Chapter 10
He closed the briefcase inside the top drawer of the dresser. Then he opened the suitcase and rooted through the clothes until he found the plastic package of underwear. After a quick shower, Bobby put on the new underwear and the new suit. The rest of the clothes were all used from the thrift store. He spent a few minutes cutting the tags off with his switchblade. He stocked his wallet with a couple hundred dollars in cash and put it in his pocket. As he combed his hair, he looked at himself in the mirror: Cheap watch, cheap suit, cheap shoes. Anyone who knew him would be shocked.
With his switchblade in one pocket and his badge in the other, he headed out to the local police station.
"Tall, curly hair, pretty gray?" Alex asked.
The store clerk nodded. "He was just here a while ago. Big guy! I was surprised he found clothes that fit."
Alex glanced over at Mike.
"Did he say where he was headed?" Mike asked.
"No, but I saw him go that way," she said, pointing down the street.
"What did he buy, exactly?" Alex asked.
The clerk closed her eyes. "A suitcase. And a lot of clothes. I thought he lost his luggage on a flight or something. I felt sorry for him. He was limping pretty bad, too."
Alex smiled. "He has a bad knee. Thanks for your help." She and Mike headed out in the direction she indicated.
Mike called Bobby's credit card company again. After a short conversation, he hung up. "No new charges."
Alex sighed. "He's using cash. Where the hell did he get cash?"
"The briefcase."
"But then who…?" She had a sinking feeling. She'd been wrong. He wasn't running around trying to solve a mystery on his own. But who was he working with?
"C'mon, we'll push the pavement, show his picture around. We'll find him," Logan encouraged her.
The Norfolk police were very helpful. By the time he left, he'd determined that the New York plates from the Suburban were now affixed to a stolen pickup truck in the Norfolk impound. The truck's proper plate number was in his hand. He stopped in a convenience store and bought a fresh pack of cigarettes. Then he walked to the park to sit and think.
Celia Walker could barely lift her head. She had convinced them not to kill her, but it seemed they really didn't care if she died of starvation or not. With some effort, she rolled to her side on the threadbare couch. The smell of dust and decaying foam accosted her, and her stomach heaved. She puked over the side of the couch, nothing but a tablespoon of clear stomach acid. Then she dry-heaved for several minutes. For a moment, she actually wished she would die.
After a quick and cheap dinner, Bobby walked back to the hotel. He needed a car. He needed a car, and a phone, and he hadn't had the sense to ask Song for either. A sour mood was slowly consuming him, and his mind just kept adding to the list: his pain meds, his service weapon, his Goddamn shaving kit. He walked to his room and let himself in, locking the door behind him.
Moments later, there was a knock. Bobby looked through the peephole and cursed. Alex Eames was standing in the hall. He held his breath and staggered away, trying to pace off the anger as his face turned red. She knocked again, and he returned to the peephole. All he could make out was an orange prescription bottle. Like Pavlov's dog, on seeing it, his knee shot a pain through him and he opened the door. He took the bottle from her hands and glowered as she and then Logan walked inside.
Bobby was already swallowing a pill. "Lock it," he told Logan, who did. Bobby quickly filled a glass with water and swallowed it down.
"You shouldn't be here," Goren said to his partner.
"Neither should you," she countered, giving him the once-over.
"Eames, I'm into something… big… here, and you really shouldn't…"
"Remind me something, Goren. Are we partners? Or not?"
"This isn't police work."
"But it's big." She glanced at the locked door. "And dangerous."
"It doesn't concern you." While he spoke, she was slowly unloading her purse of the things she'd brought along. He saw his phone, and then his shaving kit. Bobby stepped forward and retrieved his phone, quickly checking it as if he'd gotten any calls.
"I brought some clothes for you too, but they're back at our hotel room."
The word our struck him like a punch in the gut. He quickly threw a dirty look at Logan. "Fine. Thanks. I'll get them tomorrow and you can head back home." Together, his mind added.
"I don't know what you're so mad about. Obviously, you needed a few things. It wouldn't hurt you to admit you need help now and then."
"I specifically asked you to stay out of this!" Bobby shouted.
"No, I asked if I could help and you said 'no.'" She shrugged. "I never was very good at taking 'no' for an answer."
He grumbled something about it being time to learn and then faced her with a frown. "Fine then. I'll tell you now. Go back home, and stay out of this. I don't want or need your help."
She glared at him. "Fine. If that's what you want. Answer your damn phone when I call, Goren." She stormed out of the room, leaving Logan standing awkwardly near the door.
Mike barely had time to look back in Goren's direction when a fist landed squarely on his jaw.