A/N: Thank you again for the reviews. I'm glad to know that you all are with me on this.
Enjoy!
"So, how's life treating you?"
Alex laughed at the attempt by her new partner to get to know her. Taking the offered martini, she smiled as Copeland sat down next to her at the bar with his usual beer. "It's good. Yours?"
Copeland shrugged as he lightly told her, "Can't complain."
Alex took a sip of the drink as she looked around the mostly empty bar. It was Sunday evening and they had tomorrow off work; one of the rarity weekdays off that only came if she put in over time over the weekend. She had worked all day and into the night on Saturday and Deakins told her before she left work Sunday morning to take two days. Looking back at her partner, she asked, "Is she here?"
"Who?" he asked innocently but she knew from the teasing light in his eyes that he knew exactly who.
"The woman you seem to be falling over yourself for," at the look of surprise, Alex smiled. "Oh, don't think I didn't notice the phone calls and text messaging you've been doing, all of which you tried to hide from me. So, either you're doing something you're not supposed to be doing or…she's got her claws in you."
Copeland looked away as he took a drink but she saw the shy smile that replaced the teasing one. "She's not here. I actually came because of you."
"Checking up on me already?"
He looked back over at her and leaned slightly toward her, getting her attention. "I know we've just started getting to know one another, but…I can already tell a few things about you. One is that you're no one that I should mess with, you'll kick my ass. Two…I can see that you're not sleeping, at least not all the time. It does nothing to impair your mad skills as a cop, it just worries me that something's going on."
"I appreciate it, I do, but I'm fine, It's just with the holidays, and family, I'm doing a lot. I don't have much time to sleep," she told him, trying to get him to not worry. What she said was the truth. She was busy with family, but that wasn't what kept her up at night. It wasn't why she was having trouble sleeping.
Copeland seemed to consider that as he went back to looking at the bar and drinking his drink. If he was Bobby, he would have stared at her until he was satisfied in what he saw, or until he thought of another question or something that would help to ease her mind.
Alex was grateful that Copeland didn't pry, that he didn't try to step over her boundaries, even if it was in a misguide attempt to help her. He was a normal guy, a normal partner, and of normal mind.
"I think we need to go back to the beginning."
Alex sat her drink down as she looked over at Copeland. He had finished his beer and was paying the bartender as he glanced over at her. "What'd you mean?"
Copeland shifted on the stool as he leaned against it so he could talk to her. "With the Connelly case. I wasn't there at the start of it, I'll like to check out the house, talk to the housekeeper, the son, and the responding officers. You said it yourself that something wasn't adding up after we talked to Officer Gabriele. Maybe something was missed early on."
Alex gave that some thought. She knew it wasn't because Copeland didn't trust in her ability as a cop, or even Bobby's, but they had hit nothing but dead ends throughout this entire case. Nothing was adding up. Not the money, the tax fraud, the casinos…it was all smoke and mirrors. She had even suggested that all the evidence was fabricated, like the crime scene.
Bobby's absence was starting to be show and she was missing his leaps of logic greatly. He would have figured something out by now, she knew it. He would have remembered something, caught a meaning in something trivial or seemingly unimportant and he would have known. But Bobby wasn't there. Copeland was, and he was a good cop like her. And just like her, he wasn't a damn mind reader. If they were going to solve this, they were going to have to do it the old fashioned way. Pound the pavement, talk to everyone, ask questions, and hopefully catch a break.
"Okay, and you're right. We're getting nowhere and the best thing to do when you get to this point is to go back to the start of it."
Copeland let out a breath and nodded. "Thank you."
"Why are you thanking me?"
"I was afraid that you'll think I was under-minding you. I'm not, by the way."
Alex slid off the stool and grabbed her purse. "I know. I was just thinking how much I'm going to have to change my investigative style now that you're my partner."
"And not Goren. Yeah, I heard about his way of working; it wasn't exactly by procedure."
"No, it wasn't. He got a doctor on the murder of his wife when we didn't even have a single solitary piece of proof to say that the guy was actually the one to do it, or if his wife was even dead. He knew by instinct and intuition, and by profiling him. Some times that was all we needed. Now, I have to realize that I will no longer be woken up at two in morning by Goren telling me he figured a case out because of some painting he saw or mints he found at the crime scene."
As they left the bar, Copeland looked down at her as he held the door open for her. "Mints?"
Alex smiled as she walked by him. "It's a long story. See you Tuesday."
"Have a good day off, Eames."
"You too, Harry."
Copeland stopped walking and looked back at her with a smile before continuing on to his car.
Alex walked the few feet from the door to her car and got in. Starting the engine, she turned the heat on blast and breathed out. Pulling out her cell phone, she called the number that she knew by heart and waited. After five rings it went to his voicemail.
"You've reached Robert Goren. Leave a message."
Short, simple, and completely not what she wanted to hear. Flipping her phone shut, she snapped on her seatbelt, something that she rarely saw Bobby do, before pulling out into traffic.
The coffee did little to warm him as he made his way around the convoy of police cars. He sat the cup down on the hood of a cop car as he past it before ducking under the crime scene tape. The flashing red and blue lights of the cars swirled around the dark canvasses of the alley as he headed down it. Near the middle of the alley he spotted Logan kneeling next to an exposed arm. As he got closer, he saw the rest of the body.
It was a young woman, dark hair, dark eyes, and she was barely clothed. Moving around Logan, he bent down and took in her appearance as he brought her hand up to his nose. It smelt of cologne. On her arms he saw the needle marks. She was a heroine junkie.
"I.D. was found on her," Logan was telling him as he stood to let him have complete access to the body. "Her name's Jessica Fox. The woman who called it in called her Foxy. I'm guessing from the leather vest, short skit and fuck me pumps that she's a pro."
Looking up at Logan, Bobby raised the question without even speaking it.
"What? That's what they call those type of high-heels," Logan said with a sly grin and innocent eyes.
Returning his attention back to the body, Bobby gestured to her neck. "She was strangled like all the others," he told him as he leaned down closer as he pulled out a small flashlight from his jacket. Clicking it on, he was able to see the wounds better. Stuck in one of the lacerations on the neck was a piece of fabric. It was red and looked to be made of silk. "Looks like part of the material that was used came off. It's silky, red…a tie or scarf maybe. It had to have been worn, or old to have threaded out."
"Anything else?"
"Yeah, there's a lot more bruising and cuts on her than the previous victims. She either did something to provoke him or…she did nothing and he's getting more violent. If that's the case then he's progressing and he's not going to stop anytime soon."
"Not until we get him," Logan said as he walked over to one of the officers that was approaching. "Have you found her?"
"No," the officer answered. "Whoever she was, she's gone."
Bobby stood and asked Logan after the officer walked away. "The female caller?"
Logan nodded as they started for their cars. "She called us then bolted. Probably afraid if she stuck around that she would be killed next."
Bobby looked around the street once they existed the alleyway. There wasn't a lot of places that she could have gone. The neighborhood wasn't notorious for the nightlife, and it defiantly wasn't a place notorious for working girls hanging out on the corners. The woman that found the victim either lived on that street, or she was with the guy when he dumped the body. "Let's check out the victim's home. Where does she live?"
