CHAPTER 3: SEPARATION

Friday, November 10
2:35 pm

Lennie idly watched the hookers plying their trade as Rey talked to somebody on his cell, trying to track down their latest suspect in the Shelley Ganz murder. Stakeouts. Not his favourite part of the job, but at least he was warmer and more comfortable than the girls out there.

They'd decided to go with the mistaken identity theory. Checked out Steven Tashjian and found that he did have a large policy on his wife and they'd been fighting like cats and dogs recently. Found that the wife should have been at home that night, but had changed her plans at the last minute without telling her husband. Ah, love and marriage. Or murder and marriage. They both went together like... whatever.

Of course, she laughed at their suggestion that her husband might have put a hit on her. But she was willing to think it over when they asked her if anybody had been following her lately, and she remembered somebody had tried to deliver an envelope to her.

The doorman made a lousy witness when it came to identifying the would-be delivery man, but he'd sure noticed the car - a luxury car with some damage on it. Went to her workplace and found some guy in another luxury car with damage on it had been by the ad agency. They'd tracked down body shops that worked on luxury cars and did the rounds, showing their lousy picture. Found one guy who thought the picture looked a little like Enrique Flores, who did some overflow work for his shop. So they'd decided to stake out Flores' body shop.

"Would you look at those girls, Rey?" Lennie mused, gesturing at the hookers as Rey hung up. "Thirty degrees, freezing rain, they haven't taken a break since we got here."

"The politicians who complain about the vanishing work ethic should meet these women."

"Bet they have," Lennie joked, and Rey smiled slightly. "So you find a place yet?"

"Nah, still looking. Might not need it."

"Yeah? Good!" Lennie nodded, somewhat surprised that Rey was saying anything. He'd made a few forays into this territory, always politely rebuffed. He hesitated a moment before saying, "Listen, you know, I been down this road a coupla times, if you wanna talk."

"Yeah, thanks. We're getting counseling."

"Shrinks can be helpful," Lennie said.

"It's a priest," Rey clarified, slightly offended.

"Whatever works," Lennie chuckled, amused at Rey's automatic bristle.

"Hey, Lennie. That looks like him," Rey said, pointing to a guy who'd just driven up to the body shop. Lennie notified the other unit to go in as Rey drove up to Flores' shop. They got out and Rey took out his badge, and Lennie grinned as the stupid mook immediately turned and started running. Bingo.

===

Saturday, November 11
4:45 pm

"How come you're not coming home, Daddy?" Olivia asked that weekend as they prepared to go home. Rey sighed as he unlocked the car, trying to choose his words carefully. Balance honesty with reassurance, he reminded himself, like they'd talked about in counseling. The important thing is for them to know this is not their fault.

"Um... I did something I shouldn't have done. And when grown-ups do something they shouldn't do, sometimes they don't get to live with their families any more."

"Are you gonna go to jail?" Olivia asked.

"What?!" he stared at her. Olivia bit her lip and said meekly,

"You, you said before, when grownups do something bad they go to jail..."

"Oh, sweetie, no, of course not." He knelt down and hugged her tight. "No, no, I'm not going to jail. I'd never do anything that bad." Good God.

"What did you do?" Serena asked curiously.

Rey cleared his throat. "You know how we always tell you it's really, really important to keep your word?"

"Yeah."

"Well, I didn't. I broke a promise to your Mom," he said, forcing himself to keep an even tone despite the expressions of incredulity and dismay on his daughters' faces, but unable to maintain eye contact with them.

"What was the promise?" Olivia asked.

"That part's kinda hard to explain."

"Was it a really important promise?" Olivia asked. He nodded. "So how come you broke it?"

"I made a mistake," he said simply.

"Pretty big mistake," she said resentfully, glaring at him. He swallowed hard and nodded again.

"Everybody makes mistakes, baby," he said. "And when we do, we have to try to make up for them. I'm trying."

"Are you ever gonna come home, Daddy?" Serena asked.

"Sweetie, I don't know. I hope so."

"Does Mommy have to say it's OK for you to come back?"

"Yeah, that's part of it."

"Did you say you were sorry? You gotta say you're sorry," she told him seriously.

"I - I did, sweetheart, but-"

"So Mommy's supposed to forgive you. That's what you said, when somebody says they're sorry you havta forgive them. Like when Isabel broke my Lego castle."

"Sometimes it takes a while. And sometimes you can't forgive."

"That's not what you said," she said stubbornly. "You said that we havta forgive. It says so in the Bible, even. I'm gonna tell Mommy she better forgive you quick or I'm gonna tell Father Galvez-"

"Bunny, please don't do that," he chuckled, picturing Deborah's face if Serena actually said that. "That really wouldn't help. This is just something we have to work out ourselves, OK?" Serena nodded, calmly accepting his words. Olivia's lips pursed in disapproval and he looked away from her, feeling her respect for him diminished by his admission. Once more feeling that crawl of disgust at himself, that feeling that he was walking in his father's footsteps.

No, he wasn't. He was walking out of them. His father had never once faced the people he'd wronged, never even tried to make amends, even though his constant philandering was the worst-kept secret in their house. Damned if he was going to do that. He cleared his throat again, checked his watch.

"OK, we gotta get you girls home," he motioned them into the car. Olivia scowled but got in without further comment. "Hey what's that?" he spotted a book on the floor of the car.

"Oh that's our Sailor Moon colouring book," Serena said happily. "I saw it on TV, and I asked Mommy an' I asked an' I asked an' she said no and you know what? When Olivia did all her spelling words right, Mommy asked what she wanted and she said Sailor Moon colouring book and Mommy said OK!!"

"You saw an ad for Sailor Moon?" Rey asked, frowning slightly. "On TV?"

"Yeah! They got so much cool stuff, Daddy!!" Olivia chimed in, her disapproval of him forgotten as she launched into an excited exhaustive description of Sailor Moon merchandise.

===

"I thought we talked about this, Deborah," Rey said after he brought the girls back home.

"We did. I changed my mind," Deborah said evenly.

"Just like that?" Rey asked. "Look, we both agreed network shows aren't good for kids. So today I find out they've been watching them on a regular basis?"

"What do you want me to do? I'm by myself, I have to get dinner made, and I can't if they're running all over the kitchen interfering-"

"So you're dumping them in front of the TV every night and not giving a da- not caring what they're watching?"

