Chapter Twelve: Just Below the Surface
"Of course. I'm sure they'd be glad to go."
Charlie looked up at his father in disbelief. It had been well over twelve years since he had agreed to anything on behalf of his sons.
Alan raised his eyebrows and smiled before he turned and walked into the kitchen, the phone held tightly to his ear.
Charlie could hear his father's end of the conversation as it continued.
"Mrs. Whitney. Charlie would never turn down a lady."
Don leaned back in his chair and pushed his dinner plate toward the center of the table.
"Let me guess. Another opportunity for the great Mr. Whitney to make himself look good?"
Alan stopped in the kitchen door as he hung up the phone and stared at his sons.
Charlie returned to his struggle of trying to cut his steak using only one hand and Don was watching him with a bemused expression on his face.
"Your brother almost has to knock you down so he can walk to the living room to get your phone for you and you won't lend a hand to help him cut his steak so he can finish his dinner? So much for 'I'll scratch your back if you scratch mine'. What kind of brother are you?"
Alan's playful sarcasm brought a half-smile to his face and Don gave his father a lightheartedly defiant look just as Charlie spoke through gritted teeth.
"I've got it, Dad."
"He's got it, Dad."
Alan shook his head as he sat back down at the table.
"I don't understand you two. It is okay to ask for help when you need it."
"I don't need it."
As Charlie spoke the knife slipped from his left hand and onto the floor. Pushing himself away from the table, Charlie struggled to pick his knife up without moving his immobilized right arm.
"I was doing fine. I need to eat slower anyway."
Don shook his head slowly, trying to suppress a smirk.
"Not that slow.
Alan glared at Don. Rather than watch Charlie's struggle, he stood and headed into the kitchen returning with a clean knife. He handed the steak knife to Don and pushed Charlie's plate across the table at his oldest son.
Don laughed and looking from his father to the pitiful expression on Charlie's face, he put on his best juvenile pout.
"But he said he didn't want help."
"Well, he needs it."
Alan's face held its serious expression and Don glanced at Charlie. His younger brother appeared to be suppressing a grin.
Pulling Charlie's plate in front of him, Don started cutting the steak into overly tiny pieces.
"Why do I feel like we're in high school again?"
Turning to his father, Don tried to sustain a laugh.
"So…are you going to tell us what Mrs. Whitney wanted?"
"Hannah……has invited Charlie to her birthday party."
Alan's announcement took on a mildly regal quality and again Don was reminded of his childhood. He couldn't help but snicker as he pushed the plate of steak pieces across the table at his brother..
"Really? I'm jealous."
"Don't be. You're invited as well. I see no reason why you shouldn't spend the afternoon with their family, so I told her you'd both be there."
Don's mouth dropped open and Charlie guffawed at him.
"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Dad."
Picking up his fork, his youngest son began viciously stabbing several pieces of steak.
"And just because I can't go to work doesn't mean I don't have things……"
Cutting him off, Alan rose to his feet.
"It's a great idea. In fact, this is the child's idea…..not her father's underhanded attempt for a photo opportunity with Charlie. And it's at their penthouse apartment in Hollywood. You've always wanted to see the view from one of those buildings, Charlie."
Charlie continued to stare at him in disbelief as he shoved a fork full of meat into his mouth. Looking moderately guilty, Alan continued trying to make a compelling argument.
"She'll be very disappointed if you don't come. She wants all of her friends to meet the men who saved her life."
Rolling his eyes and tossing his napkin on top of his plate, Charlie laughed quietly. Lifting his head, he looked at his older brother who was grinning at him.
"Why does this feel like an arranged play date?"
Before Don could answer, his cell phone rang.
"Saved by the cell."
Shrugging his shoulders as a pseudo apology to his younger brother and his father, Don flipped his phone open.
"Eppes."
"Where?"
"I'm not exactly driving right now, Granger. I seem to have broken my right ankle. In fact, I'm technically not back on until Monday morning…and then it's just light duty."
He paused and looking amused, listened to Colby's retaliatory comment.
"Of course I want to be there when you question him. I'm just giving you a hard time. I'll see you in five."
Flipping his phone shut, Don looked guiltily from his father to Charlie.
"Please give the Whitney's…and their penthouse apartment my best wishes."
"Let me guess, they've got somebody in custody?"
Don nodded at his father.
"Yeah. There was an accident on the Santa Monica Freeway. The pickup truck. It was just a fender bender, but the driver was behaving erratically and with our BOLO for the vehicle, that was enough for Highway Patrol to detain him. The make and model of the truck are right and existing damage seems to correlate with the collision. Even the blue and silver paint that's smeared along the side says he's our guy. They just need to get a chemical composition match to the paint left from your car and the BMW….and we've got him."
