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Disclaimer: These characters are not mine.

A/N: You guys rock! I can't wait until tomorrow night to post 'cause all of your wonderful feedback has caused me to neglect things that are actually of some substance to my career and my future. Instead, I have chosen to exist in this fantastic dream world. It's fun for awhile, but sucks when it comes time to pay bills. Anyway, this story has a little ways yet to travel. I'm thinking 5 or 6 more chapters maybe. Take care and just to let you know, the feedback works.

Sheila

Control

Chapter 8

It was quite a party on the way up. Deakins signed himself on for the drive as did Carver although exactly how they reasoned their participation on what could be a routine search was anybody's guess.

Goren, Barek, and Logan sat in back; the two men jockeying for space to stretch their long legs. The drive was two hours of thick silence, nobody daring to speculate or express even one word of hope.

It was secluded; down a dirt road off the highway, deep in the woods of the Adirondacks. A sheriff and two deputies met them in the driveway of the home.

The sheriff has long lost the battle of the bulge, his tight belt being the only thing still engaged in any form of resistance. The man looked over the warrant from Carver and then nodded to his men. Three minutes of knocking yielded no response. The younger deputy stepped back and kicked in the door.

Guns drawn, they piled over each other to get into the house; trotting alongside walls, and clearing doorways before they entered. Deakins was the one to find the bedroom with the unique salty, sour human smell. The sheets were crumpled and Deakins threw them back to find bloodstains trailing down the bottom sheet. Bobby followed him in, and caught the whiff of Alex Eames. He knew the unique smell that was hers; an odor slightly spicy like cinnamon with edges of soap and shampoo, only now the smell was dank and rude. Deakins and Goren looked at each other, and they both knew she had been here. Backing out slowly, Deakins secured the door as to preserve the crime scene.

A shout sounded from the basement, and everyone moved. They found the deputy at the bottom of the stairs staring at the form of a slight woman swinging lightly from the ceiling, a thick noose choking her neck. The color, the smell, and the lividity suggested that she had probably been there for at least 48 hours.

Logan moved past them all to get a look at the girl's face. Then he whirled around emitting a string of curses. "It's her. It's Polacek. Damn it!"

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The sheriff had long since given up trying to follow the intensity of their anger. They wanted to bring in their own crime scene unit and they wanted special jurisdiction over the crime. He knew better than to stand in the way of that much emotional energy, and since she didn't seem to be one of his townies, he let them have it all. The silver-haired captain seemed to have a phone growing out of his ear, the way he paced the living room barking into his small cell. The rest of them sat at the kitchen table staring at a letter they had bagged as evidence. Sheriff saw that the biggest one wasn't good at sharing the prize, moving it this way and that so that he could see it from different angles. The other big one kept yelling about a set-up while his female partner urged him to calm down. The black lawyer just looked like he wanted to snatch the damn letter up, and leave them all behind.

"This letter is not conclusive," Carolyn said to Carver.

"Of course not, but Ross's lawyer is good, really good and he doesn't have to prove a thing. He just has to convince a jury that this letter creates a reasonable doubt of his client's guilt and it probably will."

Bobby's finger nervously tapped on the plastic of the evidence bag. "She wrote this, but you can see the duress. Her hand is shaky, hesitant."

Carver shook his head. "His lawyer will say that she was deeply suicidal at that point, contemplating the end of her life. It would be natural for her to be agitated."

"Jesus, come on People. None of us believes that she would write a letter confessing to Eames' murder and then hang herself in the basement. I mean, when was the last time any of you saw a female suicide by hanging. Besides, we know Jimmy orchestrated this whole thing. I bet we find his finger prints all over this joint." Logan looked ready to jump out of his skin.

"But no jury will ever meet her. You'll have to explain that, and it won't be enough especially when her psychiatric history comes to light. And of course, Ross's prints will be all over the house, he'll say he's used it as a retreat the last six years, but he won't admit to being here recently."

Logan slammed a fist into the table. "He does not get a walk! He does not get a walk! It will not happen!"

Barek put a hand on his arm and shook her head. "Calm down, Mike. Please. We need to think."

Bobby shoved the letter in front of them. "She doesn't tell us where Alex is. She should have told us."

"A lot of things should have happened," Carver began.

"No, listen. If she was so guilt ridden about killing Alex, why would she not tell us where she was? She's already telling us that she did it. It's logical that she would then want us to find her and give her a proper burial."

Logan shrugged. "She dumped her in the river."

Barek shivered at the matter-of-fact way they were discussing Eames' death, but she understood their need to detach in order to problem solve.

"If she dumped her in the river, she would tell us. She would apologize for the fact that we might not recover the body. She's overcome with guilt, she's about to hang herself, and she wants to make herself right with us and with God, but she tells us nothing about how to find her."

