Jack, in custody? She couldn't imagine what was going on. But she hoped she would finally get some answers.
Evidently word had gotten out around the 27th as to who was in IR2. There was a crowd around the window. As Abbie approached, they vanished quickly in various directions. Only Lieutenant Van Buren remained, watching Lennie and Ed through the window. Abbie moved up next to her. "Thank you for calling me," she said as she looked through the window.
Van Buren watched as Abbie's hand flew to her mouth. "Oh my God," is all she said.
Jack sat across from the table, facing the one-way mirror. He still wore his parka and knit cap. He wore something between a full beard and extreme stubble, untrimmed and much darker than his hair, which stuck out of his cap at wild angles. His elbows rested on the table, and he appeared to be studying his hands.
She couldn't believe that the man she was looking at was really Jack. And yet, obviously, he was. Had he been homeless? Sure looked that way. And that would explain why she had been unable to locate him. Even with the beard, his face looked more angular somehow, his cheekbones higher. Abbie realized it was because he'd lost weight.
As if she'd read her thoughts, Van Buren said, "I've turned up the thermostat. I want him to take off that jacket. I want to see if he's lost as much weight as it looks like he has."
Abbie was silent.
"I've also called for Skoda," Anita said.
Abbie looked at her. "What was he arrested for?"
Anita rolled her eyes. "He was arrested for vagrancy. Lennie and Ed just didn't want him to get away without some of us getting a chance to help him, if he'll let us."
Abbie looked at Jack again. She realized the speaker was turned up so that they could hear the conversation.
Ed was sitting on the table, taking things out of a plastic bag, which was, apparently, Jack's. "Razors, toothpaste, toothbrush," Ed announced as he placed each item on the table. "Socks, gloves. Whoa. What's this?"
Ed carefully pulled a knife from the bag and laid it on the table. "Should we run forensics on this?"
"Should I ask for my lawyer?"
Ed ignored him. "Why don't you tell us what you were doing last night? Before you went to sleep?"
Jack leaned back in his chair, grinned, and crossed his arms. "Bum stuff," he said.
Ed wasn't amused. He didn't like that damn smirk on Jack's face. He suspected that Jack knew he was only there because he and Lennie had wanted to help him, and the man's smugness at the knowledge was only pissing Ed off.
Ed carefully picked up the knife, using only his fingernails. He shot an annoyed look at Jack and headed out the door.
Once in the hallway Ed rolled his eyes. "Do you want to do forensics on this?" he asked Van Buren. She sighed. "We probably should, if only to cover ourselves later." She motioned Ed with her eyes and he left with the knife.
"Why forensics?" Abbie was confused.
"Oh. Sorry. Jack found a body this morning, another homeless guy, inside the building off 42nd Street where Jack had been sleeping. He'd been stabbed. Jack placed the call."
"I thought you said he'd been arrested for vagrancy?"
"Only to get him in here. We don't seriously think he had anything to do with the murder."
Abbie nodded and turned her attention back to the IR.
Lennie had moved closer to Jack and was sitting on the table. Jack said, "I'm sorry. I need a drink." He unzipped his parka a little and pulled out a flask. He opened it and turned it up for several seconds. He smacked his lips as he returned it to his jacket.
Abbie tried to control her emotions. She realized that this is what she feared when she was unable to find Jack. He had lost himself completely.
Jack must have begun to notice the heat. He leaned forward and took off his parka. He only wore a white T-shirt, bones making sharp angles at his shoulders and elbows. It looked as if he'd lost at least thirty pounds.
Anita sighed in exasperation and entered the room. She nodded to Lennie. He understood that she wanted a few minutes with Jack. He was grateful. He honestly didn't know what to say to the man. As he headed for the door, Anita said, "And turn off the speaker."
She took a seat across from Jack and rested her arms on the table, fingers interlacing. Jack leaned forward and met her eyes.
"Jack, off the record. This is just you and me. When was the last time you had a meal?"
Jack studied her. He considered how to respond. When had it been? He had been to soup kitchens but had gotten into the habit of frequenting a couple of dumpsters off 39th street where he could usually find day old bread from a deli.
