A/N: Oh, some more stuff is about to hit the fan. Thanks again for the reviews. They are what keeps me writing…Well, that and my own obsession.
Warning: sensitive subject matter (suicide), this chapter is rated M
Sullivan had called him. He had just gotten done taking a shower at Alex's apartment when the ex-cop called, telling him that he wanted to talk to him; it was important. Bobby had quickly dressed and rushed out of the apartment. The drive from Rockaway to Staten Island was long. It took him nearly two hours to get there because he had to not only fight the morning traffic of Manhattan but also on the bridge to the island as well. It was only made worse by three-car pileup on the BQE.
As he pulled into Sullivan's driveway, he was hoping that the guy hadn't changed his mind in talking to him. Knocking on the door caused it to move and that was when he realized that it was not only unlocked but open. Hesitating before he entered, and wishing that he had his gun, Bobby took a breath as he used his foot to open the door. It swung open as he stepped through the doorway.
He heard movement and then someone walking down the hallway. "Sully?" Bobby called out just as Sullivan rounded the corner. Breathing a sigh relief, he asked, "Why was your door open?" He didn't receive a response from Sullivan, but he didn't need one.
Sullivan was dressed head to toe in his service dress blue uniform; he was even wearing the blue dress shirt underneath since it was winter instead of the white dress shirt for the summer. His face was once again clean-shaven and he had even trimmed his hair. He looked as sharp as a rookie.
"Going somewhere?"
Sullivan was finishing cuffing his jacket sleeve as he answered with a simply joyful, "Yep."
Bobby glanced around the room then back to Sullivan. Unlike yesterday, the house was spotless, orderly, and all the important things were lined up neatly in a roll on the coffee table in front of him. There was a living will and right next to it was a handwritten note that he didn't have to read to know what it was. A suicide note.
"How do I look, Goren?"
Bobby stood staring at the man before he let his eyes flicker over him from his head to his feet. He had even shined his shoes.
"I want to thank you, for yesterday."
Bobby looked back into his eyes and shook his head. He didn't know what Sullivan was thanking him for.
Sullivan smiled at him as he tapped the gun that was in the holster. "You could imagine my surprise when I grabbed my gun and…it was empty."
It didn't fit. To Bobby it was obvious that Sullivan was still planning on killing himself, so why was he thanking him. He had still yet to speak, but it seemed that Sullivan didn't care nor mind as he kept talking.
"When you saw me, I was scared and desperate. Searching for answers that were just too big. After I pulled the trigger and nothing happened, it occurred to me that I had nothing to be afraid of. Do you know why, Goren? I was born into sin then washed clean with the blood of Christ…all before I was a month old. They baptized me before I had the ability to choose. I didn't choose to have this guilt. I didn't choose my faith. I don't want this…I don't want to hate God, but that…I choose that. I choose to hate Him. And with hating Him, I finally took back my control. This is my choice."
Bobby glared up at Sullivan as he felt the hope for the man slipping away. This was only going to end bad. "I don't think it's God you hate, Sullivan, not entirely."
Sullivan actually smiled wider. The man was utterly content with what he was planning on doing. It was a sharp contrast to the broken man he had seen the day before. He wasn't going to kill himself with a bottle of whiskey in hand while he cried until he squeezed the trigger. No, he had stopped that attempt when he emptied his gun. His actions hadn't completely deterred Sullivan, instead, it only made it easier for him to accept his decision, it had harden his resolve. Today, he was going to go out like this, dressed in his blues and completely of sane mind.
Bobby knew then that it didn't matter what he said to the man it wasn't going to be enough. Sullivan was going to kill himself, it was just a matter of when and where.
"You're right," Sullivan told him as he pulled the nickel plated Colt .45 pistol from the holster, "but I hate God too, probably more than I hate myself. My parents, I know that they wanted what was best for me, but they should've let it be my decision. What gave them the right to decide my own faith, my own beliefs…It's personal. That's between me, God, and the Devil. And the Devil won. He…won," he said again as his shook with anger and disgust.
Bobby, for the first time in a very long time, was at a lose of words. If Sullivan survived this day, it would be a miracle. It would be by the grace of God; a God the Bobby himself believed to be anything but full of grace. He knew by Sullivan's personnel file that he had no one. No wife, ex-wife, kids, or parents. His only sister had died years ago in a motorcycle accident when she was only seventeen years old. Sullivan only had himself and the job. Now Sullivan only had himself, and he didn't even want that.
"Sully, c'mon man, I-I thought we were gonna talk."
Sullivan sat down heavily in the chair and leaned back; his arms draped loosely over the sides of the chair. He then peered up at him as he smiled slightly. "No, I just asked you here to thank you for making me see that this is…It's nothing to be afraid of. It's a part of life; it's my life. It has to end some time, right, so why not be in change of when and how? Why leave it up to God to determine when it's my time to go?" he told him a second before he brought the gun up to the right side of his head.
Bobby moved forward but it was too late. The bang only last a second but it rippled through his body and echoed through the house and his ears. Inches away from the chair, he stood frozen and numb as he stared down at the now lifeless body of Lance Sullivan. Blood gushed from the bullet hole then ran down his hanging left arm to the floor. The Colt .45 was on his lap, having fallen there when the grip on the gun eased as the arm went dead.
Closing his eyes, he covered his mouth and breathed out deeply. He couldn't stop him. He couldn't even think of what to say to the guy, no words of reason, no empathy…nothing. He didn't know what happened. He had accepted what Sullivan was going to do, and he let him do it.