"Say you're right. Does this prove she's alive?"

Bobby closed his eyes. "No, it doesn't. I think it proves Jimmy forced her to write this. He forced her to stand on that box, and he put the noose around her neck."

Logan cursed under his breath.

"You don't think Eames is alive?" Carver looked at him intently.

Goren's voice lowered to a whisper. "How can she be? Why would Ross be confident enough to come in? He thinks she's dead, and if we don't think Polacek killed her, then that leaves Jimmy. I saw the look on his face. He was feeling triumphant, satisfied. He doesn't believe we can reach him."

"So we shouldn't hope?" Logan's voice rose a notch.

Barek considered telling him to get up a take a walk when Goren leaned and glared at Logan. "Forget hope. All we have left here is a mission. We stop Jimmy Ross. And for right now, that's enough to keep me on my feet." He shoved his chair away from the table and got up, slamming the kitchen door behind him.

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Logan found him leaning against a large oak, staring down at a small stream running through the forest. He approached carefully, unsure of what to expect. Goren's voice stopped him short. "The sound of water is soothing to me. I used to go down to the boardwalk when I was a kid and just sit off the pier with my eyes closed concentrating on the sounds of water crashing against the wood. It always gave me peace from whatever was happening at home."

"How's the stream doing for you?" Logan put his hands in the pockets of his leather coat and cocked his head.

"It's the sound of life, and I guess I'm trying to remind myself that life will go on even if she isn't there."

"Yeah, well, when we're not around a body of water, I can always drag you into the john and run the faucet for ya' 'cause I'm not letting you forget that you're in this life for the long haul. Think of it as a gift from one lapsed altar boy to another."

Bobby shook his head. "Have you ever thought maybe your destiny was to be a therapist, Logan?"

Mike grimaced at him. Then he remembered what he had come to say. "Barek and I, we're going to go to Polacek's house and talk to her mother. She needs to hear the news from somebody. Deakins said you should stay here, direct the CSU team when they get here."

Logan turned to leave.

"Mike, I'm coming with you."

"Bobby, I don't—"

"I don't know anything about Polacek. I want to see her house, meet her mother."

"I don't know. Deakins says—"

"I'll behave. Come on."

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Barek took the forward position, Logan and Goren backing her. The door finally opened to reveal the small, older woman whom Logan had power struggled with just days earlier.

Carolyn gave her a warm smile. "We're here to talk to you about your daughter, Latinka."

The woman shook her head. "She is not here. I told the big one back there all of that four days ago."

"Mrs. Pomoravlje, are you telling me that she's been gone that long?"

"I am not telling you anything."

"Mrs. Pomoravlje, please let us in. We know where Latinka is."

The woman's dark eyes narrowed at Barek and, for a moment, she wondered if they were going to be forced to tell this woman about her daughter's death out on the doorstep. But the woman stepped away from the door, and the three detectives filed into her small living room. It was dim inside; a room crowded with pictures and curios. The couches were overstuffed, covered in bright cabbage roses. She gestured at them, and the three of them sank into their depths.

The woman found a chair across from them, and she sat, clasping her tiny hands in her lap. "You have talked to Latinka?"

"No," Carolyn began. "We found her. Mrs. Pomoravlje, Latinka is dead."

The woman turned to stone.

"I am sorry that we have to tell you this. We've identified her."

A sound escaped like she choking, and then she collapsed into helpless sobs.

Logan looked at Barek, and she gestured for them to wait. For a few minutes, the woman's grief filled the room. Then she looked up. "You have the killer. Jimmy Ross. You have him?"

"Mrs. Pomoravlje, we don't really know what happened yet. Do you have reason to believe that Jimmy Ross did this?"

"He is the devil. He destroyed her. Of course, he did this."

"Okay, so has the devil stopped by? Has he called?" Logan asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Goren leaned forward. "Ma'am, has Jimmy been in touch with your daughter over the last month and a half?"

Pomoravlje turned to him. "She wouldn't say, but that's when she started to disappear for days. Only one person could be responsible for that."

"What information did she give you about these disappearances of hers?"

Tears welled up in her eyes again. "My Latinka said that I would be very proud of her. She said she was doing something secret, and when it was done, I would know how strong she had become."

Bobby frowned. "Can you imagine what she meant by this?"

"No, I worried. She was still too fragile to be on her own, but she insisted."

"Can we look around her room?"

"No!" The woman was on her feet. "It is too much. You will leave now."

"Mrs. Pomoravlje, we need your help to make a case against him. Please!" Bobby stood up as well.

She backed away from him. "Stay away from me, Cossack."

Barek put a hand on his arm. "Bobby, sit down, please. My guess is that Mrs. Pomoravlje has had some bad experiences with secret police."

Bobby slowly sat down again.

