Brooklyn SVU, 69th Precinct, Foster Street
Eames was leaving the office of Captain Lou Dacre a little relieved. He had taken on the chin the instructions she had relayed from the Chief that this case was to stay with her unit and that she was to work it from whichever location was most convenient. On the other hand, it might well suit him in the light of his own caseload and avoiding any family issues when he got home.
As she stepped into the bullpen she walked into a large and solid object.
"Sorry" said Goren too busy juggling a paper sack to realise who he had bumped into.
"What are you doing here Goren?" she demanded to know.
"Afternoon to you too ma'am" he teased her.
He nodded to an empty desk where his folder was sitting. "I'm supposed to be here. Look on my schedule for the week if you don't believe me"
"Hmm. Of course"
Eames was doing her best not to sound like an idiot for forgetting.
"What you got for lunch?"
"BLT and tuna on wholemeal" he sighed offering her the bag and knowing he'd not get to enjoy the tuna after all.
At least his ex-partner had the manners to swallow the first mouthful before she spoke again.
"What are your kids doing?"
Goren perched on the edge of the desk studying lettuce looked a little limp on closer inspection.
"Analysing some local crime statistics and not getting ketchup on them if they know what's good for them" he growled.
"Think they would be up to lending John and me a hand?" she asked casually "Tracking down the people who rented C15? Few background checks?"
His eyes narrowed with the suspicion of man who had been out-manoeuvred by her once too often. "It's not on our schedule Eames"
"Since when did you start letting that sort of thing bother you?"
Give Bobby his due. Kept a totally blank expression during the internal wrestle with his dilemma. To do what he supposed to do and if rumours were right, doing a very good job of it. Or run with his natural instincts. Give into temptation and give his investigative legs a stretch.
"Hi Bobby" said Munch over his shoulder.
"Got you some lunch boss".
He handed Eames one of the small sacks.
"Let me know what you decide Goren"
She was gone leaving him with a half eaten tuna sandwich in his hand and the certainty he would probably live to regret his decision.
Brooklyn SVU, Interview Room 2
Eames had never been in real doubt what Goren would do and had no doubt about letting him doing it. He might be re-assigned until late summer but he was still a substantive Major Case detective and while she had never told him so, probably the best she ever worked with. Apart from that bad patch around his mother's last illness and death and she occasionally regretted she never told him what she really thought at that time. Might have helped him a little.
She glanced up to see a familiar sight. Goren in the middle of a frustrating grind that so much "detective work" really entailed. His powers of concentration often better than her own, the tie was gone, the collar loose and his hair was distinctly rumpled on one side of his head.
"Tell me you hit pay dirt Bobby" she sighed ignoring any idea of formality in front of Richetti and Tierney.
"No" he dropped a bunch of papers on the desk containing the inventory of information about each previous user of the unit they had agreed at the start.
Goren took an unopened bottle of water from the side and took a hefty swig as Munch was summoned from the room to take a call.
"And sorry Eames but we will have to head back to the Academy soon"
"Do we have to sir?" asked Tierney.
Goren paused with the bottle halfway to his mouth again. And wondered how long it would be before Joel began to question or whine about it being bedtime or having to leave the swings.
"Up to you" he shrugged. "Or really up to Lieutenant Eames since I can't stay on"
He turned to her "Caro's at work tonight"
Eames knew their schedule needed some juggling. Hell, hers and Jack's did at times if they were ever to see each other. How much more complex it would be with a baby you didn't want to hand over almost 24/7 to day care or a sitter.
"Understood. How far back did you get with your list?"
"Almost five years" Goren stretched his back a little "Anything hopeful on the past employees?"
"Nothing" said Eames. "There is one possible from the past users we checked out. Contact address in Texas. Turns out to be an infantry Lieutenant. One currently on deployment to Iraq"
"Good luck with tracking him down"
Richetti glanced up "Ma'am I might be able..."
"Thanks" grinned Eames "But I still have the number of a friend of a friend in my desk back at base I can try"
"You got a nerve Eames" muttered Goren who knew just who she was referring to and how she came by that number.
"Always"
The door opened on Munch.
"You want the bad news or the good?" he asked though he didn't wait for a reply.
"That was Antonelli. They've found a scrap of newspaper with a date four years older than any of the others"
"Great" muttered Tierney.
"Oh it gets better son. From the article they think it may be from a paper printed in New Mexico"
"Something left by a previous user of the packing crate?" Eames suggested but suspecting it was wishful thinking.
"Probably not boss. It was in the first crate. Stuck to the leg of the boy and the staining suggests it was there when his tissue was soft"
Eames allowed them all a moment of reflection. To reconnect with the grim reality it was easy to forget at times.
"And the good news?" she enquired.
"There's a print run number in one corner. Jimmy is fairly confident they can track down the circulation area by morning"
"That's something" Goren conceded "Have they been able to confirm both as male?"
Munch nodded. "They've managed to extract them intact and King's County Hospital is going to CT scan them tonight. They are calling in an expert from the Museum to give them advice on how to...to straighten them out. So some form of regular PM might be possible"
Eames stood up "Guess I'd better go call New Mexico. Just in case"
Goren watched her leave knowing there had been no response from Texas all afternoon to the very vague information they had been able to supply to date. It seemed logical to assume the boys had originated in that part of the country based on the evidence of the newspaper packing and climate. Primarily hot and dry local conditions would speed the process of desiccation compared to wet or humid. And could be the sole cause if no evidence of something like salt was found on the bodies.
Identifying the kids might be the starting point for explaining how, who and why. How two young boys ended up like skeletons covered in stiff leather for skin and abandoned in a cheap wooden sarcophaguses in a dark corner of a storage unit. With none of the gold and splendour afforded the mummies of the Egyptian pharaohs. Kings like Tutankhamen, whose funeral riches had led to lines around several blocks when they were displayed at the Met in 1970. He had lined up with Mom and an impatient Frank to see it himself. Read everything he could and a lot he didn't really understand at the time.
For the parents who must have waited years to have their worst fears confirmed, the answer to "who" and suitable meting out of justice might be some consolation. But as he returned to the room where he had been working, Goren knew the "why" of treating kids in that way was more complicated for him now. The motivations, the psychology, the pathology which had once seemed so trustworthy and true rang hollow and incomprehensible now he was a parent himself.
To be continued...