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chapter ten
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there's an army in the east, there's a country in confusion
and democracy is marching to the arms of evolution
so gather up your fight, gather up your reason
there is cause for every hope and a hope for every season
--Thea Gilmore, "Are You Ready?"
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"You're not the same guys from earlier." Richard Dees commented evenly, looking up as they entered the room.
Martin closed the door firmly behind him and followed Sam inside. Six hours after they went to the press, they still had no more viable leads to go on. As far as they could tell, Theresa Watkins' story about Melanie checked out, but a friend of Viv's over at the NYPD gave them a tip that Dees had been arrested for domestic violence thirteen years ago when he was engaged to another woman. The charges had been dropped, but Dees' brother-in-law, who also was a police officer, may or may not have had something to do with the charges "disappearing". So when Dees finally broke down and requested his lawyer, Jack decided that it would be a good idea to have new blood interview the suspect. Jack and Danny were waiting outside on the other side of the mirror.
Through the course of their investigation, Viv's friend gave them several tips about Richard Dees: his then-fiancee left him but soon after he met Maryann. He never again had any domestic violence charges brought against him, but the police would be called in on occasion to investigate a noise complaint. The Dees moved frequently but had been relatively sedentary over the past three years, since about the time when Maryann would have been pregnant with Rachel.
Martin had been shocked at how easily the Dees' foster parent application seemed to have gone through, but the social workers who had been involved all gave the couple rave reviews. Richard, it would seem, was quite a charmer when he wanted to be. Now though, it seemed he was starting to show signs of having been held in custody for a good ten hours and they might be able to get something out of him.
Martin slid into the seat next to Sam and folded his hands on the table, saying, "No, we're not the same agents from before. I'm Agent Fitzgerald, and this is Agent Spade."
"So," Sam started, her eyes boring into the lawyer who now sat next to Dees. "Mr. Marbury, Is your client ready to cooperate now?"
Leo Marbury, a short man with dark hair and a receding hairline who made up for his stature by being exceedingly overbearing, eyed Sam and Martin with a cool smugness. "My client has been ready to cooperate from the beginning," he said. "I'm just here to make sure he is granted all of his rights."
"Of course you are," Martin replied coolly, not wanting to give away their hand. As far as Dees and his lawyer were aware, they were unaware of Richard's past escapes from justice. "We just have a few questions we need to ask your client."
"I told those other guys," Dees interrupted, snarling. "I didn't have anything to do with that other girl! I never even saw her!"
Beside him, he could feel Sam's breath hitch; she was already ticked off. "Oh really?" Sam challenged. "Because from where we sit, you look pretty suspicious. Your daughter is currently in intensive care, your foster child is in protective custody and is showing evidence of significant psychological trauma. Her sister ran away to protect her, and we've got proof that she was heading directly for you. No one has seen or heard from Melanie since yesterday afternoon, and in our eyes, that makes you a pretty good suspect."
Of course, they had no actual evidence that Melanie was heading for the Dees' residence but Richard did not need to know that. They assumed that was Melanie's new plan after she fled from her mother's, but their trail was going cold once again.
"I didn't touch the bitch," Richard growled. His lawyer didn't say anything, but instead grabbed hold of Dees' forearm and gave him a menacing glare as if to say "shut up!".
"Okay, so you didn't touch Melanie," Martin hypothesized, his tone leading even though he didn't believe Dees in the slightest. "Then what about Rachel? Your daughter is fighting for her life; how did she end up in the hospital with bleeding in her brain and multiple broken bones?"
"I don't know," Richard shrugged, acting very casual about his daughter's critical condition. "Maybe she fell down last night, or tried to crawl out of her crib and fell back. Maryann just found her that way this morning."
He heard Sam start to breathe a little bit harder in ire. "I find that hard to believe, given that your wife is currently holding vigil at your daughter's bedside while you sit in here acting like it's no big deal." Sam's eyes bore down as she glared at Dees. "Let me tell you something, we have enough evidence against you that your brother in law isn't going to be able to save your ass this time." Sam raised her voice to challenge him while Dees narrowed his eyes, clearly irritated by a woman in a position of authority.