Fear gripped him as he felt that it was his fault. His words had failed him when he needed them the most. That fear was going to tear him apart.
His hands started shaking but it wasn't from grief. He was getting angry and he was starting to shake from the growing intensity of it. Afraid that his actions would contaminate the scene, he quickly turned away.
Bobby pulled out his cell phone as he hurried out the front door. As he closed the door behind him, he looked around at the nice, middle class neighborhood and the array of Christmas lights that decorated the street.
After he made a quick call to the department, he went back inside. Going over to the coffee table and not taking another glance at the dead body in the chair, Bobby quickly read the suicide note. Dropping his head after he had read it all twice, he breathed out deeply before straightening and then going back outside.
Bobby opened his passenger door and opened the glove box. He took the pack of cigarettes out but didn't take one out. He couldn't stop the flow of heat through his body as he paced in front of his car, turning the pack over and over in his hands until they eventually clenched, balling into fists. Feeling the anger boil in his chest, he erupted. "That son-of-a-bitch," he yelled an instant before he pounded his fists into the hood of his car.
He threw the crumbled pack into the backseat of his car before slamming the passenger door shut. Sitting on the hood of his car, he stared inside Sullivan's garage at the damaged truck that was still sitting in it. Burying his head in his hands, he kept hearing Sullivan's last words reply over and over in his head until sirens cut through the static fog and ringing in his ears from the constant echo of the gunshot.
A hand landed on his shoulder. Dropping his hands away from his face, Bobby looked up and saw Logan standing next to him. That was when he looked around and noticed the activity around the house. Stepping out of the coroner's van was Brenda. She caught his eyes and gave him a tight smile before disappearing into the house.
"I got you some coffee," Logan told him as he shoved a tall cup from the coffee shop that was down the street into his hands. "It'll warm you up. I can feel your cold skin through your coat."
Bobby took a sip of the coffee; closing his eyes, he let the heat develop his whole body.
"So, what happened?"
Bobby shook his head before he took another drink of the hot coffee. He kept his eyes down, on the snowy driveway, and away from the eyes of his partner. "I didn't know what to say to him."
"I don't think any of us would have known what to say."
Rubbing a hand over his forehead, he felt the guilt and pain once again clench his heart and mind. "You don't understand, I've always been able to talk to someone, to-to get them to think about what they're doing…to stop them. I usually know exactly what to say to talk someone out of killing either themselves or someone else, and this time…I had no idea. Nothing would come to me. I just stood there and listened. I let him do it. It's my fault."
"Hey," Logan pushed him hard on the shoulder, making him stare up at him. "He's the one that pulled the trigger; he's the selfish coward who took the easy way out…."
"A selfish cow--…a selfish coward!" he suddenly snapped at Logan. "Do you know how much strength it takes to actually go through with something like that? I didn't see a selfish man, I saw a man who was strong enough to admit when he was beat and that he had done such a horrible thing that he was actually so content and comfortable with death that he didn't even blink when he pulled the fucking trigger!"
Logan didn't know what to say as he stared at him with his mouth slightly agape. Bobby looked around and realized that his partner wasn't the only one staring at him with the same shocked and perplexed expressions. Taking a deep breath, he realized that he had overreacted and had lost his temper in the wrong place at exactly the wrong damn time.
Coming up behind him had been Lieutenant Williams and she was also staring at him as she shoved her hands further down into her black furry overcoat. "I was going to ask you what went down here today, but with what you just shouted all the way down the street, I don't have to. I just hope you get a lock on that mouth of yours before the vultures start circling."
Bobby took a couple more deep breaths as he eyed the woman before giving a nod that he understand. The last thing the department needed was to do damage control after one of their detective went off in front of a brigade of reporters.
"Oh," she said before she walked away from him. Reaching into her black purse that was slung over her shoulder, she produced a folded stack of papers and handed them to him. "Your search warrant was approved, but now, as it were, we don't need it."
Watching as she went up the walk and then into the house, Bobby unfolded the papers and read them over. Looking over at Logan, he breathed out deeply and ran a hand over his face. "Logan, I…uh, I didn't mean to snap at you."
Logan, being the kind of man he was, just shrugged and shook it off saying, "Don't worry 'bout it. You're not the first partner I've had who's gone off on me. Besides, I know you're angry with yourself, not with me. It's not your fault, Goren. Even if you had stopped him then, he would have done it later."
Nodding, but still not ready to forgive himself just yet, he told him, "Yeah, I know. I saw that in him. I…I thought, if he survived today, it would have been a miracle." Shaking his head and still hearing the echoing gun blast, he whispered quietly, "Number three and counting."
The snow started to fall as the black body bag was carried from the house. All the reporters were getting pictures of was the bag and all they could think of when they looked at it was that it contained a dead body.
Bobby was the only one who knew truly what it contained. He knew that Sullivan was lying in there not completely naked and drenched in blood, but wearing his uniform, shined shoes, and covered on the entire left side by blood. All that would be in the papers was prominent cop commits suicide or maybe cop who tragically killed a fourteen year old boy commits suicide. Either way it spilled out into the press, the community as well as the department was going to be in an uproar.
Bobby shook his head as he leaned back against the driver side door as the reporters tried to storm the barricade that separated them from the crime scene.
