Warning-- for language
Two detectives held Bobby in custody almost all night. He wasn't allowed a phone call or a lawyer, or even a drink, because he wasn't under arrest. He was a "witness."
Bobby knew what they were up to, and wasn't about to cave. He repeated over and over his original statement. "I just went to talk to her. The door was open. I tr—"
"Shut up!" barked Abrams, the first detective. He was tired of listening to the same few words coming from Bobby's mouth. "Y'know, for such a smart guy you're acting pretty stupid here. Look, Bobby, all of us here know you're in a big jam. You can help yourself—"
"If I knew something I'd tell you! For Christ's sake, you think I like sitting here with you dicks? While you're sitting here 'chatting' with me, the real killer is getting away!"
"I don't know," the second detective said derisively. "I think maybe we're sitting with the real killer now."
Bobby was exhausted and pissed. He said once again, "If I'm not under arrest, I'm leaving." He started to get up, only to be pushed subtlely yet firmly back down.
"Can't do that, Bobby. You know that. You really need to tell us what you know."
It took everything Bobby had to maintain his temper. "What I know is that the person you're protecting—the guilty person—must be pretty damn important if you're going through all this trouble to push it off onto me."
That earned Bobby another blow to the back of his head. The blow dazed him for a moment, then made him angry. He started to go for Abrams, then stopped himself, but not before unintentionally bumping him. It was the opportunity they were waiting for.
"Guess nobody ever told him not to go around assaulting police officers," Abrams told his partner.
"Guess not," Richardson replied. "Maybe somebody needs to educate him."
They held the handcuffs out, waiting for Bobby to put his hands behind him.
"Y'know," Bobby started, "those aren't really nec—"
"Shut up!" Richardson snarled at him, pushing him face-first onto the table. Then they handcuffed him again and took him to another room.
The two detectives made sure they didn't hit him in the face. Not wanting to leave any visible bruises, they concentrated on his abdominal area, occasionally hitting him solidly in the back of the head.
They also didn't break any bones. They just continued to hit him in the abdomen, long and hard, till he could hardly move, let alone stand up.
Hours later, when he could finally manage to stand on his own, he was released, with the warning that if he had any plans for the future to cancel them.
Bobby's apartment
Once home, Bobby walked slowly to his couch, every movement causing pain. He lifted his shirt to see the damage. From his stomach all the way down to, and including his groin, was a huge contusion, and in some places the skin was broken. He also had a large lump on the back of his head. It was painful to even touch. But with no broken bones, all told, Bobby figured he got off pretty easy.
He eased himself down onto his couch to rest for a few minutes, then picked up his phone and made two phone calls, one to Captain Deakins, and the other to his lawyer.
The first call he made was to his lawyer friend, Joe Simon. Simon was a busy guy, and was currently out of town. Not having his cellphone number, Bobby left a voice mail, with a message telling Joe to call back as soon as he got it, it was urgent.
Then he called Deakins. "Hey, Captain, it's Goren…"
Deakins was already in a foul mood. "Goren? Where the hell are you? We've been trying to get hold of you for hours!"
Thrown off a little by Deakins' outburst, Bobby mumbled, " I was uh…detained."
Deakins continued. "Nicole Wallace is dead. Did you know that? Word has it a cop did it."
Bobby didn't say anything.
"Bobby? Did you hear me?"
Finally Bobby spoke. "Yeah, I know. I've been downtown all night with those dicks from Homicide trying to convince them I didn't do it."
It was Deakins' turn to go speechless. After a moment, very seriously and very quietly, Deakins said, "What the hell happened, Bobby?"
Bobby sighed. "Long story, Captain. Bottom line is, I'm in a world of shit. They're going to arrest me."
"Fuck!"
"Yeah, that's what I said, too." He sighed again.
"You got a lawyer, Bobby? You're gonna need one."
"Yeah, I got one. But I can't get in touch with him right now. He'll call back."
Deakins didn't know what else to say. He was still in a state of shock. "Well, all right. If you need anything, anything, let me know."
"I will." He moved slightly, causing him to wince in pain. He wanted to say he could get him a doctor, but he didn't.
"You want to talk to Alex? She's gonna rip me apart if I don't give her this phone."
"Yeah." He took a shallow breath; taking a deep one hurt too much.
"Bobby, what happened?" She demanded. She wasn't a bit happy with him. He was supposed to call her when he got back from seeing Nicole. He never did, and then shut his cell phone off.
