Remember Me? Chapter Three
Author: spookycc, with JudyG
Special guest beta: galeriel
Summary: Years ago, Robert Goren sent away a notorious drug dealer. But not without parole…
Spoilers: References to Endgame, Brother's Keeper
Rating: T for language and mild violence
Time line: This story takes place after US Season 6, before Amends.
Disclaimer: I don't own anyone in here, except for Gene Palmer, who is my own creation. The LOCI characters belong to Dick Wolf and NBC/USA/ Universal. I'm just taking them for a spin, and I'll return them relatively unharmed. ;-)
Author's Notes:
I know nothing about illegal drugs other than what I researched for this story and others, so please forgive blatant mistakes about interactions, effects, etc...
Thank you to my Little Sister, who got me out of that corner I painted myself into!
Reviews devoured like chocolate!
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Remember Me? - Chapter 3
Somewhere on the road between Fillmore Glen State Park and Cortland Regional Medical Center New York State
Gene Palmer maneuvered his pickup truck down the nearly-deserted highway. He knew that he could have stopped at the quickie mart close to the park to grab some food, but he wanted Goren to suffer more. So he had made the longer trek into Cortland, instead, figuring it would make his captive more eager to see him, when he finally returned.
Palmer's reverie was interrupted by the sight of a fast-approaching vehicle, from the other direction. It took only a moment for the ex-con to recognize the single red flashing light on the dashboard. The SUV was exactly like the one that had followed him in the days prior to his arrest, so it had to be an NYPD vehicle. But why were they up here?
He already knew the answer. They had to have found his hideout. But they weren't traveling back toward New York City, they were headed in the direction of Cortland, undoubtedly to get Goren help.
"Damn! Son of a BITCH!" Palmer slammed his open hand against the steering wheel of his truck. He looked farther down the road, but the SUV was the only vehicle he saw.
In an instant, he made his decision. It was now or never. They had no reason to believe that he would be on the road right now. And no one in the SUV knew what his truck looked like, so no one would recognize it, especially not at night.
Palmer waited until the SUV was almost beside him. Then he swung his steering wheel hard to the left, and threw himself down flat on the seat. With a sickening shriek of metal on metal, his truck T-boned the larger vehicle, bulldozing it off the road and into the woods adjoining it.
Palmer shook his head several times, to clear his mind from the force of the impact. All he could hear was a steady blare in his ears, and it took him a moment to realize it was the SUV's horn. He sat back up and surveyed the damage before him. The other vehicle was wedged between his truck and a stand of trees. His door wouldn't open, so he climbed stiffly out the window.
Pulling out his gun, he checked inside the SUV. The front airbag hadn't deployed, which explained the blasting of the horn. Someone's head was pressing against the steering wheel, but that someone wasn't Goren. Whoever it was, however, he wasn't moving.
Quickly glancing in the back seat, Palmer saw Goren's MCS partner - he remembered from his research that her name was Eames - lying atop her colleague's motionless body. Her head had impacted with the window and door frame when he had hit them. Tiny squares of safety glass clung to her hair and the left side of her head was bloodied.
No time to waste, no time to gloat... Palmer reached inside the broken front window and pulled the stranger's cuffs from his belt, as well as the gun from his shoulder holster. Then he walked around the front end, opened the passenger side, and hauled the man across the front seat until he was backed against the door. His head was a mess, having impacted with the steering wheel when the airbag failed to deploy. Palmer knew he would be out for awhile, but he pulled his arms behind him anyway, cuffing them to the armrest before he shut the door.
Palmer also knew there was no way the back door on the driver's side would open. It was a mangled mass of steel, so he opened the rear passenger door instead, and started to pull Eames across the seat. It was difficult, because her legs were still under Goren's limp body. A few more tugs finally released her from her partner's weight, and Palmer positioned her the same way he had the man in the front. He used her own cuffs from her waistband to secure her hands and removed her gun from its holster, sticking it in his belt.
Only then did Palmer realize how dizzy he was himself, and he sat roughly on the ground, collecting his thoughts for just a moment. He pushed himself to his feet, grabbed the just-purchased food from inside his bent and contorted truck cabin. Then he carried the bags over to the driver's side of the SVU, climbed in, and sat the bags on the seat beside him. The engine turned over when he started it, as he had hoped it would, since he hadn't hit the front end of the vehicle.
