Chapter Six: Dead Ends

Peter had asked Diana to do a search for Rick Garner before he left the office that day. The next morning when he arrived at the FBI office he was greeted by Diana at the stairs. "Boss, I've got some news on Rick Garner."

"Let's talk in my office?"

She followed him through the office door. Her eyes glanced across the room, making contact with Neal's suspicious eye, as she closed the door behind her. She turned and faced Peter, who was already sitting in the chair behind his desk. "You know, Neal suspects something's up."

"I know. But right now, I just need to find his brother. Then hopefully we can close the book on this chapter. What did you find out?"

"Rick Garner works as a cab driver. And get this, he is here in New York."

"You're kidding?"

"No, he moved here twelve years ago with his wife."

"And you're sure it's the same Rick Garner?"

"Positive. I already called and talked with him this morning."

"You called him, Diana, I don't want the FBI associated with this just in case it goes bad."

"Don't worry, Peter. I told him I was your secretary, and that you were Mark Dawson, a lawyer with Legal Family Services. He is under the impression you are representing a client that is searching for his brother."

"That's bold, Diana."

"Yeah, well, you have an appointment to meet with him this afternoon at twelve. Here is his address; he's expecting you." She handed a piece of paper to Peter with an address scribbled across it in very neat and clean writing.

Peter took it from her, and his eyes stared at it for a few seconds. "Thanks, Diana. Any news on the case?"

"Yeah, Neal called the company and made an appointment for tomorrow at one, to view the necklace."

"That's great. We need to get everything in place for the sting then."

"I've got it covered, Peter. You have something else you need to take care of." Diana pointed to the paper in Peter's hand, then she turned and exited the office.

Peter looked back at the paper then gently folded it, and placed it in inside the pocket of his suit jacket. It was two hours before he was expected to meet with Rick Garner, so he decided to get some paperwork done before then. He needed to keep busy; Neal was studying his every movement enough as it was.

As Diana walked passed Neal's desk, he stood and asked her, "You tell Peter about the appointment?"

She was startled for a moment, wondering how he could possibly know about the appointment she had made for Peter, with Rick Garner. Then her startled expression disappeared and was replaced with a smile. "Yes, I told him you set it up for tomorrow at one. He's ready to catch this guy." She proceeded to walk towards the elevator again.

Neal once again attempted to stop her. "So where are you headed?"

"There's a lot that needs to be done to prepare for a sting. And that's what I'm trying to do if you will ever leave me alone."

"How come Peter isn't taking care of it?" Neal sounded doubtful.

"Peter is taking care of the paperwork, I am taking care of the legwork. I'm sorry, have I missed something? Because I could have sworn that you worked for Peter, not the other way around."

"I was just curious." Neal raised his hand as if to settle Diana. She seemed a little put off by his prodding.

"Remember ,Neal, curiosity killed the cat." She smiled but it was in a kind way. He returned her smile then sat back down at his desk as she left the room.

Peter checked his watch; it was 11:30. It was time to leave. He was feeling a bit nervous about what he might find when he arrived to talk to Rick Garner. He clutched his keys in his hand and grabbed his coat that was draped over the back of his chair.

He saw Neal sitting at his desk as he began to descend the stairs. As he approached, Neal issued him a suave and confident smile.

"Peter, you headed to lunch?"

"I am."

"I thought we might grab lunch together today." Neal was really just testing Peter. He had a feeling Peter was headed somewhere he did not want Neal to know about.

"Actually I am meeting El for lunch. With the hours I keep sometimes it's hard for us to have one-on-one time." Peter grinned; he knew by Neal's forced smile he was not buying the story. Peter knew Neal better than anyone. He could read him like the cover of a book. He knew when Neal was hiding something, he knew when Neal was hurting beneath the fake captivating smile that seem to become a permanent costume on Neal's face. But at the moment he just needed Neal to accept the lie. He would tell him eventually, maybe.

"Well, have a nice lunch. Tell El I said hi." Neal watched as Peter boarded the elevator. His eyes dropped down to his desk. He hated this deceptive part of their relationship. He hated how Peter had this unending power over him. Neal had never let anyone into his life close enough to have that control over him. Not even Kate. Not really. Mozzie was the closest that had ever come to breaking through that wall, but even with their relationship there was this unsaid barrier that both knew not to cross. That was the life of a con man, and only another con man could understand it. But Peter was FBI. He was the wolf in sheep's clothing, as Mozzie would put it. A force to be reckoned with. Yet Neal had let him in. And now he was crushed every time this distrust emerged, repeatedly. It was like a cancer eating away at the body of their friendship. Neal felt an empty, hollow, lonely feeling as he thought about it. If a doctor were to examine it, they would for sure declare it terminal. Like everything good in Neal's life, this friendship, this partnership, would have its end. Eventually it would be gone, over. The question was, when?

