"This is big." Mike magicked a brown leather satchel out of nowhere and pulled out a manilla envelope. He served it to Alex like a subpeona.
She pulled a thick folded sheaf of papers from inside it. The first page was a birth certificate. "Sarah Martin." She read the name and her brows knitted together. "Who is this?"
"Nicole Wallace." Mike said simply.
"Nicole Wallace?" Bobby's denial was immediate. "That name wasn't an alias."
"Yes it was." Mike stared him down with absolute certainty. "The real Nicole Wallace, the person born with that name, let's call her Jane Doe, was a 16 year old girl living in Sydney, Australia when she was bashed over the head and left in an alley to die. She was a street kid. She had no family connections, at least not to anyone who cared. Jane Doe was expendable. She didn't have a sheet, just a few warnings. And at 16 years and I only found one picture of her. I figure it was the birth certificate and maybe her clean sheet, that made her stand out from the other urchins and coke heads. Your Wallace, she needed that to start her new life."
"Nicole Wallace isn't exactly a unique name." Bobby poked. Every inch of his body was closed, he wasn't buying any of this. "How do you know she's the same Wallace? Virtually no ID? Seems like quite a unsubstantiated leap. "
"Wait, wait." Mike said a little annoyed. "You're getting ahead of it." He held up both hands until he could feel their eyes on his palms and he heard their mouths snap shut. "This is a story and it needs to be told like one."
"Fine do it." Alex said her voice clipped. Sweeping a hand through her hair then crossing her arms and legs until she was one tightly sealed unit.
"The year is 1960." He started in grand fashion ignoring Goren's gusty sigh and the impatient jerky adjustments he was making in his seat. "The laws across Australia were archaic. Hundreds of thousands of babies were seized from young or unwed mothers and put up for adoption. A whole generation of young women were deemed unfit to have children." He looked directly at Bobby "They were convicted without a trial. The state was a fist." Mike rotated his sore jaw in wide exaggerated circles just then, and as if he'd scripted this moment he pressed the ice bag there.
Bobby rolled his eyes at the theatrics. That damn wise guy.
"Suzanne Martin was a 17 year old girl living in Perth Australia. That's near the southern tip of the western region. She was young and unwed. On November 23rd 1960 Suzanne Martin had twins at Armadale Kelmscott Memorial Hospital. She named the first baby Amy and the second, born 2 minutes later, an identical twin girl, she named Sarah." Mike reached across Alex and flipped the page for her. There was a second birth certificate. In bold font under an official government seal from the Western Australian Registry was the name Amy Martin. Flipping between the documents Alex verified the facts. She nodded and Bobby craned a little to see, his face still impassive.
Then Alex flipped slowly to the next sheet in the wad of papers, it was adoption documentation authenticated by the Family Court of Western Australia. "They took the babies." Alex said sadly because the notion of a taken child was still so disturbing to her. Her eyes darted around for Imogen and compelled by some frantic emotion she stood quite suddenly, drawing the men's eyes upward. She went straight to her baby (never mind that Immy was napping now, never mind that Mike was speaking) she just needed her child.
Alex drew back her blouse and tucked her dear fussy armful into her breast a little compulsively. Forgetting everything in that moment except maternal bliss. When she glanced over at the men they were staring. Mike's eyebrows peaked, Bobby's furrowed in concern.
"Sorry." She mumbled and brought the suckling child back to the meeting.
"Uh, um." Logan stumbled a little, riveted by the tableau of Madonna and child before him. It wasn't sexual, rather it was curiosity. He'd lived 56 years and never seen this act in the flesh. He tilted his head in serene unblinking contemplation. Watching an infant drink from their mother was captivating in it's carnal beauty.
Goren immediately misinterpreted this, he saw the education of Michael Logan as the lust of Michael Logan. He snapped his fingers a rapid pop pop pop, to gain the man's attention. Then Bobby used his index and middle to make the universal symbol for eyes on me. Mike waited for Alex to glance down at her breast and then he flipped Bobby the bird.
