CHAPTER 4.

"How is Mona?" Fraser looked up as Ray walked back into the squad room.

"Doc's with her now," replied Ray with a heavy sigh. "And Welsh doesn't want me anywhere near that lowlife bastard of a husband of hers. He's handed the case to Huey."

Fraser nodded. He understood the Lieutenant's reasons. Ray was better off as far away from domestic violence cases as possible. Fraser wasn't sure how much Welsh knew about Ray's father, but years behind a desk hadn't dulled his detective skills so Fraser assumed he had figured most of it out for himself.

"I don't suppose you've seen Ryan, have you?" asked Fraser. "He went to use the restroom and has not yet returned. I was just about to go searching for him."

Ray shook his head. "Haven't seen him," he replied. "We should talk to him, though. He was great with the victim. I never saw any of that coming ."

"Neither did I," admitted Fraser. "The victim was comforted and reassured by his words. He seemed to be highly knowledgeable about the right things to say in such circumstances."

"That's what worries me," replied Ray. "What did he mean when he said he'd lived through it?"

"I'm not sure," replied Fraser. "It may have been a rouse designed to put the victim at ease."

"So maybe the domestic abuse chapters in the training manual are his favourite?" shrugged Ray. "But he's not mentioned a girlfriend," he noted, lowering his voice slightly. "Could be he's got a tale or two to tell?"

Fraser let out a slow breath as he pondered Ray's words. He'd already considered the possibility that Ryan had first-hand experience of relationship abuse, simply because of the manner in which he dealt with their victim. He nodded and slowly moistened his lower lip with his tongue. "We need to find him," he said with sudden urgency and he quickly picked up his hat and headed out into the corridor with Ray and Diefenbaker following close behind.

They searched the whole station, but no one had seen Ryan.

"I should have kept a closer eye on him," said Fraser, his voice tinged with guilt. "I should have realised how badly affected he was by the experience."

"We don't know for sure that he's freaked out, Benny," replied Ray encouragingly as they walked out of the station and towards the car. "Maybe he just wanted a Big Mac and fries? Or he decided to catch the late night movie?"

"Possibly," agreed Fraser. He didn't need to voice any further concerns, Ray was already having the same thoughts.

Earlier that evening they'd stood back and watched as Ryan had calmed Mona - the terrified girlfriend of the thug who was thankfully now sitting in a jail cell - and eventually persuaded her to accept help. He'd dealt with the situation in a remarkably mature way which was surprising not only because of his young age, but because it was completely at odds with the immature behaviour they had experienced from him so far. Ray and Fraser both now accepted the possibility that he had drawn on personal experience.

They drove around the city searching for Ryan. The later it got the more Ray expected a call from Welsh to tell him Fitzgerald was asking where his son had got to, but thankfully the phone stayed silent. They searched anywhere they could think of, but quickly realised they knew very little about the young man, certainly not enough to know where he might be.

"When I was his age and I wanted to disappear I'd head for a bar," said Ray after over an hour of searching.

"But he is underage," Fraser pointed out as Ray parked the Riv by the side of the road.

"Then we'll start with the bars who don't care," shrugged Ray. "Which is only…let me think…oh, I know…most of them!"

Fraser frowned and followed Ray into the first bar they came to. No one had seen Ryan – at least no one admitted to seeing him – so they left and tried another bar.

"When I was young and I didn't want to be found I would often go to a small cave," Fraser explained as they walked.

"OK, we'll try the caves next," sneered Ray sarcastically.

"Local Inuit legend had it that the cave was haunted by the ghost of a young girl who had drowned in the river," Fraser continued, ignoring Ray's gibe. "So I knew I would be left alone."

"Ever see the ghost?" asked Ray.

Before Fraser could answer, Ray's phone rang. It was the call he'd been dreading. Ray stopped and leaned against a wall to answer it.

"Yes, sir…yes." Ray covered the phone with his hand and mouthed 'Welsh' to Fraser, as if his friend needed any clarification. "Yes, you can tell Fitzgerald he's right here with us," he lied to the Lieutenant.