"Listen, if you think it's so easy, why don't you just-"

"Take them some weeknights too?" Rey interrupted heatedly. "No problem. I offered before but you didn't-"

"I was going to say, why don't you just keep that to yourself? I didn't have to agree to let you have them every weekend."

"Yeah?" Rey felt a surge of anger. How dare she threaten him with taking away visitation. "Don't even go there. I'm not getting them every weekend. I'm getting them for five hours on Saturday and lunch and Sunday School on Sunday. I could petition to have them for the whole weekend and there's not a lawyer in the world that would say that's too much-"

"Oh, you've been doing some research, Rey?" Deborah shot back sarcastically. "Research this! You wanna go to a lawyer over what TV the girls watch?! I'll-" they both suddenly realized that the girls were watching them, eyes wide and scared. Deborah closed her mouth, looking shaken. She cleared her throat. "I... I think we better talk about this on Tuesday."

"Yeah," Rey agreed quickly. "I, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have brought it up here." He turned to the girls and held out his arms and the girls ran to him, relieved expressions on all three small faces. "OK, girls, I gotta go. See you tomorrow at Sunday School, OK?"

===

Tuesday, November 14
4:45 pm

"Well if Flores ever did work on Tashjian's car, I can't find any evidence of it," Rey said, discouraged.

This was the frustrating thing about solving cases, Lennie thought. It was exciting when you didn't know who had committed a crime, but irritating as hell when you knew, and just couldn't prove it.

They'd presented Enrique Flores to their incompetent doorman witness - no dice. Nothing to hold him on for more than a few days, still not sure they had the right guy or even the right theory. Lennie had prepared to keep digging for conclusive evidence, part of him hoping that Ganz had nothing to do with Steven and Susan Tashjian and that Flores was just a red herring. Because otherwise... somebody had hired Flores. Somebody who still wanted Susan Tashjian dead.

And then Susan Tashjian had been gunned down outside her gym. So much for that faint hope. As Lennie had told McCoy at the crime scene, "Times like this, I'd rather be wrong."

They'd hauled in the grieving widower, who of course denied everything, and with no solid evidence, they had to let him go too. So now they were searching for some kind of link between Tashjian and Flores.

"Who would you go to if you needed a hit man?" Jamie asked Rey.

"I'd find an old cop - preferably one with a lot of alimony," he said seriously, and Lennie mimed a mock hit at him. They all chuckled, then Jamie narrowed her eyes at the file she was going through.

"Where'd Tashjian get his business loan?"

"From uh... Beachwood Loan Company in Brooklyn," Lennie replied, checking his file.

"Flores borrowed $90,000 from them last year to buy a frame straightener," Jamie showed them the receipt.

Ooh. A link. Score one for the pretty ADA. Jamie got up with enthusiasm, eager to go check out the link and leaving Rey and Lennie to sift through the remaining paperwork for any other possible leads.

"Speaking of alimony, you two work that out yet?" Lennie asked after Jamie left.

"Nah, I'm just depositing in our joint account like before," Rey said distractedly, going over Flores' financial records again. Lennie winced. Great idea. An ex with a grudge, expensive tastes, and access to your finances. You might as well bare your throat to a hungry Rottweiler.

"How's counseling going?" Lennie asked. Rey glanced at him impatiently. Lennie ignored his irritation and patiently waited for an answer.

"Pretty bad the first time, not so bad the second," he said grudgingly. "Speaking of which..." he checked his watch, "I gotta go."

"Oh right, Tuesday night. Good luck," Lennie said as Rey left. He put away their papers, amusing himself trying to picture what counseling would be like with somebody as taciturn as Rey. What did their priest do? Do the session in mime?

He got ready to go, remembering his own counseling sessions at the end of his second marriage. So much time and money wasted, so much yelling and screaming. It had been like poking a dying animal just to watch it squirm: sadistic, bizarre, ugly, and useless.

Well, hopefully Rey would see the light soon and get out with dignity as intact as it could be. In the meantime, his partner was slightly more cheerless (he'd gone from dour to glum, not a big change), and somewhat more of a workaholic. Not that Rey had been a slacker before, but since his separation he'd been racking up the overtime like there was no tomorrow. It certainly made Lennie's job a breeze, now that his partner seemed to have absolutely no life outside of work.

===

8:20 pm

"What am I supposed to do? Talk over every little thing?" Deborah asked that night.

"No, but you are still sharing responsibility for your children," Morelli said. "I would suggest you set aside a time during the week when you can talk about major decisions."

"This is stupid," she muttered resentfully.

"Welcome to separate parenthood," Morelli pointed out. "This is why it's better to stay married. Speaking of which..."

"Don't - we're not talking about that yet," Deborah said quickly. The same thing she'd said when Morelli had wanted to explore the issue of them getting back together near the end of last week's session.

At least she wasn't rejecting the idea outright any more, thought Rey. 'Yet' did imply that some day, maybe...

"Fine," Morelli said easily. "For now, just concentrate on not fighting in front of your children. And don't use visitation as a weapon. You especially, Deborah - Rey's right, he could very well petition for more time with them, and he would be well within his rights."

"Oh, terrific. He's the one who cheats on me and lies to me for five months, but I have to tiptoe around his parental rights. That's great."

"Yes, it is," Morelli agreed with forced cheer. "Now, I want you both to promise no repetition of Saturday's event. And no denigrating the other parent to the children when they aren't there, either."

"I wouldn't say anything against her," Rey protested.

"That's what you say now, but it can get easy to lose sight of that as a separation progresses. I want you both to promise not to use your children as weapons against each other."

"You want him to promise? What good will that do? If he kept his promises, we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place," Deborah said bitterly.

"If I didn't keep my promises we wouldn't be in this mess in the first place," Rey shot back, temper fraying.

"What?"

"The night I told you about the affair. You made me promise that if I ever stepped out on you I would tell you. So I did. You're welcome," he said sarcastically. "And by the way, you promised that if I ever did tell you, you would still try to save our marriage."

"And you're holding me to that?!" Deborah asked incredulously.

"NO! I'm not, I know you didn't seriously think it was ever gonna come up-"

"Then why even bring it up-"

"I'm getting sick of you throwing the same damn thing in my face over and over again!"

"Oh, I should just forgive and forget-"

"No, God damn it, but-"

"Rey!" Morelli snapped. Rey set his jaw and crossed his arms, pushing down resentment.