"Depends on how you define 'meal,'" he said slowly.
Anita shook her head and started to laugh. Jack's eyebrows shot up.
"You're still a lawyer, aren't you? Answering a question with a question." She smiled at him and his mouth worked it's way into a crooked smile of his own. He had forgotten how much damn respect he had for this woman. You could never bullshit Anita Van Buren. He realized he had missed her.
"Wait here," she said. She poked her head out the door and grabbed a uniform who was walking by. "Go down to Murphy's on the corner and bring me two classic subs."
The uniform glanced into the IR and back to Van Buren. He nodded and left.
Anita returned to the IR and sat back down. "I don't know what we're going to do with you yet, but you're not leaving here without a decent meal."
Jack was uncomfortable with the idea of his fate in the hands of Anita Van Buren, but he simply said, "Thank you." No sense denying the obvious. He was very hungry.
Jack knew that they didn't consider him a real suspect in Tiny's murder. Besides, he hadn't done it. He wasn't worried about the knife. He kept everything he owned in that plastic grocery bag, and slept with his arm inserted far into the handles each night. There was no way anyone was going to get it without at least waking him.
No, what he was beginning to worry about was what kind of horribly uncomfortable situation he was getting into with his former coworkers. Lennie, Ed Green, and Anita were hard enough to face. What if Abbie or Adam found out what had become of him? He decided he needed more drink. He didn't wait for permission.
As he removed the flask again from the jacket and drank, Van Buren realized she was in over her head. Yes, the meal was a solid decision. If nothing else he would eat. But she didn't know what else to do with this man who had fallen so hard. She knew his job had been everything to him. She had heard that hit the bottle hard when he was suspended. But she never would have thought that someone so proud could fall so far. And yet, looking at him, he didn't seem embarrassed or even particularly uncomfortable about his situation. If anything he was still mildly amused by it.
She stood. "I'll be back."
She closed the door and joined Abbie and Lennie again at the window. Skoda had arrived as well.
"I'm glad to see you," Anita said, shaking her head again. "Have you been here long?"
"Long enough," Skoda said, his eyes still trained on Jack, who was just returning the flask to its pocket in the jacket.
"So what do we do with him?" Anita asked.
"I don't think there's anything you can do," Skoda said, a little too matter-of-factly for Abbie's taste. She looked at him angrily.
"How can you say that? You know what he was like before. Look at him!"
"I see an out-of-control alcoholic, drowning in self-pity, running away from responsibility and the people who care about him. The higher they climb, the harder they fall." He shrugged.
"Wait a minute!" Abbie called. "I know you and Jack were never the best of friends but I'm asking you now, as a professional psychiatrist, what can we do for Jack? There must be some way to get him into rehab or something."
"I can recommend some places. But I can't force him to go. Neither can you."
Abbie glared at him. "You act like you've already given up on him."
Skoda looked back into the room. "It's worse than that. He's given up on himself."
He turned and left, leaving the two women and Lennie Briscoe.
Abbie turned cautiously toward Lennie. "Lennie, you've been there. What do you think? Isn't there something we can do?"
Lennie was becoming irritated with this day. Why did he have to be the one to find the long lost Jack McCoy? He had cleaned up his own act years ago. Why did it seem now that people kept wanting him to clean up others as well? And Skoda was right. Nobody could help Jack if he didn't want help.
He was still trying to formulate a response when Ed returned. "Forensics will let us know if they find any of the victim's blood on the knife, or if it matches the kind used in the murder," he said as he joined the group at the window. He realized he might be walking in on something, if their lack of response to his statement was any clue.
Jack was getting bored. And it was damn hot in there. That was making him sleepy. He leaned back in the chair and locked his hands behind his head. He realized that he was still wearing his wool cap and snatched it off in an effort to be cooler. His hair, now fully revealed, was whiter than it had been. He closed his eyes and debated what to do. He could leave. That would force the issue. They could hold him on vagrancy if they really wanted to. No big deal. Sleep in jail instead of in the park tonight. And get fed. He had almost decided to just get up and leave when Van Buren brought the sandwiches in, along with two drinks.
