Chapter 2: Gloaming
Goren sat in his car outside the florist shop. He'd just ordered the flowers for the funeral. He'd planned on calling the cemetery afterward to set the time, but when he got back to his car he found he couldn't summon the willpower to do anything else. He sat in the driver seat, staring at the window, for hours. He wasn't even thinking. He just looked, not at anything in particular. The cellphone rang. Goren flinched as his mind re-engaged. Mom was dead.
He answered the phone after the fifth ring. "Goren."
"Hey Bobby." It was Eames. "I'm sorry to bother you, but I need your advice on something."
He rubbed his eyes as if he'd just woken up. "What?" he asked.
"It's this crime scene," she sighed in frustration. "There's no evidence here. I've had the neighborhood canvassed, and no one saw anything at all. I swear sometimes I..."
"What's the crime?" He was grateful to have something to distract him at the moment.
"Murder of a John Doe. He was dumped in a vacant lot in the middle of a slum and hosed off with water from a nearby fire hydrant."
"So what do you need my advice on?"
She took a moment before answering. "For starters, why would someone dump him here? Is the river suddenly not good enough for these goons?"
"The killers are probably familiar with the area. Maybe they're sending a message to someone who lives there. Canvass the neighborhood again and find out if any of the potential witnesses have a criminal record. Focus on buildings within view of the vacant lot."
"Thanks."
"You're welcome." He closed the phone, and then decided he wanted to go for a walk. He didn't pay much attention the the street or the buildings, or the increasing cold and the shifting colors of the greasy dusk sky. He was focusing on his own feelings, and his own thoughts. Eames hadn't asked him how he was doing. She didn't even allude to his personal crisis. He should have felt hurt, but he didn't, and he wondered why. "Because she knew," he whispered. Alex was a clever investigator, especially when it came to practical connections like that. The ideas he'd given her she must have thought of on her own. She'd called to check up on him without sounding patronizing or sympathetic. Maybe she knew sympathy was the last thing he wanted at the moment. After all, he recalled, she knew what it was like to lose someone. Even though it had been years since her husband's death, it still hurt her; he could tell from the way she never talked about him. He'd been irrationally feeling like he was completely alone in his suffering, like no one could understand the sudden desolation. But Eames understood. He wasn't sure how to feel about it. Part of him felt gratitude, but another part felt resentful for some reason. Mostly he just felt cold and lost, and confusion.
He returned to the car, but didn't start it. Without warning, without any conscious thought leading up to it, tears spilled out of his eyes. Silent this time. They weren't tears for his mother's death, they were for her miserable life. It was so unfair. The world was unfair. Everyone was miserable. Everyone said that. Everyone said "Life's not fair," but they said it in blithe, resigned way. They just accepted it, and didn't realize that it was the most disgustingly tragic fact imaginable.
He finally started driving home. The tears continued coursing down his face unabated.
A/N: I'd hate to sound demanding, but I would really appreciate some review. Just tell me if you like it or not, even if it's just a smily face or a frowny face. I'm kind of new to L&O: CI, so please point out if anyone seems out of character.