Chapter Fourteen
October 18, 2004 – (4:43 p.m.) One Police Plaza, Manhattan, NY
Eames dropped him off at the office mid-afternoon. He had to work pretty hard to convince her he should be around for the interrogation of Bianca Meyers/Giovanni.
"I'll stay out of your way," he clarified, "and unless you ask me too, I won't leave the confines of the observation room."
"Serious problems," Eames reluctantly agreed, "serious problems if you are not able to stay in control."
Then, like pre-tweens, they shook on it.
Currently, he confined himself to his desk, ignoring the paranoia in his head that told him every goddamned detective on this floor was talking about him behind his back: Goren flipped, you should've seen him, his partner found him on the floor of the conference room – passed out like a baby. Why do they keep someone that unstable on the job? I feel bad for Alex Eames. Given her background, she could be captain of just about any unit in the five boroughs.
But that's what it had been like since the beginning: Eames had the detective pedigree, she'd earned her way to Major Case because she'd paid her dues, she performed and got the job done. She was even-keel, steady, but not overly aggressive.
He knew that the "guys" respected her. Something that had to be hard earned for any female on the force. Her pedigree helped, and the sympathy that came with the knowledge that her husband (one of their own) was murdered on the job certainly paved the road for her to Major Case. But beyond her life's circumstances, Eames was a solid detective, one with the potential to have a very bright future with the NYPD.
But fate is a funny thing - for who could have predicted that he and Eames would be partnered together and remain so to this date? The day he'd been assigned to Major Case, Eames already had a partner. As fortune would have it, less than one week in from his hire date, Eames' senior partner, Lee Walters, suffered a minor setback and decided to take on a new assignment. Walters was close to retirement, and during what appeared to be a general day of investigative work, Walters had injured himself while chasing after a suspect on foot: ACL, meniscus tear, or something of that general nature. And boom, all of a sudden, Eames was without a partner.
He generally remembered the day Deakins assigned him to Eames, as it was really the first day he'd even noticed Eames. I mean, he'd probably passed by her on the eleventh floor, it's even possible that he was briefly introduced to her during his first week at Major Case. Sadly, other than the first case he'd been assigned on hand, he remembered very little about meeting her (for one, he barely looked at her, and he was less than interested in building any relationship with her beyond bare minimum. Rather, he wanted to get to the puzzle, find all the pieces and start solving immediately). And so as you see, from the very beginning, he was use to doing things on his own.
Even now, he couldn't remember when it happened, i.e., when he figured it out: that he knew he'd never find anyone like her again, and when he realized that she made him a better detective, and a better person.
When had he started loving her? When did her skills, which complemented his in so many ways, literally became interwoven into his process? (Yes, that was it, she was now part of his process – a process that in it's own strange way, worked better than any other process he'd ever tried in his life).
In so many ways, Eames had become an integral part of him. In other words, he'd finally discovered that if she were ripped from his life, well, its not that he couldn't function, but rather it was that he didn't want to function in any other way. Once you've seen paradise - or so the saying goes.
His cell phone interrupted his thoughts. It was Eames, she was calling, (or texting him rather) to position himself near the observation room – Bianca was on her way.
It was a surreal feeling to be on the other side of the glass. It's not that he hadn't spent hours of his life observing from this perspective, it's just that he'd never been asked to stay on the observation side for the duration of questioning. He and Eames had played every variation of good cop/bad cop. Everytime they had a new suspect, they would decide who should play the lead, as a team (or individually) to come up with the results they needed. They'd gauge who had built more of a relationship with the perp, and asked themselves: Who would the perp trust? Who would the perp confide in? Did the perp prefer a specific gender? He and Eames had it down to a science, and they always had a decent plan of attack.
Today was different: today he felt like the outsider.
He watched as Bianca was escorted into the interrogation room by two uniformed officers. Bianca didn't look up through the glass window, but rather she peeked at her cell for messages before rummaging through a small handbag.
The door behind him to the observation room opened and Eames walked in with a thick folder-file tucked under her arm.
"They'll bring in the video footage too," Eames rested her hand on the ledge of the interrogation room window.
For selfish reasons, (not to mention the continually strong desire to protect her) he felt compelled to prevent/delay the inevitable, "look Eames," he looked down and shifted his weight from his left to right leg, "maybe Jeffries or uh, Barek - uh, maybe you shouldn't do the interrogation."
"I'm sorry?"