Cop kills kid, cop kills himself, and then…
"Detective Goren!" one of them, a man, shouted his way. "What can you tell us?"
"You were the one who reported the suicide," a woman's voice overlapped the man. "What did Detective Sullivan say to you?"
"Detective, is it true that Detective Sullivan committed suicide because he was fired by the department because he's under investigation for murder?"
…the vultures feast on the remains.
Ignoring the questions, Bobby opened the door and got into his car. Turning it on, and feeling the heat warming his body, he sighed and closed his eyes.
Yesterday they had made little progress. The cops on Staten Island were very territorial and the officers at the 124th were anything but cooperative. As they walked up the steps to the 128th Precinct she hoped that today would be different. She could almost feel it as Copeland held the door open for her; they were going to get a lead. Someone was going to talk.
The department was a madhouse the minute they walked it, and it wasn't from the usual hustle and bustle of every day police work. She had spotted the news reporters camped out outside and inside reflected their presence. It looked like the department could at any moment go on full alter and lock the place down.
"What's going on?" Copeland asked the morning watch sergeant who was behind the desk.
The woman looked up at them, and at seeing their badges, she told them, "A detective committed suicide this morning."
Her and Copeland shared a look before she asked, "Why?"
Shaking her head, she didn't let them know anymore as she told them, "I'm sorry, but I can't tell you, unless…They're not giving this to Major Case are they?"
"Not that we're aware of," Alex told her. Pulling out a sheet, she did tell her, "However, I do need to talk to a few of your officers."
"The day shift guys are all at roll call right not, I'll let the captain know and he can hold them back when he's done."
"No, that's okay," Alex told her. "We'll rather talk to them all separately, thanks."
As they turned to leave, the front doors to the department swung open and in walked Bobby, followed by Logan, and they were arguing.
"I'm not backing off my case," Bobby had told him as he turned around once he was in the building.
"You were there, Goren; you're a witness and if anything screws up and they want to say that he didn't actually kill himself, then that would make you a suspect. The Lieu isn't going to see past that and let you conduct the investigation."
"I don't care about what if's! I care about Terrence Hughes and finding out the truth of what happened to him. Once you get the evidence from Sullivan's house, I'm going to be the one following up on it!"
"Hey!"
Everyone turned to be staring at the watch sergeant. She was staring hard at Bobby and Logan as she gestured around the open floor, "What does this look like to you two? A boxing ring? There are no sparing matches in the lobby. If you two want to fight, take it either upstairs or to the gym. Got it."
Logan looked at Bobby and shook his head before storming up the steps and out of sight. Bobby sighed heavily and rubbed a hand over his face before looking around the floor. When he saw her, he nearly froze with shock before the guilt crept into his eyes. Turning away from her, he hurried up the steps and followed behind Logan to the third floor that housed the Homicide unit.
"Wow, Goren can be pretty passionate, intense."
Alex glanced up at Copeland as she told him, "If you think that was passion and intense, you should see him in the interrogation room."
Looking down at her, he smiled a little as he told her, "C'mon, I'll buy breakfast while we come up with a strategy for cornering unsuspected officers and asking if they were on the take for the Connelly family."
Alex had to smile and shake her head at that, Copeland wasn't the kind of guy to sugar coat anything. He was as straight-forward and hard as the come. She had to admit, she liked that about him.
Bobby was being kept away from the suicide of Lance Sullivan; the Lieu wouldn't even let him go to the autopsy, which he was okay with. It wasn't like he had to go anyway. He knew what the body looked like. He knew what had killed him and how and why. It was officially his day off, but he didn't go home as he was ordered to by Williams. Instead, he stayed and went over the Terrence Hughes case, thinking that he would soon have to go to Mrs. Hughes and tell her who killed her son.
He was preparing for the moment he had to knock on her door and tell her that they found the guy, that he was a cop and not only that but the cop that was investigating the case. There were some things he really hated about the job, this was one of them. Yet, he did it because had to, and because he knew that the families deserved the truth and he would always give them that, no matter how painful it was for him to do just that.
It wasn't until almost one o'clock when they got the results back from forensics. Logan walked into the room with the file in hand; he was tapping it on his palm and eyeing him with great concern and distress.
Bobby sat up straight in his chair and watched as he sat heavily across from him and handed him the file. He took it and immediately flipped it open. Staring at the words, he was taken back by what he read. "He didn't do it."
"He didn't do it," Logan repeated back. "There was no blood found on his truck, no hair, nothing that says he hit that kid. What made that damage to the truck was a blunt object, like a baseball bat." He shook his head as he asked him, "Why confess if he didn't do it? I don't get it."
Bobby rubbed at his temple while he thought about it. Something had been going on with Sullivan. He didn't just decide one day to quit his job and kill himself while confessing to a crime that he didn't even commit. "Because…he was trying to hide the real reason. A hit-and-run that looked nearly impossible to solve with no motive, no witnesses…Not only would it be the perfect out, but he could also bring closure to a family who would never have one."
Logan seemed not only impressed with that explanation, but it looked like he was also accepting it, "So, Sullivan was running scared for months, already planning on offing himself, but he needed to find a way to do it justice. He found that when he pulled this case. I've got to admit, it makes sense and it fits his behavior."
"Yeah, it does. Now all we have to do is find the real reason he did this."
Logan leaned forward on his desk as he asked him, "Why? Why not just let this one be?"
