Sins of the Father

Chapter Eight: Five Steps Into the Dance

Grace headed into the throng of hungry homeless that filled the fellowship hall of the local Catholic Church. She had tracked her father to this new location through her sister Angela. And Angela only knew that their father was here because their paths crossed briefly, which always left Grace to pick up the pieces. She found her father, Charlie Harris, seated in the corner of the room, with no food in front of him.

She waited in line and filled one of the plastic plates with food, grabbed a glass of water and headed over the corner. Silently, she slid the plate in front of him and sat down. He turned very sorrowful blue eyes towards her and she draped an arm around his thin shoulders.

"Dad, I'm sorry for what I said earlier on this week. I know you loved mom. And you were right, knowing whether it was a suicide or murder doesn't matter. It won't bring her back."

"That's alright, Gracie. Don't worry about it, ok?"

"You need to eat."

He pushed the plate of food away. "I'm not hungry."

"Dad, you need to eat. Have you thought any more about rehab?"

He picked up his fork and pushed the mashed potatoes around the plate. "You know those places don't work for me."

"They would if you gave them a chance."

"Some people just can't be helped, Gracie. Don't worry about me."

Grace gave her dad a few pats on the back. "Dad, have you been using again?"

He gave her a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look. Grace sighed.

"Have you heard anything about anyone new on the street dealing coke and meth? A woman, perhaps?"

He shook his head. "No woman, but there was this French guy who showed up and started dealing some high-end coke. Too rich for me to buy but I've heard it's the best."

Grace leaned forward in her chair. "What's his name?"

"Don't know. He goes by the street name of Pere."

"Okay. Thanks, Dad. Thanksgiving is next week. I'll pick you up in the morning so be sure to call me to let me know where you are." Grace reached into her jacket pocket and handed him a quarter.

"Thanks, Gracie." He reached out and grabbed her arm. "I really mean that."

Grace reached down and hugged her Dad. "I'm always here for you Dad." She gave him a smile as she made her way out of the church and stepped outside into the cold air. She was just a few steps down the street when her cell phone rang.

"Dr. Harris," she answered.

"Grace, it's Bobby."

She noticed he sounded tired. "Hi, Bobby. What can I do for you?"

"I was wondering if you were done with work for the day?"

Grace couldn't hide the smile that had crept across her face. "I just finished."

"I, uh, had kind of a rough day today and was, um, wondering if you wanted to meet me someplace."

"That sounds great. Are you ok though?"

"Yeah, just a little...weary. Where would you like to meet?"

Grace mentally went over the various places to go out on a date. Date? Yeah, this definitely was a date. "Do you like dancing?" She could have sworn she heard him choke. "Bobby, you alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm fine. Dancing? That sounds wonderful. I know a great place."

"Ok then. Do you want to meet there?"

"Uh, no, I'll pick you up. If you want."

"Alright, just give me an hour and I'll be ready." Grace closed her phone and pulled out her keys to her apartment. She had one hour to go through her limited wardrobe and find something suitable, not only for a date but for dancing. She had been so caught up in her arrangements with Bobby that she never noticed the shadow that had followed her from the church.

Bobby almost didn't recognize the ME when he picked her up at her apartment. She had lost the jeans, sweater and sneakers for a knee length skirt and fitted blouse. She wore a pair of heels that brought her up to his chin and her hair was down in loose curls. Even after dinner, he still couldn't wrap his mind around the fact that this was the woman who had slapped his wrist, smack him across the face and cried herself asleep in his arms. He had made a difference in her life. At least he believed he had; she had smiled more this evening than the entire time he had known her.

The dance club he had taken her to was found by chance. He had heard from a friend of a friend who heard from a dance studio that it's where the students came to practice. They played music that you could actually dance to and not just jump around on a dance floor to a heavy beat. In fact, by the time he had finally led her out on the floor, they were playing "Moon River."

"Have you ever waltzed?" he asked, sliding his arm around her ribcage.

She gave him an odd smile. "Yes, I have."

It only took five steps into the dance for him to understand that smile of hers. She followed him effortlessly around the floor. He tried not to invade her personal space and silently offered to keep space between them but Grace willingly closed the space and danced a true ballroom waltz. In fact, she was the first woman that he ever danced with that knew the genuine waltz.

"Where did you learn how to dance like this?"

Grace smiled slightly. "I learned in college. I took a ballroom dance class for a physical education credit towards my undergrad. I really enjoyed it so I continued to take classes afterwards. The class that I teach at the local community center is ballroom dancing."

"I never would have-"

"Pegged me as someone who danced?" she finished for him. "I know. No one believes me when I tell them. Where did you learn how to dance?"

It was Bobby's turn to smile. "In the army, believe it or not."

"I didn't realize that was part of basic training."

"It wasn't. I learned from doing, actually."

Grace nodded. "I see. Impressing the ladies while on leave?"

Bobby shrugged. "Something like that." The song ended and he reluctantly let her go. They found two seats at the bar and ordered drinks.

"So what did you do on your day off, Bobby?"

He took a sip of his drink before he answered. "I visited my mother today."

"Oh," was all she said.

"But then I had this really nice woman agree to go dancing with me. And she's a very good dancer."

"I'll have to meet this woman sometime."

They shared a laugh and finished their drinks in comfortable silence. Bobby left the tip on the bar and offered his hand to Grace again. "Shall we?"