Fraser's eyes widened at Ray's words.

"Er, stakeout," continued Ray. "That's right, another stakeout, sir…impromptu stakeout. You know how it is, sir."

Fraser frowned as Ray embellished the story further. Finally Ray snapped his phone shut and let out a long slow breath. He looked at Fraser and saw the disapproving look on the Mountie's face. Ray rubbed his forehead with his hand and braced himself for a lecture. "Don't," he said.

"Don't what, exactly, Ray?"

"What did you want me to tell him?"

"The truth, perhaps?" suggested Fraser, drawing his thumbnail across his eyebrow.

Ray threw his hands in the air. "Oh, sure," he replied scornfully. "I shoulda just told him we'd lost the Superintendent's son. No idea where he is, could be lying dead in a gutter somewhere for all we know."

"Now you're over dramatising the situation, Ray," replied Fraser. "Ryan is an adult with free will. We have not lost him, the likelihood is he simply does not wish to be found at the present time. However, I am not terribly comfortable with lying to the Lieutenant."

"Relax, Benny," Ray answered. "I'm the one doing the lying, not you."

"I am complicit by association," Fraser pointed out. "And the problem with lying is that the truth usually finds a way of coming out. What if Ryan is on his way back to the station as we speak? Or on his way home?"

Ray closed his eyes. He hadn't thought it through, he'd just panicked and blurted out the first story that had come into his head. He opened his eyes and looked at Fraser with determination. "Then we'd better find him first," he concluded and set off along the street.

They tried two more bars in the area with no success and were about to try another when Ray's phone rang again. "This is it, Benny," he said despondently, assuming it would be Welsh on the end of the line asking why Ryan had just walked into the station knowing nothing about an impromptu stakeout. "Bye bye career," he added before taking a deep breath and answering the call. "Sir, I can explain…oh, hi Ernie."

Ernie was one of the barmen they'd spoken to a little while earlier. He'd told them he had not seen Ryan all evening, but Ray had left his card so perhaps now the man had some news for them. Fraser hoped it was good news.

After a very brief conversation, Ray closed his phone. "He's at Ernie's," he said. "Come on."

They turned and ran the three blocks back to the bar and were greeted at the door by Ernie, a short, stocky man with tattoos adorning his biceps. "I'm guessing this is the kid you're looking for," he said, leading Ray and Fraser into the bar. The establishment had closed already and the customers were long gone. Two of Ernie's staff were busy cleaning tables and they acknowledged the two visitors as they walked past.

Ernie led them to a table in the corner and as they got closer they could see Ryan slumped motionless over it.

"Geez, Ernie, he's underage!" exclaimed Ray realising quickly that Ryan was drunk.

"Hey, he didn't get served in my bar," replied Ernie indignantly. "Found him outside like this when I took out the trash."

Fraser sat down next to Ryan and shook his shoulder, trying to rouse him. Ryan's head was resting in his hands and he let out a barely audible grunt, but made no other move. "Ryan, Ryan, it's Fraser," he said. The stench of alcohol on his breath was almost overwhelming to Fraser, but it enabled him to estimate how much he had drunk. "He needs to sleep this off," he said. "It's going to be several hours before he comes round. We should take him home."

"What!" exclaimed Ray. "Have you OD'd on pemmican again? We can't take him home like this! His Dad'll go crazy!"

"Vecchio has a point," noted Ernie. "Last place any kid in this state needs to be is anywhere near his old man."

"Perhaps we should take him to the hospital?" suggested Fraser, attempting to prise open Ryan's left eye to gauge his pupil reflex. "With the amount of alcohol he has consumed there are always health implications to consider."

"No," replied Ray, shaking his head. "He's just a kid who's had too much to drink. Happens all the time. He'll be fine when he wakes up."

"Apart from the hangover from hell," added Ernie.

"Shut up and let me think," said Ray and he began pacing. "Welsh and Fitzgerald already think he's on a stakeout with us, so we'll just tell 'em it turned into an all-nighter."

"The Lieutenant will want details, Ray," Fraser pointed out.