Logan looked at his notepad; reading the address, he told him, "She's from Brooklyn."
"Brooklyn? Then why did he dump her here?"
"Beats me. Wanna wait until tomorrow or do it now?"
Bobby rubbed at his jaw as he walked by the cop car and picked up his cup of coffee. "Now. I'm already up, and I doubt I'll be getting any sleep anytime soon."
They drove back to the department where he dropped off his car before quickly getting into the department issue Crown Vic that Logan was driving. During the drive, he focused on the case and what he had found at the crime scene, which wasn't much. A fabric, a smell of cologne on the woman's hands, and the possibility of escalation by the killer. Other than that, they still had nothing but a new victim. Another woman had to die for them to even get that much. It made his stomach twist and chest ache.
He knew that the killer wasn't a mastermind or an evil genius, hardly anyone was. They were just people who thought they were, but this guy was smart. The killer knew how to dispose of a body; he knew how to not leave a lot of evidence, and he was murdering women that most of society and even the cops didn't care about. These cases had gone unsolved for over a year because of that one simple fact, that these women were prostitutes, druggies, and no one seemed to care if they turned up missing or not.
Bobby cared and it sickened him that he and Logan were the only ones. It wasn't long before they were searching around a rundown neighborhood in the middle of Brooklyn trying to find the woman's address. "I think that's it."
Logan slowed the car and stared up at the building. "It's a condemned building that used to be a butcher shop. No one lives here."
"Above it, looks like apartments, and the address fits." Bobby got out once the car was parked and looked for a door that would lead up to the floors above the abandoned store below it. "The only door I see is the off the store, but it's barred and chained."
Logan shook his head as he went down to the corner. "Maybe there's one off the alley."
Following, Bobby buttoned up his coat as the temperature began to drop. It was getting colder by the minute and a light snow had begun to fall. As Logan looked for an unlocked door, he looked up at the fire escape.
"Aw, hell, this is crazy," Logan announced as he tried to pull open a locked door. "I think it's the wrong address, Goren."
"I'm guessing that you never worked Narcotics," Bobby said as he eyed the ladder and without thinking too much about it going horribly wrong, he took off his overcoat. "Whoever lives here doesn't want cops being able to bust in on them. I'm going up." He tossed his coat to Logan before he jumped up and barely caught the first rung of the ladder and started pulling himself up the fire escape. The ladder wasn't fully secured to the landing and it swung as he pulled himself up the rungs.
Logan shined the flashlight up at him as he told him, "You're nuts, you know that right?"
Finally getting his foot on the ladder, he looked down at Logan as it swung back, nearly making him lose his grip on the cold steel bar his was gripping. "Tell you what, if I can get in from the roof I'll come down and open a door for you," Bobby grunted out as he pulled himself up onto the first landing. After the initial climb up the ladder, the steps up to the top floor would be easy. Then he would have to scale another ladder up to the roof.
He started up the fire escape and after six flights he was out of steps. Looking up toward the roof, he saw the ladder attached to the side of the brick building and sighed deeply. It looked loose and some of the rungs were missing.
"You okay, Goren." Logan asked from the ground as he pointed the light up to him. "It looks like you're-"
Bobby grabbed the bottom rung and pulled himself up as he used his feet against the wall for support. His shoes scrapped down over the brick wall as he pulled himself up from one rung to the other until he was able to step on the bottom rung. Breathing out hard, he leaned against the ladder as he closed his eyes. He sure as hell wasn't as young as he used to be, this was starting to hurt.
"You're like a fucking mountain goat."
Glaring down at Logan, Bobby knew that he couldn't see his look so he told him, "I've been rocking climbing with Eames."
"Really?"
"Yeah, I held the rope while she climbed," Bobby grunted out as he started up the ladder as his knee started to protest against the movement. He heard Logan's laughter even though he was almost seven stories off the ground. "It looked easy."
"And actually doing it?"
Bobby didn't answer as he made it to the top of the roof and climbed over the ledge. "Piece of cake," he yelled down to him before he sat down on the roof and caught his breath as he rubbed at his knee and willing the pain away.
He didn't waste a lot of time trying to rub the pain out of his leg before he got up and searched around the roof from the door to the stairwell. The door was thankfully unlocked and as soon as he opened it, the smell assaulted his nose and it stung. "Oh, God…" he breathed out as he covered his mouth and nose.
It didn't take any wondering what that smell was; he had been suspicious of the whole building as soon as they pulled up to it. And the fact that it was over an condemned butcher shop added to the intensity of the repugnant smell that nearly made him lose his stomach.
Descending the stairs, he kept to the side, near the wall, the entire way down to the bottom floor. His sleeve stayed pressed to his nose as he used his flashlight to see where he was going. There were no lights in the stairwell and on the steps he saw everything from dried urine and used condoms to weeks, maybe even months, old food. Used needles were lying like booby traps all the way down the middle of the steps and groups of broken glass were glued to the railing. As he neared the bottom floor, he saw what looked like to be grease spread out over the middle of the steps and even on the railing.
If a cop happened to chase a junkie or murderer or whoever into this building and up these steps, he was sure that the steps would win the fight. He was also positive that no cop in his right mind would even attempt to scale this stairwell. Bobby wasn't sure if it was a good or bad thing that people thought that he wasn't entirely in his right mind; it made it easier to do all the crazy and stupid things he had to do to get the job done.
There was a single deadbolt lock on the door and once he unlocked it, he stepped out into the alley and went right across it to the next building, next to the dumpster, and dry heaved until he was certain that he wasn't going to get sick.
"I can't believe you just did that."
Bobby glanced over his shoulder at Logan before closing his eyes and breathing in fresher air. "We need to see her apartment." Straightening, he turned back toward Logan and gestured for him to follow behind him. "Stay close to the wall and keep the door open, hopefully it'll ventilate the stench."
Going up to the fourth floor was just as nauseating. The open door down below did nothing to help the smell that stung his nose and made his throat constrict. Logan was following and hadn't yet to say anything except for the occasional curse word and groan that reflected his disgust.
Bobby came to the room marked 4D by the clever use of a bra tag and looked back at Logan as he drew his gun. He was sure he wouldn't need it, except to maybe shoot the rats, before he reached toward the door handle. Thinking better of it, he stopped his hand and used the butt of his gun to knock on the door. After receiving no answer, he backed up a few feet before using his leg left to kick in the door. It splintered in two as it swung off the hinges and landed on the floor.
"What's that leg made of? Steel."
"It was an old door, rusty hinges…things break," Bobby explained as he walked in and holstered his gun. There was no one home. The apartment was a studio and there was no separate rooms. Everything was out in the open except for the bathroom that was closed off by the use of sheets and plywood.
"How can people live like this?"
Bobby shook his head as he looked around. "Desperation."
"That was rhetorical, Goren."