The woman stared at him intently for a moment as if trying to make a decision. Then she turned to Barek. "His name is Bobby?"

Barek nodded, confusion spreading across her features.

"You, Cossack! Tell me the truth. The missing girl, the one you asked about." She pointed at Logan. "Does this Bobby know her?"

Logan nodded. "She's a close friend of his."

She returned her attention to Goren but said nothing.

Goren looked up at her as softly as he could manage. "Please, do you know something about what happened to her? She was my friend. I cared about her very much, and we've been trying so hard to find her. Please."

Something settled in the woman. "You will stop Jimmy Ross?"

Bobby nodded. "Yes, ma'am, I will."

She nodded. "I know something. I will show you. Come."

Puzzled, he got up from the couch and followed. Barek and Logan got up as well, but when she saw this, she stopped. "Only him."

Barek and Logan exchanged looks, but did as she said and settled back into the couch.

She stopped at a bedroom at the end of the hallway and opened the door. He followed her into a dark bedroom, the light from the hallway being the only illumination. He reached for the light, but her tiny hand stopped him. "No, it disturbs her."

Something crashed inside of him and an unidentifiably intense emotion filled his gut.

She walked over to a bed that was a mountain of blankets and afghans, and pulled back one of the blankets. A thatch of dark blonde hair appeared. Mrs. Pomoravlje turned to him. "Latinka brought her here three days ago. She said that a man had been bad to her, beat her, starved her, and filled her with drugs. She asked me to take care of her until she came back."

Bobby found himself rocking, and reached for the support of the doorway.

"Latinka said she would be back the next morning. She said she would take her home. I accused her of being with Jimmy, but she told me not to worry. She told me that everything would be alright, but she said that it was dangerous to be gone too long. I have been waiting for her to return."

Bobby launched himself from the doorway and headed for the bed with an uneasy gait. "Is she okay?"

The woman shook her head. "She is sick. She has fever. She was dehydrated and too thin. He used many drugs on her. It is only for minutes that she makes any sense. Mostly, she sleeps. She has many nightmares and I have to sit with her most of the day. I've been waiting for Latinka to come and tell me what to do next." Tears erupted again and the woman retreated to the corner of the room.

Bobby sat on the bed carefully. He reached out and stroked the whisper fine hair he had so often longed to touch. His fingers found her forehead, and it was hot and dry. Clearly she was feverish. "Alex," he said softly. He wanted to say more, but he couldn't trust his voice.

From the corner, Mrs. Pomoravlje said, "She calls for you sometimes. She calls for you to help her."

The head stirred and a dark green eye opened. Bobby could see she was barely lucid. He reached over and stroked her hair. "Alex, it's Bobby."

She reacted at the sound, and an arm flew out from underneath the covers to feel for him. Then terror rose in her face and she screamed.

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Alex was a fury of arms and legs, pushing and punching him. "Magda! Magda, he's here. Get me a knife, Magda!" In his confusion, Bobby tried to hold on to her, but this only fueled her panic. The tiny Mrs. Pomoravlje flew across the room, and climbed onto the bed between them. Talking in a foreign tongue, she soothed Alex with her tone, wrapping her arms around her and rocking her. When Alex started to calm, the old woman switched to English. "Jimmy is not here. Jimmy is not here. I promise you, Baby"

Alex's feverish eyes glared at him over her shoulder. "It's a trick, Magda. It's a disguise. This donkey here thinks I'll believe anything."

Logan poked his head in the door. Clearly the commotion had sounded through the house. He stopped short when he saw the sight before him on the bed. His mouth dropped. "Jesus, Joseph, and Mary! Is this really happening? Is that Eames?"

Bobby jerked his head in his direction. "She's spooked and she's sick. He drugged her with God knows what. Call Deakins. She's going to need a hospital."

Logan stood there as if hypnotized for a moment. Then he nodded as the information finally reached his brain, and he closed the door behind him.

Bobby turned his attention to Alex's ragged breathing. "It's me, Alex. Smell me. No disguise can mask a man's scent." He reached a hand out to her.

She narrowed her eyes at him, shaking her head. "I know your scheming, Jimmy. Bobby's dead. He died in the hospital from his injuries so you can just stop it right now, you sniveling son of a bitch."

Goren nodded, emotion crowding his body. "Jimmy lied to you, Alex. He wanted to hurt you."

"You showed me the newspaper. I saw the obituary. Try again, asshole."

"It's not true. Jimmy's a trickster, but he can't fool you. You know me, Alex." He held out his hand close to her face. "Feel my skin. You know me."

She looked at him hard for a moment as if at war with her delusions. He braced himself for more colorful language, but she was silent. Finally she reached her hand out slowly, and touched his. He allowed his hand to slowly enclose hers. He could feel her shivering, and it was all he could do to keep from screaming the emotion surging through him. She brought his hand to her face and sniffed, her eyes closed. For a moment, she said nothing, then a ragged sob escaped her.