"Details, schmetails," dismissed Ray. "I'll think of something. Now, Frannie's got some kind of party at our place tonight, or we could have taken him there."

"We'll take him to my place," said Fraser and he draped Ryan's arm around his shoulder and hauled him to his feet.

"You really know how to punish a kid," retorted Ray. "Thanks, Ernie," he added with a nod to the barman. "I owe you one."

"I'll add it to all the other ones you owe me," grinned Ernie.

xXxXxXx

"Help me get him onto the bed," said Fraser as they half carried, half dragged Ryan into his apartment. They carefully lowered him onto Fraser's bed and Ray breathed a sigh of relief.

That was the easy part…

"We should get him outta these stinky clothes," he noted.

Ryan had come round in the back of the Riv just long enough to vomit, before passing out again so combined with the stench of cheap beer the smell was overpowering even Ray's senses. And he didn't even want to think about the state of his upholstery.

"I'll find some sweats," replied Fraser. "And don't worry about your upholstery," he added as if he'd read his friend's mind. "A solution of two parts vinegar to one part olive oil should do the trick. I'll see to it."

"Thanks," replied Ray as Fraser went to find Ryan a change of clothes. He wasn't sure if he trusted Fraser with his upholstery and he was even less sure that he wanted his Riv to smell of vinegar.

Better than the smell of vomit, I guess…

Ray glanced over at Diefenbaker who was under the table with his paws over his snout and wished he could join the wolf. Instead he steeled himself and turned back to Ryan. Undressing him wasn't easy, but eventually Ray managed to get his t-shirt off over his head. He was just about to undo the young man's belt, when he noticed something and stopped.

"Fraser!" he yelled. "You better see this." Ray stood up and took a step away from the bed, folding his arms across his chest as if he needed to protect himself.

"What is it?" asked Fraser, immediately concerned by the urgency in Ray's tone of voice. He put down the neatly folded, grey RCMP sweatshirt and sweatpants he'd been carrying and looked down at Ryan. "Oh dear," he said when he saw what Ray had seen.

Ryan's torso was covered in bruises. Fraser glanced at Ray with concern. "I need more light," he said. They had only turned on the table lamp, deciding a dim glow would be less disturbing for Ryan, but now Ray quickly walked over to the main switch, flicking it on to flood the room with the harsh light of a hundred watt bulb.

Fraser sat on the edge of his bed and examined Ryan's chest and abdomen. "This is no more than three hours old," he said, gently palpating a particularly large, dark bruise on Ryan's left side. "And these too," he added, checking two more that were further around his lower abdomen. "These are older," he continued, running his hand over a collection of purple shapes which adorned his left shoulder and chest. "These are older still."

"Jesus," Ray muttered half under his breath. They really needed to know where Ryan had been and what trouble he was in.

"And…" Fraser began, but he trailed off and Ray watched as he ran his thumbs up and down Ryan's ribs.

"Looks like he could do with a few of Ma's lasagnes," Ray noted as Fraser brushed across the young man's protruding ribs. Ray didn't carry a lot of meat on his own bones, but Ryan looked positively malnourished. "What is it?" he asked when Fraser remained silent.

"These three ribs are out of alignment by approximately two degrees," Fraser explained, indicating towards the right side of Ryan's chest. "They were broken. Healed now, but this was a recent injury, perhaps no more than eight weeks ago."

"So we were right," sighed Ray. "He knew what Mona was going through because he's been through it. Still going through it, by the looks of it. The ex-girlfriend must really have it in for him, or…" he trailed off, a thousand thoughts dancing through his head.

Fraser was about to add his own thoughts, when he realised Ray's face had gone very pale. "What is it?" he asked with concern.

"Dear old Daddy," sneered Ray.

"I don't understand."

"Come on, Benny," snapped Ray. "This has nothing to do with his love life. Think about it. His father is the Superintendent. He's meant to be a great cop just like his siblings, but instead he's a jerk with an attitude problem. This kid is not going to make a great cop, Benny. You know it, I know it and you can be damned sure his Pa knows it too. What a disappointment he's turned out to be, huh? A big, fat let-down. Embarrassment to the family, right?"

