Alex was on the phone immediately.
"Deakins," came the reply.
"Captain? It's Alex. Bobby's been arrested."
Deakins sighed heavily. "When?"
"Just now. Those two cops from Homicide…"
Deakins thought for a second. "Did Bobby's lawyer ever get back with him? What's his name, Simon? Simons?"
"I'm not exactly sure. I've never met him, but I'll see if I can get in touch with him."
Interrogation Room, HomicideBobby was officially charged with the murder of Nicole Wallace. He had been through all the littledetails of being arrested; the mug shot, the fingerprinting again, and all the other little indignities. Now he sat in the interrogation room waiting for Abrams and Richardson. They were making him wait…and wait, giving him time to think about his situation, sweat for a while. Playing their own little games with him.
Finally they came into the room. One sat across from him, one sat next to him.
"Well," Abrams said smugly, "at least they didn't find any contraband on you. Ever had a body cavity search done on you before? That'll be coming up soon in your future…" He was doing his best to make Bobby uncomfortable.
Bobby refused to say anything
"He'd probably like it. He's probably a fag." Richardson said. "Would'ja like that, Bobby?"
Still Bobby didn't answer.
"Y'know, prison's a little like that… But why am I telling you this? You're a cop. You know what goes on. I guess I'm just kinda reminding you…you know, so you can help yourself a little here, maybe shorten your sentence a little…"
Then, hardly waiting for Richardson to finish, Abrams started in. "Couldn't help but notice all the beer bottles in your apartment. You drunk Bobby? They give you a breath test? How'd that turn out?"
"I want to speak to my lawyer," Bobby said.
Abrams ignored him. "Answer my question: are you drunk?"
"I had a few freakin' beers, okay, but I'm not drunk. What does—"
"Were you drinking the night you went to Nicole's?"
"No."
"So you just developed this drinking problem recently? Since you went to Nicole's?"
Bobby said nothing.
"C'mon, Bobby, did you get a guilty conscience? Is that why you started drinking?"
"Why don't you just shut the fuck up?" Bobby said, very calmly on the surface, but furious inside. "What, you think I don't know all the little tricks? I'm a cop, remember?" Bobby threw Richardson's words back at him.
"You've also got a smart mouth," Richardson said. He grabbed a handful of Bobby's hair and pulled his head back. "Sometimes people with smart mouths get hurt. You know what I mean?" He was right in Bobby's face. It was all Bobby could do not to punch this guy's lights out.
But Bobby did know what he meant, and he didn't particularly want a replay of the other night. He was still hurting, still feeling the effects of that "little" beating the other night. He was pretty sure they wouldn't go so easy on him this time.
They'd been interrogating him for about nine hours, alternating with one another whenever one of them wanted a break. Abrams decided he needed another one of his smoke breaks. He got up and left the room, leaving Richardson with Bobby. He lit up a cigarette as he pulled out his cell phone, and waited for it to ring.
He answered on the first ring.
"You got something for me?"
"Uh, no sir. Not yet." He didn't recognize the voice.
"What seems to be the problem?" The voice sounded deceptively calm, but had the effect of making Abrams extremely tense.
"Sir, uh, it's only been nine hours—"
"Yeah? Need I remind you his arraignment is only two days away, and quite frankly, we'd prefer an arraignment not be necessary."
Abrams wondered who the "we" were. "Yeah, well, I don't think this guy's gonna break—"
"Listen you shit! You either break him or I'll break the two of you. You'll be out walking a beat in the Bronx. If you survive."
Abrams didn't say anything, and the voice continued, "Remember the positive side, what's in for you if you succeed."
"Yeah, alright. Can I ask why you guys are pushing so hard to get a confession out of him? We got enough to indict him…"
"The less you know the better. Just get him to confess."
"Did he do it or not?"
"You and your partner would be wise to just do your job and keep your mouths shut." There was a dangerous edge to the man's voice. The phone clicked off.
Abrams was a little uneasy. He didn't like the idea of taking orders from an unknown source. But something told him it would be in his best interest to do so. He just wasn't sure just how hard he was supposed to go on Goren to get that confession. And if the guy was innocent, as he claimed, why would he confess? Abrams knew that he and his partner were in a tight spot.
Going back to the interrogation room he saw Richardson still going at Bobby. He called his partner out, and Bobby rested his weary head on the table.
"Well?" Richardson asked.
"We gotta break him."
"He ain't gonna break," Richardson protested.
"He has to!"
Richardson narrowed his eyes. "We got the guy, we don't need him to confess. Let the D.A. handle that."
"We can't."
"What the hell's going on, Larry?"
"They're putting the squeeze on us, Rich," Abrams said. "Whoever's sending these orders down is dead serious. They…threatened us."
Richardson's eyes grew wide. He didn't like this at all. He glanced through the window at Bobby. "Wonder what this guy did to piss them off?"
Abrams had no answer. "I don't know. But if we can't get a confession out of him, we'll be the ones pissing them off. And I…don't wanna do that."
