishment. It was the look of a man who thought he had buried his skeletons beyond the reach of any man.

"How could you possibly know that?"

"It doesn't matter. What is important is that you feel guilty over your son's death because you know that somehow it was because of your business dealings with Enrique Espinosa. If you want to give Alex justice, Mr King, we can't chase shadows. You need to tell me anything you know about this man and how he operates. Let's not waste any more time: what can you tell me about that meeting? Did Mr Espinosa call you or did you call him. When he arrived did he have a tall, black chauffeur with him? To the best of your knowledge is Mr Espinosa a criminal?" Michael fired off the questions in a barrage, needing answers as quickly as they could be produced. King, still dumbstruck, took a moment to understand and then began feeding back the answers. David King was sure Espinosa had killed his son as an act of retribution, equating life with money. King believed the Colombian to be a criminal and a rich one at that with hundreds of men at his command. He remembered the black chauffeur being there on that day. Espinosa HAD threatened him with 'grave consequences' for what the businessman considered a 'clear act of attrition'. Of course, he had no proof of these allegations. Michael suggested bookkeeping records. Surely after ten years of financial transactions, King had evidence of Espinosa's accrued wealth.

Michael tried to memorize every detail he was exposed to. In the other reality, the office had been ransacked with several documents unaccounted for. The man had not seen these ledgers King was showing him at the crime scene and assumed Burgan had taken them to be destroyed. Looking at the abundance of dates, amounts and payments these ledgers held in relation to Espinosa, it was obvious why. Michael considered something.

"Mr King, let me ask you something on a purely hypothetical basis."

"Yes?"

"If you were being burgled during the daytime and were present at home when it occurred, would you store these documents in a place other than this office?"

"Yes."

"Where might that be exactly?" King wore a guarded expression at that question.

"I don't understand why we're discussing this."

"We can keep this quiet for now, but if your involvement with the police was leaked to Espinosa, there's a high chance he might send someone else to secure this evidence. Where would you store these?" King considered the matter and seemed to be in two minds whether to expose such a close-kept secret to a stranger, despite his son likely being murdered for it. After a terse few minutes of silence, the man relented.

"There's a loose panel underneath the stove, behind which is a hollow. If worst came to worst, I would stash them there for safekeeping."

"Would Alex have known about these ledgers?"

"No, not at all. Alex was a good boy."

"We're going to need these ledgers for comparison, Mr King."

Michael Britten was back at the crime scene where the Kings had been murdered. There were traces of someone having been there after the house had been cordoned, clearly searching for something important. Entering the kitchen, Vega could not contain himself any further.

"Why are we here instead of interrogating Rico Maldonado? The guys have already collected every piece of evidence worth having." The younger said, irritated that his partner had decided to take a step back in the investigation instead of forging forward. Michael crouched down in front of the stove and locating the bottom panel.

"Don't you think it's odd David King had no records of business transactions between himself and Espinosa if they worked together for ten years?"

"Of course, but we also know Espinosa's pretty much a crime lord; he probably had Burgan destroy them after the murder."

"But what if he didn't find them and that's why Rico was sent to the motel?"

"Why don't we just ask Rico what he was doing there?"

"Because we know he'll lie. We need proof."

"And the proof is behind the stove?" Vega offered sarcastically as Michael closed his hands around the panel. The man jerked it loose, finding it easy to move. Just as King had described, there was a hollow behind the panel. Michael reached in and produced four or five ledgers he recognized already. He smiled displaying them to his stunned partner.

"Proof."

KNOCK

Alex King opened the door to his room in the foster home to find Michael Britten standing in the hallway. There was a flicker of a smile from the teenager.

"Detective Britten, hi."

"We've got a substantial lead in the case." Alex raised an eyebrow.

"Already?"

"Alex, what can you tell me about a man called Enrique Espinosa?" Michael watched the youth stiffen at mention of that name. He was aware of something sinister about Espinosa, something Michael though he might already have uncovered. As he stood there, watching Alex wrestle with some internal demons, an image of the boy cold and dead at his feet flashed across his mind. If Alex knew anything that might incriminate Espinosa, it was motive enough to kill him in the other reality. Eventually, the teenager made a decision. "You'd better come inside."

"I was doing research about Colombia for a geography assignment, one of those round the world fact-finding essays. I found out all the usually stuff, the capital city, population numbers, major imports, exports etc. Only then I came across something else on the internet, about crime statistics. When I clicked on it, it showed me a picture of a man they called Enrique Espinosa, apparently Colombia's most infamous crime boss. The website wasn't any kind of official site, just something someone wrote, but it made some pretty crazy claims." Alex explained as they sat on his bed together. Michael had not really anticipated this type of response from the teenager. He stumbled across Espinosa while studying for school? It sounded unusual and yet somehow the man could sense it was inevitably the truth. He pressed for more information.

"Claims like what?"