"You're suggesting that Ryan's father has done this?" Fraser couldn't quite believe what Ray was saying. "That Superintendent Fitzgerald has been systematically beating his own son?"

"Yes, Fraser," agreed Ray. "That's exactly what I'm saying." Ray turned and walked away from the scene. He couldn't bear to look at Ryan any longer. A wave of nausea threatened to overwhelm him and he grabbed a glass from the kitchen and filled it with water from the tap.

Fraser looked over at his friend as he drank the water, emptying the glass without stopping for breath and he knew Ray was struggling with his emotions. Fraser quickly changed Ryan's clothes and covered him with a blanket. Then he walked over to join Ray who was staring out of the window into the dark street below.

"Are you alright?" he asked, gingerly.

"Sure," lied Ray. "Just a little thirsty, that's all."

Fraser hesitated before speaking again. "Ray, I know your own childhood wasn't easy…"

"This isn't about me," snapped Ray, spinning round to face his friend. "I wasn't an abused kid. My dad was just a violent drunk, that's different."

Fraser said nothing.

"OK, OK, so on paper I was an abused kid," Ray admitted, feeling a little lightheaded. "But not like this." He looked past Fraser back over to the sleeping figure on the bed. "Pa never broke any ribs! He was a lousy father, I'll give you that, but the occasional clip round the ear is nothing. My chest never looked like a patchwork quilt."

Fraser didn't know how to respond. He knew that Ray was downplaying the level of violence he had experienced at home, but it was Ray's prerogative to keep the details to himself. However, his judgement was being clouded regarding Ryan and Fraser had to stop him before he did something he'd regret.

"Ray, listen to me for a moment," he began. He guided Ray towards the table by his shoulder and pulled out a chair for him to sit on.

Ray sat down, ready to fight his corner. "OK, I'm listening, Benny, but if this is going to be an Inuit story then save your breath." He knew he was right about this, he just knew it.

Fraser sat in the chair opposite his friend. "Ray, we don't know who inflicted those injuries," he said. "Until we speak to Ryan, we cannot jump to conclusions."

"I know, Benny," replied Ray. "Don't ask me how I know, I just do."

"Sometimes it's not easy to separate our own personal feelings from police work," continued Fraser. "There are things from my past, events which…what I'm trying to say is…what I'm trying to say…"

"What you're trying to say is that every time there's a woman with long dark hair involved you assume she's guilty," Ray interrupted.

Fraser fell silent. Ray was right, of course. Every day he had to fight with his own emotions to keep thoughts of Victoria at bay, but sometimes the memories would threaten to defy all logic. "Well, I…"

"It's OK, you don't have to talk about her," replied Ray sympathetically.

"We weren't talking about me, we were talking about you," Fraser pointed out.

Ray sighed. "OK, OK, here's what we do," he said. "We'll talk to Ryan in the morning, but even if he denies it all we should still talk to Fitzgerald."

"You want to interview the Superintendent about abusing his son?" queried Fraser.

"Not interview, Benny, just chat," Ray explained. "We just go see him, talk about Ryan and see if he takes the bait."

"He is the highest ranking police officer in Chicago," Fraser reminded him. "Assuming he is guilty –and of course we must not make any such assumption – but assuming he is, he is not going to fall for such a rouse."

"Yeah, well if that doesn't work we'll find some other way to smoke him out," replied Ray. "But we'll nail the sonofabitch somehow."

Fraser sighed. He could see he was not going to get through to Ray tonight. "May I suggest you go home and get some sleep?" he said. "Perhaps you'll be able to see more clearly in the morning."

Ray shrugged. "I can see things pretty clearly already, Benny," he replied. "But some shut-eye wouldn't go amiss. I guess I'll see you in the morning." He got up and walked over to the door. "Sure you're gonna be OK here?" he asked, glancing across to the bed once more.

"We'll be alright, thank you, Ray," replied Fraser. "And Ray, please try to keep an open mind until we have carried out some preliminary investigations," he added.