"It's what I came to do."

"Well, don't you look happy." Alex Eames was surprised to see her partner saunter into the bullpen, a slight half smile on his face and a spring in his step. "You're not usually this happy on a Monday."

Goren shrugged and threw himself down into his chair, not quite hiding a very schoolboyish grin. "I had a good night last night."

Eames raised her eyebrows. "The ME?"

"How did you-"

"Woman's intuition." She handed him a legal pad of paper. "I made a list of who we should talk to concerning the Lewis murder."

Goren took the tablet and gave the list a quick glance. "Amy Whitefield? Wasn't she the roommate that you already talked to?"

"Yes, but she was very upset when I questioned her. I'm hoping now that she's calmed down some-"

"Goren! Eames!"

Both of them practically jumped out of their chairs. Captain Deakins was leaned outside his office doorway. The shout had actually quieted the bullpen considerably.

"My office, now," he finished more quietly. Eames gave Goren a concerned look, which he only mirrored. Rarely did their Captain loose his cool but even when he did it was not in front of everyone. They hurried into the office and Eames heard the door shut with an ominous click. Deakins was leaning on his desk, head down, jaw clenched. This did bode well.

"I need you both on a different case now."

Eames watched Goren who showed no reaction now. They were pulled from cases to be handed more important cases. Why did this feel so wrong?

"What kind of case is it?" Goren asked.

"A kidnapping."

Goren straightened slightly. Eames took notice and crossed her arms. "Who is it?"

"Have you ever heard of an assistant ME by the name of Dr. Grace Harris?"

Eames looked over at Goren. True to form he didn't display any shock or worry in his posture but his eyes told whole other story. She knew that look very well. He often had that look after there was a situation where she was in immediate danger. She really felt for him.

"Dr. Rodgers called me this morning," Deakins started to explain, "saying that Dr. Harris showed up at seven this morning, went out on a call to pick up a body at an abandoned warehouse and hasn't returned yet."

Eames looked at her watch. It was ten now. "How long does it usually take to pick up a body?"

Deakins looked down at the folder he had in his hands. "Rodgers said that the call was for a supposedly dead homeless man who had frozen to death last night. The pick up shouldn't have taken all but an hour, including getting through morning rush hour. Dr. Harris isn't answering her cell phone either."

"Where is this warehouse?" Goren spoke up for the first time.

"Upper East side. Here's the address. Rodgers said Harris is her best ME, no small compliment coming from Rodgers."

Eames reached for the folder from Deakins but was surprised when Goren reached past her and took it. He was almost out the door of Deakins' office before she realized what had happened. Quickly she followed him into the bullpen and found him shrugging into his coat. Silently, he tossed her the keys to their car. She didn't have to ask where they were going.

They found the warehouse but there was no sign of the Medical Examiner's SUV around anywhere. Goren was silently cursing himself the entire way to the warehouse. He should have known to leave Grace alone, especially when he had realized that Nicole Wallace was involved in the murders that Grace had uncovered. Wallace's words rang louder in his ears than ever.

You took away my last chance at a real life.

He could practically hear her continue the sentence. Now I am taking away yours.

"Bobby?"

He jumped slightly. Given the tone in Eames' voice she had probably been trying to get his attention. "What?"

"I asked if you were alright?"

"Yeah, fine. Why?"

"You just seem...mad about something."

He rubbed a hand over his face and kept it there. "I'm mad at myself."

"What in the world for?"

He didn't want to tell her that she was right about his attraction to Grace. He didn't want to run the risk of getting reassigned this case because he had an emotional attachment to the victim. He bit back a groan. Victim. What an awful word. And Grace had been a victim to her own demons that she didn't need to be a victim of a spiteful, psychotic woman who had it out for him. Eames was still waiting for him to answer.

"I don't know. There's the warehouse."

If she was frustrated with his answer, Eames didn't show it. She merely parked the car and headed for the nearest door of the warehouse, gun drawn. Most of the windows had been broken out, cracks appeared up and down the red brick. Goren drew his gun, though he highly doubted he would need it, and stepped into the warehouse first.

They spent the better part of an hour searching the abandoned building and came up with no sign that Grace had ever been there. They walked the perimeter of the building and that showed less than promising as well. Goren pulled out his phone and dialed Grace's number. If Grace had been there and dropped her phone then at least they would know she had made it to the warehouse.

Eames heard the faint ringing before Goren did. He followed on her heels out into a back alleyway. Underneath bags of garbage they found the ME's kit she always carried with her, her cell phone tucked neatly in an outside pocket. Goren pocketed his cell phone and Eames carefully picked up the ME kit. They had taken it back to the car to bag it when Grace's cell phone rang.

Goren pulled on a latex glove and picked up the phone. The number was blocked. He flipped it open and held it up to his ear.

"Hello, Bobby."

He forced himself to breathe normally and loosen his death grip on Grace's phone. After taking a couple steadying breaths before answer the voice on the other end of the phone.

"Where is she, Nicole?"

"Right here with me, where else would she be?"

Goren noticed Eames trying to get a tracer put together to hook up to the cell phone. He had to keep her talking but he also knew she was too smart for that.

"Let me talk to her, Nicole."

The accented voice sighed dramatically. "I can't do that, you should know better than that, Bobby. But you know what I discovered. All three of us have something in common."

"What's that?"

"The sins of our fathers." Then the line went dead.