That nearly shocked him; Bobby couldn't believe that Logan, his partner, just asked him that question. "Because a killer is still out there. Terrence Hughes' mother deserves the truth, not this," he held up the suicide note that Sullivan had written. "Not a lie that a desperate man used to justify his own death."
"Okay," Logan said after a soft sigh. "I get it. What'd we do now? We're back to square one."
Bobby shook his head at him. "It's not your case, Logan, and I'm not at square one." He stood and started gathering the files together.
Logan went to say something to him when Rivers called from across the room.
"Hey, Goren, turn on the television, channel two!"
Bobby looked over at Rivers, confused, before he went over to the television in the corner of the room and turned it on. It was already programmed to channel two and there, on the screen, was him outside of Lance Sullivan's house. Turning up the volume, he shook his head at what the female reporter was saying.
"…from a source inside the 128th Precinct. Detective Sullivan, a eleven year veteran with the Staten Island Police Department, was under investigation for the hit-and-run of fourteen year old Terrence Hughes. It was confirmed in his suicide note that he was in fact responsible for the young teens death."
"Oh, shit."
Bobby glanced over his shoulder as Logan stopped behind him. "You can say that again," he said as he caught a very pissed off looking Lieutenant Williams stalking toward them. Well, she was coming right toward him.
"Goren, my office, now."
Bobby handed the remote off to Logan as he followed her to her office. This wasn't going to be good, not at all.
As soon as the door was closed, she turned to him. "A source inside this department leaked information to the press."
"It wasn't me," he quickly assured her.
"I know that, Detective. Believe me, if I thought it was you, you still wouldn't be in this building."
"And I have no idea who it was. I had no idea this was even going on."
Williams eyed him before breathing out hard and leaning back against her desk. "What did forensics say?"
Bobby closed his eyes and shook his head. Opening them, he told her, "He didn't do it. I don't know why he confessed…Only, I see it as a way out for him."
"A way out of what?"
"I'm not sure, but I'm going to find out, just as I'm going to find out who actually hit that kid."
Williams seemed surprised at that, but she didn't comment on it. "I'm going to have to do a lot of damage control on this. I need your help to clear this up as soon as possible."
"I have footage from the night Terrence was killed from the Staten Island ferry. He was in the city; I have him coming back here shortly before his time of death with a girl, possibly his girlfriend."
"You need to talk to his family."
"I was on my there when I heard the news."
She actually looked sympathetic as she told him, "Okay, and good luck. I have a feeling with this case you're going to need a lot of it."
Bobby left the office and headed by Logan, out of the squad room.
"Where are you going?"
Glancing back at Logan, Bobby told him, "To pay Mrs. Hughes a visit."
"We know you worked on both of his casino boats."
Officer Lipinski pulled out his wallet to pay for his take-out when the cashier told him it was on the house. Lewinsky politely thanked the woman before grabbing the bag that held his lunch and the large drink and headed out of the restaurant. "Yeah, I did," he told her as he pushed open the door and didn't bother to hold it for them.
"That's moonlighting, Officer, and it could get you into serious trouble," Copeland told him as they started following Lipinski to his patrol car.
"Look, working private security on my off time…It's nothing new. A lot of cops, especially here, take in some extra hours somewhere working security. And before you say it, my boss already knows. This isn't the city, guys. It's a whole different world here, everyone has their hands in someone else's pie, always."
"And just how far are you willing to go to keep your hand in that pie of yours," Alex asked, taking what the officer told her as a huge help even though he didn't know it.
"Not murder," he told her as he opened up the door. "But that's just me. Listen, guys, the Connelly's were mixed up with all kinds of people, and Mr. Connelly owned two casino boats on an island housing most of the mob. If you want someone to blame for their deaths, look there, and stop hounding the cops who're just doing their jobs." Getting into his car, Lipinski quickly pulled out of his parking space before taking off down the road.
"Everyone has their hands in someone else's pie, how eloquently put. I think he may be right."
Copeland nodded in agreement. "He's trying to steer us away from them with pointing us toward the mob."
"And I doubt the mob did it. In the city, yes, but not here. If they wanted Connelly, they would have tried buying him out first, and they would have went after him solely, made him the target. Not his wife."
"Not only that, but the mob would have disposed of the bodies, not leave them like that. And they most definitely wouldn't have tried to stage the crime scene."
Alex shook her head as they headed for the SUV.
"I can't believe we're actually looking at cops for this." Copeland looked over at her and smiled. "My first case with Major Case. I never saw this one coming, not by a long shot."
"Yeah, well, I've been here before; it's not fun. One of the officers we suspected of murder and robbery a few years ago killed himself in our squad room."
"Why?"
"Oh, it was the whole 'death before dishonor' thing that the group adopted for themselves." Getting into the SUV, she took the file and flipped it open. "Next on our list is Officer Brian Gabriele. Patrol 1-2-8 Charlie Romeo."
"It sounds like you know Officer Gabriele."
Alex handed the file to him as she pulled out onto the street. "I do. He was the responding officer to the Connelly's house on the night they died."
Mrs. Hughes wasn't the one to answer the door for him, instead, the door cracked open barely and a little girl who was no more than three feet tall stared up wide at him. Bobby smiled down at Heaven, Terrence's little sister, as he unclipped his shield. Holding it down for her to see, he greeted her, "Hello, I'm Detective Goren. Is your mom home?"
Heaven eyed the badge and then looked up at him still unsure of what to do.