"The answer still applies. This," he gestured around at the rundown room that was littered with debris and smelt like the rest of the building, "it's what desperate people do. They want a place to live, a home, and they'll do what they've got to do to get it, especially in the winter time." Bobby looked over the bed that was messed up and noticed that parts of it was soiled. Some were from a clear liquid, possibly bodily fluids, but some smaller drops looked darker, redder. "I've got dried blood."
"I'll call CSU."
As Logan made the phone call, Bobby moved away from the bed and looked around the dresser that was against the wall by the plastic, makeshift closet. Sitting on top of the dresser and leaning against the wall was a huge mirror and scattered on the dresser was all kinds of things. Makeup, coins, bags of heroine and unused needles, magazines, books, newspapers…The classifieds were exposed and a few jobs were circled along with some ads in 'looking for' section.
"She could have seen one of these guys," he told Logan as he held up the paper before reading one of them. "Forty year old single white male looking for a 18 to 25 year old woman who enjoys walks in Central Park, movies, dinner, and dancing."
"Creepy."
Bobby went to toss the paper down when he spotted the card on the dresser that had been under the paper. Picking it up, he read it. "Anything your heart desires."
"Anything," Logan asked as he walked up next to him. "What I desire is to find the sick fuck killing these women."
"It doesn't have the name of the business on it, but I'm sure I can guess what kind of desire it's talking about. There's no name but I got a phone number. 212-555-3825."
"Excellent. Let's say we get out of here and wait for the CSU techs downstairs? I think the smell is starting to get permanently attached to my clothes. I might have to burn them."
"You know, she didn't smell of anything, except…There was the smell of a man's cologne on her hands."
Logan looked back at him and pointed to the shower and the array of candles and body sprays she had around the room. "I wonder why. And all she has is leather. Smell doesn't attach itself to leather. We can follow up on the card later. I'm tired and all I want to do is go home and shower for about three hours."
Bobby pocketed the card as he followed Logan out of the room, down the stairs, and then out of the building.
She had called him and he hadn't even known it. Bobby thought of calling her back but he didn't want to talk on the phone. He wanted to see her, look at her, smell her. The lights were on and he saw a small little Christmas tree sitting in the window. Alex always decorated her house for her nieces and nephew during the holidays and it made him feel good whenever he went over to her place.
His mother had stopped celebrating the holidays when he was ten years old. He barely remembered the last Christmas they had together as a family. It was blurred by frantic voices and noises, by the emptiness of the house and the silence that followed the yelling. His father had left and didn't return until after the new year and his mother, she was missing for hours at a time, returning at odd times in the middle of the night and coming into his room asking him strange questions that he couldn't have possibly been able to answer.
It could have been many memories from that winter that swirled around the confusion of what actually happened that day. His memories were known to do that, get jumbled and mixed together because of all the times he had hid or left himself. It wasn't him actually leaving the house, but of going to the one place he always felt safe and sought solitude and security. He would go into his head, disconnect from everything and one around him until the pain disappeared. Until the yelling stopped.
He hadn't celebrated the holiday since, except for getting his mother a gift and spending time with her. That was if he didn't have to work. Standing on the stoop outside her apartment, Bobby saw her through the window. She was wrapping presents on the floor. A bottle of wine and glass were on the table along with a few books and an open photo album. The fireplace was burning with the lights down low. Alex was laughing and that was when he noticed she was talking on the phone.
Ducking his head away from the window, he didn't know if he should intrude or not. He wondered if she was up to listening to him or not. She had said that she missed him, her friend. He missed her too but he didn't know if he could go back to just being her friend after knowing what loving her was like. Not after having her in his life and in his bed.
The war in his heart and mind was driving him crazy. He knew what he wanted, he just didn't want what he wanted. Or at least he was deeply scared in getting it. In losing it. He had her once and lost her to his rage. If he lost her again, it would be his undoing. He didn't know if he could risk it.
Suddenly, the door opened and Alex breathed out a sigh as she spoke into the phone, "I'll call you later, Bobby's stalking me."
Bobby frowned in concern but then he saw the twinkle in her eyes as she hung up the phone. She was teasing him. "I'm not stalking you."
"Could've been. You've been standing out here long enough." Alex moved aside to let him in. "Why didn't you knock?"
Bobby moved just inside the door before she closed it. Shaking his head, he looked her over and was satisfied at what he saw. She was looking slightly better, not as heartbreaking as the other night he had showed up on her doorstep in the middle of the night. She still looked tired but it wasn't as bad as before. "I didn't know if…If, I, uh, if I was going to be intruding. You were on the phone."
"Yes, but I have two hands and I can multitask," she teased again as she went into the living room and picked up the wineglass and took a sip. "Want one?"
"Sure, thanks," he told her as he kicked off his shoes by the door and hung up his overcoat.
The happy chirping of Polly drew his eyes and he smiled at the bird that was flapping it's wings and singing to him. That bird always did like his presence.
"Polly missed you," she told him as she came back into the room with an empty glass for him. Pouring some of the red wine into the glass, she handed it to him before sitting back down on the floor and proceeded to finish her gift wrapping.
"Who's that for?"
Alex smiled wide as she told him, "Nathan. It's a tickle me Elmo."
Bobby stared at her as he glanced at the wineglass and wondered how many she had. "A what?"
Alex laughed at him as she took a piece of tap that was stuck to the side of the coffee table and tapped the sides of the wrapping paper down. "Sesame Street."
Bobby took a sip of the wine as he leaned back and stretched his legs out. He closed his eyes as he breathed in the scent in the air. Alex's house always made him feel warm, comfortable. He could smell the plants, the candles that smelled of Lavender and Jasmine. Under the homely smells of the house, he could smell her scent. The body cream she liked smelled honey and that was what she smelled of. However, the perfume her also smelt on her wasn't the usual kind and that got his mind wondering. "I see that you're doing better."
Alex looked up at him as she sat the gift aside and grabbed another one. It was a jewelry case for a watch. "Thanks for noticing, but I'm not completely there yet."
"Are you still seeing Dr. Olivet?"
"Yes, every Monday mornings for the next month," she told him before going back to wrapping the present.
"Who's that one for?"
Alex smiled over at him as she told him, "None of your business."
Bobby grinned slightly as he sat up and got a better look at the box. "Looks expensive."
Alex finished wrapping it and set it aside with the others. "It was."
"So, who's it for again?"
Alex shook her head at him and got up, taking the gifts with her. "I already told you."
"It wasn't the answer I wanted."
She disappeared down the hall and he knew that she was going to her bedroom. Bobby felt the curiosity continue to grow in him as he thought about what she said and what it meant. Had she gotten him a gift?
Alex came back into the room and saw his look. Rolling her eyes, she finally told him, "Yes, it's for you. Happy, you ruined the surprise."
Bobby looked up at her as he asked simply, "Why?"
The look of confusion was on her face as she answered, "Why? Because I wanted to get you something."
"Yeah, but…it's not even close to being Christmas yet and you've already gotten me something. That means that you've had something in mind for awhile. We've been separated for two months, yet, you still got it for me."