"Maybe you shouldn't do the interrogation," but he rephrased his statement quickly as he watched her expression intensify, "uh, or maybe you shouldn't do the interrogation alone."
"I'm not doing the interrogation alone."
"But I'm not allowed in the - "
"You'll be following my cues if we need to conference during the interview."
He nodded, "and I can send one of our own in if I need to alert you."
She nodded back, "I'll be fine and I'll get what I need."
"I know no one better for the job."
Eames eyes twinkled "Now it's my turn to protect you."
"Look Eames, I did this," he frowned, "I don't need to be protected from what comes out of this."
"You were set up," Eames corrected, "and no one else in the department needs to hear the gory details."
He smiled weakly – wanting very much to find his voice to thank her.
But Eames mobilized faster than his thoughts - coming forward to squeeze his arm, she must have read the helpless pathetic expression that washed over his face, "I've got your back," she murmured.
With that, he watched her countenance transform from that of a loyal friend and most fervent advocate - to that of a veteran detective: one with a kind of fierce professionalism that rivaled no other.
Once Eames left the room, he flipped the intercom switch that was located to the right of the window, and leaned in so that his face was nearly touching the quarter inch specialized glass that separated him from his partner and Nicole Wallace's latest pawn.
"Ms. Meyers?"
"Yes."
"Thank you for coming in today to answer a few questions." (Eames was using her curt, intense tone – which at times bordered on condescending).
"I wouldn't be here if I wasn't so intensely persuaded to do so."
Eames paused and flashed a pseudo-smile, "you are free to leave at any time during this brief questioning session Ms. Meyers – but even you must understand that clearing up any confusion with me here today would be in your best interest."
"I'm sorry, it must have slipped my mind," Bianca raised her right eyebrow, never taking her eyes off of his partner, "to whom am I having the pleasure of speaking with?"
"It didn't slip your mind," Eames retorted quickly, "I never introduced myself."
"Wow," Bianca laughed, perhaps nervously? "I'm getting the sense that you don't like me."
"Detective Eames," Eames bristled, "and no, I'm not a fan of anyone who starts off a session lying."
"Lying?"
"Yes, 'Bianca Gianna Provenzano,' or that's what your New York state driver's license indicates," Eames smirked in a rather smug way, "so who am I speaking with today? Bianca Meyers? Bianca Giovanni?"
"Ohhh," enlightenment suddenly lit up Bianca's face, "Detective Alex Eames?"
He groaned inwardly, it was going to get ugly fast.
"Just as it says on my badge and driver's license." Eames unclipped her Major Case badge and held it up for Bianca to read.
"Your partner is Robert Goren?"
"Yes," Eames replied quickly, "but somehow you've still neglected to tell me why you have so many monikers. And if you hadn't noticed, you are in my house now – where I ask the questions."
"People in the entertainment industry have multiple names, it's no big thing."
"And is that it, Ms. Provenzano? You are in the entertainment industry?"
"Not anymore, I've met someone who's helping me get back on track. I've been accepted at Hudson University this coming fall semester – into their MBA program if you must know."
"And this individual who is giving you a helping hand, what does she get in return?"
"Well, it is a she, detective. Congratulations. But I'm not here to talk about her," Bianca's eyes narrowed, "by the way, where is your partner? I've seen enough cop shows, don't you usually work as a team?"
"Detective Goren's whereabouts are not your concern," Eames spoke calmly, unaffected at best, as she slowly opened the folder and pulled out several gruesome autopsy photos, "rather, what you should be concerned about is staying out of this folder."
Bianca snorted, "She warned me you would try to use a scare tactics. What should these photos mean to me?"
Eames carefully lined up the photos and drew each of the connections to Nicole Wallace, "and you are simply her latest pawn Ms. Provenzano. Nicole Wallace is a deadly woman, a true sociopath: one that lacks the ability to feel empathy and will do whatever it takes to get back at anyone who doesn't bend to her will. Especially those who are close to putting her where she belongs: prison. Don't," Eames paused and locked her eyes on to Bianca, "I repeat, don't go down with her. Her body count could very well have her looking at the death penalty. I know you have information about her, and if you are protecting her - "
"I'm not protecting anyone detective," Bianca hissed, "if anything, I'd say you are protecting someone."
"Ms. Provenzano, you didn't let me finish," Eames shook her head slowly, "and it's about time that you understand what will happen if you obstruct our investigation of Nicole Wallace. If found complicit, you would be charged as an accomplice - "
"I won't be charged with anything detective," Bianca laughed, "this is a witch-hunt because I had sex with your partner and then dropped him like a sack of potatoes and then, you know, fucked with him a little."