"Yeah they took the babies," Mike carried on. His eyes flicking to Alex's bosom twice as much because he wasn't allowed. "They didn't care about keeping siblings together or about the mother's mental health or anything really other then the states agenda."
"So… What happened?" Alex prodded oblivious to her role as the centrifugal force in their strange spinning shadow play. If she'd known what idiots they being, if she'd seen all their gesturing and posturing she would have flipped out.
"These two baby girls, these twins, were destined for tragically different paths." Mike summoned his big vision (and Goren's ire) again. "Amy Martin snagged a diaper with a golden ticket, so to speak. She was placed with Edward and Janice Ingram a wealthy old money couple. She was their only child." he gestured at the wad of papers Alex had balanced on her lap and true enough, the next one in the sequence one was an article about a hospital ward dedication: The Ingram Centre for Haematology and Oncology. It had been printed in the West Australian Newspaper dated 1964. It was a grainy depiction of a dignified looking man cutting a ceremonial ribbon and clutching the hand of a small blond girl wearing a pinafore. "The Ingram's changed Amy's name to Melissa, Melissa Ingram."
"And the other baby?" Alex asked.
"The other baby Sarah Martin was placed with Deborah and Walter Llewellyn. She stayed Sarah and took their surname." Alex riffled through the papers and found a copy of the certificate for adoption for Sarah Martin dated 1960 Perth, Australia. "They were not good people. There was abuse. There were multiple hospital reports on record, not to mention the 4 complaints filed at local PD, all from Deborah Llewellyn, all claiming physical and sexual abuse all at the hands of her husband. I can't say for sure obviously, but I'd guess that life in that house for little Sarah Martin was a nightmare. In 1978 Deborah Llewellyn was found hanging in her garage."
It was sickening in it's way. Even without images, even without intimately knowing the parties involved. Bobby and Alex just had to look at their own child and imagine.
You could have gone either way.
The words were a recurring whisper as Bobby moved through life. But at least he'd had a fighting chance. That home, the one Logan was describing, stripped away choice. There was only room for one way - if you made it out alive. Bobby felt sympathy, then the last month of his life came flooding back.
"Still with me?" Mike asked enjoying his position as master of ceremonies.
"Uh huh"Alex murmured then tucked away one glistening distended nipple. The she exposed the second turning Immy to it. Mike couldn't help but see it all. But then again, a hint of smiled played on his lips, he'd seen it all before. Once upon a time Mike thought, he was the one had left her nipples looking just that way.
"Get on with it." Goren bit out and Mike knew that Bobby had read his mind.
"It shoulda been case closed. It shoulda been a happy life for twin one, Amy Martin turned Melissa Ingram. Unfortunately Mr and Mrs. Ingram were killed in a car accident a 1990. Melissa made a break after that because she could. She was very wealthy. She was working for the municipal government. She had an undergraduate degree in English Literature from UWA - University of Western Australia. The world was her oyster. She changed her life plans and moved to the States, New York State to be exact. She came to the city. She moved around in the West Village for years. We found 3 addresses of record with the New York City Register. Then she met and married Garrett Baird and became Melissa Baird. They settled down to a modest life in Floral Park, a suburb of Long Island and had 3 kids."
"And the unfortunate twin." Alex asked.
"You." Mike looked at Goren "Asked in the beginning how I knew there was a connection between Sarah Martin and the real Nicole Wallace, a kid living on the streets in Sydney. Well flip the page." Alex did and her eyes widened it was an Op-Ed article clipping from Sydney Daily Telegraph in 1985. There was a picture of 4 smiling slightly bedraggled youths, arm, in arm, in arm, in arm. The caption said: "Solidarity in the Streets - Staying Alive in Inner Sydney." beside that it said 'from left to right Sarah, Nicole, Steven and Janice" Sarah had blond hair and chocolate brown eyes and dimples. Sarah was Nicole Wallace. Beside her was Jane Doe the real Nicole Wallace. Was it a cosmic joke that in the one and only photo Mike had found she naively embraced her executioner?