"Right, I did. You're still my friend, Bobby. And I still want to treat you like one." Alex suddenly eyed him as she asked, "Have you gotten me anything?"
Bobby slightly shook his head. "I haven't gotten anybody anything. I…I didn't know if you would be…receptive of anything coming from me."
Alex didn't look surprised at that answer, but she also looked a little angry. "I don't hate you. I told you I didn't, I also told you that I still love you. Why would I not appreciate something as considerate as a gift from you?"
Bobby hated when she did that; she was making him feel guilty. Pushing the guilt away, he felt the anger that always lingered behind the guilt as he told her, "I guess I should have realized that, but your actions always speak louder than your words, Eames. You may say you still love me, but you had refused to answer all of my calls."
"You're not turning this into an argument about what I did," Alex interrupted him as she started to get angry herself.
"I wasn't trying to argue, I was only stating why I didn't feel justified in-in…not getting you a damn present yet. I didn't think I had the right to."
"Why would I need to tell you that it's okay? You should know it's okay. You should know how I feel about you even if we're yelling at each other, like we're doing know."
Bobby groaned in annoyance before he got up, but not before slamming the glass down on the table. "How am I supposed to know how you feel!"
Alex's own annoyance was showing as she covered her face before shaking her head at him. Staring over at him as she crossed her arms, indicating to him how pissed off she was at him, she told him, "By connecting with me, emotionally. You can't keep trying to intellectualize everything, especially in a relationship. If you would just try to believe me when I tell you I love you then you'll know that my love doesn't change or go away just because we're not seeing eye to eye on things or because we're having a fight, or we're separated."
Bobby rubbed at his head as he stared at the floor. It hit him all over again like a tidal wave. Her love for him was something he never had from anyone before; it was nearly unconditional, and he didn't know how to respond to that. "I…Alex, I don't know…How am I supposed to, um…to deal with that?"
Alex was silent for a moment as she tried to figure out what he was talking about. "Deal with what?"
"With…with you, that's what. How…" he stopped himself before he hasty said something that he didn't want to. "Can we work this out or not, Alex?" Bobby asked instead of trying to voice what was confusing his head. He didn't know how to ask her why she loved him the way she did so why not just ask the question that has been on his mind for months now.
"That's not what you wanted to ask me, Bobby."
Looking up, he saw the pain in her eyes. She wanted him to be open and honest with her. She wanted to connect with him again, and it was hurting her that he was unwilling to do that. Bobby breathed out hard as he struggled to think with what to tell her. He couldn't stay still any longer. Moving around to the back of the couch, he rubbed at the back of neck as he paced back-and-forth behind it. It also to help distance himself from her. "If I try to be more open, can we work this out?"
Alex waited until he looked up at her and when he did, she nodded. "Of course. That's what I've been wanting to do. Our mutual anger just seems to get in the way of us talking."
"Why are you so angry anyway?"
Alex shrugged as she held more tightly to her self. "I…Bobby, I'm not sure. It's just the way I've been feeling. Part of it's has to do with you, part of its about what happened to me, my abduction…some of it's about what the brass did to you. It's hard to stop being so angry right now and you're not exactly helping."
Bobby stopped his pacing as he listened to her. She needed him to give her something now, to open up. Looking back towards the floor, he told her, "I always get my mother a gift no matter what. For Christmas, her birthday…ever since I returned from the Army. And every time I give it to her, she never opens it. She always wants to wait until Frank comes to see her first. Thing is, he never does. So I spend the whole day with her waiting. Before I leave, I ask her to open it for me. She refuses, telling me she'll do it when she's not so tired, and that she'll call me to let me know if she likes it or not." Looking up at Alex, he asked, "You, Alex…you don't have any idea what that's like. That constant trying to figure out what I can do to make things better. To make my mother appreciate what I do for her. So, when I'm with you, all I can do is think about what I'm doing wrong, how do I fix it, and what I have to do to make you appreciate what I do for you. But, I can't because I don't understand you. I don't understand why you don't have to have a reason to be nice to me. I yell at you, and you forgive me. I lose my temper with you, and you buy me an expensive gift. I say and do stupid things yet I still get your love. What…I-I don't know what to do with that. I don't know how to take it, or how to feel about it. It scares me. It scares me because I don't know what I'm supposed to do. What my purpose is with you…or, what I'm responsible for."
Alex had eased her tension and anger with him, but she had yet to cross the room toward him. She was struggling herself with what to say as she said, "Bobby…I don't even know how to answer that."
Shaking his head, he looked back to the floor. "Just…can you tell me what to do? What," looking back up at her, he asked, "what do you want me to do?"
"I can't tell you want to do. I shouldn't have to."
Bobby knew that was coming and it was exactly what he didn't want to hear. He was at a lose and she wasn't helping him with leaving it up to him. "You can't leave it to me, Alex. I fuck it up when you do that."
"I'm not your keeper, Bobby. I can't tell you how-"
"I'm not asking you to be, I'm asking you to help me," Bobby nearly yelled as he anger was creeping back up.
Alex started to get frustrated again as she started to pace herself. "Bobby, I don't have all the answers. I wish I did but I don't. Like you said, I don't know how you think, I don't know what you're feeling. I have never in my life worked as hard on a relationship as I have with you. I try to understand, I try not to judge, and I try to give you as much space as humanly possible without totally isolating us from one another, but it's never enough. When you push, you also pull. When you say you want to be with me you also try to keep as far away from me as possible. I don't even think you know what you want, so how can I tell you what to do about it? How can I tell you how to fix something when I don't even know how it's broken. And don't think I haven't tried. I tried to figure it out ever since the night we broke up and I still don't get it. I've accepted your rage, and your anger as who you are. I've forgiven that. I've forgiven the fact that you really do have no idea how to emotionally connect with me. I've also forgiven you for being a little narcissistic when it comes to everything. But, what I can't forgive is how you can have a complete disregard for anyone else's feelings but your own."
"Please, all I do is think about how you feel about me. What I did wrong and how I can make it up to you."
"Yes, you think about it after you screw things up. But it's always after you go ahead and do what you want to do. It's only after you ignore me or my feelings that you let yourself worry about it. You never worry about it before hand because if you did then maybe you might have to put your own life or feelings on hold for someone else."
"I put my own feelings on hold all the damn time, Eames. It's why I can't connect, remember."
"Oh, God," Alex groaned out in frustration as she walked over to him. "Except for when you get angry, right? That seems to be the only emotion you can express correctly and in an wide spectrum of ranges. When are you going to start being honest, Bobby? Not only with me but with yourself."
Bobby stilled at that. That completely took him by surprise. "I am honest."
"No, you're not, not completely. I didn't realize how much of denial you lived in until I left. You can't be honest with me with your feelings, and you're not at all honest with yourself about them either. That's the real reason why you're so damn confused and angry all the time. It's why you really can't tell me how you feel. You can't accept the truth about how you feel. It's why you hide."
