Chapter 3

Peter spent the first month or two in a daze, himself. He would find himself sitting at his desk and then he would look up, fully expecting to see his C.I. drop his hat on his desk and then head up to his office. Reality would then come crashing in. And he would have to relive the pain, just as fresh and as raw as if it had happened yesterday.

He had gone, unofficially, of course, back to the site of where Neal had disappeared many times. He had come to know the members of the NYPD who regularly patrolled that area. And, by now, they all knew his voice. Peter called the station at least once a week now, more often in the beginning. And they all knew the one question he would ask them: Had they found a body matching Neal's description? The answer was always no.

El had always found the sound of rushing water soothing. She had several CDs that she played at night for her and Peter when they had had trouble sleeping. But when Peter told her where he had lost Neal, she quickly came to hate that sound. She routinely went by the area on the way to her shop; it was her shortcut to work. These days she avoided it completely when at all possible. She left earlier for work so that she could take the long way. And she threw those CDs into the trash.

The case was still an active one to Peter. He kept Neal's file in his desk drawer, refusing Hughes suggestion he send it to the archives. Peter knew that Hughes was trying to look out for his the mental welfare. And Peter really appreciated that. But the fact remained, until they had a body, it was possible that Neal was still alive. Though, even he had to admit, the chances went down as each day passed.

Hughes had even suggested a new C.I. to help to ease the pain. At least that is what Hughes thought process was. But in Peter's mind Neal was irreplaceable. No one could have Neal's knowledge base, no one was as smart. And, in all truth, he didn't want another C.I., not if it hurt this badly to lose one.

"I don't want another one, Reese." Peter said, eyeing the folders Reese had in his hand when he entered Peter's office.

"Peter…it's time. We've had good luck with C.I.s…." Reese started.

"We had good luck with Neal." Peter stated.

Hughes nodded. "Yes, he was an exceptional young man, Peter. He really was and, God help me, I was actually beginning to like him. But he's…he's gone, Peter. That is the reality of the situation. He's gone. And you keeping his file in your desk, and his desk open is not going to bring him back."

Peter tried to control his emotions. "There was no body…."

"…and you heard the explanation for that, Peter. And you know it's true, that it's probably what happened." Reese paused. "That he probably died in the fall, if he wasn't already dead from the gunshot. And, Peter…" Reese placed both hands on Peter's desk and leaned in. "…he still had to deal with the water." Hughes sighed. "The man had an ace up his sleeve, I kid you not. But those are some heavy odds against him."

Peter nodded, his brain screaming at him to go with the good, sound logic. But his heart told him that there was always hope."

"You're right, absolutely." Peter replied, and he returned Neal's file to the archives. But not before he made himself a copy of the police report.

TBC