"Sorry, Father." There was a long silence, finally broken by Deborah.

"Why did it have to take a promise like that for you to tell me?" she asked softly. He looked at her questioningly and she took a deep breath, visibly trying to gather her thoughts. "Why didn't you... I mean, if, if you'd told me right away... I would've been pretty mad, but I think... I think I would've been able to forgive you, eventually. I would've been hurt, but at least I wouldn't be where I am now, knowing you can just lie to me for months and I won't even know. That's - that's the part that kills me the most. And you should've known that."

Rey looked down, not knowing what to say to that.

"Why did you listen to him? When he said not to tell me?" Deborah asked softly.

Rey glanced at Father Morelli. "He... he knows a lot more about marriages than I do, Deborah."

"He knows marriages. He doesn't know our marriage. He doesn't know me. You do."

"I know."

"You knew what was the right thing to do. How could you trust him more than you trusted yourself?"

"Deborah... I didn't trust myself at all."

"Why not?!" she asked, frustrated.

"You have to ask that?!" Rey asked in disbelief. "I had just done something I swore I'd never do. I, I didn't know what to think. About myself, about anything," he spread his hands, trying to explain. "Shit. I, I couldn't believe what I'd done. I couldn't understand how I let myself think it was OK. I - I thought of you and, and I was so damn scared and..." he felt his throat tightening up and stopped, appalled at himself. "I'm sorry. I can't," he shook his head, crossing his arms and retreating to regain his composure.

"OK," Morelli said gently after a moment. "Um... I think this is something we'll have to talk over next time. Why don't we leave it for next week?" he suggested, and Deborah nodded reluctantly. Rey rubbed his forehead and nodded as well, deeply dismayed at the thought of going over that day with Deborah.

It would be OK, though. He'd have a week to brace himself for it. And he did owe her that at least, as difficult as it would undoubtedly be to go through it.

"So..." Morelli reached for another topic. "The pros and cons of network TV. This seems like a good time to go over that, don't you think?"

===

Saturday, November 18
12:45 pm

"How come your Mommy didn't come for lunch too?" Rey's sister Lisa asked Serena that weekend as she helped the girls out of their jackets.

"Um, Lisa-" Rey began, but Serena answered Lisa matter-of-factly,

"'Cause it's Daddy's turn to be with us. It's Saturday." She put her rain boots away neatly and scurried into Lisa's house, where Olivia and Isabel had already found the inevitable stash of cookies that Lisa always made for them.

"Um, I have them on the weekends. Saturday and part of Sunday," Rey explained.

"What do you mean you have them on the weekend? What about the rest of the week?"

"I uh... I'm not living with them right now."

"What?!" Lisa gasped. "Why not?"

"I'm staying at a hotel. We're - we're going through some trouble."

"For how long?"

"About a month."

"What?!" Lisa gaped, then hid her incredulous expression as Isabel came running back to offer her a cookie. Holy hell. Rey and Deborah had never had any problems before, to her knowledge. However, now was certainly not the time to talk about it, with the girls underfoot. She sent Isabel back to the kitchen for more cookies before turning back to Rey.

"Listen, don't stay at a hotel. Come stay here. At least tonight, OK?" He automatically started to turn her down. "Come on, don't be like that," she urged. "Stay here tonight. You can go back to your hotel tomorrow." She smiled as he reluctantly agreed.

===

"So, you gonna tell me what happened?" Lisa asked that night. She sighed as Rey's expression closed up and she sensed his walls going up again.

Damn it, she thought. How could he not have said anything to her before now. They used to be close, but he'd been so busy with his job and the kids in the last few years, and she'd been so busy with her own job and her troubled marriage, that they'd drifted apart. Now she put her hand on his arm and tried to get him to open up. "Come on, bro. Tell me," she said gently.

He bit his lip, obviously trying to find the words, and she tried to lighten the mood. "You didn't step out on Deborah, did you?" she joked. He flushed. Lisa's eyes widened. "Did you?" Rey looked away. She stood up, incredulous.

"You had an affair?!" He chewed on his lip as her disbelief give way to absolute white-hot fury. "Jesus Christ!!"

"Lisa, what the hell-" Lisa's husband poked his head into the kitchen, frowning in annoyance.

"You son of a bitch - how could you do that to her?!" she slapped Rey across the face and he put his hand to his cheek, glaring at her, but keeping silent.

"Lisa, what the hell do you think you're doing?!" Lisa's husband grabbed at her.

"He cheated on Deborah!" she screamed. "I'm not gonna have this goddamn piece of shit who can't keep his hands off other women staying in my house!! Get out!" she raged at Rey. "You make me sick!! Get out of my house!!"

Rey sighed and went to get his suitcase, overhearing snatches of conversation from the kitchen.

"Come on, he's your brother, he's-"

"He's worthless scum! He has three kids, he knows, he knows what this does to kids, and he still - fuck him! If he wants to ruin his life and destroy his family, that's his business, I'm not putting him up!"

"Lisa! Get a hold of yourself, for crying out loud!" Their voices dropped to low murmurs as Rey impatiently waited for them to get out of the kitchen so that he could get to the phone and call a cab.

Well, that went well, he thought, rubbing his cheek absently. He'd meant to tell Lisa what was going on before lunch today, but somehow just couldn't seem to find the words over the phone. God, he'd told Morelli, he'd told Deborah, he'd told Lennie - he'd even, in a way, told his daughters - you'd think it would get easier somehow. And yet every time it hurt like hell.

Finally the murmurs died down.

"Rey." Lisa stood at the kitchen doorway as her husband went down to their basement, casting Rey a sympathetic glance on the way.

"Yeah."

"How long has this been going on?" she asked sternly.

"It's not 'going on,' it was one time. Five months ago."

"Five months ago?" she was puzzled. "So what, did she find out-"

"No, I told her."

"Why?"

"I didn't wanna lie to her any more. I couldn't take the guilt."

Lisa sat down, her anger draining, replaced by profound sadness. That sounded more like the little brother she knew. She ran her fingers through her hair. "Rey. God, you stupid kid. And she kicked you out?"

"Yeah. Went to Connecticut and didn't come back till I moved out."

"Good for her." Rey drew in on himself but didn't say anything. "Christ. Tell me something, does every Curtis male just have a complete inability to keep it in his pants? What is it with all of you, is it genetic? First Pop, then Jorge, now you."