Bobby stared down at her as she stepped closer to him; feeling the shame in the fact that she was right, he closed his eyes and in doing so he did what he normally did when he was feeling this angry, he shut himself down. He didn't want to lose it with her again and he was feeling himself slipping closer and closer to that edge. Opening his eyes, he say the change in her as well. She knew what he had done.
Nodding her head, she confirmed his suspicions. "Point proven. It's okay if we disagree, Bobby, and it's even okay that we fight once in a while, but it's not okay when the only thing you can give me is either silence or anger."
"Is that why for the past two months that's all I've been getting from you?" Bobby asked but this time there was no feelings of guilt at the pain those words had caused her.
Alex shook her head at him before turning and walking away. "When you're ready to stop hiding from me, let me know."
Bobby watched as she disappeared back down the hallway before looking around the room he was standing in. Suddenly being surrounded by her warm home was overwhelming and anything but comfortable.
There had been no call. Bobby had been up since returning home, walking his floor, and flipping his phone open and close in his hand. Garrison had told him that he would call. He hadn't. Walking into the kitchen for the umpteenth time, he looked at the clock as he started another pot of coffee; it was going on six.
Since he had been ready for work for hours, he started breakfast, which consisted of bacon and eggs, and went to retrieve the newspaper from his front stoop. Opening his door, he reached down for the paper when movement off to his left caught his attention. Looking over, he spotted the source of the movement. Garrison was sitting in a car, watching him…watching his home.
Garrison didn't even look away when they locked eyes. He only smiled over at him before starting the engine and shifting the car into drive.
Bobby watched the car until it turned the corner and was out of sight. A twisted feeling of unease settled in his stomach as he went back inside. He was not only feeling uneasy about what Garrison was up to, but now he was curious. What was he up to? He was sure he would find out soon enough.
Pushing his front door shut and locking it, he started for the kitchen. As he reentered the kitchen, he tossed the paper onto the table as he went over to the stove to flip the bacon and stir the eggs. Once the food was done, and he was filling a plate, the backdoor swung open as Elliot staggered through carrying two chairs, one in each hand.
Kicking the door close, Elliot didn't look up at him as he crossed the floor then dropped the chairs onto the floor next to the table. "Well, what'd you think?"
Bobby looked from Elliot to the chairs and shrugged. Picking up his plate and cup of coffee, he sat down in one and started eating. He reached over and opened the paper, taking out the sections he wanted to read, and left the rest for Elliot.
"I had a few chairs left over from the dining table that we used to have before I got the bigger one. Thought since we weren't using them then you could." Elliot went over to the coffee pot and filled a cup. Sitting it down on the table, he told him, "I can't keep sleeping in your room, Bobby."
At hearing that, he looked away from the paper and watched as Elliot opened the refrigerator. "Well, one of us has to and it's not going to be me," Bobby told him before going back to eating his food.
"It's weird," Elliot said, but it sounded like he was distracted.
"You changed the sheets, put your own on…What's weird about it?" Bobby asked as he saw a story in the paper about a shooting that took place in Central Park last night.
Elliot was quiet for a moment as he sat down at the table, picked up the rest of the paper, and started to thumb through the remaining sections. "So, uh, everything okay?"
Bobby glanced over at Elliot who was pretending to ignore him as he read the paper. The way he asked that, and now pretended to not care what the answer was made him know that something had provoked Elliot's concern. "Yeah; why would you ask that?"
Sitting the paper down, he told him, "You just bought a couple cases of beer yesterday, and now one of them is already gone."
Bobby glanced at the refrigerator and then back at Elliot. Going back to finishing up his breakfast, he shook his head as he told him, "It's nothing."
"It's nothing? Bobby…Take your bed back. It's your room. I'll take the couch."
Bobby shook his head as picked up his empty plate and coffee cup and took them to the sink. "I told you, I can't sleep in my bed."
Nothing was said for a moment, then Elliot announced, "Neither can I."
Bobby was starting to feel frustrated as he turned and glared at Elliot. "Then I hope you start looking through the classifieds for some place else to stay."
Elliot glared right back at him for a long moment before angrily telling him, "Fine. Stay miserable. I was only trying to help you out." He looked really pissed at him as he went back to staring the paper in his hands.
"And you did…thanks for the chairs," Bobby said, finally thanking him, as he grabbed his keys, wallet, and shield as he headed for the door; passing Elliot, he bitterly told him, "Lock up, sweetie."
"Don't drive off a bridge, dear," Elliot snapped back.
"Well, don't you look like Mister Sunshine."
Bobby glared at Logan as he sat down at his desk and leaned back in the chair. He was in a miserable mood, but it wasn't nothing new. The feeling had been a familiar one for the last two months. The argument he had with Alex last night still filled his head, causing it pain and misery. Then Elliot questioning him nearly set him off again. He was starting to think that he had made a huge mistake with letting Elliot stay with him until he figured out what he was going to do.
Logan was doing some paperwork for his own case and hadn't paid him much attention since he sat down.
"Can I ask you something?"
At that, Logan looked up at him in confusion and awe. "You're actually asking me for something? Like, advice?"
Bobby leaned on his desk as he asked, "If you had a friend that was going through a, uh…problems at home, would you let him move in with you?"
Logan took that in before asking, "How good of a friend are we talking about?"
Bobby shrugged, "I don't know, a friend. A good friend…your best friend."
"That's not exactly 'I don't know'. So, you let Stabler move in with you?"
Bobby shouldn't have been surprised that Logan knew, and that he would think that Elliot was his best friend. Was he his best friend? Shaking that away, he told him, "He's…annoying me. I'm starting to think that I made a mistake but I don't know how to tell him that."
"What's he doing that's annoying you?"
Bobby told him simply, and innocently, "He's there."
"That's it?" Logan asked, looking shocked. "He's not using your toothpaste or blasting the TV while you're trying to sleep…He's not drinking all the beer and eating all your Captain Crunch without buying you more?"
"No."
"So, let me get this straight. Your best friend is living with you until he gets his life by on track, and you can't stand him there just for the simple fact that he is there?"
"It's petty, isn't it?"
"Oh, I think you're beyond petty. Why did you offer if you didn't want him to actually accept?"
Bobby shrugged as he told him simply, "He's my best friend." After Logan only laughed at him and went back to filling out paperwork, he told him, "You know Eames was better at this than you are."
"That's because she's a woman. Us guys don't know how to give advice, unless it's about women."
Bobby rubbed at his head at that before looking around the department. He was getting antsy and frustrated and he didn't even want to be there. The spark in him was starting to fade and he didn't know if it had to do with the fact that he was exhausted and a little hung over or if it was because of the reason he was exhausted and a little hung over. It was probably both.
"Seriously, are you okay? You look a little rough around the edges there, Goren."
Nodding his head, Bobby looked back down at his desk and finally opened his binder. "I'm just tired."
He had made appointments for the friends and family of Terrence Hughes who caught the funeral on camera to come in that day. The first appointment was at ten; looking at his watch, he had two hours before Andrew Thomas was due to come in. Two hours, that gave him enough time to make some progress in the serial murder case. "I'm going down to the M.E.'s office."
"Want company?"