"That he'd massacred one thousand people in twenty years and was the main supplier and distributor of cocaine in South America, with a criminal empire worth more than five-hundred million dollars." These were facts Michael had gathered, although it had taken considerably more resources to obtain than Alex's method. Working with Bird in the other reality, they had found no less than eighty-seven individual charges had been brought against Espinosa in Colombia and the majority of other countries in South America. They had also found out that every time he found himself in court, Espinosa had been able to escape unscathed. Witnesses were murdered, judges bribed or blackmailed and evidence had a tendency to vanish along with prosecutors and their charges. None of it could be traced to Espinosa; there were always middlemen to take the fall. It would take a miracle to convict such a monster. Michael was holding out for one right now.

"Do you know the name of the person who made these allegations? Do they have an email address we can post to or something?"

"The guy's called Justiceseeker41 and he's got a chat forum online." Michael was curious now.

"So, that day you saw one of your dad's clients leaving the house, did you recognize him as Enrique Espinosa?" Alex adopted a shamefaced expression before tentatively nodding his head.

"Yes."

"Why didn't you tell us that yesterday?" Although the man had not asked the question accusatively, the teenager still appeared close to tears as he gave his response. His voice was almost shaking.

"I was scared he was the one who killed them. And that he'd come back for me." Michael put a hand on Alex's shoulder.

"He's not coming back for anybody, Alex. I'll make sure he's put away. I promise, okay?"

"How can you do that? You know how many people have failed to convict this guy?"

"Yes, I do. I also know from twenty years of experience that it only takes one slip-up to take even the most untouchable of men down to the ground. Trust me; this guy is going to have made a mistake and once I find it all this will have been worth something."

"You missed yesterday's appointment, Detective Britten. You are aware attendance is mandatory unless there are exceptional circumstances?" Doctor Lee inquired having spoken with Captain Harper and rescheduled the appointment. Michael shrugged his shoulders.

"The case I'm working is getting pretty intense right now, Doctor; I can't afford to miss a single minute of the investigation."

"I understand from your captain that this is a double homicide with a single adolescent survivor. Does this child remind you of your son?"

"Maybe a little. But this isn't the only investigation I'm working on." Doctor Lee offered him a resigned look. He considered it a bad development and when he spoke it was obvious he felt that way.

"Oh? You've found more work in your dreams as well?"

"I'm working the same case, Doctor, just the victims are reversed. In the other reality, the kid is dead and the parents are alive." Doctor Lee fell silent for the first time in their meetings, seemingly astonished by the information he'd just been exposed to. He appeared to consider something for an inordinately long time. He then took off his glasses and placed his notepad to one side.

"Detective Britten, this is exactly what I have been waiting for. Your subconscious is finally alerting you to the falsity of your dream reality by taking its constructs and developments from this world. There is no more distance for this fantasy world of yours to run. When I said you were almost home last time we spoke, this is the transition period I expected to see."

"But I'm working the case from both sides, placing the pieces together like a jigsaw puzzle. It's proving effective."

"How do you mean? Give me an example."

"I need to find a ledger, but I don't know where to find it. I go to the other reality and ask the victim from this reality where he would put it. He tells me, I come back here and I find it right where he said it would be. And then I'm able to move forward with the investigation."

"Either that or you subconsciously observed something while transiting through the crime scene and were only alerted of it when dreaming that night. It would appear your subconscious is now working for you rather than against you and your grip on reality."

"I don't know about that." Doctor Lee sighed and folded his arms.

"Well let me ask you this, which came first? The investigation here or in your dreams?"

"Here."

"And then suddenly, you start working the exact same case with different victims in your other world. The only difference is, with this case, you already know all the answers and can move forward more rapidly. Doesn't this sound more like your mind trying to piece fragments of your investigation together and make sense of it all? It's almost a logical thought process you're describing, the act of ordering information so that it presents itself in a form we can understand and interpret. You are beginning to let go of your son and starting to focus solely on this world and its problems, the real world, Detective. I think that, once you solve this case or bring the investigation to its natural conclusion, your dream world will finally collapse completely. You will be free and able to move on with your wife to Oregon." Michael blinked. He leaned forward and set out his feelings on that theory concisely.

"So, you're now saying that separating myself from Rex is not the answer anymore. You're saying the answer is solving this case here and that will keep me here with Hannah."

"You constantly shift the key to your delusions, the method by which you can escape them, but the root of your problems is always to do with your son and your inability to accept his loss. Now you're working a case with an orphaned teenager, someone who is struggling to understand the loss of his parents, as you are with your son. By fulfilling your obligations to find his parents' killers, you are helping him deal with the situation. And through doing this, you are helping yourself with your own grief. The boy being dead in your dream world and his parents being alive is your subconscious trying to tell you about Rex. It is trying to get you to work through the issues and end the delusion." Michael had to admit, however much he did not like Lee on a personal basis, as a professional, the man was highly effective at putting together a sound argument. When Michael spoke, he could not help sounding slightly tentative.

"So, I solve the case and Rex goes away, permanently?" Doctor Lee seemed to be pick up on whatever sliver of fear was present in his patient's voice and took on a softer expression, one that said he understood the difficulty of the situation. When he spoke, the psychiatrist was kind.

