She can't even look at me… His own words went around and around in his head. It had to be one of two things: she was either ashamed of him, or she felt sorry for him. Either way, this was the last straw. Bobby had shamed them all, Alex, Deakins, the whole Major Case Squad. Let them down. Especially Alex. It was his own fault. If he had just done things right, by the book, he wouldn't be in this jam. But, as they say, hindsight is 20/20. So here he was, her partner, practically convicted of murder, having the reputation of a loose cannon and being branded by the media as some kind of a deviant sex pervert. The rag mags were having a field day with this, and "Page Six" of the Times was crucifying him. He could hardly face himself, let alone her.
Worst yet would be her pity, feeling sorry for him. And that was something he couldn't handle. That was something he wouldn't handle, because he had no intention of letting her or anyone see him like this.
To make matters worse, the scuffle in the courtroom hadn't done him any good, either. He wasn't just "brought down," he'd been outright tackled, landing on his wrist doing god-knows-what to it, cracking his head, and somehow injuring his ribs even more. Too angry, well, raging at the time, with his adrenaline shy high, he hadn't even realized he'd been injured. He'd angrily refused any medical treatment and didn't receive any, something he was now regretting. His head had been pounding non-stop since he'd been brought in.
One week later, Joe Simon's officeAlex and Joe Simon were in his office discussing Bobby's case.
"I appreciate your helping out like this, Alex," Joe said, handing her a cup of coffee.
Taking it gratefully, Alex told him, "I'm just glad you're letting me and that Captain Deakins gave me the time off. Right now I don't think I could honestly do my job right. I couldn't begin to concentrate, worrying about Bobby. At least this way, knowing I'm doing something to help, makes me feel better and I can concentrate better. I just wish he'd let me in to see him."
Joe shrugged defensively.
"I tried, Alex. He just refuses. This has hurt his pride—a lot. I don't think he can face anyone right now, least of all you."
"I know it's hurt him, mentally and physically. But I have to see him, to let him know how I feel. And how I don't feel," she added, referring to the shame she knew Bobby attributed to her. "I'll tell you what you can tell him: when he does get out, and he will, I'm going to kick his ass big time for this!"
Joe had to grin. "Okay, I will. Alright now, what's your plan of action?"
"First I want to go back to that hotel where it all happened, and just check things out a little. Maybe talk to some of the hotel staff."
"Good idea. Let me know how that goes. I'm going to talk to Bobby again. See if there's possibly anything else he can remember."
Alex nodded. "Okay, I'll check with you later."
RikersBobby felt like he was going crazy. Being cooped up in that small cell, in isolation, (necessary to keep him out of harm's way) was making him stir-crazy. He was pacing as usual, much to the annoyance of the guard assigned to him. He only got out of the cell long enough to get a little daily exercise, alone, with the exception of the armed guard watching him, and for the occasional meeting with his lawyer.
He was becoming more and more discouraged. He was convinced he was set-up, and the evidence they had on him was overwhelming. He also figured that whoever set him up had the wherewithal to follow it through, and get him convicted. And he would be convicted, of that he was sure. What was really the point of going through all the trouble of a trial when the result was pre-determined? The thought of spending the rest of his life in prison was terrifying, especially since his life expectancy, as a cop, would be less than six months in the general population. Or at best, isolation for the rest of his life.
He thought again of trying to escape. It was a near impossible feat, to actually get free of this place, and even harder to stay free. But it could be done; he was smart and if anyone could do it, he could. And if he got caught, what could they do to him? Tack more years on to his life with no parole sentence? Put an extra dose in his lethal injection? The only thing that could go wrong would be for him to be shot while trying to escape… And maybe that wouldn't be such a bad idea. He'd still be dead, but faster and easier that way than at the hands of vengeful inmates.
Death might just be the only way out of his misery.
Later that day
Joe Simon had arranged for a meeting with Bobby for later that afternoon. As the guard brought Bobby to the conference room and removed the cuffs (he had grown to hate those cuffs) Joe saw absolutely no emotion on Bobby's face. That was not a good sign.
