CHAPTER 8.
"Mom!" Darren Rourke leapt up from his chair when he saw Fraser and Ray leading Karen through the squad room. Huey and Dewey had been asking him some more questions, seeing if there was anything that could help them with the case. He ran across the room with Jack close behind him.
Ray left Fraser to take Karen to one of the interview rooms and stopped Darren following them with a firm hand on his shoulder. "She's OK, kid," he said. Whether Karen Rourke really was OK was debateable of course, but he didn't want Darren to worry.
"She's hurt," Darren's face was etched with concern. "He did this, didn't he. He finally did it, this is all my fault."
"Wait, woah," said Ray, glancing at Jack in confusion. "Who d'ya think hurt your Mom?"
"Mr McArthur," sighed Darren, "I should never have mentioned the evening classes to her. I thought he was OK, but he's creepy. I told Mom not to see him again, but he's got all the moves hasn't he, flowers, fancy restaurants…" Darren shook his head in despair.
"Your Mom and Bill McArthur are datin'?" Ray queried. Darren nodded slowly. Ray and Jack both raised their eyebrows in surprise. "And ya think he's capable of hurtin' her?" continued Ray, his head spinning with the new information. Darren just shrugged.
"OK, come and sit down," said Jack, "I think we've got a few more questions for you."
"But, Mom…" Darren moved towards the corridor again, but Ray was quickly in front of him, blocking his path.
"We're gonna talk to her and Fraser's gonna fix up her arm so don't worry," Ray said, trying to sound reassuring. Truth was, right now things were starting to look really bad for Darren's mother.
Jack led Darren away and Ray grabbed the first aid kit from under Francesca's desk. "Frannie, there's a box of Fraser's bark tea in my desk drawer, can ya make a, er, a cup for Karen Rourke. I figure she needs it right now. Oh and get an APB out on Bill McArthur."
Francesca watched as Ray ran off towards the interview room. She was confused, was Karen Rourke under arrest? Was her brother's old partner the one who'd been hurting her family? Nothing made sense.
In Interview Room One Fraser set about dealing with Karen's self-inflicted injuries. Ray stood in the corner of the room, his arms folded tightly across his chest. He was going over everything in his head while Fraser worked.
The Mountie was talking gently to Karen, trying so make her feel at ease. He was desperate to begin interrogating her about the attacks, but he knew he had to gain her trust first before she'd start talking to him. "If this is sore just tell me and I'll stop," he said. The cuts were deep enough to warrant stitches, but small enough that Fraser felt he could use steri-strips instead. The last thing Karen needed right now was a long wait in the ER. Fraser needed to keep her talking anyway, he couldn't afford for her to have two or three hours to have second thoughts about allowing him to help her. They needed answers.
"It's OK, I deserve it," replied Karen.
Fraser glanced up at Ray. "Why do you say that?" he asked the woman as he carefully applied skin closures to the deepest of the cuts.
"Because all of this is my fault," she replied, her voice starting to quiver. "I could have prevented it all years ago, but I didn't and now that I've…" her voice cracked and she stopped talking.
"Now that you've what, Karen?" probed Fraser.
"I've had all these chances to get justice for my husband and I've failed," sniffed Karen.
"So you're hurting yourself because you feel that you've failed Simon, is that it?" asked Fraser.
Karen nodded. "I let him down before and now I'm letting him down all over again," she replied.
Fraser knew he had to tread carefully now. Karen had been carrying feelings of guilt for years and he had to respect her feelings. If he dismissed them he risked her losing faith in his empathy and she might close up. "I'm sorry Karen, I'm not sure I understand what you mean," he said.
"I didn't fight," she said, clenching the fist on her other arm. "I let him go to jail for something he didn't do."
"You believe that your husband is innocent of the crimes for which he is incarcerated?" asked Fraser.
"I know he is," snapped Karen, sudden determination evident in her voice. "Bill told me what happened that night."
Ray tried not to gasp. "You and McArthur have been talkin' about the night your husband was arrested?" he queried. "Darren just told me you guys are an item, is that true?"
Fraser's eyebrows raised in surprise, that was the first he'd heard about the relationship.
Karen nodded. "I love him," she declared, "and he loves me too. So he thinks I have the right to know the truth."
"And the truth is…" prompted Ray, stepping closer to her now.
"The truth is…" Karen took a deep breath and then sudden fear struck her eyes. "No!" she exclaimed, pulling away from Fraser and scraping her chair across the hard floor as she tried to back herself into the corner. "You're one of them, you're a Vecchio." She turned and looked at Fraser. "You can't trust him," she said, "they're all liars, the whole family. They ruined my life and they deserve to pay for what they did."