"Alex, I couldn't—"
"Are you hurt? Never mind, I'm coming over."
"Alex, it's not—"
"Don't you dare tell me it's not necessary!" She hung up.
"Shit!" He moved sharply, causing himself more pain. He eased himself into a prone position. He was hurting, and he was dead-ass tired after being questioned and knocked around all night. All he wanted right now was to sleep. Damn! Why hadn't he gotten some Motrin or something before he lay down? He wasn't about to get up now, he'd just have to wait for Alex.
Half an hour later Alex was there. She knocked on his door. No answer. She dug out her key and walked in.
Bobby was asleep on the couch, and she had to admit, he looked rough. His clothes were a rumpled mess, his curly hair disheveled, and he needed a shave, as usual.
Then he moved in his sleep, and groaned, clutching his stomach. Alex was upset. Shaking his shoulder gently, she tried to wake him.
"Bobby? Bobby, wake up. Are you okay?" His eyelids fluttered momentarily, then he was back asleep.
"Bobby! Wake up!" She was more forceful this time, shaking him harder.
This time when he woke up he tried to sit up without allowing Alex to see him in pain. She caught it anyway.
"Shit, Bobby! What the hell did they do to you?" She helped him to sit up fully.
"Not nearly as much as they could have," he told her. "I'm okay, Alex. Really."
"Do you need anything?" she asked softly, brushing back his hair. That's when she felt the lump at the back of his head. She bristled.
Bobby looked up at her with his soft brown eyes. "A little ibuprofen, maybe?"
She nodded and went to the kitchen, returning with some Motrin and water. She handed them to him, and watched as he took them. Sensing her gaze on him, he repeated, "Alex, I swear to God, they went easy on me. I'm okay."
"Bobby! You weren't even under arrest! They shouldn't have touched you! Imagine what they'll do you if they arrest you!"
"When they arrest me," he corrected her. "They're going to arrest me. It's just a matter of when they can get their shit together."
"What happened last night, Bobby?" she asked again.
Bobby sighed. "I went there, the door was open, and she was dead. I was just going to try CPR when the police busted in."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Bobby, think carefully. What exactly were you doing? Where was Nicole?"
"I just told you, she was dead, and I was trying—" A sudden thought occurred to him. "Alex, you do believe me, don't you?"
"Of course I do! I just want you to be—"
"Jesus Christ, Alex," he said softly. "If I can't even get you to believe me, how in the hell am I ever going to get them to believe me?"
"I do believe you, Bobby." She kissed him lightly on the cheek. "And I believe in you. We're gonna work this out, I promise you."
As much as Bobby wanted to believe that, he was unconvinced. "Alex, they've got more than enough to arrest me. I was kneeling over her body for Christ's sake! They've got my fingerprints on the body, and they've got motive. For some reason they want to hang this on me, Alex. And they're gonna do it."
Downtown, at the same time
"You stupid bastard!" Assistant Chief of Detectives Mark Connelly yelled at his son. "You stupid son of a bitch!" His son, Jake Connelly, sat on his father's couch, staring up at him.
"It was an accident, Dad!" he tried to explain. "I never meant it to happen! I saw those emails and I lost it! All I could think of was her and that fuckin' cop! She…she never saw it coming."
His father stared at him, repeating "stupid son of a bitch" over and over, pacing the room. "I told you before to get some help for that insane jealousy of yours. You're a screw up, Jake. A stupid fucking screw up! You're not a kid anymore, Jake, you're thirty years old! I can't keep pulling strings all the time to keep your sorry ass out of jail!" He was furious.
"What…what are we gonna do?" Jake asked.
"You're not going to do anything! You're going to lay low, and keep your goddamn mouth shut!"
"So what happens now?" Jake asked, scowling.
"What happens now? Well, thanks to you, I've had to call in every favor ever owed me. Every dirty cop, every clean cop who owes me. It's gonna be fixed. It's all gonna fall on that cop."
"Good," Jake said, satisfied, a smug smile on his face.
"Good?" his father repeated, amazed at the callousness of his son. "Good? Because of you and your stupidness, an innocent man is going to go to prison. Not to mention one of the best detectives the NYPD has ever had. And now you've turned your own father dirty. We're supposed to be brothers here," he said, indicating the whole police organization. "and I gotta send a cop to prison." He looked kind of sad, but he had to do it. His wife would never forgive him if he sent their own son to prison. So it was either his son or Detective Robert Goren, and Robert Goren lost.
tbc
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