"Doesn't it strike you as odd? I mean it strikes me as odd."
"Colby, everything about this strikes me as odd. Besides, it's the drug squad's problem now and they haven't exactly been beating down our door for answers or help."
"True, but I'm guessing they're thinking the FBI blew up their case as well as their dope last time we tried to help."
"And people have to wonder why Don took this so hard."
Colby stretched his good leg and yawned. A hand wiped at his forehead as he threw down his pencil. He gave Liz a good hard stare. She was making notes in a pad from the folder she was reviewing. Colby's folder lay open at a page describing the wounds on a dead drug lackey who fell two and a half weeks before the team went out to the stash house. "It's just. It's like it's professional but been made to look like it isn't. There's method. Once this guy was dead, someone took their time to make it look like…"
"Which case are you working on? Try as I might, I can't see how these guys died has any bearing on Don's disappearance. Drug squad think it was an inside job, one of the group's own, so of course they're gonna be odd. They're gonna take their time. But Agent Field, those other two vics with him, they were just out and out shot, with Marcus' gun."
Colby leaned forward, picked up his pencil and tapped Liz's folder. "Exactly. Initial thoughts murder-suicide, now it's murder, with his own gun. Planned. Methodical."
"So you saying this drug team's business of cleaning up its mess extended to Marcus Field. You saying that Don disappeared because Mitchum's crew tried to take him out? We've all thought about it but even Charlie can't make that link."
Colby sighed and leant back in his chair. She was right but he didn't like giving up a hunch simply because he couldn't gather the evidence instantly. "I know, I know. But if I find it anywhere, it'll be in these folders. How many of Mitchum's crew left?"
"Dunno. Trail went dead when the stash house blew apparently. They knew we were coming and this isn't a crew that just flees, they make damn sure you know it."
Another yawn erupted from Colby. He didn't notice Megan walking over to them. "Pack it up for the day guys. Think we're all too tired to think straight on this one anymore today."
Colby and Liz nodded as David walked up to them. He already had his bag packed and he was ready to go as he motioned to Colby. "C'mon man, I'll give you a lift."
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The door creaked as it opened heavily in front of Charlie as he strode in with Amita. He dropped his satchel and keys on the table which greeted them just inside.
"You be right for about half an hour? Could use a hand with interpreting the data my programme should have spat out by now."
Amita knew Charlie didn't really need her help but she was glad he wanted it. She smiled and removed her own satchel placing it on the floor under the table. Alan rushed through the door from the kitchen and instantly raised his fingers to his lips. He gave them both a silent shush and then pointed towards the couch.
Both Charlie and Amita looked across to the couch and saw Don, although they were a little bemused as to why they needed to be silent. Don was sitting up staring at them with a folder in his lap.
"Hey Don. Dad either thinks you have developed a sensitivity to sound or he expects you to be asleep."
Charlie's comment was designed to be met with a grin or a witty retort but none were forthcoming. Don seemed a little better as some color had returned to his face but Charlie swiftly realized that it emanated from his brother's well-trained emotions leaking out. Don would keep everything in when it came to his emotions except anger; that one he just gave free reign to.
"What the hell is this?" Don waved the folder in the air as he stared at Charlie.
"Ah, a file." Charlie tried to remain as cool as he could until he could work out why Don was so angry. "There's plenty more of 'em in the garage too. Don't tell me you've forgotten what they look like."
"Don't. What the hell are you doing with this file? I know sure as hell that Megan wouldn't have given it to you so where did you get it?"
Amita looked sheepishly across at Charlie and then over to the kitchen where Alan had retreated after his hush instructions. "I'll just see if Alan needs a hand." And with that she was gone.
"Look Don, I was given some folders to help with some data." Charlie didn't want Liz to get in trouble and he knew using trying to solve what happened to Don as an excuse was not going to fly so he had to think quick. "It's for the Field case."
The comment clearly angered Don so much he felt the need to stand up and gain some authority by looking down on his brother. "Megan ask you to work on the Field case?"
Charlie's eyes flicked across to the television in a bid to avoid Don's question. Nevertheless it provided Don with his answer.
"Right. But you think your clearance gives you the right to go through my files as well? You think your clearance gives you the right to invade the privacy of these dead guys?"
Anger had well and truly bubbled to the surface and overflowed now. Don threw picture after picture of a body, bloody and butchered, on the table in front of Charlie. Despite learning some detachment from these type of things the photos still made him gag a little.
"I…Look Don…I haven't seen this before…"
"Don't give me that. This file has no bearing on any calculations you shouldn't be doing anyway. I know Megan didn't give it to you. Don't need to be a detective to work out who did. I told you to stay out of this Charlie. I told you. But you never listen. You think you know better than everyone, that your desire, your need to know bloody everything, that that makes it OK for you to just do whatever you want. Others be damned."
"What the hell is going on?"
Both the brothers turned to see their father standing in the dining area with a kitchen knife in his hand.