Rey shrugged.

"I mean, you of all people. How many times did Pop tear a strip outta you for mouthing off at him when he was out chasing skirts? You swore you'd never be like him. I believed you."

"I believed me too," he said quietly.

Lisa stared at the floor, seeing a vivid image of Rey, eight years old. Glaring up at their father, lower lip jutting out, telling Pop exactly what he thought of his cheating, saying what all the rest of them refused to acknowledge and getting knocked around for his trouble. Their father hadn't been abusive by the standards of the time, but he lost it when his own son spoke to him with disrespect. Rey had suffered bumps and bruises and had even been whipped with a switch a few times, his small hand welted for hours afterwards. And it didn't make any difference to him, he still spouted off more often than not the next time Pop came home late smelling of another woman's perfume.

She recalled holding him close after a whipping, his little arms around her neck, skinny shoulders hunched with misery. Remembered his refusal to give in to angry tears, not for the pain of his injuries but for the pain their father caused their mother and for his own inability to do anything about it.

She recalled his utter disdain for their father as a teenager, having finally learned his lesson and no longer saying what he thought, but speaking volumes silently when Pop came home late at night. His tall lanky form eloquently expressing contempt through his body language. Dark eyes flicking from Pop to the clock and back, glancing over Pop's disheveled state in disgust until Pop had the grace to blush and leave the room.

She even recalled his indignation at their older brother a few years ago, when Jorge was almost literally caught with his pants down by his wife, carrying on an affair with one of her friends. His vocal condemnation of Jorge and support for Jorge's wife, when Jorge complained that 'the vengeful bitch' had filed for divorce. The high-volume fight they'd had over it that had resulted in rather tense family reunions for the next year.

And now here he was. Like father, like son.

"OK. Stay here," she said wearily.

"Nah, it's OK, I'll go back to the hotel, I'm paid up for tonight anyway-"

"Don't be stupid."

"I'm looking for my own place anyway-"

"Whatever. Christ, how could you do this. What's the matter with you," she said tonelessly. He shook his head, biting his lip.

"Does Mama know?" He shook his head. "Jorge?" Another shake. "Too ashamed to let'em know, aren't you?" He looked away from her. "This'll really make Mama's day. She raised two lowlife cheating bastards."

"All right, enough already," he said tiredly.

"What? You said the exact same stuff to Jorge when he got caught. Now all of a sudden it's OK for you?"

"No. But... you think you're saying anything new? You really think there's anything you can say to me that I haven't said to myself about a thousand times since... since about five minutes after I left that girl's apartment?"

Lisa ran her hand through her hair again, disgust warring with sympathy for his obvious remorse over the mess he'd made of his life. Feeling an instinctive impulse to comfort him, despite her anger at him. An echo of their childhood. "What did Deborah say? When she left?"

"She said the kids deserved-" his voice roughened and he stopped, clearing his throat before finishing. "Deserved better than me for a father."

She winced, silently agreeing with her sister-in-law but still hurting for her brother's sake. She put her hand on his arm. "Hermanito, shit. You've really gone and done it this time." She rubbed her forehead, then gently pushed him towards the spare room, forcing herself to put aside her anger. "Go, put your suitcase away. Stay here as long as you need to. This... this is your home too."

===

Tuesday, November 21
8:35 pm

"Deborah?" Morelli asked, breaking the long silence in the room after Rey was done slowly, painfully recounting the events leading up to his affair and his decision to not confess to Deborah afterwards. Deborah stifled a sob, keeping her head buried in her arms, as she had throughout most of Rey's recitation.

"I'm sorry," Rey said softly. Deborah nodded, wishing she hadn't forced him to tell her. It didn't help, at all, to know the details of what had happened.

"You know," she said slowly when she could speak, "I, I keep thinking, how would I ever trust you. If we ever got back together. How could I get past that. I thought knowing might make it easier, help me understand, but..."

"Do you think about getting back together?" Morelli asked her after a moment. She inspected her nails for a long time before reluctantly answering.

"Yeah. Sometimes. I - I miss him," she admitted quietly. "The kids miss him. But..." she blinked away her tears, meeting Rey's eyes. "It's like my whole world's been turned upside down. How am I ever supposed to trust you again?" Rey twisted his wedding ring helplessly, unable to reassure her. "And... how am I supposed get back what I felt with you before? Or even how I felt about myself?"

"What do you mean?" Rey asked.

"I'm supposed to not take this like a blow to my ego?" she asked defensively. "I'm supposed to still feel secure? Still feel attractive to you?"

"You think you're not attractive? To me?" Rey asked, bewildered. Deborah looked away, embarrassed. "Jesus Christ. Sorry, Father," he said reflexively. "No, no, hon, come on..." he paused, gathering his thoughts. "I'm - I'm not gonna sit here in front of our priest and say how you make me feel, but... it didn't have anything to do with how I feel about you. You, you're... you're beautiful, hon," he trailed off helplessly.

"And what about when I'm not any more? How can I trust you to not ditch me when I get old?" she asked, hating the neediness in her own voice. "And even before that... how can I trust you to not do the same thing the next time you have a bad day?"

"I - I just... I wouldn't... baby, I couldn't do that to you. Not again."

"How can I trust that?" she said, her defensiveness starting to turn into frustration once more. "And how can I trust that if we do get back together you won't just think, what the hell, if you do it again, I'll forgive you, no problem?"

"What are you talking about, no problem? You think what you're putting me through is the only reason I wouldn't... Jesus." Rey rubbed his forehead agitatedly. "I - you think your world's turned upside down, you can't trust me - well, Christ, Deborah, you can still trust yourself, can't you?!" He stood up, nervously pacing the room.

"You want insecure, you want blow to the ego?! I had to tell our daughters that Daddy can't come home any more because sometimes when grownups do something really bad they're not allowed to be with their families any more. Yeah, and you know what Olivia asked me? Was I going to jail. 'Cause that's what we've talked about at home, that bad grownups get taken away from their families and put in jail." Deborah suppressed a desire to comfort him and he cleared his throat, turning away from her.

"I haven't been able to go into a church without feeling guilty, I haven't been able to look at myself the same way since that day. I couldn't - I couldn't even look the girls in the eye when I told them it was my fault they didn't have two parents any more. There is no way I would ever wanna feel like this again." He crossed his arms defensively, swallowed a few times.