Sensing her unease, he knelt down to be eye level with the girl. "I talked to your mom yesterday. She said your name's Heaven. Mine's Bobby."
Heaven leaned a little on the door as she finally smiled at him. "Momma tol' me you were nice."
"Is she here?"
Heaven nodded but still didn't let him in. "She's inna shower. She been cryin'."
Bobby winced in guilt as he closed his eyes. "Did, um…Was she watching anything when she was crying? Was the TV on?"
She nodded her head as her hands gripped the door a little tighter. "It was onna news. I saw my brother on it."
Giving the little girl a smile, he nodded a little as he pushed down the pain in his chest. To see and hear that on the news, whether it was the truth or not, it had to be painful for Mrs. Hughes; he looked at Heaven again as he asked, "I want to make sure your mommy is okay. Can I do that? Can I come in?"
Nodding, she moved back away from the door and let him in. "I can, um, I can go get 'er for you," she told him excitedly.
"Thank you, Heaven. I appreciate that," he told the little girl before she smiled wide at him and then ran off down the hallway.
Bobby shut the door behind him as he looked around the living room. The television was now off and there didn't seem to be any signs of distress in the house. No bottles of alcohol or ashtrays overflowing with cigarettes. People grieved in many different ways. He had yet to see what Mrs. Hughes did to try and ease all her pain. Or, maybe he did as he saw Heaven storm back into the room.
"She says for, um, for you to wait 'ere. She's getting ready."
Walking further into the house, Bobby glanced into the entrance to the kitchen. "I thought I smelt cookies. Were you baking?"
Heaven smiled wide up and him before grabbing his hand. "I was 'elpin' momma. Woul', um, woul' you like one?"
Laughing at the enthusiasm of the little girl, Bobby nodded, "Yeah, thanks. I would love one. How 'bout some milk to go with those cookies."
"The cups 're over the sink," she told him as she climbed onto a stool at the kitchen island. She picked up the spatula and took a couple of baked cookies off the tray and placed them on the plates that were already on the table. "Yum, chocolate chip!"
Bobby poured them both a glass and sat on a stool across from the girl. "Do you and your mom bake a lot?"
She nodded as she handed him a plate with two cookies on it. "Alla time. Now that it winner, we bake a lotta cookies."
"That's winter, baby, not winner," Mrs. Hughes corrected her daughter as she came into the kitchen.
Bobby immediately stood. "Mrs. Hughes…"
"You can sit, Detective," she told him as she took the spatula away from Heaven. "Why don't you go play in your room while I talk to the detective, sweetie."
"But my cookies," Heaven whined.
"You can take your cookies with you, but not the milk."
Heaven smiled at her mother as she grabbed the plate and headed off out of the kitchen. "Thank you, 'tective Bobby for elpin' me."
Once Heaven was out of the room, Bobby said, "I hope you don't mind me being here."
"No, it's fine. I was expecting you sometime today."
"She's adorable; you must be proud."
Mrs. Hughes shined at the compliment about her daughter. "I am. It was nice of you, having cookies with her. She misses her brother deeply. He used to do that, eat cookies with her."
Bobby watched as she started to clean the kitchen while they talked. He took a bit out of the cookie and nearly hummed in pleasure. "These are amazing, Mrs. Hughes."
Mrs. Hughes smiled at him as she wiped the counter clean of flour that had missed the bowl. "They're my special recipe." After a moment, she said, "So, I know you're here to tell me about that detective. The one that committed suicide."
Bobby finished off the milk before he stood and went to put it in the sink. Crossing his arms, he nodded as he looked at Mrs. Hughes. "I am, but….It's not what you think. Mrs. Hughes, the evidence, it says that Detective Sullivan…He, uh…he wasn't the one that hit your son."
Mrs. Hughes took that in as she began to shake. Unlike yesterday, she didn't breakdown. Instead, she said simply, "Oh. I thought, the news said he confessed."
Bobby nodded as he walked toward her and directed her to the table so they both could sit down. He sat next to her at the round table instead of across from her like he had yesterday. "I know what the news said, and I know what Sullivan's suicide note said, but…Mrs. Hughes, I looked at the evidence myself. There was nothing linking him to your son's death. He staged it. He used a baseball bat to beat in the hood of his car, and to damage the front grill, but…there was an, uh, an imprint left on your son's body from the license plate on the front of the truck that hit him. It didn't match the personalized plate that was on Sullivan's truck."
"Why then? Why confess?"
Bobby took a moment to get it straight in his head as he eyed the floor. "I don't know. All I can think of is that…Detective Sullivan had been in a bad place for a long time. This seemed like an out for him. This type of crime, a hit-and-run, they're hard to solve a lot of the time. He figured…I think he was thinking about giving you closure, even if it was the wrong kind."
Mrs. Hughes sat in silence for a long time as she thought about that. Sighing in disbelief, she shook her head, "And I thought he didn't care." Looking at him, she asked, "You're not just trying to get him off are you?"
Bobby looked up at the woman and shook his head. "Believe me, I'm not trying to protect him. If he was guilty, I would be here telling you exactly that. He's not."
"Then, that means the person who did it is still out there."
Bobby nodded as he saw the tears once again slip down her face. Taking the handkerchief out of his breast pocket, he handed it to her. "I'm sorry. I know how much you want answers…I apologize for not giving you any."
