Goren's look became even more quizzical two hours later, when, shortly after the cadets began digging at Jo Gage's gravesite, the Manhattan District Attorney, a man forever being torn apart in the press, swept in to the cemetery on a motorcycle.
"I thought I should be here," McCoy said, not explaining why.
"Detectives!" a cadet shouted.
"I missed that name," Goren joked.
"Me too," Eames said.
"Sure you do, Lieutenant."
She quickly turned to McCoy. "You should hang back," she said. "This might not be pleasant for a civilian."
Upon approaching the grave, Eames saw a skeleton with some flesh still clinging to it laying atop Jo Gage's closed coffin. "We're going to call in one of the Feds' forensic anthropologists and confirm that this is Nicole Wallace," Brooks assured them.
"It's her," Goren said, heaving his shoulders. He pointed to the ribcage, backing away as though he were trying to keep a safe distance from Wallace's bones. "The ribs are cracked and cut. Her heart was removed before decomp began. Go ahead and get your confirmation from the Feds' scientists, but this is her."
"Now we can move on," Eames said, adding a quick "with the investigation" so that Goren wouldn't think she was patronizing him.
"Hey." He rested a large, open hand on Eames' back. "I'm going home."
"Home?"
"Pennsylvania. I'm not needed here."
"Bobby, at least …"
He stared down at her, and she was reminded of the nearly-demonless – at least in his interactions with her – Goren she knew years ago. "Nicole Wallace is dead."
"So when you said you weren't here for Wheeler, you meant you were here for yourself."
"No. If Nicole had hired Overland, I'd have been the only person who could have protected you from her." He flinched, as if realizing the implications of what he'd just said.
"I can protect myself just fine," she said, tilting her head towards Jo Gage's gravestone.
Goren closed his eyes. "I didn't mean it that way." He pressed his hand to her back again. "Come here. I'll explain." He led her to a slightly more secluded area.
"I have to go home," he said, "because I'm asking myself whether in spite of her bones and her heart, Nicole Wallace is still alive. Ego dystonia: I know I'm wrong, but it terrifies me to think that she could fake a heart and a skeleton."
"You spent too many years chasing her."
"If there's anyone I'd stay in New York for, it's you."
Part of her was still too furious at him for going undercover without telling her for her to say, "Then stay." She wanted to be able to trust him and was still going back and forth in her mind on that issue.
"I'm not a good friend anymore and I haven't been a good friend for the last two years," Goren continued. "You understand that."
"You're saying …"
He rubbed his forehead with a closed fist. "We don't talk about what happened that night, Alex, but if we were together, my problems would make you miserable. Stop trying to stick it out with me. You deserve better."
Eames looked away. "Take care of yourself, Bobby. I mean that."
"I'm doing that," he assured her, and hugged her goodbye.
She knew he'd be back, because Goren could never stay out of her life for very long. Though it seemed that lately, he only returned for the tragedies.
He drove away as the Major Case Squad began to package what was left of Wallace. McCoy approached Eames slowly.
"I'm sorry," he said.
"What for?" she asked.
He offered half a shrug. "For whatever it was that happened."
"Detective Goren will be fine."
"And you?"
"I am waiting to find out who killed my sister."
His eyes demonstrated extreme concern. "They will," he promised.
"Detectives Bernard and Lupo have collected some evidence regarding Claire's murder," she told him. "It looks like every party involved – Lina Haller, Roger Overland, and Nicole Wallace – is now dead. I wish we could pursue it further."
"There's no point in revenge." McCoy's voice cracked in the cold air. "Have you had dinner?"
"No lunch, no dinner today," she said, noticing that she was hungry and lightheaded. "We'll get something, and I'll update you on what Bernard and Lupo found."