"He will live on in your memories, Detective Britten, those you and your wife share. Between you, you will find closure and move on with your lives together. It would be a fitting end to these proceedings."

oOo

Michael was sat on the couch, watching television. The day had been long and fruitless in trying to tie Espinosa to murdering Alex King. They could not locate Burgan, again and, despite searching the motel he recalled from the other reality, they had turned up nothing. The stress and parallel nature of the investigations were starting to take their toll on him. He needed to relax and was attempting at that very moment to do just that. Rex had once again disappeared to his girlfriend's house for the evening, leaving Michael with only Doctor Lee's closing remarks on letting his son go.

On many levels, Michael did not understand it. He was not smothering or clingy with Rex. He could often go almost the whole day without seeing or thinking about the boy and his presence at weekends was close to non-existent. All in all, Michael was a good parent who respected his son's burgeoning transition from child to adult and weathered the thunderstorm of adolescence in between with patience and understanding. Then, of course, there was the other side of it. Michael NEEDED to see Rex. It did not have to be every day, but could not be longer than three. If he was in a scenario that said he could never see the teenager again, the man would lose his mind. He could never truly let him go as Lee wanted, just as he could not let Hannah go as Doctor Evans wanted. He had to have both or neither and neither meant the end of him.

About halfway through his programme, roughly eleven-thirty, Rex wandered through the doorway. The teenager gave a nod of recognition to his father on route to the kitchen. Michael returned the gesture and resumed watching the television. He could hear the youth rummaging through the fridge and knew he would be going for the grape-flavoured Kool-Aid the man had prepared earlier. Rex had only ever liked grape-flavoured Kool-Aid, a fact Michael had been made keenly aware of during the boy's elementary years when he threw a tantrum after the man had bought CHERRY Kool-Aid from the store. Michael had never made that mistake ever again. Sure enough, Rex re-entered the lounge with a half-empty glass of grape-flavoured Kool-Aid and sat down next to his father.

"So how was it at Emma's house?" Michael asked without taking his eyes off the screen. Rex took a short sip before replying.

"Yeah, okay. Her mom's a really good chef."

"What did she make you?"

"Mexican-style fajitas. They were soooo good."

"Better than mine?"

"Yeah." Michael turned to offer his son a frown at his blunt answer. Rex realized this and turned his own head to return the man's gaze. "Come on Dad, admit it; you're just not the world's greatest chef. You struggle to boil eggs."

"Is that why you disappear every night of the week? Because you don't want to eat your old man's fajitas?" Michael asked in mock exasperation. Rex rolled his eyes at the man's bad acting.

"No, of course not. I just want to spend time with my girlfriend." Michael gestured at the glass in the youth's hand.

"But you'll come home to drink my Kool-Aid, huh?" Rex shook his head, but could not help but smile at his dad's playful ribbing.

"You don't even like Kool-Aid; you only buy this stuff for me."

"Well, I just don't want you throwing tantrums on the kitchen floor again."

"You still remember that? I was like six."

"No, you were nine. You just acted about six."

"Can we please talk about something else?"

"Like what? I mean aside from Kool-Aid, Emma and fajitas, isn't your mind just empty?"

"Ouch. Well, maybe I should just go then." Rex announced getting to his feet. Michael remained seated. He smiled at the teenager. The boy was tired. Just a glance at his lack of energy for a long bout of banter made this clear to the man. "Night, Dad."

"Can I get a kiss?" It might have sounded strange to an outsider, but not inside the Britten household. Rex had been kissing his mother and father goodnight since he was barely able to talk. He had naturally stopped doing it to his dad almost three years ago, but had kept up the ritual with his mom. Since the accident, the youth had started up the habit again. It was not to remind his father he loved him or to appease Rex that he had completed his mandatory kind gesture to the man that day. The teenager kissed his father on the cheek because he needed to. It was proof to Rex that the man was still there, that he wasn't going anywhere in the near future and that the boy could go to bed knowing his father was safe and happy. On many levels it was stupid and childish to Rex, but it was nevertheless important to his well-being to continue believing in his system that kissing his father goodnight kept him safe from harm. He did not hesitate to lean down and peck the man on the cheek.

"Night, Dad."

"Night, Son. I'll see you in the morning."

Michael came into work that morning determined to interview both Maldonado and Espinosa about their involvement in the King murder case. He and Vega had delayed long enough in correlating evidence and linking the South Americans to Burgan and his subsequent murder. They needed answers and now had the means to force their suspects to give them. The man felt positive about their chances. That was why when he saw his partner with a grave expression on his face, Michael was more than a little perplexed.

"What's up?" The man asked his companion as he rounded the desk to where Vega was sitting. The younger man sighed.

"Espinosa's dead, Michael. Rico Maldonado's missing. We just got the call through. We need to head up to Beverley Hills now." Michael was unable to comprehend what he had just been told. Espinosa was dead? Had Rico killed him? Had Alex killed him? Had someone else unrelated to this case killed him? There was so many possibilities for the killer's identity and that was without any other information about what had happened. Once the shock had subsided, Michael gathered himself together and began to consider Maldonado's role in these proceedings. Maybe they had been looking at this case the wrong way; perhaps Espinosa was not the key at all, maybe it was Rico. He gestured to Vega.

"So let's go."

The conclusion is coming in the next chapter. Stay tuned for more. (Continue to Review)