"You are playing with a very dangerous individual."
"You are only on to me because of your partner."
"My partner and I have no secrets," Eames noted, "but at this place and time, you should be most concerned about being truthful. As you know, this department specifically deals with high-profile cases. This is 'Major Case,' and you would not be pulled into this department unless you had a precarious connection."
"So you know that he fantasizes about you when he has sex?"
"Why did you seek out my partner for sex?"
"He says I did?" Bianca arched her eyebrow, "he was at a bar a few blocks from here – is there something strange about meeting a guy at a bar for drinks and sex?"
"And this is a bar you frequent? Considering where you reside and work," Eames pulled out an information sheet and underlined the addresses, "it seems like you went far out of your radius to hit on – a man that is almost twice your age."
"Is that a surprise? That's what one goes to a bar for."
"And what brought you to this particular neighborhood, to a bar that is predominantly frequented by police officers?"
"I've always had a fantasy to sleep with a cop," Bianca grinned wildly, "and I found a tall, dark and handsome one in a back booth, feeling sorry for himself – brooding, pathetic, depressed and in need of a good fuck."
"There are precincts closer to your home and workplace," Eames suggested, "I'm sure that if you did your homework, you could find one in a heartbeat, but you weren't looking for any officer were you? You were looking for Robert Goren."
"Sure, and he was easy to bed – it didn't take a lot of convincing."
"Ms. Provenzano, why did you single out my partner?"
"As I said, he was an easy fuck, and boy did he need it," she laughed again – an irritating laugh, "I'm not bothering you am I?"
Eames blinked noticeably, but beyond a few facial twitches, she'd really kept her emotions in check, "beyond trying my patience for not answering my questions? This is my last warning: you can save yourself, distance yourself from Wallace, and probably come out unscathed – or you can continue to protect her, and the next time we meet – I won't be so forgiving."
"Everytime we fucked, he called out for you under his breath. He really has it for you. You should know that he wants you sexually, and with that being said, it's probably not going to work out for the both of you. I mean, how can you be the partner to a guy who wants to have sex with you? Talk about a conflict of interest."
"Fine," Eames nodded repeatedly, shuffling the photos and files back together, "I can see that it would be a waste of time showing you the video footage we have of Nicole confessing her identity and illegal activities. You've had your opportunity, but from what I've seen, it appears that you've decided to go down with her."
"He told me after our third meeting that he couldn't get too involved emotionally, he was already in love with someone else, that it was complicated - "
Eames shook her head sadly, "I don't think you understand that you will most likely be her next victim. You need to protect yourself now."
"Well if that's it," Bianca picked up her handbag and stood up to pull on her winter jacket, "I'll be seeing you, detective. Give Robert my regard. If it does work out between you two, he gets very aroused when you kiss his neck and stomach."
Eames sighed heavily and continued to piece together the Wallace file as Bianca Provenzano left the interrogation room. She looked up and shrugged slightly as to give him the indication that he could safely enter the room.
He moved in slowly, afraid of what Eames might think of him at this juncture. He could only reason that if they were to move forward, beyond this unfortunate situation, they'd have to get by all the awkwardness of their past history.
"Eames?"
"I couldn't get to her," Eames rubbed at her eyes and sighed heavily.
"Did she get to you?" he asked rather tentatively.
"Bianca? No," Eames spoke in a very straightforward manner, "but, Nicole? Yes."
"How so?" he gently inquired.
"How so?" Eames ran both of her hands through her hair, "how did she get to me? Well, for one, she got to me through you. She nearly broke us apart in doing so."
"Eames."
"That crazy woman has got to go Bobby - we've got to get her this time. I mean, I can't," Eames paused and scratched under lip, "I can't deal with her getting to you like that. This is the third time Bobby: humiliating you with that bullshit 'tit for tat' interrogation, setting your career up to fail with Croyden – and now, fucking with your personal life."
"Eames."
"No Bobby, don't you get it? She won't stop until she has destroyed you. I won't sit back and let anybody do that to you."
"But," he added painfully, "I didn't have to sleep with her."
"No, you are not seeing it correctly," Eames stood up and approached him slowly, "I don't need to know why you slept with her, as it is, I'm starting to guess at why that might be. But I am a professional first," she looked up slowly at him, "I won't talk about this here at work. However, as soon as you and I take one step out the door, I need to reopen our case."