Ray nodded. "Don't worry, Benny," he said. "I'm not gonna do anything stupid. There's still my career to think about."

"Indeed," nodded Fraser. "And take it from me, your compatriots will not take kindly to your bringing down of such a senior figure, if it should come to that."

Ray grinned ruefully. "Maybe I'll get transferred to the US Consulate in Outer Freezerland," he said.

"It's quite possible," noted Fraser.

"It'll be worth it to see that bastard behind bars," added Ray and he walked down the hall.

Fraser closed the door and sighed. He glanced at Ryan. "Oh dear," he muttered to himself. This wasn't going to be easy.

xXxXxXx

Fraser spent the night in a chair next to the bed just in case Ryan needed him, but Ryan did not wake until just after six by which time Fraser was already making Dief's breakfast. He opened his eyes, blinked twice and groaned.

"Good morning," said Fraser, keeping his voice low as he walked over to the bed carrying a glass of water. "How is your head?"

Ryan groaned again.

"Dehydration is your worse enemy at this stage," Fraser explained. "You need to drink this."

Ryan took one look at the glass of water and turned his head away.

"Just small sips to start with," Fraser continued. "I promise you, it will help."

"This isn't my first hangover you know," Ryan mumbled.

"Well I'll just leave this here," said Fraser, placing the water on his father's old trunk next to the bed.

Ryan sighed and rolled over as Fraser turned to walk back towards the kitchen area. He blinked hard and tried to take in his surroundings. "Where the hell am I?" he asked, wishing his voice didn't sound like he'd been chewing gravel.

"This is my apartment," Fraser explained.

"You…you live like this?" asked Ryan.

"Yes," replied Fraser turning back just in time to see Ryan attempting to sit himself up. "Slowly!" Fraser urged, rushing back over to help him.

Ryan grabbed his arm gratefully and tried to steady himself. His head was spinning and he desperately fought against the nausea.

"Here," said Fraser, offering the water to his lips.

Ryan didn't have the strength to argue any more so he sipped at the water. The cool sensation of the water slipping down his throat was at least something new to focus on.

"Easy, take it easy," said Fraser, pulling the water away from him. "Catch your breath."

Ryan took two long breaths and finally the dizziness started to ease.

"Do you remember anything about last night?" Fraser asked.

"Yeah, I bought a couple six-packs and got rat-assed," he growled.

Fraser nodded. Perhaps the alcohol had numbed Ryan's senses enough that he had completely forgotten about being in any kind of fight. Now was not the time to question him about his injuries, but they needed to know soon.

"Why am I here?" asked Ryan laying himself back on the pillow.

"Ray and I thought it prudent that your father was kept in the dark concerning your condition," Fraser explained."

"You covered for me?" Ryan queried in surprise. "Oh, er…thanks." Then he looked down at himself and screwed his face up as he tried to remember something about the previous night. Anything at all that might clear his head. "Why am I wearing these?" he asked.

"Ah, well, I'm afraid your own clothes were somewhat soiled," Fraser replied. "You are welcome to keep those as long as you wish," he added.

"No thanks, I don't want to look like a dork any longer than I have to," he replied ungratefully.

"As you wish," Fraser answered, returning to the kitchen. "I laundered your clothes for you, they should be dry shortly. Can I interest you in any breakfast? You need to intake vitamins and minerals, may I suggest vegetable soup."

Ryan clamped his hand over his mouth at the thought of eating anything, let alone soup.

"Oh dear, I'm sorry," said Fraser. "Nourishment can wait a little longer. If you'd like to freshen up I can show you to the bathroom?"

Ryan did not reply and instead he closed his eyes again.

"Right you are," said Fraser. "We can do that later too."

Ryan drifted in and out of sleep for the next hour while Fraser busied himself around his apartment. Fortunately, Inspector Thatcher wasn't expecting him at the Consulate this morning so that was one less thing to worry about.

It wasn't long before there was a knock at the door. Fraser opened it and Ray marched into the apartment. "Is he awake?" he snapped. "Oh, morning, Benny."

"Good morning, Ray," replied Fraser. "Ryan is still feeling under the weather," he explained.