"Karen, Ray is my friend, you can trust him," urged Fraser. "Now, I need you to tell me what you meant about trying to get justice for Simon."
"No!" screamed Karen, "he's going to hurt me!" She pointed at Ray, her eyes wide with fear.
"No he's not," Fraser said calmly, "no one's going to hurt you, but you have to tell us what you've done."
Ray took a step backwards, trying to give the woman space. Was she about to confess to being their perp? Ray wasn't sure.
Just then Francesca came in carrying a hot cup of tea. She stopped when she saw Karen on the floor and looked to Fraser for an explanation.
"Thank you kindly Francesca," He said, taking the cup from her. "Everything is under control in here." He smiled at Karen and put the cup on the table. "If I'm not mistaken, this is bark tea. Why don't you come over here and drink this, it will make you feel better."
Karen shook her head and looked at Francesca who was hovering by the door staring at Karen.
Was this really the person responsible for putting her family through all this hurt and pain? Francesca couldn't believe that she looked capable.
Karen was eyeing Francesca with suspicion. She narrowed her eyes and squinted at the name badge pinned to the Civilian Aid's rather tight blouse. "She's another one!" she exclaimed suddenly. "There's Vecchios everywhere!"
"Karen, look at me," said Fraser, firmly, "you're safe here."
"I'll be at my desk," said Francesca, slightly shocked at Karen's reaction.
"Yeah," agreed Ray, "and, er, see if you can get a shrink over here," he added, lowering his voice. Francesca nodded and left the room.
"Bill told me what they're like," Karen's voice was very shaky, "he told me what you did," she sid, looking warily at Ray as she spoke. "His father shot those cops and then they pinned it on Simon."
"Bill McArthur told you that?" Ray queried. So maybe it was true after all, he thought. Jeez, Frannie's gonna freak . He let out a slow breath.
Fraser was stunned into silence. He simply refused to believe that Ray Vecchio, his dear friend, could have covered for a murderer, a cop killer, even if it was his father. Unless...unless McArthur had put him up to it. Ray had been a young rookie cop at the time, he would have trusted his training officer, he would have respected him as a senior officer. Maybe he had talked Ray into falsifying official records and court documents.
Fraser took a deep breath and tried to remain impartial. Stick to the facts, he reminded himself. The terrified ramblings of a clearly troubled woman were not enough to prove anything that may or may not have happened all those years ago.
"Karen," Fraser moved towards her slowly and held out his hand, "please, take a seat and drink the tea." Karen gingerly took his hand and allowed him to help her up from the floor. She sat back at the table, but kept her eyes fixed suspiciously on Ray who was deliberately staying as far away from her as possible. He clenched his fists in frustration, he was done with being calm, he was ready to start yelling at her.
Fraser, of course, was doing a much better job of staying cool. Ray wished he could do that sometimes. "Why did Mr McArthur talk to you about all of this?" asked Fraser. "Why didn't he go to the Police if he knew that there had been a miscarriage of justice?"
Karen shrugged and sipped her tea. "He feels terrible about not speaking out before."
"Bet he does," muttered Ray, rolling his eyes.
"Did he suggest that you go to the Police instead?" Fraser asked. He carefully went back to bandaging her arm, hoping that she wouldn't panic again.
"No," replied Karen, "he said it was too late, they wouldn't listen to him now. He said it was up to me to fight for justice for my husband."
"You keep talking about fighting for justice," Fraser frowned at her, "can you tell me exactly what you mean by that? Please, it's very important," he encouraged. "Did Mr McArthur tell you to…to do things? Did he tell you to hurt members of the Vecchio family?"
"They deserve it," Karen replied coldly, "they destroyed my family so I had to do it." Suddenly she collapsed into tears, sobbing uncontrollably into her hands.
Ray pulled his handcuffs from his back pocket, but Fraser put his hand up to stop him.
"Why have you been hurting yourself, Karen?" Fraser asked her, gently.
"Because I failed," sobbed Karen, "I couldn't do any of it so I do this as a reminder. I do this so that next time I'll try harder. I tried so hard, but I screwed it all up, so Bill said I'd feel better if I punished myself and he was right. He loves me so much."
"He said what?" exclaimed Ray. McArthur was a sick bastard, he thought, what exactly was he getting out of playing with Karen's head like this?
Fraser held up his hand again, trying to keep the situation calm. "Karen, look at me," urged Fraser. "Do you understand that you're in a lot of trouble at this juncture?" he asked.