Mrs. Hughes reached out and gripped his hand. "I may hate it, and I'm not going to lie to you, it hurts. But I'm glad you're not giving me the wrong ones, Detective. I was starting to think that I can get over this now that I know. Now that I can put a face to the faceless man who took my son away. When I thought it was that detective, I was crushed and angry. He stood right here in my house and saw me go to pieces and didn't even have the guts to tell me the truth. Now, now I don't know what to think. He used my boy's death as an excuse to his own death. The things men do…"
She didn't finish but Bobby had to agree. It was the things men did some times that left them all wondering why.
"My husband used to say that some sins should be left unsaid, unnoticed, and un-forgiven."
Bobby lifted his deeply troubled eyes and caught the determined eyes of the grieving mother.
"I don't want the sins of the person who took my son away to end up like that. I want to know. I want them to know that I know. Can you understand that?"
Bobby swallowed hard as he nodded. "I'll get the person responsible. I promise you that." And that brought him to his next question. He was about to give her more questions and still no answers. "Mrs. Hughes," he said as he put his binder up on the table and opened it. Pulling out the photo of the screen cap from the security footage, he handed her the photo. "This was taken on the night Terrence was killed. He had been in the city, with a girl."
Mrs. Hughes eyed the photo as more tears welled in her eyes. "He lied to me?"
Bobby cleared his throat as he told her, "I don't think he wanted to, but sometimes it's hard to tell parents everything. I know I didn't tell my mother about every girl I was with."
"But we had a rule, no secrets. He told me about all the other girls."
"She different," Bobby told her gently. "I have a feeling that she was very special to him." He watched as she ran her fingertips over the photograph as he talked. "Have you seen her before?"
Mrs. Hughes shook her head. "Never. She looks beautiful."
Bobby smiled at her as he asked, "Do you know of any reason why your son wouldn't tell you about her?"
She shook her head but didn't say anything. She was still captivated by the last photo she would ever have of her son.
He knew the answer to the next question before he asked it; however, it had to be asked. "Could it be because she's white?"
Mrs. Hughes lifted her eyes to his as she told him, "I never gave my son a reason to ever think that. There are no prejudices in this house. I told him as long as he was happy, and she was good for him, I'll be happy for him."
"Momma, I wan' more cookies!" Heaven announced as she skipped into the kitchen.
Bobby sat up straight in the chair as he looked over at the little girl. Turning back to Mrs. Hughes, he thanked her before he took the photograph from her shaking hands. "If you want a copy, I can get one for you, but only after the investigation is over."
"I'll like that," she told him as she also stood.
Bobby smiled at her as he backed away to leave. "I'll talk to you later, Mrs. Hughes."
"Thank you, Detective."
"It's Bobby…You can call me, Bobby."
Mrs. Hughes smiled at him as she nodded her gratitude. "Thank you, Bobby."
"Goodbye, Bobby! Want a cookie to go?" Heaven asked as she took one off the table and handed it to him.
Bobby smiled as he took it. "Thanks. Take care, Heaven…Mrs. Hughes," he told her before he once again showed himself out of the house.
Stepping out into the cold afternoon air, he buttoned up his coat as he made his way to his car. He didn't know why but visiting that woman had unsettled him. She was a strong woman, and such a caring mother that it nearly tore his heart out having to tell her that the man that the news said killed her son wasn't the guy. That they were wrong. She had begun the healing process for nothing.
Then her kindness to him; her understanding and sympathy. He was used to families getting angry at him, hating him, and even blaming him for things that were not his fault. For Mrs. Hughes to give him none of that had confused him. People hated cops, but it seemed like she didn't hate him. She almost seemed comfortable with him, complacent and familiar. She was responding to him like a mother would to her own son.
Stopping at his car, he looked back at the house and smiled a little. She was mothering him. And he figured as he got into his car, that it was her way of easing the pain.
He was starving. The cookies at Mrs. Hughes house had been the only thing he had eaten all day. Stopping at the diner a block from the department, he had bypassed the lunch crowd by an hour and the place was nearly empty as he sat down at the counter.
"Good afternoon, Detective," the waitress greeted him as she stepped up to the counter. "Your usual?"
Bobby had only been on the island for two months and he already had his usual. "Yes, please."
Smiling at him, she wrote down his order before taking a coffee cup and placing it in front of him. Going over to the window that looked into the kitchen, she spoke to Carl the cook and handed him the order slip before going over to the coffee pot. Grabbing the regular, caffeinated coffee, she walked back over to him and poured him a cup. "Your food will be ready soon; Carl started fixing your order when he saw you walk through the door."
"Did I mention that I love the service here?"
She smiled wider at him as the door chimed, indicating that someone else had walked in.
A man slid onto the stool next to him at the counter and ordered a cup of coffee and nothing else.
Bobby looked the man over before flipping the paper he picked up over and then opened it to the sports page. He sipped on the coffee before stirring in a little cream as he got caught up on the games.
"You like sports?"
Bobby looked over at the man as he wondered why he was talking to him. "Yeah."
"You bet on any of them?"
Shaking his head, Bobby told him, "I don't gamble."
"That's not what I heard. And after seeing the security footage from the casino boat you were on the other day, I think I know differently too."
Tensing, Bobby turned back to observing the man. He looked him over as he leaned against the side of the counter. The man was tall, about his height, thin, and he wore a grey pinstriped suit and white shirt and blue tie. His brown hair was cut short, nearly military crew cut, but he didn't wear a gun. Or at least, he didn't have his gun on him. "You're not a cop."