Dees ignored his laywer's protests and glared at both Sam and Martin. "I don't think you have anything on me, bitch," he laughed it off.
"Richard!" Marbury shouted at his client. "What my client means to say," Marbury turned to face the agents. "Is that this alleged evidence is likely circumstantial and will not prove anything, as my client is innocent."
"No," Richard interrupted, once again ignoring Marbury's objections. "What I meant to say was that this little blonde bitch can't boss me around."
Dees had kept it 'together' for most of the interview, but being challenged by Sam made something snap and he let loose. Dees stood from the table and Martin saw what was coming, but he saw it just a split second too late.
Before he could do anything about it, Dees' fist made contact with Sam's face. She flung her fists back in retaliation and Martin sprung from the chair to help her restrain their suspect. Jack and Danny were through the doors at record speed, and they had Dees in handcuffs while Marbury shuffled off into the corner, still shouting at Dees to calm down.
While Jack and Danny held Dees in restraints, Martin rushed out the door where Sam had retreated as soon as Dees was in cuffs. He couldn't find her anywhere in the hallway and knew she had escaped to the ladies' room. He knocked softly on the door and when he didn't hear anything, he swung the door open and cautiously entered.
"Sam?" he called out. "Sam, are you okay?"
He heard a door creaking as she exited one of the stalls, holding a paper towel as pressure against her upper lip. He could see the early transition from angry red to blue of a bruise starting to form on her right temple, and the paper towel on her lip was soaked with blood.
"I'm fine," she replied, her voice muffled by the paper towel as she held the pressure in place.
He raised an eyebrow. "You're fine?" he asked gently. "You're always 'fine'."
She shrugged. "I'll be fine."
"Let me see," he urged quietly, taking the paper towel from her hands before she had a chance to protest. Her lip was angry and red and still bleeding profusely, so he got her a clean paper towel and held it tight against her face to apply pressure. "You, uh..." he said, finally realizing just how close they were standing to each other. He met her eyes and his breathing hitched, but he took a step back. "I think you're going to need stitches," he said finally.
She looked back at him, her expression blank and unreadable. "Thanks, doc," she laughed in self-deprecation. "I guess I'll get it checked out, then."
He frowned. Sam never got evaluated medically without a fight, normally she never went until Jack forced her into it. "I can take you to the ER," he volunteered. "Someone should go with you."
Sam released a short, pulsed breath. "No, I'm fine," she insisted. "You should wrap this up and get home." She paused for a beat and added, so softly he wasn't even sure he heard her, "I'm just fine on my own."
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"Martin?"
The light from the bedroom switched on, and Christine ambled out into the living room.
"Martin? Are you awake?"
Martin frowned. He didn't think he was being loud, he just couldn't sleep and had come out to sit on the sofa and watch SportsCenter on mute to try to distract himself. "I'm out here," he called out, his voice cracking from lack of sleep.
"What are you doing out here?" Christine said. Her hair was pulled up in a ponytail and she wore a long nightshirt as she rubbed her eyes sleepily and sat down next to him on the sofa. She ran one hand along his thigh and looked up at him, asking, "When did you get in last night? I didn't hear you come to bed."
Martin sighed guiltily, taking the remote control and turning the television off. "I didn't get back until late," he answered softly. He took her hands in his and tried to reassure her. "It was a rough night. One of our suspects beat up one of my coworkers and she had to go to the ER for stitches, and we are no closer to finding the missing girl than we were 36 hours ago. We're running on borrowed time now."
Christine lifted their entwined hands together and kissed them gently. "I'm sorry," she answered softly.
"No, I'm sorry," he said with a sigh. "I've been distracted by the case. I haven't been here for you like I should."
"No, no," Chris insisted. She brought her hand up and cupped it against the stubble on his unshaven face. "We're together, and it's your turn right now."
Martin met her eyes and kissed her hand, giving her a soft smile. "You're too good to me."
"I know I am." She grinned broadly, waggling her eyebrows, and laughed. "And don't you ever forget it."
He joined her laughter in spite of himself, but stood up from the sofa with a glance at his watch.