"Well, Don? Explain to me why someone with a bullet wound to their head, broken ribs and on bed rest is raising his blood pressure?"
Holding up the folder with a fierce look in his eyes, Alan instantly knew what this was about. Don was about to speak but Alan waved his knife and effectively cut him down by beating him to it.
"I don't care about that damn thing. I don't care about FBI procedure. I don't care about why Charlie has it. What I DO care about is my two sons making themselves enemies when they should be banding together. We thought you were dead. Do you understand that Don? Y'know, like your mother. Gone. We lived with that and right now you need to stop thinking about yourself for a second and think about that. If Charlie's done anything wrong, he's done it for the right reasons; same as I'd think of you. So quit this fourteen year old yelling, apologize to Charlie…. and get back to bed."
Shock was enough to keep Charlie's smirk subdued. It was one hell of a speech and Charlie had no idea his old man had it in him.
Don on the other hand felt like he was suffocating. His father never cared for his line of work from an ethical point of view and so he always sided with Charlie as though it was a moral crusade. Sure Don reckoned that when Alan and Charlie were alone his father would, on occasion, side with Don, but when it came to the FBI, Alan rarely let Don know he understood why he had to be tough. Don grabbed his jacket that had been hanging up by the door since before he was gone and walked out the house.
"What the? Where the hell are you going? Charlie, see where your brother's going…he can't drive."
Charlie raced out after Don. He caught the tail end of Don's conversation on his cell and realized he'd just called a taxi.
"Look. I'm sorry. I didn't…honestly I haven't."
"I don't want to hear it Charlie, just leave it."
Charlie frowned and walked closer to Don. He almost grabbed his shoulder to spin him around when he remembered Don's ribs. "No I won't leave it. You don't get to do this. You don't get to put us through hell and then not let us help you. Far as I'm concerned you lost that right the moment I stepped out to a crime scene in a desert which had your blood at it. Now you don't believe me about that folder – fine. But it's just a folder Don. It's not like I killed someone or robbed a bank or anything like that."
When Don didn't respond to Charlie he threw his hands up in the air. There was no getting through to his brother when he was in this mood. Charlie turned and slowly walked inside. He didn't hear Don's mumbled words.
"It's not just a folder."
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"You ok?"
"Not really."
Amita looked up from the computer screen and studied Charlie. He was pacing around the garage, unable to make sense of anything and so his chalkboard remained void of expressions.
"He's emotional. You have to expect that. I mean he's going through a lot of stuff right now and I guess those folders have more information about him over the last few weeks than he has himself. It's only natural, especially for someone like him who is so guarded, to want to try and protect that."
Charlie looked back at Amita and shook his head. "It's not that."
"What?"
"Don is emotional. He's not himself, he's not thinking rationally. But I expected that. I've factored all that in and his behavior is upsetting but not unexpected."
"So what is it?"
"It's that file. I just can't for the life of me think why I have it and so now I want to know what's in it because it's obviously important to Don."
"Can't you ask Liz? Or Megan?"
"No. Already think Liz may be in some sort of trouble for helping me out. But I'm sure she didn't give it to me."
"Do you think it was left lying around from the last case you worked on?"
"No. Don took care of that. All the guilt he felt about the stash house blowing up, he made sure every file I had was returned. No, it's something else."
"Well, why don't we finish organizing this data. Take a break from thinking about it."
"What's the first column say?"
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Don massaged his temple in the back of the taxi. His head really throbbed now and he was feeling a little nauseous. It made him feel like a teenager again, terrified of throwing up inside a taxi and having to pay extra. He was sure trying to read the file was the problem but he couldn't tear his eyes away from it, blurry as they were.
Images had begun flashing inside his mind ever since he saw the folder. He couldn't control them and he couldn't make sense of them. He saw himself reading the file at his desk. Circling parts of it that he thought were significant. He saw himself grab his keys and walk out of his office. He saw himself throwing the file on a pile on his desk and swearing. But it was what he felt that disturbed him more. Don felt mad. He didn't know why but he saw those images and every one was accompanied by feelings of anger. At himself. Did I do something wrong? Was this my fault?
Rubbing away those feelings with the palm of his hand on his forehead made him feel better. Don looked out the taxi window and realized he was only a few blocks away. He closed the file and searched for his wallet in his pocket.
At that moment another image flashed into his brain. It was the image of a gun pointed right at his face. He could hear the sound, feel the darkness that accompanied it, but he couldn't see the person who held it. All he saw was the gun. The emotions that engulfed him at this point took him off guard. He had to lean his head against the window to right himself, his breathing labored. It took the last few moments until the taxi made it to the FBI building for him to regain his composure.
"Twenty five dollars."
Don pulled out some notes and handed them to the driver quickly. He desperately needed air and wanted out of that taxi. He managed to make it to the walkway without fault but once he reached the end of the bridge he had to sit down and breathe. It took him a few seconds longer than he'd like and Don didn't think he'd be able to hide the pain from his ribs if he continued into the building. The last thing he needed was the rest of the FBI to see him prone. Instead, he pulled out his cell and made a call.
