A/N: Hmm. I hope this confrontation is as good as you all hoped it would be. Originally this was going to be the last chapter, but as you'll see, I've got do at least one more to resolve what happens in this chapter. So probably the next chapter will be the last, unless things get weird again.
"Alex," Deakins said, gesturing to the three guards who stood outside the room that held Steven Brewer, "these are Officers Williams, Hashek, and Collier. Hashek will be inside with you and Bobby; Williams, Collier, and I will be right outside the door. Ok?"
She nodded politely to the three men. "Hi. Thanks for . . . helping out on this."
The guards exchanged a look, then Hashek, a burly man who looked to be the senior officer, stepped forward to shake her hand. "Detective. Uh, we just wanted to tell you . . . we heard what he did to you, and we're not going to let anything like that happen here."
"Yeah," said Williams, "and also that if . . . you know, if it should be necessary for you to defend yourself in there . . . we'll back you up afterwards."
They were informing her that there would be no questions if Brewer left the room with a few more bumps and bruises than he'd gone in with, and although she knew she wouldn't take advantage of that leeway, she recognized the gesture of support. Sometimes the Blue Wall wasn't entirely a bad thing. "Thank you," she said with a businesslike nod. "Is he . . . ready?"
Hashek nodded. "Wrists and ankles cuffed and chained," he told her as he began to open the door. "He'll have a hard time giving you any trouble."
Alex just nodded and allowed Hashek and Goren to precede her into the room
She heard Brewer's voice before she could see him. "The fuck? I told you I wanted the girl detective!" he bellowed at Hashek.
She took a deep breath and let it out, trying to force back all her memories as she dropped into the calm interrogation mode that her years of experience had helped her develop. "And you got her," she informed Brewer calmly, stepping out from behind her partner and taking a seat across the table from the prisoner. "So talk."
Brewer smirked. "Looking kinda stiff there, Detective. You sure you can handle me?"
A predatory smile stole over her lips. She might be ambivalent about the death penalty in most cases, but she was going to enjoy watching them stick the needle in this guy's arm. "You seem to be at a bit of a disadvantage, Steven," she pointed out, gesturing to his tightly chained arms and legs. "Hard to even throw a table when you can't move your hands more than an inch." As if to demonstrate, she used the tips of her fingers to lift the edge of the table, which turned out to be light enough for her to easily move. She stored that knowledge away for later.
Her comment hit its mark and he jerked angrily on the chains holding his wrists. "Bitch!"
She jumped involuntarily at the sound, then quickly, without moving from her chair, held out a hand behind her to stop the advance she knew Bobby was making. "Now, is that any way to speak to an invited guest?" she chided the prisoner. "You wanted me here to hear your confession; you got your wish. So start talking."
"You wanna hear about number ten?" he said with a sneer, leaning toward her. "What'll you give me in return?"
She blinked, surprised by his gall. "Oh, you want to bargain, Steve? Is that because you want to keep me here as long as possible? Maybe you're desperate to see a woman, since I hear all you've got in lockdown is your hand. Is that it?"
"I'm bored," he said sullenly. "You're here to entertain me."
Deliberately doing what she knew would frustrate him the most, Alex burst out laughing. "Oh man, you are pathetic. You don't have shit to tell me, do you? You just wanted a change of scenery."
"I do too have -"
"Officer Hashek," Alex said, waving the guard forward, "I think the prisoner's run out of interesting things to talk about. Why don't you take him back to his nice warm cell in solitary."
"Oh, I got shit to tell you!" Brewer announced, trying to pull away when Hashek reached for him. "I got plenty to tell you. I got his name, I got what he looked like . . . I got exactly what sounds he made as I -"
"That's enough," Alex rapped out. "Either you give me the details - now - or your ass is getting thrown back in your cell."
"You got no sense of humor, lady," he accused.
"Yeah, that's what they all say," she replied, unmoved. "You've got thirty seconds to give me the kid's name before I kick you back to the guards."
"Rory," Brewer snapped resentfully.
"Thank you," Alex said primly, jotting the name down in her notepad. "Last name and where you abducted him?"
"How close did I come to killing you, Detective?" Brewer said instead of answering her question. "You were bleedin' pretty bad when your guard dog over there jumped me."
She followed Brewer's eyes over her shoulder to where her "guard dog" partner stood, smiling dangerously. Meeting Bobby's eyes, she gave him a look she hoped he could read, one meant to reassure him that she was fine. Then, turning back to Brewer, she said lightly, "Him? Oh, he over-reacted. It wasn't that bad at all. You know, head wounds bleed like nobody's business no matter how small they are."
"You're a fuckin' liar. I read the newspaper articles, I was at the bail hearing! I almost killed you!"