"And, and as for you being attractive... Deborah, you're, you're beautiful. You'll still be beautiful to me when you're old. I'm not gonna walk out on you for a younger woman. You know me better than that, don't you?" She gazed at him, expressing her doubts through her silence. "Look, being one of those jerks with the dentures and the twenty-year old bimbo on their arm... that's Lennie's fantasy, not mine."

"So what's your fantasy?" she asked softly.

"I wanna grow old with you," he told her simply. "I-I wanna watch your hair go grey, I wanna be there the first time a little kid calls you Grandma. And I'd never do anything to screw that up. Not again."

Deborah gazed at him, uncertainty and mistrust battling with her desire to believe him.

===

Wednesday, November 22
8:04 pm

"Flores did what?" Van Buren asked Jamie Ross in disbelief.

"Swear to god, he had a heart attack," Lennie answered her, laughing, "Right in IR#2. We're telling him we've got him dead to rights and he just keels over."

"What did you do?"

"Rey here hightailed it outta there like a bat outta hell-"

"Hey, I was calling EMS!" Rey protested, laughing.

"-and me and McCoy are standing there like village idiots, neither one of us knows CPR-"

"I told you you shouldn't have skipped your last mandatory training," Van Buren said. "So is he dead?"

"Nope," Lennie replied cheerfully, "he's at the hospital."

"Why is this good news?" Van Buren asked suspiciously.

"Over to you, Wonder Boy," Lennie said to Rey with a flourish.

"He confessed to the doctor at the hospital," Van Buren's eyebrows shot up, "I'm serious, I was right there, three feet away, and he told her everything!" they all shared a laugh.

"You think we can rig the IR to give all our suspects heart attacks?" Lennie suggested. "It really loosens them up." Van Buren rolled her eyes in amused irritation.

"This is what I miss by spending the day downtown with the brass. All the fun happens without me."

"Oh, it gets better," Rey said cheerfully. "The thing is, we hadn't arrested him for Shelley Ganz's murder this time, we'd arrested him for Jason Waxman's. He basically confessed to both."

"Who's Jason Waxman?"

"Another client for Beachwood Loan," Lennie explained, vastly amused. "See, we thought Steven Tashjian hired Flores to kill his wife, but what actually happened was, Bunny Russo, the owner of Beachwood Loan, had him do it. Whenever Russo's clients default, he kills them off to collect on their insurance. Or he forgives the debt if they kill off another client. It's like a barter system." Not for the first time in his career, Lennie was impressed with a brilliant criminal mind. If these guys put as much effort into good as they did into their scummy schemes, he thought, what a world this would be.

"Unfortunately, Flores didn't say Russo put him up to it, but it's a start," Jamie said. "I'm still going to draw up the arrest warrant for Russo."

"Good work," Van Buren said as they left her office. Jamie stopped by their desks, remembering something.

"Oh - um, this isn't going to be such good news, guys."

"What?" asked Lennie.

"Remember the Whatney case?"

"Girl went over the Brooklyn Bridge, that Neanderthal McDugan scared her into jumping?"

Jamie nodded. "Your star witness, Marsh, took the stand and said he remembered the girl smelling of alcohol and acting drunk. He completely changed his story for the Grand Jury, so McDugan got Assault Three."

"Son of a bitch!" Rey exclaimed, his good humour at their triumph with Flores evaporating.

"Could you go to Marsh's house tomorrow, please? Find out what happened?"

"You bet," Rey said grimly. Jamie nodded and left. "Son of a bitch. Cowardly son of a bitch-" Rey muttered as she walked off.

"Hey-" Lennie began.

"No, come on. He committed perjury. He let that girl down, just because he's too scared to face his wife. Probably figured out his little sideline would come out at an actual trial."

"Rey..." Lennie sighed. Here we go, Rey was gonna go off on yet another vitriolic rant. Some day, hopefully, Rey would learn that not everything deserved this kind of moral outrage. But in the meantime, Lennie often wished his partner came with some kind of OFF button, or at least a MUTE. So at least he wouldn't have to hear this kind of thing.

"What?" Rey asked belligerently. "What do you think his excuse is?"

"Maybe somebody threatened him."

"Right. You saw him that day - piece of scum-"

"Rey." Lennie's patience abruptly slipped away. "How's Deborah?" he asked deliberately, and Rey gave him a startled glance. Lennie watched his partner's expression warring between anger at him and a host of other emotions as he held Rey's gaze steadily. Don't give me the self-righteous crap today, Lennie thought, it's not gonna fly. He waited until Rey dropped his eyes, and tried for a more patient tone.

"I think somebody threatened him. Now, let's go pick up Russo, and we'll talk to Marsh tomorrow."

===

Saturday, November 25
8:04 pm

"So they're all at the Rez for the weekend?" Lisa asked that weekend, pouring tea for their mother, who had come over for dinner.

"Yeah," said Rey. "That's why I had them a couple weeknights last week - Deborah wanted to take them to the Harvest Festival this weekend."

"Oh, that's a lot of fun. They've got so many great things to do over at that place." Lisa finished pouring their tea and sat down. "Now why couldn't we be rich Indians?"

"You are Indians," Mama smiled.

"Rich Indians," Lisa repeated. "Not Peruvian Quechua. They're dirt-poor. And they don't run any fancy clubs."

"They might, in Peru," said Rey.

"No, they don't," his mother said. "That's part of why I came here, so my kids wouldn't be looked down on as Indians. Or as half-breeds. You don't know what it was like over there for us." Rey and Lisa nodded, not terribly interested in their mother's tales of racial injustice in the old country. She sighed. "Although back home..."

"What?"

Mama hesitated, then said reluctantly. "Deborah wouldn't have walked out on you, son." He dropped his eyes, and she continued. "I mean... how could she? It's not right. She - she took vows. She said 'in good times and bad.' This is breaking them."

"I vowed to forsake all others," he reminded her quietly.

"Two wrongs don't make a right." Rey shrugged. "Breaking up a family... taking children from their father... it's wrong. No matter what the father has done." Lisa abruptly got up, muttering something about needing to check on her laundry. Rey watched her go, wishing she'd stayed behind, but knowing it was probably a good thing she'd left. Respect for their mother was deeply ingrained in both of them, and Lisa had probably sensed she was about to say something she would regret. He sipped his coffee, trying to find a polite way of answering his mother.

"Would you say the same thing if she was the one who cheated on me? Would you expect me to just forgive and forget?"