She shook her head, and disengaged herself from Magda Pomoravlje. "Oh God in heaven, Magda. I think it's really Bobby."

He nodded, not trusting himself to do more.

Still holding his hand, she looked at him with rheumy eyes, her forehead creased in that way so familiar to him. "I lost count of the tricks, Bobby. I'm sorry. I must have believed him when I shouldn't have. My brain…is fuzzy so much and I can't think..."

He leaned forward, talking softly. "You're going to be just fine, Alex. You got nothing to be sorry for; you're still the toughest cop I know. I should've known he'd never beat you." His voice caught. "I'm the one who should be sorry. I should've known."

The realization made Alex suck in her breath. This means Jimmy's gone. Right? Jimmy's gone."

Bobby stopped. It would be too complicated to explain it to her right now. "He's gone. He won't ever come near you again."

She nodded, then she started to collapse, and he saw the fear fleeing her body. He reached out and gathered her into his arms. She shivered against his chest and he pulled his coat around her. Her arms felt frail and thin like a school girl, and her body felt like a furnace. He ran his hands over the length of her body to see if any obvious injuries presented themselves, and noted the white gown she was wearing. Frowning, he looked over at Mrs. Pomoravlje, "Where did she get this?"

"She was wearing it when Latinka brought her."

Bobby ran through the fabric with his hands, and found a group of stains near the bottom. His nose twitched and he knew immediately what it was. Anger boiled over in his gut. He turned again to the woman and steadied his voice, "I am so sorry to ask this of you, but do you think you could find some warm clothes that Alex could borrow. This nightgown is evidence. She shouldn't be wearing it."

Her arms wrapped tightly around her waist, the woman merely nodded and went to her daughter's closet.

Carolyn Barek crept into the room. The light behind her illuminated her dark curls. "Bobby? An ambulance is on its way."

Bobby nodded, then he whispered into her hair. "Carolyn's here. Mike is too. We're all very happy people right now."

Carolyn ventured over carefully. "Hi Alex."

Alex shifted her head so that an eye peeked at her. "I worried about you. That idiot pig and his snake tricks: I told him you stomped them to death with your bare feet."

Carolyn laughed, letting the tears run down on her cheeks. "I can live with that story, Eames. In fact, I'm going to go back, and change my statement first thing."

Bobby caught her eye and pointed at the stains on her gown. "We're going to need an evidence bag."

Carolyn nodded and left. Magda Pomoravlje picked out a pair of sweats and a sweatshirt. Barek returned with a large plastic bag.

Bobby whispered at Alex. "Honey, we have to take off your nightgown. You're too cold. We're going to put you in some nice warm sweat pants and shirt."

She nodded into his chest. "I know what you're doing, Bobby, and it's okay. We can't hide from what happened." He looked into her feverish eyes for a moment and nodded his agreement; using words would only overwhelm her with all that he felt. Then he pulled at the bottom of the gown and slowly pulled it up. He stopped short when he saw the angry green and black bruising on her thighs, but he shut his eyes and worked to settle his breathing. This was no time for the energy he was feeling in his gut. She needed only what was gentle and good in him now. He carefully pulled it over her head, Carolyn helping her with her arms. He kept his eyes focused on a picture on the wall, careful to protect her privacy as she lay completely naked against his chest. Carolyn let him drop it in the bag and she quickly sealed it.

Magda pulled the sweatshirt over her head while Carolyn wrestled with the sweatpants. When they were finished, he helped her curl up into his lap. Her heavy breathing told him she had gone back to sleep. He looked up at Carolyn, "Cancel the ambulance. We're not taking her to a local hospital. Her pulse is thready but strong. Let's drive her down to the city and check her in there. Let's take her home."

Carolyn nodded. "Good. Mike can hardly contain himself. I'll drive. He's drink with victory right now."

Bobby grew a shadow of smile.

Carolyn cocked her head. "I'm going to give you a minute. Mrs. Pomoravlje and I should go talk about making arrangements for Latinka."

She put her arm around Magda Pomoravlje's shoulders and gently steered her out of the room.

For a while, he just sat alone in the dark room, holding her tightly. He rested his face on her head and allowed his breath to grow into hers. Bobby had no interest in allowing this moment to pass. This was a moment of sweet perfection when everything that was right had aligned itself and nothing evil could penetrate. It wouldn't last, and so he wanted to sharpen his memory of it as best he could.

It was only when he felt her hair get damp that he noticed the moisture snaking down his face. Finally, he wiped his face with the back of his hand and cleared his throat. Then he pulled her to him tightly and slowly stood. She didn't even stir when he shifted, and he felt like she was no weight at all as he carefully steered her limp body through the narrow hallway.

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TBC