Steeling herself against the memories, Alex just shrugged. "If you knew, why'd you ask? You're wasting my time again, Steven, and I don't like that. Tell me Rory's last name."
"Starts with an M or somethin', I think."
Alex leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms, watching him as she demanded, "Give me the full last name."
Brewer's eyes flicked to her crossed arms, then back to her face. "Hey, you got a nice rack there," he said, leering at her chest. "Too bad you and I weren't alone last time, eh?"
She knew she wouldn't be able to suppress the reaction that ran through her at that, so she played it up and made a show of shuddering delicately. "I'd rather have had you kill me, thanks. Too bad you didn't get to do either, huh Steve?"
"There's still time," he told her threateningly, leaning across the table as if he could reach her that way.
"Hey, if you're that desperate to get laid, we can always toss you back in the general population," Hashek spoke up gleefully. "I'm sure those boys'd love a baby killer like you."
"Fuck off," Brewer growled at the guard, not drawing back from Alex.
She didn't pull back, either, and as she heard Goren move up toward the table, she hoped he'd let her do this her way. "You disgust me, Steven," she said conversationally. "And I don't like disgusting people. Neither do juries, actually." Finally sitting back but keeping her movements casual, she shrugged. "They tend to like little blonde detectives who were almost killed in the line of duty a lot more than they like disgusting child-killers, my friend, and you know I can always add a little something to my testimony to make things worse for you."
"Hah," Brewer snorted, sounding slightly doubtful in spite of himself. "You ain't gonna lie on the stand, Miss Squeaky Clean Detective."
"I'd be quite happy to do it for her, if she doesn't want to," Goren spoke up calmly from beside her. "So I suggest you take what she's telling you seriously."
"Give me the information about Rory, Steven," Alex said after giving Brewer a second to absorb her partner's words.
He mumbled a string of curses, then looked up, glaring at her. "Marsh, ok? His name was Rory Marsh. Happy now, bitch?"
"Keep talking."
"You having any trouble sleeping?" Brewer asked instead of continuing with the information about his victim. "I read a book that says people like you have nightmares and get scared of people after they get roughed up."
"I sleep just fine, thanks," she said with a tight smile, lowering her hands beneath the table to rest them on her lap where no one could see them tremble. "And I certainly don't appear to be scared of any of the people in this room, do I?"
"Not even 'big boy' over there?" he asked, jerking his head toward Goren. "He looks like he likes to play rough. You ain't scared he's gonna lose his temper on you?"
She bit her tongue, hard, and tried to compose herself. A few seconds later, she realized that Bobby hadn't moved or spoken in response to Brewer's insult. He was demonstrating her his confidence in her by allowing her to deal with this herself.
"No," she told Brewer when she was sure she could open her mouth without screaming or crying, "I'm not scared of him. He has this thing about not hurting people who haven't done anything to him, you see, which is a helluva lot more than I can say for you." Without pausing to signal a subject change, she went on, "Where did you take Rory Marsh from?"
"Oh, he was a rich little brat. Some town in Jersey . . . I can't quite remember where," Brewer lied with a smirk.
"You know," she told him sharply, "for someone who wanted to talk to me, you fucking suck at answering questions. Tell me where you got him. Now, before I lose patience with your bullshit."
"Geez, don't blow your fuckin' top. I grabbed him in Fort Lee."
"And you killed him . . . where?"
"Aw, Detective, you think I'd admit to killing him in some other jurisdiction and deny myself the pleasure of talking to you again? I'm wounded."
"You're sure as hell going to be wounded if you don't answer my question," she snapped, hoping her temper would outlast his supply of jibes.
"You ain't got no sense of humor."
"Yeah, I've heard that one before, too. Along with everything else wrong with you, apparently you're incapable of being original. Where did you kill Rory Marsh?"
He grinned at her, a sight almost as disturbing as his leers and sneers. "It's like a riddle, Detective. Where do you think I killed a kid named Rory Marsh who was from Jersey?"
"The Meadowlands," she blurted as the pieces snapped into place. Unfortunately, the protected marshy area she'd just named ate up a huge chunk of northeastern New Jersey, and without a more detailed location, they might never find the child's body. "Where in the Meadowlands?"
"Don't you want to know how I killed him?" Brewer asked almost teasingly. "That's half the fun!"
Without warning, she slammed her hand down on the table right in front of him, taking pleasure when he jumped. "There's nothing 'fun' about this, Brewer," she hissed. "After I leave here, I might never be able to have fun again because you are just that damn repulsive! Do you understand me?"
The inmate blinked and, probably without realizing it, pulled away from her slightly. "I -"
"Good." She pulled her hand back and picked up her pen. "Now, you're going to tell me where -"
"Eames!"