"Very good, Detective Goren. You're right, I'm not a cop." The man pulled out his ID and showed it to him. "I'm Pat Garrison with Internal Affairs."
Bobby eyed the ID before eyeing the man. "What does IA want with me?"
"To talk."
"I'm eating."
Garrison shrugged as he finished off the coffee. "Get it to go."
The way he said that Bobby knew that he had no other option. Turning around, he gestured for the waitress to come over to him. "Can I get it to go, please. Oh, and I'll like another cup of coffee to go as well, thank you."
It wasn't long before he was being escorted into an interview/interrogation room in the Internal Affairs Bureau that was only a few blocks from the precinct. Bobby sipped on the coffee as he unwrapped his grilled Italian Panini and took a bite.
Garrison sat across from him and watched him. "Hungry?"
"Starving. I haven't eaten all day. So, what is this about anyway?"
Garrison opened the file that he brought into the room with him. "It's about you, Detective Goren, and what you've been getting yourself into since coming to Staten Island."
Bobby continued to eye the guy as he quickly ate his meal. "Well, I don't know what you're talking about because I haven't gotten myself into anything except my cases."
Garrison smiled a smug smile at him that would have twisted his gut if he wasn't trying to fill it. "You were gambling on duty."
"It was for the case. I had a hunch that the casino was getting rid of the dirty money it had, and I had to get some of it to track. Major Case should start getting results by tomorrow on it."
"They got all your winnings?"
"All three-thousand, five hundred dollars of it."
"Wow, you won big."
Bobby shook his head as he told him, "They were giving it away. I barely played and I won. And it wasn't just me."
"Right, your partner Detective Michael Logan was with you. How much did he win?"
"He won a thousand. That was part of the three thousand I gave to Major Case. It's all accounted for," Bobby once again told him as he finished his food. Balling the wrapper up, he tossed it into the trash before taking a hefty drink from the coffee. "I have receipts."
Garrison only nodded as he asked, "How's your car window? I saw it was fixed."
Bobby leaned on the table as he nodded. "Yeah, a buddy of mine gave me a deal. Why is that an issue for you? It was an accident."
"One that wasn't reported. Neither was a sobriety test."
"That's because I didn't need one. I wasn't drinking," he said a little too defensively. Bobby was starting to wonder why exactly he was there. He knew that he had done nothing wrong.
"And now the suicide of Detective Lance Sullivan. You were a witness."
Bobby sipped on the coffee before he answered. "He called me. I went to his house, and…he killed himself in front of me. It's all in the report."
"A report that your partner wrote up, is that right?"
Bobby only nodded.
Garrison smiled back at him as he picked another file up and opened it. "You were demoted and um, banished here, were you not?"
"I was," Bobby agreed as the frustration and guilt was creeping up in him. What was going on? "What's this about?"
"We're getting there, Detective. You used to be a patient man, what happened?"
Bobby stilled at that as the narrowed his eyes. "Excuse me?"
Garrison shrugged innocently. "You used to have a spotless record with only a few indiscretions here and there. A few insubordinate conduct remarks, a few marks in your jacket, but nothing like this. It seemed like once you got here, you started to slip. I received a report anonymously about the incident you had in a bar with Paul Savoie. And, once again, it was officially unreported. It seems like someone is going through a lot of trouble protecting you."
Bobby felt his blood drain as he realized where this was going. "I'm not dirty."
Garrison sat the file down and leaned back in the chair. "Then you can explain to me what is happening here."
Bobby rubbed at the back of his neck as he stared at the files in front of the IA officer. "I could if I knew what was happening here."
Garrison took out a group of photos and tossed them across the table. They were pictures of him. A few were from the security footage at the casino, a couple were from a distance taken by a camera, and then there was one of him coming out of the bar with Logan.
Staring at the pictures of himself, he felt all his control being stripped away. What was going on here? "Who took those?"
"I did."
Bobby glanced up at him and frowned. "You were following me?"
"I'm IA; it's what I do. You're not the first corrupt cop I've investigated."
"I'm not a corrupt cop," Bobby snapped as he pushed away from the table and started pacing. He was being set up, but by who and why?
"It appears that way, doesn't it? All this evidence against you. Your drinking, your demotion, your banishment here…your connection to Sullivan and to the bar that is a known hangout for the mob. It doesn't look good for you, does it, Detective?"
Bobby stopped as the looked down at the photos. Could it be Logan? Would his own partner be setting him up? No, no…He shook his head. Logan could be just as guilty in this as he was, if IA was looking at him too.
"We've been aware of a circle of cops, of corrupt cops, on the island for years. However, we have never been able to get enough evidence or catch them in the act. They're smart, and they have a lot of backing. We believe that they have connections with the mob, politicians…wealthy entrepreneurs."
Bobby shifted his eyes up to Garrison at that. The Connelly's?
"We can't get close. A highly uncover operation has presented itself to us, a way to get in deep with these guys and to everyone involved."
Bobby blinked back as it suddenly clicked in his head. "You mean me? What…what if I don't want to get in the middle of this?"
"Detective, you put yourself in the middle of this. See, Lance Sullivan was one of the cops that we suspected of being in this circle. We've been investigating him, watching him, for over eight months. He's part of this, we know he is." He stood and leaned forward on the table. "How does it look to the department, to us, and to these other dirty cops when they see that you visited Sullivan the day before and then the day of his suicide. You were there, you talked to him before he blew his brains out. He could have told you anything."
