Alex POV

I took a shower while Bobby drove Cathy to work.

I was secretly thrilled with his assertiveness.

And maybe not-so-secretly. Maybe I'd tell him when he got back.

I'd love to know what he said to her, but I wasn't going to ask him. I liked the possibility of the two of them trying to forge some type of relationship, so maybe it would be better if I stayed out of it.

Besides, he'd tell me if it was anything that I needed to know.

Although, he was going to have to at least tell me the gist of it considering we had another bet.

I'd bet him that she'd clam up and ignore him for the whole drive.

He'd said that he'd get her talking. Not yelling, talking.

Our terms were, of course, unique and of a sexual nature so as usual, I didn't mind whether I won or lost.

In fact, I hoped that I lost. It certainly wouldn't be a hardship on me, and also because that would mean that maybe he'd gotten through to her.

Sean called as I was getting dressed.

"Have you killed her yet?" he asked.

"Not yet," I replied. "But it's always a possibility."

"Well, it's nice to know that some things haven't changed," he joked.

He'd been very appreciative of the fact that I'd followed through with my promise by calling him yesterday.

I guess maybe he'd thought that I wouldn't. Probably because I hadn't been forthcoming with the rest of the family, but damn it, it just wasn't my story to tell.

Cathy needed to do it.

I only knew because she'd confided in me and I didn't want to seem like I was running to Mom and Dad.

I especially didn't want to tell Mom about any of this.

Maybe later, after the fact.

After Cathy straightened her life out.

But for now, it just wasn't necessary.

Mom didn't need that kind of stress and what good would it do anyway?

Same thing with Dad, really. What would he do besides overreact?

Besides, he was busy enough these days trying to keep score between Joe and Bobby. And how insane was that?

"Where is she now?" Sean asked me.

"Bobby drove her to work. She's got a twelve-hour shift today."

"And Bobby drove her?" he asked in surprise.

"Uh huh."

"Well, that should be interesting. So did you talk to her about coming clean with Mom and Dad?"

"Not yet," I admitted. "We can't go more than five minute without yelling at each other. Maybe you should take a run at her."

"Yeah, okay," he agreed. "I'm working this weekend. How about if I come over for dinner Monday night?"

"I'm not cooking," I told him with a grin.

"Thank God," he joked. "I'll bring something."

I hung up with him and finished getting myself ready. I heard Bobby come through the door just as I left the bedroom.

"Are you ready?" he called out to me as he came through the living room. He had a mischievous look on his face and was striding purposefully toward me.

"Yeah. You've got good timing," I replied. "So…everything's okay?"

He grabbed my face in both of his hands and kissed me firmly.

"Everything's fine," he said once he let go of me.

"You won the bet," I stated, a smile spreading across my face.

"You doubted me?"

"No," I said with a shake of my head. "Not for a second."

He matched my grin and tipped his head toward the door.

"Come on. Let's go find out what Helen has to say."

Again, I had to wonder what had transpired in the car, but I let it go.

Instead, I grabbed our file and followed him out of the door.

"Sean's going to come to dinner Monday night," I told him as I drove us into Manhattan. In deference to his take-charge attitude, I'd offered for him to drive, but he said that he wanted to look over his notes again.

"Is there an agenda?"

"He wants to talk to her about being honest with the rest of the family. I'm sure he hates keeping this secret from Kevin. And of course, Mom and Dad."

"You think that's a good idea?"

"I'm not sure," I admitted. Because I was even less sure now that he was questioning it as well. Maybe it would be better to only tell our parents after the situation was resolved.

"Let's see how the rest of the weekend goes. And maybe if Steve says it's okay, we can pick up Nate tomorrow."

"You mean with Cathy?"

"Uh huh," he nodded. "It might be a good idea to have a buffer for Nate for that first get-together."

It was an excellent idea, and I was sure that Steve would go along with it. He didn't want to keep Cathy away from Nate. He just wanted to make sure that his son was safe, both physically and emotionally.

We tabled the Cathy talk as we arrived on Helen Chamber's street.

We'd both dressed casual in an effort to be approachable and non-threatening.

We definitely didn't want to come off looking like cops, especially since we were going to try to finesse the information from her.

The neighborhood was decent, with brick-front townhouses close up on the street. There were a few kids outside, messing around in the snow, and there was fairly heavy pedestrian traffic.

"Hey," I said suddenly, putting my hand on his forearm as we stepped up onto the sidewalk.

"What is it?"

"Maybe we should come at this from a different angle."

"As in…"

"Right. Because then maybe…"

"Uh huh," he agreed with a nod.

And the feeling of being so perfectly understood just never got old.

It may have been what drew me to Bobby in the first place.

His uncanny ability to know how my mind works.

His interest in finding out in the first place.

His innate sense of what makes me tick and what drives me to do the things that I do.

Of course, it could also have been his sexy voice or his bedroom eyes or his perfectly-formed ass.

It's hard to say.

I flashed him a smile and then grabbed onto his hand.

"Follow my lead," I said.

"Honey, I will follow you anywhere," he answered.

We walked up the steps and I let go of his hand and then knocked on the door.

"Helen?" I asked when a woman who appeared to be in her early sixties opened the door.

"Yes. Can I help you?"

"Detective Munch gave me your name."

And just like that, we were in.

I didn't feel bad using Munch's name because we weren't going to bust Helen.

Nothing we learned today was ever going to be written into a police report or any kind of official documentation.