"No, of course not. But... but men and women are different. Staying with just one woman isn't easy for a man. Deborah should know that."

Rey was torn between respecting his mother and defending Deborah's actions and his own beliefs. He fiddled with his coffee cup for a moment, then replied, "I don't believe that. Mama, being unfaithful is disrespect, no matter who does it. She's got a right to be angry about it."

"She didn't have to leave you. She could learn to live with it."

"Like you lived with Pop disrespecting you?"

"He didn't. He loved us." Rey shook his head. "Son... I accepted it. That's a woman's place."

"It doesn't have to be."

"I knew he loved us."

"He broke his vows to you, and to us. Over and over again. That's wrong. Deborah doesn't want our kids growing up with a father who doesn't take his vows seriously."

"Oh, for Heaven's sake," she said sadly. "You do."

"I didn't."

"You love her, and the children, and you are a good husband and a good father. You made one mistake, Reynaldo. And if Deborah can't see that, and can't forgive you, she's the one who's wrong. Not you." Rey stirred his coffee silently and his mother sighed.

"Son... don't let her convince you that you're not the man I know you are. Don't let her tell you that you disrespect her, or you don't love her, or your word doesn't mean anything to you. One mistake doesn't wipe out a whole lifetime of living up to your ideals."

Rey looked away, wishing his mother would just drop it.

"There's two sides to everything. Maybe there's a reason you did what you did, maybe, maybe she wasn't understanding enough, maybe she was too busy with the children-"

"N-no, don't, please," Rey interrupted, narrowing his eyes, struggling to keep his sudden anger at her in check. "Don't make excuses for me like you did for Pop." She bit her lip and stopped, studying her napkin for a long moment, then spoke up softly.

"I... I don't want to be cut off from my grandchildren. Not again," her voice broke and she covered her eyes. Rey looked at her, startled, as a tear trickled down her face. His mother was a firm stoic. The last time he'd seen her cry was... he couldn't even remember when. He was frozen for a moment, unsure of what to do. He hesitantly put his hand on hers.

"You're not... you're not cut off from them. It's not like when Jorge's wife left him. We're, we're trying to work things out. And even if we don't... Deborah's not taking the kids away forever, I'll still bring them to visit..." his words trailed off as his mother nodded and covered her face, trying to stifle her tears. "Mama, don't, please. Don't cry," he patted her arm ineffectually.

"I just wish... that even one of you three had had a happy marriage."

They were silent for a long time. "I'm not divorced yet, Mama," he said quietly.

===

Monday, November 27
9:03 pm

"Oh hi Deborah," Lisa said into the phone. "Yes, he's here," Lisa held out the phone to Rey. Her face did not look like this was going to be a pleasant call.

"Deborah?" he said uncertainly.

"I just got a call from your boss," Deborah's voice snapped. "You're supposed to give her a call. I am not your fucking secretary."

"What?"

"You give her your new number and don't expect me to pass on any more messages for you."

"Deb-" she slammed down the phone. Rey stared at the receiver for a moment, then automatically punched in Van Buren's number.

"Van Buren," she answered crisply.

"LT, it's Curtis, you wanted to talk to me?"

"Oh - oh, right, yes, Jamie Ross wants to know about the visit to Marsh's house."

"Oh, sure," Rey said automatically, picking up his notes from that interview, forcing down his consternation at the anger in Deborah's voice. Why had that bothered her so much? Maybe he should've told Van Buren he'd moved out, but it just hadn't seemed necessary. She hardly ever called his home number, she called his cell. Had the batteries run out?

"Are you there?" Van Buren asked, and he abruptly remembered she was still waiting.

"Sorry, LT, hold on." He scanned his notes, refreshing his memory. What he mostly remembered about the interview was that he'd been terrifically uncomfortable facing this witness whom he'd almost beaten up a few weeks ago. And that wasn't what Van Buren needed to know. "He didn't say anything, but his wife said he got two calls late at night from some guy, went out for a long time. Lennie thinks somebody mighta threatened him. We're getting the LUDs."

"OK. Thanks, I'll let Jamie know," Van Buren said. "Good night."

===

Tuesday, November 28
1:03 am

Damn. Sleep was elusive. That was happening a lot these days. Rey turned on the TV, tired of worrying about Deborah's extreme reaction to Van Buren's call, worrying whether it would derail the progress they'd made last week. Stop thinking about it, she's probably already forgotten it, he told himself, and started surfing channels. Flip flip flip, sports, flip, the Tashjian case on the news for a moment, flip, adult channel - no, flip past, he didn't want to see that.

Actually, maybe he should flip back to it, he mused as he watched a sitcom rerun without much interest. He could do what he'd done too many nights since his separation. It might help the insomnia, he was usually fairly sleepy afterwards. He and Deborah had often finished off the day by making love and drifting off in each other's arms.

He idly debated flipping back as the canned laughter continued on the insipid comedy. The problem was that he could never tell now whether he'd feel sleepy or even more dissatisfied afterwards, wishing he had Deborah there instead of this empty couch. Missing the tangle of her limbs with his until he was wide awake again, tossing and turning, brooding, infinitely pissed off at himself for having landed them both in this mess.

He wondered if Deborah felt like this. They were both young and healthy and had high libidos. Nice to have a strong sex drive when you were with somebody who did too, not so nice when you weren't with anybody at all. He wondered how Deborah was coping. No, don't think about that, his body started to tell him. Or if you are gonna think about it, at least do something about it while you're thinking.

He closed his eyes, tuning out the lame rerun, imagining Deborah. Did she toss and turn at night, did she miss him? Did she fantasize about him? When things were going well in counseling, did she let herself think that maybe someday he'd be back in her bed? And when they weren't going well, what did she do? Just turn her thoughts away, or fantasize about somebody else?

What would he do if some day she did more than just fantasize - if she actually found somebody else? He felt a stab of fear and sorrow. His wife with another man. His children with another daddy. And nobody to blame for that but himself.

Boy, was that ever a mood-killer. He opened his eyes and brought his attention back to the stupid sitcom. He'd just have to drink a lot of coffee tomorrow.

He remembered Lennie teasing him once about the single lifestyle, "Mr. Young Married, you don't know what you're missing."

"Yeah - late night reruns of I Dream of Jeanie," Van Buren had shot back.

