Disclaimer: I don't own Law and Order: CI so please don't sue. I'm not making money off this story.
Sins of the Father
Chapter Two: Scotch and Apologies
Alex Eames sat at her desk in the bullpen and watched her partner pace back and forth in one of the visitor rooms. She had been trying to get some paperwork done from their last case but the constant movement off to her left was slightly more than distracting.
"What's the matter with him?"
Eames looked up to see their Captain, James Deakins, standing next to her desk. He already had his briefcase in his hand, ready to go home for the night. Lucky him.
"New case," she answered, looking down at the form in front of her, attempting to look busy.
"The fake suicide?"
"Yeah."
Deakin's gave the pacing Goren a puzzled look. "You were just given the case this afternoon. You don't even have the tox screen or water test yet. What's he so worked up about?"
Eames sighed. "The ME acted a little…off."
"The ME? Rodgers?"
"No, it's her assistant, Dr. Grace Harris."
"Harris. I heard she was really good. What was off about her?"
"He thought she got territorial about the body."
Deakins raised his eyebrows in slight surprise. "Guess that's what happens when you put two genuises together. Let me know if it becomes a problem to the case."
Eames nodded and watched her boss leave the bullpen. She stood up to pull Goren from the room and send him home but found he had already come out and was typing at his computer. His forehead had those familiar furrows that she had come to associate with his intense thinking.
"Glad to see you've emerged from the visitor's room," Eames said, trying to draw him out of his thoughts.
"I thought the name Harris sounded familiar but how many Harris' are in New York City?"
"I have a feeling you're going to tell me."
"291. Here it is." He pulled a file up on his laptop and turned it so she could see. A picture of a middle-aged man stared back at her. He had a buzz cut that couldn't quite hide the ginger colored hair. The man's sharp green eyes struck her as vaguely familiar. She started reading off the stats.
"Charles Harris, age fifty-one. Busted for possession of heroin."
Goren turned the computer back around. "I was the one that caught him, the last week I worked in narcotics. He listed the only living relative that he had was a daughter, Grace Harris."
"So the ME has a drug addict father. How does that figure in to her feelings for the victim?"
Goren shut the laptop with a quiet click, that look of intense concentration on his face. "I don't know. She has no record whatsoever. The only place where she's listed is in her government file."
"What about her mother?"
"Deceased. That's all it said."
"Why are you so interested in this woman, Bobby? This isn't like you."
Goren shifted in his chair for a full minute and half before finally bringing his fist up to his mouth. "I couldn't profile her."
"You're not suppose to. She's a ME. You profile criminals." Eames sat back in her chair. "You don't think she has anything to do with the Kapirelli murder?"
Goren waved his hand. "No, no. If she were involved she wouldn't have told us about the red dye in the water. There's something else going on with her."
Eames put her paperwork aside and put her suit jacket on. "Well, you can see your new friend tomorrow when we go pick up the tox screen. I'm going home."
"Deakin's leave already?"
Eames nodded her head. "Get some rest, Bobby. I really don't think Dr. Harris is someone that needs or wants to be profiled."
She waited for him to get up from behind his desk but he remained in his thinking pose. Figuring he was lost in thought and beyond her reach, she merely muttered a "night" and left the bullpen herself.
He really enjoyed this time of year. The heat and humidity of summer was fading and giving way to the crisp air of fall. Robert Goren was never much of a summer person, partly because of the temperature, partly because of memories. The humidity wasn't his fault but being unable to control his memories, that was totally different. He saw it as a weakness, one of his greatest. The memories of that sunny summer morning had not faded in the slightest despite his great effort to cause them to disappear. Maybe one day they wouldn't haunt him so much.
He had decided to walk home from the Police Plaza, hoping the cool air would help clear his mind but it only caused it to go from the distressing ME to his disturbed childhood. Not an improvement at all. He was almost two blocks from his apartment when he passed by the local neighborhood bar. He had passed by it many times but could count on his one hand how many times he had been in there. He checked his watch. Quarter to ten. He had time for a drink.
He went to push the door open when the handle was pulled out of his grasp. He started to step aside to let the exiting patron step out of the doorway but upon seeing who it was, he found himself unable to move.
"Dr. Harris."
Startled green eyes stared up at him. "Detective Goren. What are you doing here?"