"Let's get back in there," Richardson said wearily. Suddenly all the "fun" went out of this interrogation.
x x x
Bobby had to admit to himself, he was getting a little scared. This was not going at all like he expected. He figured by now he'd be sitting in a cell, just waiting for arraignment. Instead these assholes were still going at him. And there was no sign of any let up. If anything, it was worse. He figured he was in for a rough time of it.
The two detectives strode in purposefully to Bobby. They each grabbed one of his arms and pulled him to his feet, shoving him into the wall.
Abrams was in his face. "Okay, Goren, we're done playing your little games—"
"MY little games? I'm not the one who—"
His words were cut off by a hard blow to his abdomen, doubling him over, and before he could recover, another one.
"You either sign this confession on your own…"
"Or you'll… beat it… out of me?" Bobby choked out, still angry but barely able to speak.
Richardson laughed. "He ain't as dumb as he looks." Then he shoved Bobby back into his chair, and grabbing him by his hair again told him, "Sign!"
"Fuck you," Bobby said. He knew it would cost him. And it did. They cuffed him again. And this time they didn't worry about the bruises showing.
x x x
Bobby was nearly unconscious when the door opened, and two men walked in. "This is Mister—" their captain started, and the other man said "What the fuck!"
The two detectives stopped, each one mumbling some inane excuse for what was going on.
Joe Simon, Bobby's lawyer, was furious. "He needs a doctor. Call an ambulance now!"
"He's under arrest!" Richardson protested, "for murder! He's not going anywhere!"
"The hell he's not!" Even their captain disagreed. As the captain removed the cuffs, Joe Simon tried to help Bobby up. "Bobby? C'mon buddy, get up." With the help of Joe Simon, Bobby managed to get up and back into the chair, holding his head with one hand and his gut with the other.
Joe was outraged. He turned to the captain and the two detectives. "I'm having the two of you arrested for aggravated assault and battery and using excessive force on a police officer."
Abrams said sullenly, "We never touched him! He fell, and we were helping him up. We damn sure never used a weapon on him, and if he says otherwise he's a damn liar!"
But Joe was too angry to even consider their words. "You didn't need a weapon. When you handcuffed my client's hands behind his back then beat him and kicked him, your fists and feet became your weapon. Gentlemen, I think your days as police officers are numbered."
"We'll see about that," Richardson said smugly. But for all their outward bravado, both seriously believed they had bigger problems than the possibility of losing their badges.
He turned back to Bobby. "It's okay, buddy, we're going to—" But his words were lost on Bobby. He was unconscious again.
x x x
Bobby awoke again in Mt. Sinai Hospital. He was hurting, and tried to shift himself, groaning softly. But something wasn't right. He couldn't turn himself, and there was a soft clattering of metal on metal. He slowly opened his eyes to see Alex watching him, as he slowly came to the realization that his left wrist was cuffed to the side of the bed rail.
"What?" he mumbled, not understanding.
Alex really didn't want to be the one to tell him this, but she was the one who was there, and therefore didn't have much choice.
She started gently. "Bobby, how are you feeling?"
"What's wrong with me?"
"You've got a bad concussion, and a couple of broken ribs and some bad bruising to—"
Bobby jerked at the cuffs. "What the hells going on?" he demanded angrily, then winced in pain.
Alex sighed. " Bobby, they thought that taking you to the hospital ward at Riker's would take too long. And since you're still under arrest the only condition under which you could be brought here was to be restrained with the cuffs. I'm so sorry, Bobby." There were tears in her eyes.
A deep sense of shame overcame Bobby. He suddenly couldn't stand the thought of Alex seeing him like this, feeling sorry for him. He was deeply humiliated. He closed his eyes for a moment, then tried to turn his body away from her. Not only did it hurt too much, but with her on his left side, and his hand cuffed to the left side of the bed, it was virtually impossible. The only thing he could do was turn his face away. He felt incredibly vulnerable, and the last thing he wanted was Alex's pity.
"Um…Alex…do you…do you think you could leave now?" He said it so softly she could barely hear him.
She did understand. "Bobby, I—"
"Please, Alex, just…go."
Alex sighed again. She knew how hurtful this was to him, how being put in this position deeply hurt his pride, and whatever dignity he felt he had left. Not wishing to cause him any more pain she stood up, brushed a wayward curl back, and lightly kissed his forehead. "Okay, Bobby, I'll go. Just know that we are on your side, and we will get you cleared. I promise you that."
Bobby,both physically and mentally in a lot of pain, still couldn't look at her. The only way he knew she was gone was by the sound of her footsteps gradually fading away. Then he was alone.
tbc
A/N Sorry for the delay in posting. I just came off a 70 hour work week, doing midnights. It was a tough week.
I have a pretty good idea where I'm taking this now, but if anyone has any other ideas for this, I'm open. Email me. Thanks. And thanks for reviewing.