I Dream of Jeanie, Gilligan's Island, and Laverne and Shirley, he thought ruefully. Yeah, I didn't know what I was missing, all right. I didn't appreciate what I had is more like it.

===

9:15 am

I really have to get my own place, Rey thought the next morning as he shaved in the precinct locker room. Not only was the couch in the spare room narrow and lumpy, he'd been woken up once again by his sister and her husband starting off the day with a rousing early morning exchange, to the tune of "quit yelling at me when I've got a headache" and "don't call it a headache when it's a hangover, and you slept through the alarm again, you sorry bastard." Rey had quickly dressed and ducked out before they got to the four-letter words.

"Phone company faxed the LUDs from Marsh's place," Lennie entered the locker room as Rey finished shaving and washed up. "Two calls to a number in Riverdale. One at 11:17, the other one the next night at 11:06," Lennie showed him the LUDs.

"Nancy Leary?" he asked skeptically.

"Maybe she's got a real deep voice."

"This I gotta see," he finished drying his face.

"Whenever you're ready."

"Hey, Lennie, almost forgot," Rey said, going to his locker and taking out a piece of paper. "My sister's number, I'm gonna be staying there till I get my own place."

"Rey, I'm sorry," Lennie said sympathetically, pocketing the small paper.

"Yeah, nothin's carved in stone," Rey shrugged noncommittally, putting on his shirt. "I'll wait and see."

"Right. It'll work out," Lennie said, not sounding terribly convincing, and left the locker room. Rey finished dressing. Sure. 'It'll work out.' That's why he needed to find a place of his own, because it was gonna work out. He closed his eyes and dismissed further thought about Deborah and his home situation. This wasn't the time or place, he was at work. What he had to think about now was this Nancy Leary person.

===

2:34 pm

"So we go to Nancy Leary's place and find out her son's father is Dave Randall," Lennie told Van Buren that afternoon.

"Should that ring a bell?" Van Buren asked.

"Only if you ever worked Arson. Randall the Candle. Not the most successful torch around, in that he's been caught a bunch of times, but part of his time was served with..." Lennie trailed off expectantly.

"Crazy Mike McDugan?" Van Buren guessed.

"That's why she's the boss, Rey," Lennie stated. "It's not just for her fashion sense."

Van Buren grinned. "Do you have anything else on him?"

"We're passing the info along to Ross and McCoy. See what they think. They'll probably want to haul him in for questioning."

"Good. Good work, guys," Van Buren nodded. As they stood to leave, Rey cleared his throat.

"Um, LT, just wanted to let you know, my number's changed. If you can't reach my cell, call me here." He handed her a small piece of paper and turned to leave.

Van Buren peered at the little piece of paper - Curtis, 555-7230. "When did you move? Where is this place?"

"About a month ago," he said offhandedly. "Manhattan."

"You moved your kids in the middle of the school year?"

He let out his breath in annoyance, and said evenly, "My kids didn't move. I did."

Her eyebrows went up and she looked from him to Lennie. Lennie quickly said, "We'll let you know what Ross and McCoy say about Dave Randall." His eyes warned her not to pry any more. She dismissed them and sat back, somewhat stunned. Rey had moved, without his kids - that must have been why his wife had sounded so odd yesterday. About a month ago? She picked up a pen and tapped it idly on her desk, wondering what the hell had happened. But Rey very obviously didn't want to talk about it, and Lennie obviously knew more than he was saying and didn't want to talk about it either.

About a month ago - oh, crap, that was around when Rey lost it on Marsh in the interrogation room, in this very case... Marsh, who wouldn't talk because he was... he was sleeping around on his wife.

There was obviously a hell of a lot going on there. And it really wasn't any of her business. Damn.

===

8:00 pm

"I think we need to draw up separation papers," Deborah began their session. Rey and Morelli gaped at her.

"Wait a minute, wait a minute," Rey said, confused, "Last week you're saying you've thought about getting back together, this week you wanna draw up papers?"

"I don't think you're taking this seriously-"

"Taking this seriously?! What the hell are you talking about?!"

"Why did your boss call our place to talk to you yesterday? How come she didn't know you weren't living there?"

"Why would she know?! It's none of her business!"

"You wanna pretend to the world that you're still a happily married man, you're still wearing that ring like it means something-"

"It does mean something! To me!"

"Just because I said maybe, that doesn't - that doesn't mean it's not over. I-I won't be taken advantage of."

"Taken advantage of - for God's sake, Deborah-"

"I think we should sign a formal separation. If we're going to get a divorce, we need to be legally separated first-"

"Hold on, wait-"

"Deborah-" Morelli broke in.

"No! You talked me out of doing this right away, you said we should try counseling, well, we've tried counseling, and I've had time to think about it, and I think we need to do this. I, I want this over with, I want to get on with my life," she said, her voice trembling.

"This can't be over," Morelli said forcefully. "You have children together. You're married. It's not a matter of just walking away when you feel like it." Deborah glared at him. "It's just not that simple - for one thing, you may get a civil divorce, but you won't get an annulment."

"Why not?"

"I wouldn't go along with it, for starters. Adultery is sufficient to sue for legal divorce. It's not enough for the Church to grant an annulment."

"So what am I supposed to do when he-"

"You're supposed to stay married. Whether you choose to live together is your business, but you are still married in the eyes of the Church until death do you part, unless there were grounds for declaring that the marriage was invalid from the beginning."

"I'm trapped, is what you're saying."

"Unless you can prove none of it was real, yes. And normally the only way to do that is for both of you to say that there was some reason why-"

"I'm not gonna say it wasn't real," Rey broke in heatedly. "That would be perjury."

"Oh, you'll commit adultery, but not perjury. It's so nice to know where your moral compass lies. So if I wanted to remarry in the Church, you'd make sure I couldn't?"

Rey stared at her, too angry to be able to elucidate everything he thought about that. Wanting him to deny their whole marriage - throwing his adultery in his face yet again - the thought of her wanting to remarry...

"Deborah," Morelli said firmly, "I've been your spiritual advisor for seven years. I wouldn't be able to say that your marriage wasn't valid. It was. It is."

"It was based on a lie."

"What lie?" Rey asked furiously.

"That you would never cheat on me."

"You think I was crossing my fingers when I took that vow?"

"Based on the fact that you did it, yeah, I'd say so."