Bobby, for the first time in his life, felt himself being cornered in an interrogation room. This must have been what the people felt like when you got them; when he had them in that moment where it clicked and it came into light that they were beat. Checkmate. "I'm not dirty," he told him once again.
Garrison nodded at him. "I know you're not. But on paper I can make you looked as dirty as you need to be to be taken in by these guys. I want you for my operation."
Bobby looked back down at the table as he thought about what all of this could mean.
"I'm going to go refill my cup of coffee, and you're going to think about this. When I came back, I want an answer from you, Detective." Garrison grabbed the empty cup and left.
Bobby didn't take his eyes off the "evidence" they had against him that was spread all over the table. It seemed like everything that had happened to him was coming together for this. His suspension, demotion, his anger issues, the accident with his car…It was all connecting. They could use it all to his advantage to present the persona that he was a troubled cop, a desperate cop, and a cop who might not be solely on the right side of the law. If IAB had seen it that way, and took it seriously for them to even be investigating him, then who else was looking at him that same way?
He started to pace as he went over everything in his head.
Had Sullivan actually thought he might have been falling into that dark world? That he was venturing further and further into that dark, desperate, and corrupt life of a good cop gone bad? It was possible, he had let Sullivan pour him a glass of whiskey while he was on duty, and he had actually drunk it. Was he so close to that edge that he was even blinding himself from the truth?
He was a desperate man all right. There was a yearning in him, a desperation that if tempted correctly, and offered the right payout, he would concede. It wasn't for money, or women, or alcohol, or drugs, or anything illegal. It was for one woman, and it was for one job. He wanted to get back to Major Case, and he wanted Alex. That was what drove his anger, drove his inhibitions, and what drove him to be so blinded them.
And here was an opportunity.
Opportunities like this one didn't come around too often. Not only did he have a chance to take down an entire organization of corrupt cops and those who supported them, but he also had a chance to redeem himself. If he succeeded, maybe he could get his old job back. He could get his first grade detective shield back. He could finally be with Alex again if not personally then at least professionally.
Redemption. Bobby gripped the top of the chair and leaned against it as he stared down at the table. That word summed up for him what this assignment could do for him. It could redeem him.
"So, Detective Goren," Garrison asked as he walked back into the room with a full cup of coffee. "Have you decided yet?"
Bobby looked up at the man. "If I do it, I want to bring someone else in on it."
Garrison didn't even look surprised as he asked, "Let me guess, your partner Detective Logan?"
Bobby smiled slightly. "What better man to help me with this than one who was banished here for slugging a city councilman. Plus, he knows these cops and these streets better than I do. And, I trust him."
Garrison looked skeptical at that but he didn't voice his concern. Instead, he sat down as he told him, "All right."
Bobby sat back down in the chair and leaned forward on the table as he gained his confidence and control back. "Also, I want to know what's in it for me."
Garrison was caught off-guard by that. "I thought that taking down bad cops would be satisfying enough."
Bobby didn't beat around the bush as he flat out told Garrison, "I want my old job back with Major Case. I want my gold shield back, and I want Detective Logan to get an opportunity to get off this island. If you can promise me that you'll try, and I mean actually really sit down and go to bat for us and try, then I'll do it. If not, then you're going to have to find another pawn in this game."
Garrison didn't know what to say to that. The IA officer sat staring at him for a long time, going over what he had told him as he leaned back in the chair. Suddenly, he stood and went over to the two-way glass and tapped on it. Seconds later the door opened and in walked none other than the Chief of Detectives.
Even though the chief was now in the room, it was still Garrison who sat back down across from him and spoke, "I think I can do that. Or, at least try."
Bobby eyed the chief as he said, "You must want me on this pretty bad."
"What can I say, Goren," the chief told him, "You're the best we got at this sort of thing, and you've done it before."
"Yes, I've taken cops down before, but never like this."
"I know it'll be hard, working for IA, and it'll be harder for you after this is over and if word gets out in the department."
Being a rat was one thing, but being a rat for Internal Affairs was a completely different ball game. If he just took down dirty cops as part of an investigation, then that was justified within the eyes of other cops. The case went where it went and he had to do what he had to do. Intentionally going out to take down cops for IA, despite the fact if they were dirty or not, according to other cops was wrong. Even a lot of the good cops didn't like an IA rat.
Taking a moment to really think it over about what it could mean for him, Bobby once again didn't hesitate to give a yes. It never mattered to him; a killer was a killer, wrong was wrong, and a bad cop was a bad cop. They didn't deserve the badge they carried. If he was going to be called a rat for the rest of his life because of it, then so be it. "I'll do it."
"Good," the chief told him. "Just don't let me down."
Bobby was certain he heard the 'or else' that followed just before the door shut as the chief left the room.
Garrison gathered up the papers into his folder as he stood. "If Logan agrees, I want the both of you to meet with me Monday to go over the game plan."
"Where and what time?"
"I haven't decided yet, but it'll be early so don't be late," Garrison said with a smile like what he just said was a joke; it was apparently one that only he got.
Bobby only looked at him as Garrison gathered all the files and photos up before tucking them under his arm. Picking up the cup of coffee, he smiled at him one last time before leaving the room.
He didn't move for a long time as he leaned back in the chair and stared at the ceiling.
TBC…