"I, uh," his mind was fumbling around for something intelligent to say to her. Here was a chance to try to figure out what had caused his profiling blank when it came to the redheaded ME. Kick it into gear, Goren. "Are you busy right now?"
She gave him a slightly cautious look. "No, why?"
"Would you mind, uh, having a drink with, um, me?"
"Sure," she nodded and turned right back around and into the bar. Taking a deep breath, he followed her in determined to figure out what exactly lay behind those green eyes.
"Back again so soon, Grace?"
Goren noticed her motion behind her, most likely towards him. "Larry, this is Detective Robert Goren. He and his partner were handed a case today based on an autopsy that I did."
"Ah," the lanky man behind the bar grinned, reached over the bar and shook Goren's hand. "A real life Detective, welcome. First drink is on the house since you're Grace's friend."
Goren noticed Grace gave a half-sideways smirk as she climbed up on a stool at the far end of the bar. Goren followed suit, taking some comfort from the fact that she hadn't outright denied being his friend. He ordered a scotch on the rocks and took the seat next to her.
"Did you want anything?" he asked.
"No, thank you though." She fidgeted with her hands for a moment before finally looking him in the eye. "Detective, I feel like an apology is in order."
Goren nodded his head in thanks to Larry. "Why?"
"I shouldn't have," the red flush of embarrassment crept across her face once more. "I shouldn't have told you not to touch the body today. You have every right to inspect the body to the nth degree. I'm sorry for my overreaction."
"Apology accepted." He took a sip of the scotch and looked around the bar. Despite the late hour, business was still steady for the small bar. But Goren's mind wasn't on the patrons. He was trying to figure out how to continue the conversation of the body. But from the look of the very uncomfortable red head next to him, he realized now was not the time to talk about her emotional attachment to a dead body. Unfortunately, small talk was not his strong point.
"Grace," Larry came over to them, "you sure you don't want anything?"
"Yeah, I'm sure."
Larry moved off again to refill someone else's drink at the other end of the bar.
"How do you know the bartender here?" Goren asked.
"He's my Uncle."
Goren waited for a further explanation but didn't receive anything verbal from her. Instead, she merely sat on the barstool and stared at her hands. Well, the one thing Bobby Goren wasn't was going to be defeated by an anti-social ME.
"How many years have you been working at the Medical Examiner's office?"
"Five years."
Goren finished his scotch. "You are a very talkative person."
She finally turned to look at him and gave him a wry smile. "Sorry. I guess being around dead people all the time kind of robs you of your conversational talents."
"You deal with dead people, I deal with criminals. I guess both professions take a toll on a social life."
She gave him a genuine smile, one that actually reached her emerald eyes. He didn't know why but he felt that he was one of a select few who had seen her smile like that. But just as fast as the smile appeared it disappeared. And Goren saw why he hadn't been able to profile her like he could anyone else. There was one unguarded moment where she dropped her defenses and he saw who she really was in that one moment.
He was staring at himself. Lonely, odd, quirky, eccentric, how did Eames put it, an acquired taste. She was someone who never made it into the social circles but stood on the edges and watched with envy at those who did make it into the circles.
"The tox screen will be ready first thing tomorrow morning," Grace said.
Goren's mind struggled to come back to the present. He was still reeling from what he had discovered in Grace's face. "What?"
"The tox screen for Sophie Kapirelli. I'll have it ready for you and your partner first thing tomorrow morning."
"Oh, ok."
Grace slid off the barstool. "And uh, you can look over the body all you want tomorrow."
Goren gave her a slight smile. "Sounds good."
She gave him a quick nod of the head and headed for the door, disappearing into the night. Larry had come back and held up the scotch bottle. Goren waved him off.
"No more, thank you. Is she going to be alright getting home?"
Larry put the bottle under the bar. "Yeah, she lives right across the street. She usual stays until closing but something was eating at her tonight. How long have you known Grace?"
Goren looked at his watch. "About eight hours."
"Eight hours? And you got her to smile? Wow. Grace doesn't usual open up to anyone. Well, I hope to see you around again then."
Goren ignored the comment and reached for his wallet but Larry held up his hand.
"No, really, it's on me. I'm Larry Anderson. I'm Grace's uncle on her mother's side."
Goren reached over the bar and shook the man's hand. "Robert Goren. And thank you for your generosity."
After Larry released Goren's hand, the detective headed out into the night himself. He glanced across the street and wondered briefly which apartment was Grace's before heading off to his own apartment.