"In 1979, after the death of his wife Sarah Martin's father filed a missing person's" he gestured to Alex's sheaf of documents. Alex pulled out a 29 year old report, likely scanned in the 90's in the push to make cold cases paperless. The NYPD had gone through the same transition during that decade Alex remembered. The changeover had come on the heels of stronger facsimile and computer technology "1979 was the year Sarah Martin vanished forever, but 1979 was also the year that Nicole Wallace came alive. That year there was was a flurry of activity under the name Nicole Wallace. This street kid went from off the grid to, well, to all over it. That year she acquired a health card, a social security card and a passport."
"Causal link." Goren murmured.
"Definitely." Logan supported.
And the two men shared a rare moment of professional understanding. In tacit agreement they all sat in silence and let it sink in.
All the adults anyway. Immy hadn't signed the contract. She sat up from her mothers breast and smiled at Mike and asked
"Ga? Ahhhhhru? A ga ga ga ga ga."and for a moment Mike's look transformed into a perfectly symmetrical smile just for this adorable child. He reluctantly admitted that Goren's child was adorable.
"Nicole Wallace's identity was tight as drum for years. It was stolen from a member of the forgotten class. Everything on file at 1PP about your Nicole." He looked at Goren hard because Logan was a good detective and he could pick out a bugbear between a couple from a mile away.
He damn well knows she isn't my Nicole. Goren fumed.
"Everything on file" Mike continued "Born in Queensland, loser parents, a few prostitution write ups, no mugs, are details co-opted from a dead 16 year old's life."
Bobby was still struggling though. "She had a birth certificate authenticated by Australian authorities. The Department of the Attorney General sent us all of her documentation on file." He threw out.
"They also sent us a passport with her face over the name Elizabeth Hitchens. They've gotten it wrong before." Alex reminded him grimly. "There's no check or balance, there's no stop gap to protect society from someone with no boundaries."
"You're right" Mike agreed "You're exactly right. She doesn't have a conscience so she's an identity swapping genius." Mike's face reflected horrified respect. "But in the end it was simple. Wallace's whole world doesn't unlock until you have the password - Sarah Martin - her real name. It was like Rumpelstiltskin all over again." He said the last bit in a gooey voice as though he were talking straight to Immy.
"And you can't get to the password Sarah Martin, unless you first go down the Melissa Baird portal." Alex nodded seeing how they had missed it all, how it would have been impossible to get here if Nicole herself hadn't gone to Bobby and introduced herself as Melissa Baird. She had wanted a playmate. She had wanted him to know her most delicious best kept secret. She had been, not one or two, but a million steps ahead of them from the very start of this.
It was impressive.
It was disgusting.
Logan nodded enthusiastically, wanting to share his process "Melissa Baird was transparent. She never tried to hide anything. She was truly regular." A shadow passed over the former detectives' eyes. Being regular was what had made her so tragically appealing to her psychotic estranged sister. They had seen it so many times, in so many cases. Leslie Dornan, Margie Timmons, April Callaway. Alex was flooded with names of ordinary women made victims and patsies by horrible opportunists. "I went back as far as I could here in New York, public records" Mike said "then, let's just say I have a guy who's part of the 'programmer subculture' and he did the rest." Mike wasn't bound to be lawful anymore. He could use any means necessary. "Sorry we had to hack through the back door," He apologized "I don't have any boots on the ground in Oz." They nodded, both thinking 'law-smaw' whatever it took.
But Bobby was appropriately spun. He muttered to himself "How in hell…" Could I have missed this? He tried to retrofit the name Sarah Martin onto the evil face he had come to know as Nicole Wallace. It didn't work. His brain actively fought the change. It was futile. Like some popular landmark, she would be forever branded with that name. She would always be Nicole.
