Interrogations are a detective's drugs. Confessions are a detective's highs. As soon as you get a confession, you're on clouds. And a good detective, he knows how to do it right so that it won't get thrown out in court. He knows how to make it stick and that is not just high, that's mind blowing orgasmic high. That is the stuff detectives live for. Me included. Back in Baltimore, you got this room, The Box, with a table, couple chairs. Two windows with blinds that look out into the squad room and a two way in the back, behind which Gee would stand. Jack the heat up, even in summer, and if the guy is some sick pervert and pisses you off, bring his face real close to the heating pipes. Talk about putting them in hot water.
Of course, you always had to make sure no one found out about that. Frank once got a woman to burn herself. Some crazy shit about multiple personality disorder and how he manipulated one of her personalties. Complete crock, but Frank, Lieutenant Russert and the Department got sued. They settled, which predictably pissed Frank off.
Stan and I once had this kid in there and he wasn't cooperating. So we took him for a "test." It was just the copying machine, but boy did we scare the crap outta that kid. Told him all his little friends were gonna get fried. That was one great interview.
It was getting close to five and the only thing we'd done was lock up Brigham. Again, it was good, but not in the way I wanted it to be. All I really wanted was Joann to have her sons back. No one deserves to lose their children like that, especially not someone who's had their fair share of grief and pain for the year. Maybe for their life.
"Brigham pleaded guilty at his arraignment," Elliot announced, walking into the squad room.
"Well, that's some good news," Olivia said.
"Yeah. Good news a teacher molested his student and that two kids from that same school are still missing. It's great news."
"Munch, c'mon, you gotta admit that it feels good to nail a guy just 'cause we tripped over him."
"That's not the point, Fin."
He looked at me. His eyes said 'I know' and I lowered my own back to my paper. I realized that they did care and that I couldn't push them away, because that would not help Robbie and Zack. It would only hinder our investigation and search for them.
"No prints popped, right?" I asked.
"Everybody's clean, except for Brigham now." Fin had accepted my apology. Good.
I nodded. My phone started ringing and I took it from my pocket. "Hello?" Sobs on the other end announced it was Joann. "I'll be there in ten minutes." The phone snapped shut.
"Joann?" Olivia asked.
"Yeah." I didn't offer up an explanation, partly because Olivia knew why and partly because I just couldn't get the words out.
I made it to Joann's apartment in less than ten minutes, what I regarded as record time. It probably helped that I put on the light just to get people the hell out of my way. There was luckily a spot directly in front of her building and I pulled in, not particularly caring about the cars in front of and behind me. I took the stairs two at a time going up to her floor and when I knocked, she answered immediately. I pulled her to me as soon as I stepped inside. After a couple minutes, she held up a piece of paper with a shaky hand.
"What's this?"
"He... he left it."
"Not the other night."
"No. To- today. It was in their room. The window... was open." A shuddering breath. "What does it mean?"
I looked down at the once folded sheet of paper. There was a jumble of letters, spaces every so often, as if separating words. Like the cryptoquote in the newspaper. "Why don't we sit down? I'm going to call Fin, all right?" I walked with her to the couch and held her hand as I made the call.
"Hey, Fin, he left a note."
"CSU went over that place with a fine toothed comb. How'd they miss it?"
"He came back."
"Fucking bastard."
"You're telling me. Look, I need CSU here again. He came through the window again. I doubt he left anything but..."
"Got it. You want me over there?"
"Couldn't hurt. And we need someone who can decipher codes. The words in the note are all jumbled letters. Doesn't make any sense."
"All right. I'll be there in a few."
"Thanks. Bye." I closed the phone and turned back to Joann. "I need you to tell me exactly what you did."
She wiped her eyes. "I went to the store at the corner. I needed some things and I couldn't... I couldn't stay in here anymore. When I came back, I passed the boys' room. The window was open and when I walked over, it was on Zack's bed. I knew it was from him. I... I knew it."
"Was there anything else with it?"
She shook her head, but it was hesitant.
"Joann, you need to tell me everything."
She was quiet as she rose and left the room. When she came back, she had something in her hand.
"What is it?" I asked softly.
"Zack's necklace. His grandfather gave it to him last year. He wore it during World War II. Zack never takes it off."
I held out my hand and it pooled in my palm.