Karen slowly lifted her head and looked into his eyes. She wanted to curl up into a ball and disappear. "I know, it's OK, I deserve it," she said quietly.
Fraser shook his head, sadly. Bill McArthur had known exactly how to exploit her vulnerability and feelings of guilt. What neither he, nor Ray, could understand at the moment was why. Fraser didn't believe the story about Pa Vecchio, so that was clearly a cover for something else, but Fraser couldn't quite piece it together yet.
"OK," Ray started pacing around the room. "So McArthur tells ya about this big cover up and then he tells ya to go out and kill people and ya just do what he says? These are the people I care about…my family!" Ray was shouting now and gesticulating with his arms.
"I had to…for Simon…" spluttered Karen. "Bill helped me, he let me use his gun."
"So it was you who I chased through the streets the other day," realised Fraser.
"You shot me in the head!" Ray's patience was exhausted and he stormed across the room.
"Ray," Fraser warned in a low voice. He was concerned about Karen's mental state and the effect that Ray's aggressive behaviour would have on her.
Ray didn't care about that at all. "What?" he snapped at his partner. "Are you done with this?" he asked, pointing to her bandaged arm.
"Yes, but…"
"Greatness," replied Ray. "In that case, Karen Rourke, you're under arrest." He dragged the woman to her feet and roughly pulled her arms behind her back, ignoring Fraser's protests as he snapped his handcuffs around her wrists and recited her Miranda Rights.
xXx
"You know I don't believe this theory for a moment," Fraser handed Francesca a cup of bark tea as he spoke.
Francesca hadn't eaten any of her dinner and had become increasingly withdrawn after hearing about Karen Rourke's statement. She looked up into his eyes and Fraser was struck but the sadness he saw in hers. "But I do," she said, sadly. "My Pop was a terrible man, Benton. He did this, I know he did."
"What about yer brother?" asked Ray, strumming at Fraser's guitar. "Do ya believe he would've covered for a cop killer?"
"He was always trying to please Pa," replied Francesca staring at the swirling patterns in her tea. "I don't know why, but Ray felt he needed his approval all the time. He never got it, all he got was…" Francesca's voice cracked. Dief padded over and nuzzled into her side.
Fraser silently left the room and walked out into the hall. He folded his arms and leaned against the bannister and stared longingly at the telephone on the front desk. The light was reflecting off the surface of the handset, Turnbull had polished it to within an inch of its life again of course. Fraser would have given anything at that moment to be able to use it to call Ray Vecchio and talk to him about this. If I could just hear his voice, he thought, it's not that I doubt him, but… Fraser let his thoughts hang as he heard footsteps behind him.
"Vecchio didn't do this, buddy," Ray patted Fraser's shoulder supportively.
"You don't know that," replied Fraser, unfolding his arms and turning around.
"No, but you do," Ray answered.
"I don't know anything," shrugged Fraser.
"Yeah ya do," nodded Ray, "he's your best buddy, right? You trust him with your life, sometimes ya just know stuff about people. If ya believe Ray Vecchio is clean, then he's clean."
Ray turned and headed back to Francesca, but he'd only taken a few steps when Fraser called his name and made him turn back.
"Ray," Fraser was standing with his hands clasped behind his back, as if he'd been ordered to stand at ease. "I trust you with my life too, you do realise that, don't you?" he said, earnestly. Ray's reference to Ray Vecchio as his best friend hadn't gone unnoticed by the Mountie. Even after all this time, Ray still couldn't accept that Fraser considered them both as equals, he cared for them both as if they were his family, his brothers, but no matter how many times Fraser tried to reassure his blonde partner, he knew that Ray still doubted him. He made a mental note to have yet another conversation with Ray about the subject, just as soon as this case was over.
The corners of Ray's mouth twitched into a smile. "Yeah," he replied, "got it, buddy." He knew what Fraser was trying to say, but despite Fraser's denials, Ray couldn't help, but feel that Fraser placed more importance on his friendship with the real Ray Vecchio than he did on their friendship. Who had two best friends, anyway? Vecchio and Fraser's friendship had grown naturally, against all the odds, but he and Fraser had been forced together, they'd had to pretend to be friends for the sake of preserving Vecchio's cover so that wasn't a real friendship, was it? For a fleeting moment Ray hoped that they would turn up evidence to prove that Vecchio was guilty after all, that Pa Vecchio had killed a cop, but then he realised how much that would crush Fraser, not to mention what it would do to Francesca and he quickly put that thought out of his head. He would just have to continue living in the shadow of the absent Detective. He'd never met the man, but he couldn't shake the feeling that if and when they ever did meet, he wasn't going to like the guy. Although, Vecchio probably wouldn't think much of him either, so Ray figured they were already even on that score.