We just wanted some answers.

Because if we were barking up the wrong tree, then we would need to step back and re-evaluate.

And if we weren't, well…then we had some soul-searching to do.

Helen led us into a parlor-style room that contained a stiff loveseat and two wing-back chairs.

"I don't normally take walk-ins," she began when she sat down across from us. "But Detective Munch is a dear old friend, and I would never turn an acquaintance of his away. Did you bring your documents? W-2s and 1099-Rs?"

Her on-the-books source of income was as a tax advisor.

"We're not here to file our taxes," I told her. "We need your help. We need to know what you know about Paul Jennings."

And yeah, it had been ten years.

And yeah, it was a crap shoot that Helen was the one who had helped him.

But my straight-forward approach had caught her off guard.

And we were right. It was written all over her face.

"I'm sorry, but I don't know any Paul Jennings. I'm afraid I can't help you."

"Are you sure? Because it looked like you recognized that name," Bobby said.

Helen quickly got up from her chair.

"What are you two doing here?" she asked crossly.

"We're not cops," I said quickly. "And we're not reporters. We just need to know if it's true."

"If what's true?"

"Did you help Paul Jennings kidnap his son?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Ms. Chambers…please. We were hired by Brooke Jennings. She wants us to find her son. And we are very good at our jobs, so we will find him. But if you tell us that you helped Paul, and that there was good reason for him wanting to escape with his son, then maybe we can stop looking."

"You said yourself," she responded. "You were hired by Brooke. How do I know you won't hand over whatever I tell you to her?"

"It doesn't really matter, does it?" Bobby questioned. "You might have known where they were ten years ago, but you don't know where they are now. Anything you tell us only confirms what happened. It won't get her closer to finding them. She already suspects that he's in London."

"And aside from that, we won't tell her. Not if you share with us why you helped them."

"You got this far," she said with attitude. "You tell me."

"We think that Brooke was beating Adam," I told her. "But Paul had an old drug arrest, so he was never going to get custody. You rented a car similar to his and you picked up Adam from school and then you flew with him to London."

"You two must be pretty good detectives. I guess that's why Munch is friends with you," she said with a smirk.

I liked her pluck and I appreciated that she was being protective of the Jenningses.

She paced across the small room, and Bobby got up from the loveseat and followed her.

"We're trying to do the right thing here," he told her sincerely. "If being with Paul is protecting Adam, then…then we're willing to drop the investigation."

"Just like that?"

"Just like that," he assured her.

He stood in front of her with his hands in his pockets and an open, honest expression on his face.

Under the weight of that earnest gaze, it would be nearly impossible for her to hold out.

She didn't.

"Brooke was beating Adam," she admitted on a sigh. "Paul came to me and asked for help. I got him the documentation that he needed and I flew with Adam to London. Paul joined us a couple of days later and I came home. I haven't heard from them since."

"Not at all?" I asked dubiously. She gave me a warm smile that spoke volumes to the amount of affection that she felt toward that little boy with whom she'd spent a few days all those years ago.

"I get unsigned postcards from time to time."

"Are they blank?"

"No, but close to it. Sometimes it'll be a series of letters, and usually they're all A's," she said with a smile.

"He sends you his grades?"

"I think in the beginning, Paul wanted to prove to me that I'd done the right thing by helping him. And then later…well, I don't know. Maybe it just became habit. Maybe he just enjoyed sharing with someone from his old life."

"But you couldn't have known him for long."

"Sometimes circumstance breeds closeness more so than time."

"And you're sure that he was clean?" I questioned. I had to know. I had to have all of the facts before I potentially turned a blind eye to a kidnapping.

"He'd been taking court-ordered drug tests over the course of the year before he came to me. He continued taking them while he was in his custody battle so that he could prove that he was drug-free. He brought me the results. He went twice a week, every week for a year. That's one hundred and four reports, and they were all negative. I've dealt with addicts before. The follow-through is usually what trips them up. Paul had follow-through."

"Thank you," Bobby told her. I got up and joined him where he stood next to her.

"We appreciate your time," I added.

"You're very welcome," she answered. "But if anyone else asks me, I'll deny it until my dying day."

"Of course," Bobby said sincerely as he shook her hand. "You have our word."

We left Helen's home and went back to the car.

"So," he began. "Are we really going to look the other way?"

It was a difficult thing to consider.

I mean, the law was the law. But there had been plenty of times when we'd seen the law fail innocent victims. Maybe this was an opportunity to let justice prevail. If Adam was happy and healthy and Brooke had truly been beating him, then who would it benefit if we were to blow the whistle?

And we absolutely weren't going to rat out Helen. We'd given our word, to her and to Munch. So any whistle-blowing would have to entail some sort of as-yet-unfound evidence that backed up the idea that Paul had taken Adam.

"You know, maybe we need to take it a step further," Bobby suggested.

And he didn't say what he meant. He didn't have to. Like I said, we're connected.

But before I could ponder the pros and cons of his suggestion, my cell phone rang.

"It's a payphone with a Maryland area code," I said after looking at the display.

"Mike and Carolyn," he said with concern as I answered the call.

"Goren."

"Hey Alex," Mike said with his usual tone of casual cynicism. "How're you looking for bail money?"

"Bail?" I repeated. "What's going on?"

"Me and Carolyn are at the Chevy Chase precinct," he told me. "We're both under arrest."

TBC...