Peter tugged on his jacket trying to smooth away any wrinkles. He adjusted his tie with his hand, as he stood on the street before the apartment complex where Rick Garner resided. He was feeling anxious. He was not sure what he feared more, that this visit would lead to a something dreadful, or that it would lead nowhere and turn up another dead end. Either way he was about to find out.

He knocked on the apartment door to 5C. He heard a voice yell out from behind the closed door, "Coming."

The door opened and there stood a tall man with dark brown eyes. His brown hair was littered with silver and gray hairs. He had a strong stature about him. His clearly-defined jaw was covered in a shadow of silver and brown whiskers. He smiled and extended his hand to Peter. "You must be Mr. Dawson? Come in."

Peter smiled at him and entered the small apartment. The man led the way into the living room and in the center was a brown couch sitting upon a beige rug. The couch had seen its better days. In fact, most of the furniture in the apartment had seen better days. Yet despite the apartment's lack of fine furnishings, it was tidy and well kept. Everything seemed to have its place, books neatly arranged in the book case, a stack of magazines and newspapers sat in a divided container beside the couch; they looked to be organized, possibly by date, Peter thought.

"Have a seat, Mr. Dawson." Rick gestured with an open hand towards the couch. He sat down in an old recliner across from the couch.

"Thank you, Mr. Garner." Peter smiled and complied with the man's request. "I believe my secretary informed you about the reason for my visit?"

"Yes, she did. You have a client looking for a brother and thought I might know him?"

"That's correct. I don't know exactly how to ask this, but you had a son with a Julie Hensen several years ago that you gave up for adoption, is that correct?"

Rick looked down at the floor, his eyes lost a little of the pleasing sparkle they held moments ago. "Yes. Unfortunately Julie and I were just kids. We had no idea how to raise a child. But Julie and I broke up a year after he was born. I was the one that pushed her into giving up our son. Neither of us where prepared for that kind of responsibility, and she knew that, but she never forgave me for that." His voice trailed off.

"I'm truly sorry to bring up old feelings, Mr. Garner. I am just trying to find any information about your son's adoption that I can."

"I'm sorry, I honestly don't know anything. Julie has not been able to tell you anything?"

"Unfortunately she passed away several years ago. Is there anything you can remember about the adoption? Anything at all that might help?"

"I'm sorry, Mr. Dawson, I was not all that involved in the process other than signing the paperwork."

Peter smiled at him; it was a disappointed smile. He stood and pulled his coat on and buttoned the top button. "I understand, Mr. Garner. And I thank you for your time. If you do recall anything please give me a call."

Rick followed behind Peter to the front door. "I will. And I hope you find him."

Peter opened the door and left, giving a smile of appreciation to the man. He walked back outside and stood there for a few minutes. He felt disappointed that the lead was only to another dead end. He began to cross the street headed for his car, keys in hand. Just as he made it across he heard someone yell out behind him.

"Mr. Dawson! Wait!"

Peter turned and saw Mr. Garner running across the street, his hand waving in the air to attract Peter's attention.

Peter was surprised, and walked to meet the man at the curb. "Mr. Garner?"

"I remembered something. I have no idea how I remembered this, but I did. Julie and I met with the adoptive parents just before our son was born. They were a nice couple, their name was Burke. John and Carla Burke. He was in construction, I think."

Peter's countenance suddenly dropped. He felt as if the world had shook beneath his feet as he heard the names. How could this be? That was impossible. His face was suddenly drained of color. His fingers were cold, his head was numb. His heart was racing. His eyes were empty.

"Mr. Dawson, are you all right?" Rick sounded concerned; he reached a hand out to steady the now swaying agent.

Peter attempted to compose himself. "I'm sorry, what were their names?" He had to hear them again, he had to know if he heard them correctly.

"I said John and Carla Burke. Do you know them?"

