Thanks to my betas for all their help. As always, the usual disclaimers apply.
Chapter 12 He Knows
"I'll pay for that," Eames said, reaching around the big man in front of her to hand the cashier a twenty. He hadn't seen her come up behind him, but she had noticed him. She had also seen that he was fumbling in his wallet and frantically searching his pockets for enough change to pay for his purchases. Typical Bobby, she had thought as she pulled the money out of her wallet. So preoccupied with his case load, he forgot to stop by the bank for more cash.
Bobby turned to look at his partner with a sheepish smile. "Thanks. I owe you."
"Forget it," she said, waving her hand at him. "My treat."
They moved to the other end of the counter to await the completion of their orders.
"But, it's my turn to buy the coffee." For some time now, the two detectives had found themselves in the habit of alternately buying coffee for each other. Neither one really knew just how or when it started, but both enjoyed the gesture.
They accepted their coffees from the barista and moved off towards the condiments bar. Bobby handed Alex a cardboard sleeve for her steaming cup and took one for his. He waited patiently for Alex to fix her coffee the way she liked it, one cream and two sugars, before speaking to her again. "Eames, I insist on paying you back tomorrow."
"For coffee? Bobby, really, it's no big deal," she looked up and saw the expression on his face. "I'll tell you what, why don't you buy the next two days and we'll call it even?"
"Okay," he replied gratefully. They moved carefully through the crowd to the door. Bobby held open the door for Alex and joined her on the busy sidewalk, where they began to make their way towards One Police Plaza.
"You must have been quite distracted by those case files you took home to forget to go to the bank last night," she commented.
"Hmm? Oh, no," Bobby replied sheepishly. "I, uh, never got around to going through them," he admitted hesitantly.
"Really? Nothing happened with your brother, did it," Eames asked concernedly. Frank was still recovering in the hospital from being beaten up recently, and Eames knew that caring for him occupied quite a bit of Bobby's spare time lately.
"No, no. Frank's doing fine. So fine, in fact," Bobby answered her wryly, "that he doesn't want to see me. I didn't go last night. No, I was still thinking about that summer romance I told you about yesterday. I remembered some of the things we had done together and by the time I got home, remembered a box of pictures and mementos in my closet. I pulled it down, started going through the contents, and lost track of time. I brought a picture that I want you to see. I'll show it to you after we get settled." He opened the door to One Police Plaza.
"Don't forget the unis were going to be picking up Trey Wainwright today," Eames reminded him as they entered. "Did you run that stuff down to forensics last night?"
"Yeah, I sent it with Wheeler. She was taking some of their stuff down and offered to take ours. I wonder how long it'll take them to find anything," Goren mused.
"Well, seeing as how this case is priority one right now, hopefully not too long," Eames responded.
They rode up the elevator in company with several others who worked in the building. The group all made small talk about coming plans for the weekend, family news and sports scores. All were careful not to discuss any work business that could come back to get them in trouble later.
Bobby and Alex entered the bullpen and settled themselves at their desks. They soon became absorbed in phone messages and lab reports. A young, uniformed officer approached them and quietly informed them, "Mr. Wainwright has been brought into the holding cells. Would you like to have him brought up to interrogation?"
Bobby looked at Alex. "In about 20 minutes, please. We need to gather up a few things before we question him. Thank you, Officer Landis," Bobby replied. The officer gave them a quick nod and left.
Bobby began pulling papers and files out of his binder. A photograph fell out onto his desk and he picked it up and studied it. He stood and moved around to Alex's side of the desk.
"Eames," he said, holding the photograph out where she could see it. "Here is the picture I told you about earlier; the one from Germany." He began pointing to the people in the picture as he continued to talk. "This is me; this is Amy, she's the Wainwright I told you about. These people here are her parents, AJ and Patty; and these two girls are Susan and Kelly, Amy's best friends. We took this picture after dinner at Amy's favorite restaurant. She left for the States the next morning."
"Uh, Bobby," Eames asked. Bobby looked at her and was shocked to see her face pale and her eyes stunned as they stared at the photograph she was now holding.
"Eames, is something wrong?"
"Bobby, I-I've seen this picture…" Suddenly, everything fell into place in Eames's head, as though there had been blinders over her eyes that had just now been removed. She placed her hand on his arm and looked urgently up into his face. "Bobby, can I have this picture? I need to go see Captain Ross." She stood abruptly and strode straight into Ross's office, picture in hand, shaken look still on her face. She closed the door behind her.
Bobby's gaze followed her progress into the Captain's office with dread. She's seen that picture before? The only other person that has that picture is—his thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a loud commotion out in the hall. A woman's voice was raised in anger and frustration and he turned his head in that direction. Several of the detectives closest to the elevator had intercepted the woman and were trying to deny her entry into the squad room.
"I said, move out of my way! My son has been arrested and I demand answers. NOW!" The force of the woman's voice had everyone staring in her direction. The door to the Captain's office flung open and Eames flew out into the room, headed straight for the irate woman. The woman swung her head around, her piercing gaze searching the room as though looking for someone in particular. "NO," thought Eames, but she was too late, as the full force of Amy's angry gaze bore down on her partner.
Ross was hot on Alex's heels and he quickly sized up the situation, calling off the officers and motioning for the detectives to allow the woman to pass.
"You bastard," she screamed at Bobby as she moved suddenly in his direction. All Bobby could register was a tall, angry woman with flowing black hair and flames in her eyes headed towards him.
"This is all your fault! Do you have any idea what you've done," she continued loudly. Bobby stared dumbfounded as she came towards him, meeting him face to face. "Well, do you?"
"I, uh….Amy?" Shock and confusion were all over his face as he stared at her. "Wha-what are you doing here?"