"So…" Alex filled space with a single word as she tussled a little with Immy who wanted her freedom. In the seamless dance of parenting Bobby stood and scooped up his girl and jostled her around in his arms.
"So… So I don't know."Mike sighed in honesty and threw one leg across the other. "This is the kind of stuff that's never meant to be found. No one would have ever cared enough to look this deeply unless… Well unless they were you." Alex and Bobby locked eyes again, he was right, they had encountered Nicole Wallace time and time again and never once pushed beyond the documents they'd received during that first case at Hudson University. They had built every premise about her around a fallacy: that Nicole Wallace was her first identity. It had taken this, it had taken her coming into their house, literally, metaphorically. It had taken this level of torment and victimization to delve deeper.
"But one things for sure. This is how she managed to pull off the game that's had you chasing your tails for a month." He looked at Bobby with pity "and a decade." Mike gestured to the sheets. "This is how she faked her own death. This is how she's been bankrolling her revenge - a rich sister, who's dead and looks exactly like her."
Bobby and Alex clenched in synchronized discomfort. Then looked at each other. The implications were far and deep and little bit poetic.
"In short." Logan's smarmy grin was back. "You're fucked."
How did he end up here? Bobby stood in a hospital room looking down.
He was no kid.
He was a 26 year old man.
But looking at Donny pale and imperfect in that hospital bed Bobby could see why everyone had mistaken him for younger. He was gaunt. He was wasted. He'd been much healthier and full of chest as a teen. Sure he was hiding under a few days worth of beard growth and a new scar across his chin but he was small.
Bobby rubbed his own chin thoughtfully. It had been a gut shot. Donny had lost a lot of blood, hence intensive care. Part of Bobby want to scoop him into his arms and cradle his nephew like a baby. He wanted to tell him it would all be okay, Bobby wanted to heal Donny with the miraculous power of touch. Another part of Bobby wanted to remove his respirator and then plug his nose and mouth with one big heavy hand and watch him writhe and buck and then die.
Put him down like the animal he'd become.
Bobby wasn't sure which option would be better for Donny, or for his family, or for humanity.
But, since Bobby could have gone either way (his life long refrain) and because had chosen light and morality he shoved back those dark thoughts. He pulled a brown plastic seat up to his nephew's bedside and sat heavily. His face and parts of his torso were on fire with the mementos of his fight with Logan. Now he remembered why he prefered to make love not war.
What a strange fucking day.
It felt good to sit, good to rest with only the intermittent beep - proof of life - coming from the machines hooked up to Donny. He couldn't blame Alex for this. Bobby admitted now that he had never known Donny. This… this... person was just a stranger that had tried to kill his wife and child. Blood? No. It wasn't enough anymore. He had blood relations now. Robert Goren understood exactly what true love was. He understood the feel, the taste, the smell of it. He wasn't the sad lonely man who had risked his life on a table in the bright, arid, solitary confinement unit of Tates correctional. He was no longer prepared to risk everything for a crumb of familial connection. You don't win bitch! You don't know me! He sent a telepathic message to Nicole - Sarah - whoever the hell she was. I'm not going to blame Alex for this. He knew that was exactly what Nicole wanted, angst, strife, doubt and division.
What a strange fucking day.
That was the only commonality inside each day of his life now. That each one got exponentially more bizarre then the last. He didn't recognize any of the signposts anymore. He didn't know what anything meant anymore. This was his life and yet he was a foreigner in a foreign land.
What a strange fucking day.
And suddenly he felt so tired. He looked at his watch, it was only 3 o'clock in the afternoon. It felt like it should be 3am - a week from now - for all the turmoil he'd faced since just this morning. He felt like he could sleep right here. And he would have if this chair had handles or offered anything remotely resembling comfort.
Instead he stood. He took one more look at Donny, his eyes drifting to the glinting metal of the handcuffs tethering this untethered soul to the bed. And then he made his way out into the hall to Alex and Immy.
He was done here.