"Christ, Deborah, I didn't mean to-"

"You didn't mean to do it? So your excuse is, Oops?" Rey glared at her. "You're just like my father and yours-"

"You think either of them woulda put up with this shit?!" he flung at her.

"This shit? What shit are you talking about? Counseling? Or me not rolling over and-"

"OK, OK, stop," Morelli said quickly. "Time out." They turned on him angrily and he carefully said, "I think we need to take a slightly different approach today. Rey, I'm going to ask you to leave for a little while, while I talk to Deborah. Then I'll talk to you, then if we have time we'll all get together again. OK?" Rey rose with alacrity, quite happy to leave and forcing himself not to slam the door.

Divorce and annulment. Where the hell was this coming from? One week, and they had gone from talking about reconciliation to this. He was seized with a strong desire to throw something across the church.

He entered the chapel, hoping the soothing peace of the place would help him settle down. Found a pew, sitting down and putting his face in his hands.

After a moment, he knelt, crossing himself, and tried to sort out his thoughts.

God, I don't know how much longer I can keep doing this. I understand that I was wrong. I understand that she has a right to be angry. But it's getting really, really hard not to lash out at her. She's... she's being so unreasonable, so unlike herself. It's like every fight we've had over the nine years we've been together has come together, everything I ever disliked about her is all I get to see these days... and it's getting really hard to remember that I'm the one who started this mess in the first place.

Please, help me remember why I'm doing this. Help me be patient with her. Help me remember that it's not just us that's affected by this - that I have to keep trying for the sake of our children and our families. Everybody needs for me to work this out.

===

Tuesday, December 5
5:30 pm

"Hey, Rey," Lennie checked his watch. "Don't you have counseling tonight?"

"Yeah, yeah, later," Rey muttered as they escorted Randall the Candle to the IR.

"Yeah, but you have to get the Flores report done before tomorrow. And Ross and McCoy are gonna be in on this, you don't need to be there."

"No, it's fine, I'll get the report done," Rey assured Lennie, going into the interview room. After this many months trying to figure out what happened to Karen Whatney, he sure wasn't going to miss being there for the interrogation of the person who'd intimidated their fine upstanding witness into changing his story. Especially when it seemed there was a lot more to the Whatney case than a simple driving error and a crazy bully. The theory - and it looked pretty good - was that Whatney's former employer, kindly old Harold Dorning, had hired Randall to torch his factory to avoid bankruptcy and collect the insurance. Whatney had found out about it, tried to blackmail Dorning, and he or Randall had hired Crazy Mike McDugan to terrorize her into shutting up. Or jumping off the Bridge. Now they just had to get one of them to admit to it. Rey checked his watch. 5:30 - he should still be able to finish up the report after this interrogation.

And then he could grab a quick dinner and get ready to go another round with Deborah. He sighed wearily, his heart heavy at the mere thought of that. Last Tuesday, he'd ended up spending most of their session in the chapel, while Morelli dealt with Deborah. Morelli had finally emerged, worn out, to tell him that Deborah had gone home and they would try again next week. He'd tried to be encouraging, but it was clear that whatever he'd been trying to get through to her hadn't worked.

So Rey had spent the rest of the week working on nothing cases, calling his kids at bedtime and getting the cold shoulder from Deborah. Taking them out on the weekend and getting the avoidance routine. Which should make tonight's session a real treat.

Faced with the choice of spending time with Deborah right now and interviewing a lowlife arsonist in the Whatney case... gee, which sounded more attractive?

===

"First one to raise his hand gets to plead to Murder Two and serve fifteen to life," McCoy told Dave Randall.

"Hey. Plead this," Randall said, grabbing his crotch. McCoy got up in disgust, motioning to Rey and Lennie to take Randall away.

"Rey, go on, I'll finish up," Lennie urged him as they took Randall back down to the holding cell. He hadn't cracked after all - he was just as scuzzy as McDugan, but apparently just a little smarter.

"Nah, that's OK, I'll finish typing up-"

"Rey, come on, get outta here. You don't wanna miss a counseling session - women really hate that."

Yes, I do want to miss this damn counseling session, thought Rey. I sure as hell do want to miss the opportunity to get yelled at.

"Yeah, that's OK. I'll just finish this up and go," he said.

===

8:15 pm

"Sorry I'm late," Rey said as he hurried into Morelli's office. "Where's Deborah?"

Morelli gazed at him for a minute, then sighed. "She went home."

"Home?" Rey asked, his heart sinking.

"I had to work very hard to get her to agree to come this week at all. When you were late, she... she decided there was no point."

Rey sat down heavily.

"Rey... she wants you to sign this. She's already signed." Morelli pushed a small sheaf of papers at him.

NEW YORK QUEENS COUNTY, SEPARATION AGREEMENT AND PROPERTY SETTLEMENT

Rey caught his breath. It looked so civilized. So bureaucratic. No hint that this was a document designed to destroy a family, destroy five lives. It might just as well have been a rental agreement or arrest report.

This Separation Agreement and Property Settlement between Reynaldo Curtis, of Queens County, New York, hereinafter referred to as "Husband", and Deborah Louise Curtis, of Queens County, New York, hereinafter referred to as "Wife", shall become effective as of the date that it has been executed by each party hereto; WITNESSETH: THAT, WHEREAS, the parties hereto were married on March 12, 1990, and certain differences have arisen between them rendering it undesirable for them to continue to live together as Husband and Wife, by reason whereof they separated on October 16, 1996, and have agreed to live separate and apart permanently; and WHEREAS, there were three children born of the marriage; and- the page blurred before him and he put the papers down, then crossed his arms on Morelli's desk and put his head down.

The silence in the room was broken only by his laboured breathing as he struggled to not break down. Finally Morelli cleared his throat.

"For what it's worth... I don't think you being late today mattered. She was going to do this anyway - you being late was just an excuse."

Rey didn't respond. "You know, this doesn't mean it's over," Morelli said gently. "I think she needs to feel like she has some control over what's going on, and this may help, if anything."

Rey raised his head and looked at Morelli in weary disbelief. He shook his head and picked up a pen from Morelli's desk, ignoring Morelli's half-hearted platitudes. He skimmed through the agreement, found the appropriate line and signed, then stood up.

"Rey?"

"Thanks for all your help, Father," Rey said quietly. "Sorry it didn't work out." He stared at his wedding ring for a moment, then took it off.

"Here. Give that to Deborah when you see her," he said hollowly, and he placed it on the desk and left the office.