Peter swallowed; his world was spinning out of control all around him. Everything was as if it were being heard under water: the dog barking in the alley, the cars rushing down the street, the people talking and walking down the sidewalks. They were all as if in a silent film. Nothing made sense. But almost as if lightning had struck Peter, he was jolted back to reality. Now he was fully aware of his surroundings and the sounds about him. He looked at the man standing in front of him, his deeply concerned face, his kind brown eyes. Peter began to see the man differently; he was now keenly aware of the man's features: his nose was the same shape and size as Peter's, his jawline, his brown eyes, the resemblance between the two men was strong. They were the same height, the same build. Peter was looking at his father. His biological father. No, this wasn't possible. There was some mistake.

Rick frowned as he looked at Peter's pale face and his distraught expression. "Mr. Dawson, you don't look so good. Maybe you should come in and sit down for a few minutes; I could call someone."

Peter was quick to reject the man's offer. "No, I'll be fine. I missed lunch and just need to eat. Thank you for your time, Mr. Garner." Peter briskly walked to his car. He needed to leave. He needed to remove himself from the situation.

As he drove back to the FBI office, he thought about the chance of this actually being true. Was it really possible? Could it be just a coincidence? There was one thing that would reveal the truth, a DNA test.

Once Peter arrived at the office he took a deep breath as he rode the elevator up to the White Collar floor. He needed his composure more than ever. The drive back had allowed him enough time to feel his world steady, to allow his heart to calm, the color to return to his face.

As he exited the elevator he glanced over at Neal sitting behind his desk. His eyes lingered on him as he just stood there, not moving.

"Peter, how'd it go? You find out anything?" Diana was looking intently at him.

Peter slowly turned his head to look at Diana; he was hesitant. He always kept Diana in the loop, but this time he couldn't. This was too personal. "No, another dead end."

"Sorry, Peter. Maybe it's for the best that you don't find Neal's brother."

"Maybe." Peter pressed his lips together and smiled at her. He walked past her and through the glass doors that separated the elevators from the White Collar office. As he entered he continued past Neal's desk, avoiding eye contact with him.

Neal watched him walk to his office. He knew he was keeping something from him. He wanted to know. He stood and followed Peter up the stairs and into his office, without Peter noticing he had a tail.

"What aren't you telling me, Peter?" Neal's face was void of his normal smile.

"Neal. What are you talking about?"

"I know when you're hiding something. So what is it?"

"Nothing. I'm not hiding anything."

"So you lie to my face now? You always tell me you want to trust me. What about me trusting you? Trust is a two-way street."

"I know that. All right. I discovered your brother is your half brother. You have different fathers. I tried to locate your brother's father."

"Did you find him?"

"Yes. He died a few years ago."

Neal sat down in the chair in front of Peter's desk. "I guess I half expected that. Seems like anytime I try to find anything out about my family, I hit a dead end." Neal looked at Peter and smiled. "Well, thanks for trying." He stood and started to leave the room, when he stopped and turned back around to face Peter. "By the way, what was his name?"

Peter stared into Neal's blue eyes. He could tell the question was to extract information for him to do his own investigating. He knew Neal did not believe him. "His name was Mike Dawson." It was another lie. But it would at least buy him some time until he knew for sure the truth.

Neal left the office. Peter wasted no time, he reached over and picked up the phone to dial the department lab. He knew that due to FBI policy, anyone that worked for the FBI would have their DNA profile on record with the lab.

The phone rang a few times before a woman picked up. "FBI Laboratory, how may I direct your call?"

"This is Agent Peter Burke; I need to speak with Dr. Jensen, please."

"Please hold."

After a few short moments the phone was again picked up, by an older man. "This is Dr. Jensen."

"Chris, I need a favor as a friend."

"This off the record?"

"Yeah, it is."

"What do you need?"

"I need you to run a comparison on two DNA samples you already have on file."

"Okay, what profiles do you need them on?"

"Mine..." Peter paused for several seconds, then he hesitantly continued, "and Neal Caffrey's."

"Your CI? What kind of comparison am I running, Peter?"

"If the profiles share any parentage."

Peter waited for a reply but heard nothing, only silence.

"Chris?"

"Yeah, sorry. That just caught me a little off guard. Peter, why would you think there would be any relation between you and Mr. Caffrey?"

"It's a long story. I don't have time to go into detail about it. Please just run the sample, and when you're done fax it to my home; you should have that number on record."

"I do. Since this is off record, I'll run the sample after hours; I should have the results this evening."

"Thanks, Chris. Please keep this quiet."