"Do you think-"
"No. And don't let yourself think that, all right?" I pulled her to me with one arm, still looking at the metal in my other hand. "We'll find them."
Fin knocked on the door then, and I called for him to come in. When he entered, Cragen was in tow behind him. I sat Joann on the couch and walked over to talk with them.
"Whadda we got, John?"
"Joann went to the store on the corner, when she came back, she noticed the window was open in the boys' room. Went in to close the window and saw the note with this." I held up the necklace.
"What's that?" Fin inquired.
"Present from Zack's grandfather. Never takes it off."
"Well, CSU is on the way, so we'll know if he left anything behind. I'm gonna grab up a couple officers for round the clock surveillance. Maybe our guy will risk another visit."
"Cap, we got someone coming to decipher the note?"
"Yeah, but he's gonna go by the station."
"I'll get a uni to run it over," Fin volunteered.
Cragen's phone rang and he stepped away to answer.
"This guy's got a real set of balls on him," Fin commented quietly.
"Yeah. Fricken bastard."
He nodded his head in Joann's direction, who was sitting on the couch, wiping her eyes. "How she doin'?"
"This isn't helping."
"Tell me about it."
"That was Benson. Said Brigham wants to talk," Cragen said, coming back over.
"So, they should go talk to him."
"Well, Brigham says that he's been online, talking with his fellow perverts. He mighta mentioned something about working in a school to one of 'em. Figured you'd wanna talk with him too."
I looked back at Joann. I didn't want to leave her, but at the same time I needed information.
"I'll stay with her," Fin offered in a low voice.
"Thanks."
"Benson'll meet you at Rikers."
"What is it you want to tell us, Brigham?" I asked tiredly. Olivia was sitting beside me and Brigham was opposite. It was nearing six thirty and I couldn't help thinking that it was one hour less we had to find Robbie and Zack.
"You haven't found the Hontas boys yet?"
"No, we haven't."
He fidgeted a bit in his seat. "I've been online and I've talked and even met with some guys who... who like kids." His fingers beat a relentless pattern on the table. "I've mentioned a couple times that I work in a school."
"You tell your little friends which school?"
"A few, yeah."
"You mention any specific kids?"
He didn't say anything. Olivia leaned forward. "Look, you're already in here. You plead guilty, you're not going anywhere."
"In other words, we know where to find you."
"And we tell every con in this place that you like little boys."
"They'll give you a nice welcoming party. Get a little taste of what you think about doing to those little boys."
His eyes flicked from me to Olivia, suddenly frantic. "I just wanted to come clean. I didn't think..."
"What, you've never heard the stories about prison? They aren't just stories to scare kids into staying on the straight and narrow."
Brigham got up quickly and went to the corner. "Charlie Lyden. Gregg Piechocki. Kirk Eisenberger."
Olivia scribbled the names in her book, "What was the last one?"
"Kirk Eisenberger. He's a doctor. Gregg works in an auto repair shop out in Queens and Charlie has two kids and a wife up in Westchester."
"Are Kirk and Gregg married?" I asked.
"No, but Kirk has a girlfriend. His receptionist. We all met at a bowling alley one Saturday. There was a birthday party two lanes down. He was turning eight."
"So you've told these... friends that you're a gym teacher at PS 114?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever mentioned the Hontas boys to them?"
"Yes."
"Have you ever told anyone else?"
"No."
"We need the websites where you met Kirk, Charlie and Gregg, addresses if you know them and what their handles are on those websites."
Brigham nodded, sat back down and began giving us information.
When I was in high school, I remember having a crush on a girl and not knowing how the hell to ask her out. Especially in the beginning. No, I'm lying. It was about equal until... well, I guess it's still at that level. I was quite aware that I was a nerd, geek, dork and various other things that never amounted to a football player. I was also aware that girls liked the guys who looked good, not just handsome, but looked good in a sports uniform. That and the fragile ego of a sixteen-year old boy trying to be a man made for some disastrous attempts, and sometimes no attempts at all for fear of rejection. Now, the latter isn't what worries me. Not really.
I suppose I got better at all that though. Considering my track record, I must have gotten better at that first shaky question.
But still, there's that fear of rejection. Not just that they don't like you enough to go out with you. It's rejection by love. All those times, all those women, and never has love fully accepted me.