Charlie shook his head, looking unconvinced.
"So that's it then. It's over? What about the SUV?"
Struggling to his feet and reaching for his crutches, Don stuck his cell phone back in its holster.
"It looks like he's the guy, Charlie. There's another driver, yeah. But this guy also has a Chevy Tahoe matching the description of the one that ran us off the road registered in his name. They just got a warrant for his garage to check it for damage."
"Did he confess? Do they know who the other driver was? Do they know why?"
Looking at the slightly anxious expression on his fathers face, Don tried to give him an encouraging smile despite his own frustrations.
"Not yet. But that's what I'm going to find out."
Charlie got to his feet quickly and circled around the table to help Don with his crutches.
"Well, I'll come with you. I have enough facts about the case. I should have time to come up with a few expressions for a more affinitive algorithm and a probability equation would only take…………"
Taking a teetering step back, Don shook his head at his brother.
"I think scientific evidence has this one covered, Charlie. Seriously though, you should go to the kids party.
Trying to keep a straight face, Don looked intently at his brother.
"Besides, that little girl is counting on you."
With a cockeyed grin, Charlie picked up Don's plate and headed around the table.
"Yes, but Don. I want to see you kick that guy's ass."
"Colby will be doing the kicking….I'm just going for the show."
"He almost killed me too, Don. It's a show I'd like to see."
Charlie's comment, accompanied by a grin as he make his way to the kitchen, was spoken in jest; but the words got under Don's skin.
"I'll make you a tape. Seriously, Charlie. I don't know how this is going to go."
From inside the kitchen, Don could hear Charlie mumble something too softly to be heard.
Alan pulled himself to his feet and followed him through the swinging door.
"What did you say, Charlie?"
"I said I can't believe you told her I would go to this thing."
"Why? It's not like you can work on your emergence theory. You can't exactly write it out on the board."
Charlie sounded exasperated, but Don could hear the laughter in his voice.
"I'm working on it in my head."
"You're always working on it in your head. So go have some cake with the little girls and their Hollywood mothers……and work on it in your head."
Standing alone in the dining room, Don propped himself up on one of his crutches and listened to the banter between his father and brother. Charlie laughed and in an aberrant response, the sound sent a chill down Don's spine and set his heart racing. He remembered the moments of fear and uncertainty as he waited for the rescue boat to come get them out of the tree; the certain knowledge that he would have to face his father and tell him that they would never hear that laugh again.
Don physically shook his shoulders trying to cast off the anxious feeling that had settled over him. But the sensation was wrapped too tightly around his heart. He was totally caught off guard by the powerful onslaught of emotions that the memories from their almost fatal misadventure sent surging through him. Then he suddenly realized he hadn't let Charlie get more than a few hundred feet away from him since they left the hospital the day before yesterday. Abandoning his crutches, Don sat down hard in his chair. The metal crutch slid down the table and landed on the floor with a clatter.
"Don?"
Charlie walked back through the door, startled to see him sitting again.
"Are you okay?"
Don uttered a shuttering laugh.
"Okay? Yeah, I guess so."
Charlie's brow furrowed and he slid back into his chair across from Don.
"What the matter, Don? Do you think they may have the wrong guy?"
"No, Charlie. It's not that. I just…."
Don took a deep breath.
"I never got to tell you……"
Charlie tilted his head to the side in anticipation of his words and Don cleared his throat.
"You were really great out there. In the river. I'm just….I wanted you to know that…I'm just really……"
When Don quit struggling for the word he was looking for and started shaking his head, Charlie felt a fleeting moment of insecurity that only his older brother could evoke in him. He picked a good word to finish the sentence and threw it out into the silence of the room.
"Proud?"
"Yeah, Charlie."
Don pounced on the word, his face stone serious and his eyebrows knit tightly together.
"Yeah. Proud is a good word."
Charlie ran his hand through his hair. Unprepared for Don's atypically open articulation, he tried to respond.
"There was something I wanted to say too...…."
His impending sentiment was interrupted by the doorbell. Glancing out the window at the driveway, Charlie turned back to Don. He looked at his older brother, trying to decide if the doorbell could wait. But as someone began to bang their fist on the door, he saw Don's eyes flit toward the living room and Charlie sighed.
"I'll get it. It's David."
Charlie walked into the front room to answer the door and Don sighed as he reached for his fallen crutches.
Authors Notes: Back to the business of the FBI……Oh, come on…we all knew Don couldn't stay away……..
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Chapter Thirteen: Opening the Floodgates