Bobby's yell was all the warning she needed; she'd been ready for this since the moment she tested the weight of the table. Act, Alex, remember that you have time to act! she heard Laura's voice shout in her head.
As Brewer shot to his feet and attempted to lunge over the table, the only big movement he could make while chained, she smiled grimly and gave it a hard shove forward, catching him right in the midsection. There was a woof as all the air was knocked out of him, and then he was pinned between the table and the wall.
Goren, matching her hard smile, gave the table another shove, just for good measure. If he knew his partner - and he did - then she wasn't going to leave the room until she had the information she wanted, no matter what had just happened. "You want a hand with that?" he asked her quietly, allowing a hint of humor into his voice so she'd know he'd guessed her intentions.
"Yeah, please." She stepped back as he walked forward and wrapped a hand around Brewer's throat, using his grip to support the man's weight but not squeezing, as Alex dragged the table far enough back that she could get between it and the prisoner, who was now gasping as he tried to regain his breath.
"You're pathetic, Brewer," she told him, advancing another step as Hashek, belatedly figuring out what they were doing, immobilized the chain that held Brewer's arms together. "You can't even beat someone as small as me unless you have an unfair advantage. I'm surprised none of those kids got any good licks in before you murdered them."
"Make them let me go!" he managed in a hoarse voice, trying to see the two men holding him to the wall.
"Let you go?" She let out a harsh laugh. "That's not happening until you tell me where I can find Rory Marsh's body, my friend - and even then, you're only going as far as death row. So I suggest you tell me what I want to know, or my partner might get overzealous and start actually trying to strangle you, like you did to me."
"Route three," Brewer gasped, trying to kick out at his captors but unable to move his legs far enough. "East Rutherford. I . . . there's a walkway just to the side of the exit for the racetrack . . ."
As if on cue, the two men released their hold on him and stepped back, watching as the violent child killer crumpled into a heap at the feet of the detective he'd tried and failed to kill.
Alex, moving almost mechanically now, backed up and wrote down Brewer's words, slipped her notebook into her pocket, and walked out of the room through the door Collier had pulled open when he saw her coming. Only seconds after she crossed the threshold, the trembling she'd been desperately holding back during the interview began to overtake her.
Just as she was beginning to fear she might humiliate herself by collapsing, a voice said, "Whoa!" and a pair of arms went around her. Not caring how undignified it was, she fell into the arms of her captain and allowed him to support her weight.
"Eames," he said, leading her to a chair one of the guards has hastily fetched. "Come on, sit down."
When Bobby left the interview room a few seconds later, he found his partner curled over in her chair with her head tucked into her arms and her hands holding the back of her head, drawing in gasping breaths that he recognized as her attempt to avoid crying. Deakins was crouched at her feet, watching her with concern, but not knowing what to do to help her.
Deakins jumped to his feet when he saw Goren. "Finally! What took you so long?"
Wordlessly, Bobby looked back toward the interview room. Deakins followed his gaze, and a second later, they watched Hashek roughly lead out a wheezing Brewer, who bore a newly bloodied lip and a rapidly blackening eye. Noticing the scrutiny of the rest of the officers, Hashek smirked and offered them a shrug. "He tripped."
" 'Course he did," agreed Williams.
Deakins paused a second, then nodded. "Sounds about right to me. Good thing he was alone his cell when it happened."
"Damn good thing," Hashek said with a firm nod, motioning for his fellow guards to help him with the inmate. Together, the three men nodded a goodbye to the detectives and led the broken killer off into the depths of the prison.
"Is she ok?" Deakins whispered, pulling Goren away a few inches in the hope that she wouldn't hear the question.
Bobby looked down at Alex, then back up at Deakins. "I . . . I don't know. I think she will be, but . . . I need to get her out of here."
"Yeah," Deakins said, quickly nodding. "Yeah, good idea. Uh . . . can she . . ." He stopped, reminding himself that it would annoy her to hear him talk about her as if she weren't there, and rearranged his words: "Eames? Can you walk?"
There was a long second, and the men were preparing to take her silence as a "no" when she raised her head and, still hyperventilating, nodded. "But . . . I need help. I don't know if my knees . . ."
That was all she needed to say; within three seconds, each man had taken one of her arms. Bobby, having far more experience with supporting someone with broken ribs than Deakins, put his other arm around her hips so her arms and the muscles of her chest didn't have to support all her weight.
"What's the easiest way to do this?" Deakins asked when they had her on her feet.
In answer, Bobby wrapped his arm around Alex's as if she were a date he was escorting to a party. Deakins nodded his understanding and copied the action. "Ready, Eames?"
Alex, who was proud of having convinced herself to open her eyes, nodded and then slid her hand down Bobby's arm to hold his hand instead of just his forearm. "Yeah. Let's go."