Palmer backed away from the tree line and pulled the SUV behind his truck. A few pushes and his old beater rolled down a hill into a more deeply wooded area. Making sure there was no way to see it from the road, he drove a short distance until he found a familiar path. He knew from his childhood that these paths led to supply shacks the forest service used during the dry season. Not that anyone would be there now. It had been a wet summer and the danger of fire was low.
Turning off the headlights, he carefully drove to the storage shack. While his captives were still unconscious, he dragged the stranger and Eames, one by one, into the small building. He secured them to the built-in metal shelving with their cuffs, and then went back for Goren.
He had only taken two steps outside the shack when he knew something was wrong. The back seat was empty! "Shit!" How the hell had-
From the dark brush beside the shack, a shape hit him broadside, knocking him to the ground. Surprised, he grappled with the detective, and felt Goren going for the weapon in his hand.
Ordinarily, it might have been a fair fight, but Goren didn't have much fight left in him, in his weakened state. Palmer slammed his pistol butt into the side of Goren's head, and the detective fell atop him, as he blacked out.
Disgusted, Palmer shoved the unconscious body away and quickly clambered to his feet, his adrenaline still surging. Goren had caught him by surprise and that should never have happened. He should have been more careful.
Grabbing the big detective under his arms, he pulled him into the shack. He hadn't found the cuffs from which his partner had undoubtedly released him, so he used a roll of wire to bind Goren's wrists back together before tethering him between his friends. Next, he removed the cuff keys from the pockets of both Eames and the stranger. He also pulled out the stranger's badge wallet from his pocket. Mike Logan, it said. The name meant nothing to him.
Finally, Palmer went back outside and pulled the SUV behind the shack, just in case someone noticed the tracks along the road. Only then did he allow himself to heave a huge sigh. The adrenaline rush was wearing off and his energy was waning. It was past time to replenish it.
Sitting at the small table in the shack, he ripped open a bag of pork rinds and popped the top off a bottle of cheap beer.
--
Cortland Regional Medical Center New York State
Danny Ross was at the hospital, waiting for Logan and Eames to arrive with Goren. They were overdue and their cells were going straight to voicemail, so he was pissed.
He was also worried.
He called his team in from the field and asked his tech specialists to figure out where Logan's last call had come from, based on the towers that had bounced the signal. He also contacted NYPD and asked for a GPS reading of the SUV's location. AVL tracking was standard equipment on police vehicles and hopefully his detectives would still be nearby.
But it all took time. And Ross wasn't sure just how much time he had left.
--
Forest Service Shack New York State
Bobby Goren came to before either of his two friends. His head was throbbing, and his arms ached from his wrists being secured behind his back. The time asleep had allowed some of the drug withdrawal to abate, but he still shivered uncontrollably when the chills overtook his body. And he found it difficult to control the tremors in his arms and legs.
Turning his head painfully to his left, he saw his partner lying not far from him, her wrists bound in the same manner as his. "She's wearing her own cuffs," he noted sadly, wordlessly. He couldn't see the extent of her injuries, but he did see bits of glass in her hair and dried blood on the side of her head.
Goren tried to inch closer, but was unable to move far enough because of the way he was secured. "Eames." he whispered, hoping to awaken her without attracting the attention of their captor.
There was no response to his voice. He laid as still as he could, and was relieved to see her chest rising and falling in a steady, comforting rhythm. "I'm sorry, Alex..." Guilt pushed its way into his still-confused thoughts. She wouldn't have been hurt if she and Logan hadn't come after him.
Slowly turning his body the other way, he saw Mike Logan near his right side. The detective's face was bloody from a cut on his forehead and Goren was also unable to wake him. He was unable, it seemed, to do much of anything, except lie silently between them.
Shivering violently, Goren had never felt so miserable and alone...
--
On the road between Fillmore Glen State Park and Cortland Regional Medical Center New York State
Ross put down his radio and heaved a huge sigh. They were finally on their way and action was infinitely preferable to waiting. They had the coordinates of Goren and Eames' SUV and had, in turn, programmed the information into their own GPS receiver.
Three more vehicles followed his own, all unmarked. Behind them were two ambulances from Cortland Regional. They had all used their sirens for most of the trip, but had now silenced them so Palmer wouldn't hear their arrival. "IF he's still with Goren," Ross mused to himself. "And if Goren and Eames and Logan were still near the SUV." The trace on Logan's cell had shown that when he called, they were about midway between the state park and Cortland Medical Center. But by now, they could be anywhere.
The team slowed as they approached the coordinates on their GPS receiver, and parked on either side of a long gravel road that led back into the woods...