"We should talk to Francesca about her father," stated Fraser, refocusing both of their minds on the matter in hand.
Ray nodded. "That ain't gonna be pretty," he noted and he was right.
It wasn't long before Francesca was sobbing into Ray's shoulder. "Hey," he said soothingly, "c'mon Frannie, you're actin' as judge and jury here. We can't take McArthur's word as, er, gospel. He's a creep, look what he did to Karen Rourke, that woman's a mess, right, buddy?
"Unfortunately it appears that Mr McArthur has his own agenda," agreed Fraser, "at this juncture I am finding it difficult to believe that a single word he's told Mrs Rourke, or us, carries any credence."
"But it all makes sense," said Francesca, wiping her eyes with Fraser's handkerchief. "My Pa was…oh god, is it wrong to still love him?" she asked, her eyes pleading for an answer. "I love him and I miss him, how stupid is that? I wasn't scared of him, he never laid a hand on me, not really."
Ray winced at that. What did 'not really' mean? A guy like that, one who had thought nothing of raising his fists to his own wife and son wouldn't have cared about doing the same to his teenage daughter. Vecchio may have taken more than his fair share of the beatings, but Frannie wouldn't have got away scot free, Ray knew that. He'd investigated too many domestic violence cases, he knew how the bastards operated and he knew exactly how they manipulated their victims into feeling guilty, as if it was somehow the wife and kids' fault that their father beat on them. Ray shuddered and resisted the urge to kick furniture. Instead he squeezed Francesca a little tighter, he wasn't going to let anyone hurt her again.
"Francesca, I'm so sorry that we're asking you to remember all of this," said Fraser, "but do you have any recollection of your father's social activities with Jacques LeFleur. They were associates, is that correct?"
"Yeah," nodded Francesca, "he and Pa were drinking buddies, they go way back. Our two families even went on a couple of vacations together. Mike and I dated for a while actually, but it didn't work out, we were better as friends." Francesca smiled at Fraser as she spoke, she was beginning to realise that it was the same between them. He had been so good to her recently, he'd done so much for her and her family and her love for him had grown deeper, but it was also growing into a different kind of love now, it was beyond romantic love, it was more than that now.
Ray caught the look and wasn't sure what it meant. He was used to Francesca flirting with his buddy and usually it amused him. It frustrated him too sometimes, he liked Francesca, but he'd realised a long time ago that she only had eyes for Fraser and he was comfortable with that, but he wished the Mountie had the guts to stand up for himself sometimes. If he wasn't interested in Frannie he should tell her, it wasn't fair to string her along. Surely he wasn't interested in her…was he?
"What about McArthur?" asked Fraser, unsure if he was reading Francesca's signals correctly. He was never sure about that though, but now wasn't the time to ponder the mystery that was Francesca Vecchio. "How much do you remember about him?"
"I remember him coming to our house a few times with Ray after work," sighed Francesca, she'd regained some control now. "Pa hated him, he used to come upstairs and hide in my room whenever McArthur was there."
"Your father hid from McArthur?" Fraser queried.
"Yep," nodded Francesca. "Pa hated cops and he hated that Ray was a cop."
Fraser and Ray exchanged a glance, they both though that was unusual behaviour for a grown man.
"Oh…" said Francesca suddenly, "I think I remember something…"
"What?" prompted Ray, impatiently.
"Late one night…no, I can't really remember…" she closed her eyes in frustration.
"Take your time," encouraged Fraser, "if you think this could be important, then any details you can recall…"
"It was him, McArthur, I was in bed and I remember hearing his voice downstairs and Pa's too, they were shouting, I guess Pa hadn't had time to hide."
"Was Ray there also?" asked Fraser.
"No," Francesca shook her head, "that was the weird thing, Ray was away for the weekend on a training course with his rookie buddies."
"What were they sayin'?" Ray pushed her for some more details.
"Ray, it was years ago, I don't remember," Francesca threw her hands in the air in frustration, "the only reason I remember it is because of what happened afterwards…" her voice cracked with emotion.
"Sorry, Frannie," replied Ray, "I know this is a long shot. So, er, what did happen afterwards?"