"Thank you, Chris," he said, bending over to kiss her again. "I think I'm going to shower and head in to work."
"Mar-tin," Christina sighed dramatically, still laughing. "It's 5:00 in the morning! It can't wait another three hours?"
He turned around and leaned against the doorjamb, shrugging his shoulders. "I just... I need to feel like I'm doing something."
"Oh-kay," she smiled up at him from the sofa. She spun around and stood up, walking back toward the bedroom. She grabbed him by both hands and pulled him back inside, kissing him as she said, "Just remember that when all this is over... or whenever you want... I'm here."
"I know," he replied gratefully, walking into the bathroom and flipping on the shower.
About an hour later, he exited the elevator and walked out onto the mostly darkened hallways of the Federal Building. When he entered the bullpen however, he found that he was not alone.
"... No, no. Thanks for calling me. We'll be in touch."
He stood silently and watched as Sam hung up her cell phone and leaned back in her desk chair. Her long blonde hair fell back in cascades over the back of her chair as she rotated her neck, massaging it with one hand.
Deciding to announce his presence, he walked up behind her and said, "If I'd known you were already here, I would have stopped at Starbucks."
Sam's chair spun around and she looked up at him. Her face was now distinctly bruised, angry black and purple blotches across her temple and a soft suture line stemming from her lip. He hated seeing her bruised and beaten; it reminded him of how bad she looked after the Colleen McGrath case.
"Hey, Martin," she greeted. Her smile was tight and her whole body appeared tense. "You're here early."
"So are you," he countered, taking a seat at his desk and turning his computer on. It made a soft whirring noise as it came to life, the monitor light stinging his eyes in the mostly darkened bullpen. He flipped on the desk light and turned back around to find her watching him intently. "Couldn't sleep," he shrugged and motioned to her cell phone with his hands. "Do you have any new leads?"
"No. That was... that was the hospital." Her voice broke softly and her knee jerked restlessly in place as she sat. "Rachel Dees died at 3:13 this morning."
Martin closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, trying to steady himself; he had not been expecting this.
"The social worker I talked to said that she just slipped away. Her injuries were too severe and there was nothing they could do."
All Martin could do was nod slowly. "Was her mother with her?"
Sam ran a hand over her face and sighed. "Maryann stayed with her until the end, but they haven't seen her since. CPS and NYPD both need to talk to her about Richard, now that the charges have changed." Sam paused and furrowed her eyebrows, deep in thought. She spun around in her chair and pulled something up on her computer.
He walked up behind her and leaned with one hand on her desk, looking over her shoulder.
"Well we can assume that in all likelihood, Richard was abusing Maryann before he started on Rachel," her voice rose as her eyes focused on her computer screen. "Even though there aren't any charges brought against him, this probably wasn't the first time..."
Her voice trailed off and she looked up over her shoulder, meeting his eyes. Martin leaned back, shifting his weight so that he was sitting on the edge of her desk, and he watched her intently. She obviously was on to something, but he hadn't quite made the leap yet. "So what do you think?"
"Well, I bet..." she led, breathing deeply. She turned back to her computer screen and waited as the screen scanned for her search input.
Martin frowned, turning his attention back to the monitor. Before he could ask her what she was betting on, Sam held out her hand as if she were motioning for him to hold on for just a second.
"Here it is," she proclaimed when the search finished. "Paul Norman, Maryann's father. Arrested twice for public intoxication and once for domestic violence. That charge was dropped, but this was back in the 60's."
"So, then what?"
"You know that as well as I do that a lot of women who stay in abusive relationships do so because they had abusive fathers when they were children," Sam explained. She turned away from the computer and spun her chair, an expression of resigned acceptance on her face. "Maryann stayed with Richard for ten years, and she was the one who initiated their foster parenting application. There has to be more to it than that. Call it a crazy instinct, but something isn't sitting right about this."
She paused for effect and looked up to meet his gaze, and he felt an eerie chill run down his spine involuntarily. Her brown eyes shone with confidence as she declared, "She's the link that we've been missing; she's the key. Just... trust me."
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