Bobby shrugged as he grabbed his binder as he bolted from his seat; he was hoping that the urgency in his movements would spark his enthusiasm. It hadn't. Taking the stairs down the to offices that were in the basement of the building, he felt the tension building once again in his knee. Last night he had really stressed out the injury by climbing the fire escape and now he was feeling the aftereffects. Ignoring the pain as always, he stepped off the last step and hurried down the long hallway and through the metal swinging doors into the autopsy room.
Eddie Kerr wasn't in there; instead, Brenda looked up from the female body on the slab and smiled at them. "Good morning, Detectives. I'm guessing you're here about her."
Bobby looked down at the body and nodded. Right at first glance he noticed a few new bruises that had formed on her body and face. The bruises on her face is what drew his attention. The bruises were spread over the left side of her face… "Those are, uh, fingerprints," he said while pointing to the bruising. "He used his left hand to cover her mouth." Placing his own hand over the victim's mouth, he was realized that the person who killed her had a wider hand width than he did. "He's a big guy…Wide hand width," he explained as he caught the look from Brenda.
She smiled and nodded as she went to roll the body onto its side. "Your big guy is branching out."
Bobby rounded the table so he could see her back; what he saw nearly froze him. She had been not only beaten severely on the back, but parts of her skin was missing. "This, it's, uh…not like the others."
"Maybe it's not the same guy."
Bobby only glanced up at Logan as he pulled out a pair of latex gloves before helping to turn the body completely on over. Looking down at the exposed back, he shook his head as he thought about the past victims. "No, it's him. With every victim there had been some form of escalation…some were minor changes, more bruising….others were major changes like changing how he sexually assaulted them. Now, he's combining it all. I'm guessing she was assaulted both vaginally and anally, correct?"
Brenda only nodded as she picked up a file off her desk and handed it to him. "No saliva or semen was left on her or in her, but she had evidence of recent vaginal and anal sex, both looked brutally done. There was also no evidence of lubricant associated with condoms."
"Could it have been done with an object?" Logan asked as he stayed in his position away from the body and against the wall.
"I'm not ruling anything out. Also, I sent blood out to toxicology, they should have results back by the end of the day."
"Anything in her stomach?" Bobby asked as he flipped through the file she had handed him. It contained the results of the autopsy as well as photos of the body, especially the back.
Brenda shook her head. "There wasn't a lot found, mostly acid and what smelled of alcohol. My guess is that she hadn't eaten much that day." Reaching for an arm, she pulled it up so he could look at it. "Needle tracks in her arm. Old and new, she as a frequent user."
Bobby had already seen the marks but he didn't let it show as he took them in again. "You did send out blood to test for STD's?"
"Of course. Anything else?"
Bobby looked over at Logan who shook his head. "No, that's it. Thanks Brenda."
"You're welcome, Bobby," she said in a soft, teasing voice that involuntarily caused him to glance back and smile at her for it.
Once out into the hallway, Logan stopped him with a hand on the shoulder. "What was that?"
Bobby was still looking over the photos from the autopsy as he asked, "What's what?"
"That look?"
Glancing up at Logan, Bobby frowned in confusion. He didn't know what Logan was talking about.
Logan glanced back toward the office before looking at him. "She was flirting with you, and you liked it."
"I was being kind," Bobby told him before he started for the stairs.
Logan followed but didn't back down as he told him, "No, you were enjoying it. You wouldn't leave her side and when she really turned it on, you had that look."
"And what look was that?" Bobby asked off-handedly as he started climbing the steps up to the third floor.
"That look that every man gets when he's interested in a woman flirting with them. If I hadn't been there, and we weren't working a case, I'm afraid of what you might've said or done."
"I'm with Alex, Logan, I wouldn't have done anything except what I just now did. I would've left."
"You're separated from Alex, that's a long way from being with her. And you still would've smiled and acknowledged her interest in you, which is provoking. You're leading her on."
Bobby finally snapped the file shut as he turned toward his partner. "She's a friend, and when is it a crime to have fun teasing another friend?"
"When it's not just innocent friendly teasing. And when did she exactly become a friend? Since you've been here you hadn't said more than two words to her. When did that change?"
Bobby groaned as he pulled open the door, even though it was the one to the second floor, and left the stairwell. He didn't feel like being interrogated by Logan any more and the stuffiness was getting to him, making his edgy. Heading past the Missing Persons and Violent Crimes department, he found the other staircase and headed up to the next floor where the Homicide department was.
Logan was already up there but he wasn't at their desks; Bobby spotted him in the Lieutenant's office and he wasn't looking too happy about being there. She must have called him in as soon as he got up to the floor. Someone else was in the room and as he caught the profile of the other man, Bobby suddenly grew worried. It was Garrison. Looking around the squad room, he spotted a few detectives glancing over at him and then toward the office.
Bobby rubbed at his neck a little, feeling the unease that crept up in him, as he started to pace outside the office.
Logan looked out of the window and spotted him. He shook his head a little before rolling his eyes. Then something was said to him and with Logan being Logan, he started going off on Garrison. Even though the door was closed, Bobby could hear Logan's muffled voice but not the words.
It wasn't long before the door was pulled open and Logan stormed out, heading right toward him. Bobby actually flinched at the anger that was masking Logan's features as he stalked over to the desk and sat down hard in the chair. He eyed Logan for a moment before hearing the door re-open and out walked Garrison. The IA officer looked over at them with a glare that would have made him nervous if it wasn't for the fact that he knew it was for show.
It was starting. Bobby watched as Garrison left before turning to Logan. Sitting down, he swirled his chair around, trying to get comfortable, before asking, "Should I ask?"
Logan shook his head before leaning across the desk and dropping his voice, "I think this was Garrison's way of telling me that I'm in. He was trying to say that my suspect in the club stabbing told him that I took drugs off him that didn't show up in evidence."
Bobby couldn't help but laugh a little. "He's good. Now, even if it can't be proven, the word will get around. Nice."
"Says you; I'm not comfortable with other cops thinking that I might be taking drugs off suspects."
"It's not unheard of, and they probably don't even think it's true anyway. Every drug dealer that's caught claims that either the stuff was planted or the cops stole half of it. And speaking of drug dealers, have you interrogated your suspect yet?"
"No," Logan told him. "I was actually wanting to discuss that with you. I think we should start feeling this corruption thing out."
Bobby picked up the phone to call his first interview of the day in as he smiled over at Logan. "Wanna play with the guy?"
"Oh yeah. Maybe we can turn up a snitch while we're at it. I've been thinking the case over and there's always a second guy."
"The guy he got his drugs from."
"Exactly. If we have to play bad cop, bad cop, then we're going need a third player."
Bobby couldn't help but smile; this was going to get fun.
"And stop smiling, it's creepy that you're enjoying this."
He really lost it then, and his laughter turned a few heads his way. Looking around as he swirled around in his chair, he spotted one of them being that of Jackson. The detective caught his eyes and shook his head, but he saw the smile before he turned away.