"Did you talk to him yet?" asked Ray. "Did he tell you what happened?"

"I'm afraid the opportunity has not yet presented itself," Fraser replied.

Ray rolled his eyes and spun round on his heels.

"Hey, Ryan," he said, louder than was necessary. "How's the head?"

Ryan opened his eyes and scowled at Ray. "Can't we just skip this part and go straight to the part where my dad yells at me?" he asked.

Ray caught his breath and glanced back at Fraser, but the Mountie shook his head as a warning. What Ryan had said in no way indicated his father was abusive. They needed to tread very carefully if they were going to gain Ryan's trust.

"Sorry, no can do," replied Ray, settling himself on the edge of the bed. "You ran out on us yesterday, right after we brought in that bastard who mistook his girlfriend for a punchbag. I guess I should be thanking you for your help with that, by the way."

Ryan shrugged. "From where I was standing you needed back-up," he retorted. "Good thing I was there."

Ray's nostrils flared. "OK, listen up," he said. "I put my neck on the line for you last night. I covered your ungrateful little ass so now you're gonna quit the crap and we're gonna have a serious talk."

"Ray…" Fraser warned, but Ray was having none of it and he waved his hand dismissively at the Mountie.

"We saw what he did to you," continued Ray. "We saw all those bruises and the cracked ribs. Now why don't you tell us what really happened."

Ryan turned away in shame. "It's just some dumb guys I know, it's nothing I can't handle," he replied.

"We understand," said Fraser.

"No we don't!" exclaimed Ray. "What is it with you? I'm trying to help you!"

"If you want to help me then don't say anything to my dad, OK?" replied Ryan. "Please," he added, quietly.

"We promise," replied Fraser.

"No we don't!" exclaimed Ray for the second time, scowling at Fraser. "And since when did you get to speak for the both of us?"

"I'm terribly sorry, Ray," replied Fraser. "But we have to respect Ryan's wishes."

Ray seemed unconvinced.

Fraser sat on the end of the bed and spoke to Ryan. "So, last night after you left the station you got into an altercation?" he asked.

"Is this an interrogation?" asked Ryan with a sneer.

"No, I'm merely trying to establish some facts," replied Fraser. "And Ray is correct, we'd like to help if we can."

"You can help by getting my dad off my case," answered Ryan.

"Does he get real mad at you?" asked Ray, deliberately avoiding making eye contact with Fraser. "How mad does he get?"

"Mad enough," replied Ryan with a puzzled frown. "Why do you think I hit the booze? It's easier than trying to talk to him. He never listens to me anyway."

"Is there something specific you'd like to discuss with your father?" asked Fraser.

"Yeah," said Ryan. "Sure is, but what's the point?"

"That depends," replied Fraser. "Are you afraid of what he might say? Or…or what he might do?"

Ryan shrugged. "He only thinks about himself," he said. "And his precious reputation. Jesus, if people knew what he was really like…" he trailed off.

"You mean, if they knew he hit you?" Ray asked suddenly.

Ryan rolled over suddenly to face Ray. "No!" he exclaimed. "That's the second time you've said that. What the hell are you talking about?"

"The bruises, we saw what he did to you," Ray snapped. Immediately he regretted allowing his frustration to show. He rubbed his hand over his forehead and sighed. "Listen," he said, his voice much calmer now. "I get it. He's your father, you care about him, but what he's doing is wrong. You don't have to take it anymore."

"My Dad has never laid a finger on me, OK? Now drop it, will you?" Ryan let out a long, slow breath. "You have no idea what it's like to be the son of the greatest cop that ever lived," he said quietly. "It sucks."

"So he doesn't hit you?" Ray asked, still unconvinced.

"No! I told you, it's just these jerks," replied Ryan. "Although I guess there's a first time for everything," he added, closing his eyes.

"What do you mean?" asked Ray, glancing at Fraser.

"I mean he could totally lose it and punch my lights out when I tell him…" he trailed off.

"About getting into fights?" asked Fraser.

"No, dumbass!" retorted Ryan. "When I tell him I don't want to be a cop!"