"What am I doing here? You arrested my son, you asshole!" This time there was anger in her whole body as she swung her arm at him. Bobby was quick to catch the movement out of the side of his eye, and just as quickly, grabbed her wrist. He was not fast enough to stop her purse, which continued on its arc and slammed into his back. He had braced his legs and the purse fell harmlessly away. He ignored the flash of pain in his back and groped for words.
Thankfully, Ross came to his rescue, or tried to at least. He put a firm hand on Amy's shoulder. "Ma'am? Would you please not hit my detective? If you'd come with me to the—"
Amy whirled around and stared pointedly at Captain Ross. "If I'd wanted to speak to you, I'd've addressed you," she stated firmly, each word punctuated with indignation and fury. "You have done nothing wrong here. Now, let. Me. Go." Silently, Ross backed away.
"Amy," Bobby spoke to her softly. She turned around and faced him, her eyes now full of hurt to go with the anger he still saw there. He took a deep breath and continued. "The Captain is right. We should go into the visitor's room to finish this discussion." He looked her straight in eyes with what he hoped was a calm authority she would recognize and respond to.
She stared at him for a few tense moments. No one in the squad room dared move, for fear they would set her off again. She sighed, and Bobby saw the fight slowly leave her as her shoulders began to slump in resignation. Amy nodded and allowed Bobby to lead the way.
Once they were settled in the small room, Eames entered with several files. "Bobby will go over the facts of the case with you as we know them so far, Mrs. Wainwright. May I bring you anything to drink? Coffee, water, soda?"
Amy looked at Eames. "Do you think you could find me some bottled water?"
Eames nodded at her and quietly left, softly shutting the door behind her.
Ross met Eames as she crossed the squad room. "Well? Will there be peace in here now?"
"For a while, at least, Captain. I'm sure that will all change once Bobby figures out that Trey Wainwright is his son." She spoke this last part very quietly, so that they would not be overheard. The department would find out soon enough, but needed to hear it from Bobby, not from the rumor mill.
Eames returned to the visitor's room with a bottle of water for Amy. Bobby followed her back outside. "How is she, Bobby," Eames asked him.
"She's mad, of course. Keeps telling me this is all my fault, but can't or won't explain further. Do you want to come back in there with me and explain the case to her?"
"No. You need to do this yourself. I'll go track down our friendly forensic accountant and see if he's uncovered anything we can use when we question Mr. Wainwright." She turned suddenly on her heel and walked away, leaving Bobby even more confused.
Bobby entered the small room once more and took the seat at the table opposite Amy. Neither one of them spoke; they simply looked at each other.
"This was not the way I'd ever imagined seeing you again," Bobby finally said. Amy gave him a sad small smile and sipped her water.
"You said this was all my fault? You care to explain that to me," Bobby continued, his eyes never leaving her face, searching her eyes, her features, for anything, any clue, that could possibly shed some light onto the situation. Her face was calm and composed, and she took a deep breath before she spoke.
"You arrested my son," she stated simply.
"Your son?"
Yes, my son. Trey Wainwright."
"Trey Wainwright is your son?" Bobby was really confused now; this case just got stranger and stranger.
"Yes," Amy stated matter-of-factly. She was watching him almost curiously, Bobby realized, as though waiting for him to come to some earth-shattering conclusion regarding her statement.
"I see." Bobby looked down at the stack of folders and papers that Eames had left on the table. He opened the first folder, expecting to see his latest case summary. He was surprised and shocked to see his own eyes staring back at him, except they weren't his eyes, not exactly. They were brown like his, but the shape was not quite right; it was different, as though someone else had had a hand in shaping them and setting them into a face that was strangely similar to his and strangely familiar to him in appearance. The image before him was unsettling, seeming to be him from 25 years ago, young, smiling and fresh faced; yet not him, bearing the impressions of another face….the face sitting across from him.
The color began to drain from his face and his heart began to pound loudly, blood roaring in his ears as thoughts and images rushed into his memory, fighting to come to the forefront and make themselves known to him. He stuttered and stumbled, mumbling to himself as he flipped to the next photo, this one a picture of Laura, the victim, standing next to the smiling young man who looked like him yet was not him. A third picture, this one with the addition of a child in the arms of the young man, a child who looked like the young man, but with the bright blonde hair and big blue eyes of his mother. He flipped madly through the papers in the folders, finally stopping on the intake report from Trey's arrest. Name: Adam Jefferson Wainwright, III; "Trey". The date of birth leaping off the page: May 5, 1984.
Without a word, he looked back across the table at Amy. She had been watching him intently, trying to gauge his reaction, seeing the pieces fall into place in his head, afraid to say anything, afraid to speak for fear that the words would come out all wrong, that she would screw it all up again….
He looked up at her with hurt and anguish in his eyes. "Is he…" he couldn't say it, could not bring himself to say "my son", two simple words that would irrevocably change his life forever.
Amy looked at him. She was afraid to answer, afraid he would hate her; afraid of what might have been, could have been had she told him the truth all those years ago. Afraid of what he might say, what he might do; afraid of what would change once he learned the truth. Bobby saw all this and more play across her face and swirl around in her eyes.
If he hadn't been watching carefully, he would have missed it, a barely imperceptible nod before she turned her head away from him. Bobby sat still, too stunned to move. The realization of what he had just learned suddenly came crashing down on him and he slammed his hand down hard onto the table. Amy jumped in her chair and stared at him. Bobby turned his face away from her; he placed his elbow on the table, bringing his fist up to his mouth, and stared unseeing out through the glass.
Eames had started when she heard the noise, turning towards the visitor's room in time to realize what had happened. She stood and watched as her partner, with pain in his eyes, turned his face away from the mother of his child.