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Chapter 15
Arrival
Flynn leaned back in his chair, pushing the last crumb in his mouth. "You know Elbert, you should write this Eames chick and thank her for the cookies. Better yet, ask her to send more."
"Write!" He slapped the table, startling Errol. "I need to write her, and let her know he's stateside."
Errol slowly shook his head. "You're beginning to sound more and more like Sergeant Goren."
Higgins grinned at the unintended compliment. "I've been called worse."
He cocked his head slightly, causing Flynn to shudder. "FYI Errol, this chick is only a teenager. Goren would have your hide if he heard you talk about her like that." He glanced at the return address. "Her name is Alex."
The Private silently nodded. "You could tell Alex that the cookies were good."
Elbert smiled in agreement. "More coffee?"
"No thanks" Errol stood, beginning to put his coat on. "See ya tomorrow?"
"Well then, later." Elbert nodded at the young man.
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The alley was dark as Declan led the way. He slightly turned towards Bobby, holding a finger to his lips, pointing with the other hand. They could hear the faint sound of footsteps ahead of them. Goren peered into the dark where Declan was pointing, not able to see anything. Moving closer to the side of the building, Bobby tried to make his body disappear into the shadows. Gage inched forward. Following closely behind him, Bobby's foot accidentally knock a glass bottle out into the alley. Declan grabbed Goren's coat lapel without turning around. They quietly listened as the steps in front of them quickened and disappeared. Gage let go of Bobby, whispering loudly, "We could have had him. We could have had him tonight!"
Bobby slightly bowed his head, his shoulders slumped. Gut churning from his mistake, he lifted his eyes to look at his friend. "Declan, I, I'm sorry, but I didn't see the bottle."
Declan had moved past the tall Sergeant towards the entrance of the alley. Hearing his words, Gage suddenly stopped, spinning towards Bobby. "Sorry? Sorry?" He waved his arms in the air. "We were this close, Bobby." He held out his hand with his thumb and forefinger an inch apart. "This close!" Turning, Gage growled, and headed out of the alley with Bobby close on his heels.
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Alex drew a piece of her special paper out of the box. Sitting at her desk, she tapped the end of her pen on her chin. She smiled as she began the letter.
'Dear Corporal Higgins,
I suppose with Bobby out of the country for a long time,....'
She finished the letter in a matter of minutes. Addressing the envelope, she quickly sealed it and took it down to the kitchen table.
Her mother looked up from the stove, raising a brow as she watched her daughter set the envelope down. "A letter for Bobby?"
Alex shook her head. "I thought it was sweet that Higgins wrote to tell me what was going on with Bobby."
Mrs. Eames smiled. "So, you wrote to thank him?"
This time, Alex nodded. "To also tell him that it was alright to eat the cookies."
Her mother laughed. "So, now we have to make more cookies."
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Bobby laid on his bed with his arms behind his head. He silently sighed. We could have had him. But no, your size 13 changed all that! He cursed his size, something he rarely did.
Gage paced the room, running his hand through his long brown hair. He glanced at Bobby, and saw the his distress. Declan went to his own bed, sitting on the edge. "Bobby..." No response. Declan sighed. "Bobby, I apologize for yelling at you."
Goren turned his head towards the Doctor, his brown eyes were deep in apologies. Gage playfully tugged on Bobby's sleeve, tugging on it. "There will be another day, another chase." He stood abruptly. "Come on, let's get something to eat."
Rubbing his two day's growth of beard, Goren nodded. Slowly rising, he rested on his elbow, he shook his head. "Declan, I am sorry."
"I know Bobby. I know."
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She peered out the frosted door window. A man in uniform had a large footlocker standing on end behind him. He knocked again. Francis opened the door a crack. "What do you want?"
Her voice sounded like the creaking of the snow beneath his feet. "Delivery ma'am."
"Delivery of what?" She was quickly becoming agitated by the man.
He looked down at the clipboard. "Delivery of Sergeant Goren's belongings." He looked up from the clipboard towards the talking door.
"Is he dead?"
He looked at the clipboard. "It doesn't say, ma'am."
Francis sighed. "Then why are you bringing it here?"
"Per his request. He's on a case stateside." The middle aged man was becoming annoyed with playing twenty questions.
She opened the door a little wider. "Per his request? Well, he didn't ask me if I wanted it!" A gust of wind blew in across her slippered feet causing her to shiver.
"I can't help that, ma'am." His voice was a little harsher than he intended. Francis glared at him. "Sorry, ma'am. It's just cold out here, and...."
He wasn't sure if she suddenly felt sympathy for him, or just wanted to get rid of him. She opened the door. "Well, come in, I don't have all day."
He nodded, going quickly to get the dolly. Pulling it in to the living room, he was just about to take the straps off, when she stopped him. "Well, I don't want it in my living room!"
She peered at his name patch. "Paul, is it?"
"Yes ma'am."
"Well Paul, I'm an old woman, and I can't move it myself." She placed a finger on her bottom lip, looking around the room, her eyes fell on the staircase. "I know! Can you put it in his room?"
He had been watching her carefully, not quite sure if she wasn't a bubble off center. He looked at the narrow stairway, raising his brows. "Company policy...."
Francis snorted, waving her arms. "Company policy! Company policy! Does company policy include anything for an old woman?"
Paul took a step back, not quite sure of what to do. Finally making a decision, Paul squared his shoulders, he gave her a firm look. "Where is his room?"
She pointed towards the staircase. "Up those stairs, the last door on the right. Mind the wallpaper!"
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Higgins went to his footlocker and pulled out a piece of paper. Taking it to the table, he picked up his coffee cup, looking inside of it. He frowned, glancing at the pot on the stove. There might be a dribble left.
Pouring the last of the coffee in his cup, he took a sip. He walked back to the table, taking a seat. Poising his pen above the paper, he thought for a moment.
'Dear Alex,
Higgins again. Thought you might want to know...'
A/N: Well, now we've got both Bobby and his footlocker in New York City. Higgins writing to let Alex know what's going on.
TBC