"McArthur left and I got out of bed to talk to Ma, the shouting had freaked me out," began Francesca. "I was halfway down the stairs when…I guess I didn't really see it, but I just saw Ma fall backwards. Then Pa was…" and Francesca was in tears again. "All I did was to run back to my room, I didn't even try to stop it. Ray would have tried, but he wasn't there and I…I couldn't..." Francesca suddenly ran out of the room.
Fraser and Ray looked sadly at each other, their hearts went out to Francesca, she was such a strong woman, but things were starting to break her down and they both hated seeing her this way. Ray made a move to get up, but Fraser stopped him. "No, I'll go," he said. Ray nodded and Fraser closed his eyes briefly and steeled himself before following her out of the room.
He found her sitting on the top step of the large staircase that led up to the Royal Suite. He climbed the stairs in silence and she shuffled over a little to allow him to sit next to her. She hated that she was crying in front of him for what felt like the hundredth time this week, she was certain that Fraser would never look at her like a woman again. He must think I'm weak and pathetic, she thought, I should be coping much better with this, I'm a Vecchio. Francesca sighed deeply, she couldn't even bring herself to look at him at this moment.
"How's your hand feeling now?" asked Fraser, breaking the silence.
Francesca shrugged. "OK, I think," she replied.
Fraser nodded his approval. "We could try replacing that dressing with a less bulky one tomorrow," he said, "which should give you some dexterity back." Then silence descended again.
Eventually Francesca couldn't take it anymore. "I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I'm sorry you had to get dragged into all of this."
Fraser hesitated for a moment and then wrapped his arm around her shoulder. "None if this is your fault," he assured her.
"But it's my family," she replied, "if Pa hadn't been such a…well, a…and if Ray hadn't had to go undercover so suddenly and if…"
"Sshhh," soothed Fraser. He handed her the white cotton handkerchief that, as always, was neatly folded in his pocket.
Francesca sniffed and tried to compose herself as he dabbed at her eyes, staining the cloth with black mascara.
"Frase, tell me what you're thinking," she half whispered, "about all of this I mean," she added, finally lifting her head and looking at him.
"Well, I think that we need to telephone Detective Huey for an update," he replied, "and then it would be prudent to visit Mr…"
"Benton!" Francesca snapped at him in frustration, "that's not what I meant and you know it." She paused and looked deep into his eyes now. "Tell me what you're really thinking about my brother, was he involved in it? Is what that woman said true?"
Fraser's blue eyes were more piercing than usual. "Francesca, your brother is a good man and I trust him with my life," he said earnestly.
"It was a long time ago, Frase," stated Francesca, "people can change and he has our father's blood in him," he lower lip started to quiver again and Fraser squeezed her shoulder a little tighter for support. "We both do. My father wasn't a good person, Pa could have killed a cop, he was capable, I'm sure of it, you never looked into his eyes, Frase, sometimes the man I saw looking back at me scared me so much…"
"Ray is not his father and neither are you," Fraser stated.
"But…but Ray shot you…and you're a cop…" as soon as she'd said it Francesca wished she hadn't. Her words hung in the air like an icy cloud.
Fraser swallowed hard. "Ray saved my life that day," he answered after a long pause. "That situation was entirely different."
Francesca nodded slowly. She would never truly understand what had happened between Fraser and Victoria Metcalf. Her thoughts quickly returned to her brother. "I miss him," she said, allowing one last tear to run down her face.
Without hesitation, Fraser took the handkerchief from her clutches and dried the tear. "So do I," he said quietly. "I promise I will get to the bottom of this," he said earnestly.
Francesca managed a small smile. "Thank you," she said.
As they walked back into the room, Ray glanced at his partner hoping for a sign of confirmation that Francesca was OK. He didn't quite get the positive look he'd hoped for, but whatever Fraser had said to her, it seemed to have lifted her spirits a little at least.
They drank more bark tea and talked for hours. It got late and the wind was starting to rattle the old windows of the Consulate, Dief had settled for the night in front of the fire and Fraser was about to suggested that they head back to the Vecchio house when he realised that Francesca was already asleep.
"Seems a shame to wake her," noted Ray.
"Indeed," agreed Fraser. They had both become more and more sickened as Francesca recounted details of her childhood. Mr Vecchio had obviously had a serious alcohol problem, but that was no excuse for what he'd put his family through. Francesca had been determined to convince them that things hadn't been as bad as they sounded. She kept talking about the 'good times', vacations in Florida, family picnics, her parents sitting proudly together in the front row of her school play. All Fraser and Ray could think about though was a terrified girl, hiding under her bed, while her father viciously attacked his own wife and son.
