Only a moment seemed to pass between the time McCoy's head hit the pillow and the alarm clock sounded on the opposite side of the bed. Though the insistent buzz sounded only a few seconds, McCoy found himself self wide awake when his wife left his side.
As he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, he could hear Brooke rouse their unexpected guest with all the finesse of a Marine drill sergeant.
"Aunt Brooke, I can't go to school. I just spent all night in court-"
"Being charged with a crime doesn't mean your life stops," he heard Brooke firmly interject to cut off Lindsay's groggy attempt to protest. "It just means your life gets a little harder. Now get off the couch and get into the shower while I start breakfast. I put some things out for you in the bathroom last night to tide you over until we run you by your dad's place to pick up some of your stuff."
"But someone died. It's going to be in the papers. The kids at school… my teachers…their going to know-"
"Maybe you should have thought a little bit about that before you snuck into Manhattan on a school night with two grown men," Brooke shot back in tone that almost convinced her husband that her words were sincere. "Now move and don't take too long in the shower. I need to get in their after you and we still have get to Union Station before seven."
Once he heard the sound of water running in the bathroom, McCoy reached for the flannel robe at the foot of the bed. When he entered the kitchen, McCoy found his wife gazing out the kitchen window, water overflowing from the glass coffee pot she held under the tap.
"How bad does Andy hate this," she asked when he slipped his arms around her waist.
"Your brother doesn't like not having a choice; especially when it comes to his child," McCoy wistfully remarked as he thought about the text messaged premonition his wife had sent him just hours earlier. "But I did what you asked and I did it because you were right. Brooke, it was the right thing to do, for everyone's sake."
He smiled to himself as he thought of the lengthy message. Neither he nor his wife had mastered the art of text speak. Most of the message had been typed out without the use of symbols or abbreviations.
It must have taken her a half an hour to type the thing on those microscopic keys her phone has, McCoy mused as he thought of the content of the message.
After the shoplifting, no way does any judge let her go home with Andrew, the message began. Jack lock up is too dangerous for the niece of an ADA, much less the niece of the DA himself. Know it's too much to ask, but when your ADA asks for remand, I'm begging you to have Danielle ask that Lindsay stay in the jurisdiction with us. Can't watch my brother lose her, so I'm staying here and trusting you to do this for me.
The scene in the courtroom played out as predicted. Family ties to the district attorney or not, the arraignment judge was not impressed by the fact the defendant had defied a court ordered curfew just days after it was implemented. While the prosecution made no attempt to dispute Andrew Malinowski's commitment to his daughter, Alex Cabot was swift to point out the fireman's work hours made it impossible for him to supervise a rebellious minor.
The stunned look on Malinowski's ruddy face when Melnick countered with the suggestion that his daughter remain in Manhattan, made McCoy immediately question the wisdom of the plan. But, when confronted with the fact his child would either spend her time awaiting trial in the juvenile facility at Rikers or under the supervision of his sister and brother-in-law, Malinowski kept his objections to himself.
"Yeah, well I doubt that's how my brother sees things," Brooke replied before turning off the water and moving towards the coffee maker. "But you went above and beyond, Jack. I just hope to God this disaster doesn't cost you more than it already has."
"If you're worried about the press screaming conflict of interest, I addressed that with the arraignment judge last night," McCoy assured her as he watched while Brooke open the refrigerator. "If the judge doesn't for see a problem, neither should you. What are you making?"
"Scrambled eggs."
"Mind throwing in a few more for me?"
"You're not going back to bed," Brooke asked with obvious surprise. "It's only six. You have to be exhausted; don't you want to sleep a few more hours?"
McCoy gave her a roguish smile after pulling her into an embrace. McCoy knew she had to be as fatigued as he was, Brooke had been waiting when he and Lindsay arrived at the loft, a few minutes after three a .m. . But McCoy also knew he had the luxury being able to rearrange his late morning calendar and catching a cat nap if needed behind locked doors on the leather sofa in his office.
"I'm awake now. Besides, I wanted to ask you something before our visitor joins us," McCoy explained as he pulled out coffee mugs from the drain board. "Two or three?"
"Oh three please. All of us will need the caffeine to get through the morning. What is it, Jack?"
"Well, Lindsay was less than forthcoming when it came to talking about this party and these friends of hers."
"Are you serious? She's protecting these people when she could go to prison; not to mention the fact someone died? You're sure she didn't at least tell Danielle anything? Oh my God Jack," Brooke continued when McCoy solemnly shook his head. "Maybe a night in lock up would have done that girl some good."
"You don't mean that," McCoy softly replied, as he turned his wife's exasperated words over in his mind.
Brooke sounded so much like his former wife, McCoy couldn't help but be reminded of the night he and Liz Donnelly were confronted with another rebellious teen who had found her way to a holding cell at the 1 6 under similar circumstances. While no one had been murdered, his own daughter had been arrested at a party in the company of a college boy who had acquired enough pot that the neighbors had called in a complaint about the smell, as well as the noise level.
The incident occurred when McCoy was still an EADA and his former wife was SVU bureau chef. His mentor Adam Schiff had recently retired and attorneys were under more pressure than usual to proof themselves to the D.A. while they both broke in new assistants. After a heated run in over a controversial plea bargain with DA Nora Lewin, Donnelly seemed more driven to prove herself than usual. Years later, McCoy silently maintained the conflict had colored Donnelly judgment when she received the call from their daughter, pleading with her to pull enough strings to keep her daughter from spending the night in jail.
McCoy had taken a late dinner break that night, so his daughter was forced to ask the switch board to connect her with her mother's office. While Donnelly later admitted how horrified she'd been to find her daughter was calling her in tears from the precinct Donnelly visited almost daily, her protective instincts were overshadowed by her desire to do everything in her power to be sure this would be the one and only time her daughter called any one from jail.
These were the days before voice mail and cell phones were just staying to catch on, so McCoy didn't learn of his daughter's situation until he returned to his apartment to find a well intentioned message from Don Cragen, who had just taken over command of the 1 6, assuring McCoy that, even though he was following Donnelly's directive to keep Rebecca's overnight, he had taken the liberty of segregating the prosecutor's daughter, in an effort to keep her out of harm's way.
"Right now, Lindsay where she needs to be," McCoy continued while he recalled the heated round of finger pointing that transpired between Donnelly and himself as they debated the wisdom of leaving their own child in a jail cell. "No matter what precautions could have been taken, you know there's no way to guarantee anyone's safety in lock up. The best thing you can to do help her is to get her to tell everything she knows about that party and those kids she was with."
Though he knew his wife would do her best to get their niece to cooperate, when Lindsay rejoined them, McCoy knew Brooke was facing an uphill battle. Every trace of fear and remorse was firmly concealed behind a heavy layer of Brooke's make-up. As Lindsay swaggered back towards the kitchen, McCoy exchanged troubled glances with his wife, before retrieving both his coffee cup and cell phone from the kitchen and retreating to the bathroom.