--
Forest Service Shack New York State
Palmer relaxed at the table, sipping beer and watching his captives on the other side of the shack. They had all regained consciousness, not that it mattered to him. Goren and his partner were talking in hushed tones, a fact that made him smile. They could plot whatever escape they wanted; as secure as they were right now, they weren't going anywhere.
His attention was diverted by a sound he heard outside. Or thought he heard. How would anyone know where to find them? Maybe it was someone from the forest service. But there shouldn't be any equipment they needed in this shack, not during this rainy spell they'd been having...
Palmer walked to the shack's single front window, and crouched beside it, gun in hand. It WASN'T his imagination - he sensed rather than saw the furtive shadows moving around outside. There was no back door, but he figured there were cops behind the shack, too.
Thinking quickly, Palmer knew if the cops were here, there were more than he could take out by himself. He needed a bargaining chip. He smiled...
Palmer slid his gun into the back of his pants, and untied Goren from between his two friends. Eames and Logan protested and kicked out, trying to trip him, but he had made sure they weren't close enough together to get into any trouble...
The big detective didn't protest as Palmer put his arm around his neck, especially when he again withdrew his revolver. Then, opening the door with his gun hand, he stepped onto the porch with his hostage.
"Palmer! We have you surrounded!" Ross' voice rang out in the clearing.
The ex-con tightened his grip around Goren's neck. "That's fine, cop! But you'll have to take this guy out to get to me!"
"Hold your fire!" Ross ordered as the men closed in on the shack. Goren's eyes were hazy and unfocused and he looked as though his captor's arm might be cutting off his air. Holding up both hands, the captain continued, "No one needs to get hurt here, Palmer. Let my officers go, and I'll see that the DA shows you some leniency."
Palmer laughed, a creepy, intense sound. "I don't intend to be seeing a DA anytime soon."
Ross re-evaluated the situation immediately. Palmer wasn't giving in. He wanted to go out in a "blaze of glory", and he didn't care who he took with him.
Goren was struggling to hold his eyes open and stay on his feet. At the moment, he was a very effective shield for Palmer, since he was much bigger than the ex-convict.
Feeling confident, Palmer relaxed his grip for a second, and that was the opening Goren had been waiting for. He feigned more light-headedness than he felt, as though he were about to pass out. And as Palmer struggled to support him, Goren fell to his knees, and then threw his weight into his captor, knocking him off his feet. A single shot rang out, slamming harmlessly into the porch roof, before Palmer fell flat on his back with the big detective atop his lower body.
"Get him!"
Ross' team was already swarming toward the shack, preventing their target from getting any off more shots. They grabbed his gun and rolled an exhausted Goren off him, pulling Palmer to his feet and cuffing him.
The ex-con protested loudly, but Ross ignored his profanity as he went around the arresting team and knelt down to examine his prone detective.
"I'm ok," Goren's voice was hoarse, and he coughed. "Check Eames and Logan."
"We need the buses up here, now!" the captain yelled to his team. Within moments, the ambulances pulled up and dispatched several paramedics to the shack. They split up, attending to all of the injured detectives.
Ross gave them the cuff keys from the table, so they could un-cuff Logan and Eames, and he watched as they evaluated the two detectives, and prepped them for transport. "How are they?" he asked in a low voice.
One EMT nodded at Eames. "She probably has a concussion, definitely some blood loss, but she's stable." Looking toward Logan, he added, "Same with him. And he'll need some stitches for that forehead wound."
Eames looked up at Ross. "We're fine, sir. How's Bobby?"
"He's asking about you," Ross assured her. Although Logan and Eames looked bad, he knew Goren had more serious medical issues.
Glancing over, Ross noted that the wires had been removed from Goren's wrists and a paramedic was busy checking his vitals. The detective's face was covered with sweat and he shivered, despite the blanket they had tucked around him. "He also has some head trauma and a possible skull fracture," the doctor informed the captain when he stepped closer. "Thanks to the information you gave us, we can start a safe course of drug treatment…"
Ross let out a sigh of relief as they gingerly loaded Goren onto a stretcher. He took half the weight since there weren't enough EMT's to carry everyone back to the ambulances. And as Goren was loaded in one and Eames and Logan into the other, the captain thought to himself, "Finally, it's over." All his detectives needed now was time to heal.
Hurrying back to his car, Ross followed the ambulances as they headed back to Cortland General, an NYPD escort leading the way.
TBC...
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