Chapter 21
Goren unlocked Eames' front door with his right hand and held it open for her. He followed her carrying her small bag of belongings, mostly the contents of her pockets when she was brought into the hospital, and a larger bag of prescriptions. Eames sat gingerly on the couch. She winced as she sat down, as the movement jostled her arm, but Goren could tell that she was much more relaxed than she had been in the hospital.
"Do you need some pain medication?" She nodded. Goren sat down on the sofa next to her and began pulling bottles out of the bag from the pharmacy. "Okay, these are for pain, these are antibiotics, and these are for swelling." He hobbled to the kitchen for a glass of water. He handed her one of each of the pills in turn. Eames swallowed the medication, and slowly turned sideways to lie down on the sofa. "Wouldn't you be more comfortable on the bed?" he asked.
"That would require more moving, and there will be no more of that," she said, closing her eyes. Goren looked at her with concern, and then took the afghan off of the back of the sofa and placed it over her. He went to sit on the chair across from her.
"Bobby," she murmured, "if you want to get onto my WiFi, you need the password."
"Your, uh, wireless network?"
"Yeah." She was fading fast. "My snack. Hmmm." She was out.
Goren sat and watched her for a moment. Then he took his laptop into Eames' spare room. He opened it up and turned it on. It found Eames network, and prompted him for a password. He thought for a moment, and then typed in 'skittlesanddietcoke." It worked. He was in.
Goren looked at maps of Eames' neighborhood, and tried to figure out where the nearest grocery store and pharmacy were. He read the paper on-line for a while. There, in the metro section, was a small item – "Deputy Commissioner Resigns". So it had come full circle.
He decided to call and find out about Barrett and his accomplice. He flipped through Eames' phone and found Rivera's number. Rivera was glad to hear from him, but still sounded tentative.
"Look, man, there was nothing you could have done. I - I felt the same way, like if I had just warned you sooner…"
"But how could you have warned me sooner?" Rivera asked.
"I couldn't have. That's what I mean. It's just, sometimes our best isn't good enough."
"How is she?"
"It's painful, but the doctors say she'll recover completely. Barrett and that other louse?"
"In Riker's, in protective segregation."
"I don't envy them. They did awful stuff, but they are going to pay."
"You know, that's the funny thing. Barrett was in total denial, even when Sven and I told him how much was on tape. He seemed to think that he was going to get out of it. He kept smirking and saying he was going to skate like Nancy Kerrigan, that he had friends in high places. It was like he was on something, but he wasn't staggering or anything."
"I think he'll find those friends fade away pretty quickly once a cop gets shot," said Goren. "You're working the case and interviews with Sven?"
"Yeah." This was good. This was going to be a major bust, what with the publicity, and Rivera had really done a great job, despite having had a patrolman's training, not a detective's. Having his name associated with this case, showing up on the paperwork, would be very good for his career. A couple of old-timers had let Goren in on the kill, and on the credit, when he was young and eager (and probably completely annoying, he thought ruefully).
Goren decided to try to start some dinner. Eames' medication was really strong. He decided to start with something easy on the stomach. He scoured her cupboards. He decided to go with chicken noodle soup and baked potatoes. He put the potatoes in the oven, and returned to the living room to check on Eames, who was still asleep.
Goren was in the kitchen opening a couple of cans of soup, when the aroma of cooking caused Eames to stir.
"That smells good," she said, to no one in particular. Goren came into the living room.
"You're awake," he said, smiling. "I have – dinner's almost ready."
"I am kind of hungry," said Eames. Goren went over and gave her his arm so that she could lift herself to her feet. She winced as she rose.
"Still hurts?"
"Yeah, pretty much any movement is kind of bad right now." Goren put his hand on her back.
"Do you want more medication?"
Eames shook her head.
"I don't think I should. Besides, my stomach is just about at the point where it can handle some food, and I really haven't eaten much in a while." Goren realized she was right, and as soon as she sat down, he hobbled into the kitchen to get a bowl of soup and a baked potato for her. Eames started eating ravenously, but she soon realized she needed to take it easy, and after she had finished her portion, she declined more, despite having eaten little in the last two days. Goren handled the cleanup, thanking St. Michael, the patron saint of police, for Eames' dishwasher. Eames laughed as he struggled to put the lid on the plastic container full of leftover soup.
"Yeah, at least you injured your non-dominant hand," said Goren ruefully holding the container with his casted hand and pushing down on the lid with his right.
Eames returned to the sofa, and Goren sat next to her. He couldn't put his arm around her without injuring her, so he took hold of her good hand. Eames was surprised by the gesture.
"Thanks, Bobby. For dinner. Are you sure you want to stay?"
"This is where I want to be. Besides, I hear if I stick around, I'll get some of your sister's lasagna."
They sat companionably for a while. Then Goren remembered that he had news.
"Barkis resigned." Eames smiled.
"Barrett will not be happy about that."
"He doesn't know. Rivera said he all but threatened to take their badges when they were booking him."
"Last I heard, they get the news in the Riker's common room. Say, you know we were lucky to get Rivera and young Sven. They were green, but they had good instincts."
"Rivera still feels awful."
"Did you offer him a spot in your Needless Guilt from Taking the Problems of the World onto Your Personal Shoulders Club?"
"He's gonna be Recording Secretary. Lovely penmanship."
Eames laughed. She flattered herself that Goren would not have been able to scale these heights of sarcasm without her tutelage.
It was only 8, but Eames was staring to fade again. Goren walked her down the hallway to her bed, and handed her her array of medication. He had to help her inch her way under the covers, which he kept low so that they wouldn't jostle her injury.
"Thanks again, Bobby," she said, as she began to drift off. Goren put his hand on her head.
"Goodnight, Eames." He leaned over and kissed her forehead. He switched off the light and left the room.