"How's it going, Bobby?" Joe asked, to break the ice.
Bobby just stared at him.
"Are they treating you alright?"
"If you mean, have they beaten me lately? No, they haven't. And yeah, I'm fine."
Joe sighed. "Well, that's good then. How are your ribs?"
"Fine," Bobby lied. The truth was, every breath he took hurt like hell. No matter what position he was in he couldn't get comfortable.
"Have you been to see a doctor?"
"What for? So they can push, poke and prod, then tell me there's nothing they can do?"
Joe was getting frustrated. "So they can fucking give you a pill, okay?"
Bobby was quiet for a moment.
"You remember in the hospital when they took their time getting me any meds? Well, I got them, however long it took. Here they tell me they can't give me a fucking aspirin without the doctor's okay. And somehow, the doctor's never available."
"I'm sorry, Bobby," Joe said sincerely.
"Doesn't matter anyway."
Joe looked confused. "What doesn't matter? What the hell are you talking about?"
"Nothing."
Joe stared at him for a minute.
"Well, here's some good news for you. Since you can't investigate this yourself, your partner Alex is doing some investigating for me. Maybe we'll get you out of this yet."
He thought he saw a flicker of light in Bobby's eyes at the mention of Alex's name, but it was gone as quickly as it came.
"She wants to see you, Bobby…bad."
"No." Bobby stood up, and banged on the door. "Guard!"
Joe got really pissed. "What the fuck is your problem! We got everybody—"
"Don't think I'll be needing your services any more, Joe," Bobby said, as once more they applied the handcuffs to him, and led him away.
"Bobby!" Joe sat there, in shock.
And Bobby, once alone in his cell again, lay on his cot, facing the wall. And tears came to his eyes. Tears for himself, and tears for the people who did love him, and would miss him.
xxxx
Assistant Chief of Detectives Mark Connelly put down the newspaper with a sigh. He'd just read the latest on the pre-trial goings on with that detective, Robert Goren. That guy's life had gone to hell in a handshake. Sometimes he felt a little guilty, as well he should. He tried to put it out of his mind; the wheels were already turning, there was nothing he could do now, things had gone way too far.
There was a family dinner going on with Mark and his wife Sarah, along with their two children, Jake and Moira, and Moira's husband and children. But Mark could not enjoy it, as much as he tried to keep his mind off that cop, he couldn't. The only things he found any pleasure in these days were his two small grandchildren. Certainly not his son.
As if on cue, Jake picked up the a week old newspaper, one his father had saved. Only he smirked. "Did you read about that cop, Dad? Stupid fucker!"
"Jake!" his mother admonished, "the grandchildren!"
"Oh, sorry, Mom," he said sarcastically. "You think they don't hear that crap all day long? You think they don't say that crap all day long?"
"Jake…" his father said warningly.
Jake ignored the warning. "Anyway, that stupid fucker actually tried to go for the judge! How freaking stupid can you get? They ought to—"
"Shut up, Jake!" This wasn't a warning, there was a threat in his voice. "Just shut the hell up." Then, to the rest of the family, "You can all just eat. I'll be…I'm not hungry…" He kissed his grandchildren and left the room.
Moira glared at her brother. "Why do you always have to upset him like that?"
"I was just telling him about one of his dumb-ass cops—"
"Jake, that's enough," his mother told him, then apologized to Moira and her husband. "I'm sorry, Moira, Eric. Your father, um, Mark, for some reason is really upset about this… this detective. He's been following this story since the beginning, and everyday it seems to bother him more. He takes it hard when one of his men goes bad. I…don't understand what would make a cop go bad like that?"
"Could be any reason," her son-in-law said, not really all that interested. "I'm hungry. Can we just eat, please?
Eric may not have been interested, but Jake was. Was his father going soft on him? Nothing good could come of that. Now it was Jake who had something to worry about.
tbc