His eyes never left the bag as she sat down and opened it. She handed him a sandwich, wrapped in paper. God, it was heated. A hot sandwich. It smelled so damn good. He slowly unwrapped it, deeply inhaling the scent of warm fresh bread. He picked it up and looked at it carefully before he bit into it. God, Oh My God, it was good. Meats, lettuce, tomato, who knew what else? He closed his eyes as he chewed.
Anita felt an unexpected catch in her throat as she watched Jack McCoy eat this sandwich. He had obviously forgotten that there was anyone else in the room. So she hadn't been wrong about his food situation. For the first time since laying eyes on his damn smirking face this morning, she felt real pity for the man. The wiseass remarks and amusement had to be a cover. McCoy was hungry. It doesn't get much baser than that.
As he began to fill up, too quickly because of his shrunken stomach, Jack remembered that Anita was there. He opened his eyes and, for the first time, realized that there were probably observers at the window as well.
Dammit, he thought. Here I am stuffing my face like I haven't eaten in a month (food like this, probably not for several months) and there could be people I know, or used to know, out there feeling sorry for me. Goddammit to hell.
He began wrapping what was left of the sandwich - well over half. Anita wiped her mouth. "Going somewhere?"
"Unless you're going to charge me with something, yes. I'm leaving." He gently placed the sandwich into his bag of personal effects, which Ed had left on the table, minus the knife. "Thank you for the sandwich." He put his parka back on but left it unzipped.
"Wait a second, Jack." He looked at her as he put his cap back on.
"I don't know what to say to you. But you know we can help you somehow." She looked toward the window behind her and pleaded with her eyes.
The door opened and Abbie entered the room. Jack looked at her. Although she had fought to control her emotions, her eyes were red and wet. He wondered how long she'd been watching him. He felt way too vulnerable. Yet he almost felt worse for her.
"Abbie." Jack's voice cracked. Then for a moment, standing there with his hands in his pockets, was the old Jack. Thinner, and with a scraggly beard, but he was there. He moved to her and put his arms around her, bringing her head to his chest. He pulled her tightly to himself, with one hand on her head. Abbie closed her mouth tightly and willed the tears back, but it was no use. Her chest began to shake with silent sobs.
"I'll be outside," Anita said softly. She left the room.
Jack held Abbie for a few minutes. His face showed little emotion. She recovered and pulled away from him, wiping her eyes and laughing a little.
"I'm sorry Jack. That's no way to greet you. It's just . . . It's been so long and I've missed you so much." The tears welled up again.
Jack kept his right hand behind her head and cupped her face with his left, his thumb gently wiping tears from her cheek. "I know, and I'm sorry." It was all he could say. He kissed her forehead and turned her face up to his.
"Abbie. It's okay. I'm okay. It's not as bad as it looks."
She met his eyes questioningly, hoping that what he said might be true.
Jack knew it was his fault that this beautiful, kind woman was upset. This friend, who had deserved better treatment from him. He hoped he could convince her.
"Do you know how many sunsets I'd ever seen before last year?"
She didn't answer but looked puzzled.
"Before I was suspended, in my lifetime, I watched maybe a dozen sunsets. And probably was thinking about other things during those. Now I notice things like sunsets. I spend time outdoors. I notice the seasons and what they do to the trees. I watch people sometimes, and I think to myself, they're wasting their lives racing around from work to home and back again. They're more lost than I am."
He looked hard at her, trying to see if he was getting through. He wanted more than anything to be away from the 27th precinct - to be in some park somewhere, to sleep off the sandwich, somewhere where he could be anonymous. This was all too much.
"I'm leaving, Abbie. Please know that I'm okay." He stroked her cheek one last time and picked up his bag. Lennie and Ed had moved away from the window to give he and Abbie some privacy. They looked anywhere but at Jack as he came out of the IR. He paused but, thinking of nothing relevant to say, made his way through the precinct toward the door.