It took the rest of the morning and half of the afternoon to come to the conclusion that no one knew who the girlfriend of Terrence Hughes was and that there was only one person who got a good view of the girl that he had in the snapshot of last night Terrence was alive. She was tall, about five-eight, and she had brown hair and light eyes, possible blue, and she looked pale, almost ghostly; she was truly devastated by the death.
No one was able to tell him anything about her except that she was quiet and kept to herself during the whole funeral. They all thought she was a student from the school or a friend from the neighborhood. And no one had talked to her.
"How about this case. A body was found burned in an apparent arson a few months ago."
Bobby tossed the snapshots he had captured off Hanna Reagan's digital camera on his desk as he pulled out the chair and sat down. "Uh, I already looked at that case and there's nothing it for us to go off of. The body was burned beyond recognition and there were no hits off dental. Sullivan concluded that he was homeless and I actually agree with that assessment."
Logan tossed the file down and picked up another. Since he was about ready to close the Rockaway Club stabbing case, he was trying to find another case from Sullivan's open cases to work. "Here we go. Fifty-five year old male, Roger Gray, was found off Arthur Kill Road. M.E. found a bullet hole in his gut but no bullet."
Bobby looked up from making notes in his binder. "Sullivan didn't follow up on it?"
"Nope, he just made some indications in the file about no evidence, no suspects, so it was a no go on the case."
"How long ago was it?"
"It happened a little over a month ago. I might not be able to get anywhere with it but it sounds interesting."
Bobby nodded a he agreed. "I don't think we're really going to have much luck bringing Sullivan's solve rate up before the New Year. I actually think this is the Lieu giving us a hard time. Frustrating us with cases that go nowhere."
"I don't know. I'm about to close this one and you're making progress on yours. That's two out of eighteen. Only sixteen more to go, and three of them are linked to our present day Jack the Ripper case. We have a good chance at closing five or six of Sullivan cases plus the other eight for the serial case. That's pretty good."
Bobby put all his notes and photos and files into his binder before putting it in the top drawer of his desk. Looking over at Logan, he asked, "I think it's time to see how well your suspect sings."
Logan grinned as he tossed the file down and jumped up to follow him. "I'm guessing it's as good as a jailbird."
The holding cells only held a few people; a regular drunk that Bobby knew by name who was always getting locked up by either public intox or DUI, a known burglar who had a APB out for his arrest a few days ago, and sitting in a cell by his lonesome was the suspected murderer in Logan's case: Raymond Bradley.
"Mr. Bradley," Logan said as he motioned for the officer to come over and unlock the cell door. "It's your lucky day."
"I'm free," Raymond asked with surprise as he quickly got to his feet.
"No, but you do get a free car ride to county lockup."
Raymond's face paled as he shook his head. "I don't want to go. Can't I do my time here?"
Bobby glanced at Logan and saw in incredulous look on his face. Turning back to Raymond, he asked, "I'm guessing that this won't be your first time doing time, is that right, Ray?" When he didn't receive an answer that was when he got the answer. It was a yes.
It didn't take long to process the suspected killer out of their department. Logan went to go get the car as he stood with Raymond on the sidewalk. Bobby stared at the guy, even when it was obvious that it made the man entirely uncomfortable, he didn't take his eyes off him.
"Could you not do that?"
Bobby smirked at the fear and intimidation he was causing. "You better get used to people staring at you, Ray. You're going to prison."
"I didn't do it."
"That's not what my partner says, or thinks. If he says you did it, then you did."
Raymond didn't look at him as the car pulled up in front of them. Bobby opened the back door and pushed Ray down into the seat before slamming the door close. Getting inside the passenger side, Bobby nodded to Logan before he pulled away from the curb.
They were silent for a while, listening to their breathing and the silence that filled the car. Bobby looked over at Logan who glanced at him and gave him the nod before he took a turn that lead them away from direction that the Staten Island County Jailhouse was.
Raymond caught the turn and instantly voiced his fear. "Where are we going? County's the other way."
Bobby only looked at the guy as Logan continued to take them further out of the way. "We're going the long way, Ray." Looking stern and as intimidating as possible he told Ray, "It's not looking good for you. My partner got you on camera leaving the club."
"Along with hundreds of other people."
"You were the only one out of place. Why didn't you use the back exit? It was how you got in."
Raymond didn't answer right away as he asked instead, "Why does it matter what door I used? It was closer, okay."
"See there, that was a lie. Want to tell me the truth? Did it have something to do with who else was there?" Bobby took a shot in the dark with that question, but there wasn't too many reasons why the guy would lie about using a door.
Raymond started to blink faster as the muscle in his jaw twitched. He had been right, Ray wasn't alone.
"Who else was there? Your dealer?"
"No," Raymond said, his voice was rising as he turned his attention to Logan. "This isn't legal! You can't do this, what about my rights?"
"You rather do this at county?"
"I'm not talking to you!" Raymond yelled at him as the fear took hold.
"Your dealer was there, wasn't he, Ray. What's he going to tell us, huh? That you did it, you stabbed him!"
"Alan wasn't there!"
"Oh, so now we've got a name. Alan what?"
Raymond breathed out as he told him weakly, "Alan Cohen, but he wasn't there."
"So you killed him, panicked, and took off in the wrong direction-."
"No, no, that's not what happened."
"Yes it was, Ray. :He tried to skip out on paying that was it, wasn't it?"
"This is coercion, I'm under duress! You can't do this."
"We're police officers, there's always a level of duress. You just don't want to admit what you did."
"That's because I didn't do it! Alan did, okay!"
"Oh, so now your drug dealer was at the club and he killed the guy. See, I think you're lying Ray. I think you stabbed him when he wouldn't pay you for the drugs."
At that, Raymond's face paled as he blinked back at him. "I want a lawyer. I told you Alan did it, and that's the truth. I…I need a lawyer!"
Turning to Logan, Bobby told him sarcastically, "He needs a lawyer."
"Now? We're in a car. I don't think lawyers make roadside counsels."
"A priest might. Do you want a priest, Ray?" Bobby asked as he turned back to face him.
"Why would I want a priest?"
Bobby shrugged as told him, "He might be able to save your ass. We're a block from county lockup."
"I didn't kill him!"
"You were booked on possession, Ray. Drugs. When my partner brought you in you were higher than a kite. You're going away for something. Murder, drugs, and if you don't want to confess to any of those I think it just might be kiddy rape."
"Kiddy…" the panic flared in Raymond again at that allegation. "I didn't…I didn't rape no kid!"
"No, but if you don't give us something on this murder, I've got a rape of a five year old that someone needs to go down for."
Ray covered his face as he started to get more scared. "This is…man, this is bullshit. Okay…Okay! I killed him. He wouldn't pay, freaked out on me over the amount. We got into it and I grabbed my box cutter. It was self-defense, he came at me."
Bobby nodded as he turned back to Logan. "Ray, do me a favor, okay. A, uh, favor for a favor," he said as he turned back to the murderer. "Report me. When you get booked, tell them about this."
"Man, I'm not telling nobody about this."
"Ray, I asked you for a favor; you do this, then that means I'll owe you. Report me to IA. Even if they refuse to write an official report, tell them."
Raymond eyed him for a long moment before shaking his head. "What kind of cop wants to be reported to IA?"
Bobby didn't say anything else to the guy as Logan parked the car next to the back doors that led right into the holding cells of the building.
Logan was the one that got Raymond out of the car and took him into the building as he stayed in the car. As he waited for Logan to return, he lowered the window on the car as he pulled out a newly bought pack of cigarettes from his pocket. Lighting one, he waited until Logan returned before flicking it out into the snow.
Once Logan was in and started the car, Bobby said, "We need to find Alan Cohen."
"I think I know where we can start but it's going to have to wait until tonight."
Bobby nodded. "All right. Uh, drop me off at my car, I've got some stuff I need to follow up on with my case."
As he pulled up, he saw her outside on the small porch. She was sitting on the small porch swing, slightly swaying against the cold air that was blowing, kicking up the powdery snow that had fallen a last night. A thick quilt was wrapped around her body and as he stepped up on the porch, she pulled it tighter as she gave him a tight smile. She wasn't doing too good, and his presence there, even though he wasn't unwelcome, he was again a reminder to her that her son was gone and the person who killed him was still out there.
Bobby glanced around the yard at the telling signs that Heaven had been playing in the yard over the weekend. Snow angels littered the yard, and a small snowman was built by the steps yet it was lopsided and falling over, and only had the bottom and middle sections done. Frosty had yet to be given a head.
"She couldn't reach the top. I told her I'll help but she told me that she wanted to do it herself," Mrs. Hughes explained about the unfinished snowman as she stood. The woman was around the same age as him, if not a few years older, but she moved much slower, and had an older woman's demeanor about her that reminded him of his own mother.
He briefly wondered if she had always been that way, or if the deaths of both her husband and son had caused it. Not giving it too much thought because he knew if he did he would dwell on it, Bobby helped her across the slippery wet porch and into the house.
"So, Bobby, what brings you back here?" she asked as she sat down on the sofa.
Mrs. Hughes actually called him by his first name; it made him smile despite the despair he felt in his chest and head. He didn't know what it was about this case or this woman and her family, but he had let himself get attached. He had let himself feel way too deeply for this mother and her children. He had stopped thinking about the facts of the case as he thought more and more about the relationships, the pain, and the love that these people had and still have for one another. That was something he also refused to dwell on as he moved aside some magazines that were stacked on the sofa next to her and sat down next to her.
Resting his folded arms on his legs, he bent forward as he told her, "I'm getting close in finding out who, um, who your son was with that night. The girl, she was at his funeral."
Mrs. Hughes looked surprised but then the sadness once again took over as she asked, "She was? I don't, no…I don't remember her being there."
Bobby nodded his understanding. "She probably didn't make herself known, a lot of people there didn't remember her specifically. Your son, he had a lot of friends from school there, a lot of people cared about him. I'm not surprised that you don't remember one girl. But, she was there, and…I, uh, I think she might have signed the guest book."
"Oh," was what she said before she looked around the living room. Mrs. Hughes suddenly stood as she walked around, turning magazines and books over on the tables and then going to the bookshelf that was against the far wall. "I think it's here, somewhere. - wrote a lot of thank you notes...I must've also wrote her one if she's in it."
Bobby watched as the woman searched nearly in a daze around her living room. She was sinking. He could not only see it in her, but feel it radiating off her. Her strength was dying with each passing day that came with no answers. Almost a month had gone by since her son's death and it was finally hitting her. The hoping and then the thought of finally having closure and now, back to hoping. Hope was turning into despair. Her hope was fading with each passing hour, day, and week. It took a month for the reality to set in, for the world to crush her.
Why it didn't happen a month ago, he wasn't sure. Maybe her daughter had something to do with giving her strength, but now not even that little girl could save her. A month ago, prayers could still be answered. He wondered if she believed in those prayers now or if time without receiving any answers destroyed that belief, like it had for him.
Mrs. Hughes had gone down the hallway and she didn't come back. Getting up off the sofa, he ventured further into the house and toward the rooms he had yet to see. The first room he came to was Heaven's. It was decorated in pinks, yellows, and baby blue seemed to be the favorite color of the girl. Disney posters were scattered haphazardly around the walls and they were hung low, not more than three feet from the floor. Heaven had insisted on putting them up herself. Despite the room being that of a five year old, it was neat and clean.
The room right across the hallway was closed. Hanging on the door was a basketball jersey; the name stenciled on the back read 'Hughes'. Bobby took a breath before gripping the doorknob and turning it; as he pushed it open and stepped into the teenagers room, he let out the breath of air, feeling himself shake.
Terrence favored the color blue as well, but it was a darker shade and it was everywhere. The bedding was blue, the paint on the walls, even clothes that were thrown over the room held some sort of blue in the pattern or design. The scattering of clothes was a contrast to the other objects in the room. Books were stacks neatly into piles on the selves, CD's were arranged by group, singer, or band on the rack while the DVD's were in alphabetical order on the television stand. The Play Station and all its games were stowed neatly at the bottom of the TV stand. Except for not caring about where he hung his clothes, he took good care of his things.
"He hated doing laundry."
Bobby glanced over his shoulder at Mrs. Hughes as he smiled and gestured around the room. "I can tell."
"That was the only thing I got on him about, putting up his clothes. But, he was always moving. He would get home from school, change clothes, then go right back outside to play hoops or hang out with his friends. Whenever I told him to clean them up, he always said he was too tired, or they were clean and he'll take care of it later. I always hoped he would grow out of that phase."
Bobby pushed open the closet door and looked around at the clothes that actually were hung up and the assortment of sports equipment on the top shelf. Next to the equipment were model airplanes, rockets, and engine parts. He wondered why a boy who wanted to be an engineer of those things kept his models hidden in the closet. "He never would," he said as he looked back at her. "I was the same way…still am, I guess."
"You're a cop; everyone expects you to look like you were woken up from your desk by a ringing phone." In her arms she was clutching the guest book from Terrence's funeral. Mrs. Hughes looked down at it before pulling it away from her chest. "I found it; it was in my room…on my nightstand."
Bobby waited until she moved closer to him and offered it to him before he told her, "I'm not going to take it, I just need to find her name." Looking down at the book, he suggested, "If…I think I'm going to need help in finding it. I don't know all of his friends, family…"
She looked up at him and nodded as the tears welled in her eyes. Moving over to his bed, she sat down and slowly opened it, exposing all the names of all the people that cared enough about her son to pay their respects. With each name, she told him about that person. There were cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents, schoolmates, and tons and tons of friends. That kid knew everyone it seemed that went to his school. Overall there had been eighty-two people there that day. Not all of them could stay, and some only came to the service by not the burial. Of all the names, there was only one that Mrs. Hughes didn't know. One name she had never heard her son mention before; one name that belong to a girl that did not go to his school or lived in his neighborhood.
Elizabeth Anne Miller.
There was no address, no phone number, nothing but a name. A name was all he needed.
TBC..