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"You off?"
"Yeah. You?"
"Just got a couple of things to finish up then yeah. Tell you what, not sure this lead agent business is all it's cracked up to be. Have you seen the amount of paperwork, let alone the amount of senior meetings that you have to attend to talk about the things you need to be doing in your cases but aren't because you're in meetings all the time."
Liz laughed and went to grab her handbag from her desk. Megan's phone rang and Liz thought she almost heard her growl.
"What now? Reeves." Megan paused for a second then looked across at Liz. "Are you serious. This is up there. Right up there. Give us two seconds… yeah…'us'…I need a witness on this one." Megan hung up the phone and grabbed her jacket. "Come with me."
Liz stared at her for a brief moment then obligingly followed.
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Furious writing had made its way to the chalkboard and Charlie and Amita sat back and stared at what they saw.
"This makes even less sense."
"No, no it doesn't. We just need to work out how this fits in."
"More calculations?" The smile had long since faded from Amita's features. It seemed to have disappeared around the same time fatigue made itself known.
"More calculations."
Charlie frantically punched a few more numbers into a programme on his computer. All of a sudden he stopped, frozen.
"What is it?"
No response.
"Charlie?"
"Huh?" Finally he looked across to Amita and his features softened. "Oh. I just remembered. That folder. I think maybe I accidentally scooped it up the day they found Don's car."
"So it isn't related at all, it's just an accident."
"That's the thing. I'm thinking it is related and it's just pure luck I had it."
"But you don't believe in luck."
"I know, and yet…I've got to get that file back."
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"Seriously this takes the cake. What does it take to get Don Eppes to stop working?" Megan stood with her hands on her hips looking down at the sad pale figure before her. Don didn't look up instantly but he sensed the head shaking anyway.
"Cleaning up. Trust me, I don't want to be doing this." Don held out the manila folder and handed it to Megan. He noticed Liz but said nothing.
"Where'd you get this?"
"Charlie."
"Charlie?" Megan looked at Don and then at Liz.
From over Megan's shoulder Liz inspected the contents of the folder and shook her head. "I didn't give him this."
"But you did give him files?" Don's voice was strong but both women noticed it lacked a bit of life. It was pretty clear the cold night air was not ideal for someone who was recuperating.
"Charlie and I were shut out from the case. I gave him copies. He's got the clearance. I didn't do anything wrong." Liz defended herself well but she knew it wouldn't wash with the older brother, the FBI agent maybe, but not the older brother in Don Eppes.
"That's debatable. May not be able to do anything to you formally but I can certainly make your life hell." An arm went round his side after the last comment, his ribs were really making it difficult for him to keep his FBI rank at the forefront.
"Settle down Don. We need all the help we can get. This file doesn't even seem to be related to yours anyway." Megan closed the folder and stared down at her impaired boss.
"It's got everything to do with my case."
Megan stared at Don and sighed as she sat down next to him on the bench. "Please explain."
Don took a deep breath and regretted it instantly. "I was reading that folder before I headed off that night. It was the last thing I read."
"You remember what happened?" Liz was almost afraid to ask.
"No. But I remember that."
"Still don't see how this relates though Don." Scanning the file, Megan searched for the holy grail in it but she couldn't find anything.
"I think…"
Megan and Liz looked at each other, waiting for Don to finish.
"I think I saw a pattern."
"What like Charlie? You getting all math genius on us, and that's why you were almost killed?" Don gave Megan a sarcastic smirk after this comment but he wasn't deterred.
"No like Don Eppes. Something to do with all the dead bodies in the drug case, Mitchum's crew. I noticed something."
"What?" Megan offered the file to Liz and she began scanning it.
"I don't remember. Give me a break. You're the lead agent in charge, you tell me."
"Speaking of that, I'm not happy about this new arrangement. How long does it take ribs to heal again?" The light banter from Megan softened Don's earlier anger. He was doing something and he realized how good this was at distracting him from his own insipid thoughts.
"Long enough to see you ride out a few more cases. I'm gonna go. Can you take this from here?"
"Take what? You're asking us to work out what you were thinking while reading this. Don, I haven't got a clue what you're thinking now." Liz was going to add, and I sleep with you but didn't want to push it. "Besides, how did you get here?"
"Taxi."
"Alan know?"
"What am I like fourteen?"
"Hmm, even a fourteen year old knows that when you're sick you stay home." Megan interjected.
"I'm not sick. I'm injured. There's a difference."
"Whatever superman, I'll take you home. FBI don't pay you enough to catch taxis everywhere. I should know, these higher duties suck." Megan smile was warm and Don felt good.
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Don rested his head back against the seat and stared out the window. Street lights beat a glow over him rising up and down like a wave in a comforting manner.
"Thinking of seeing Sophie Field."
Megan didn't respond. She knew Don was really expecting her to talk him out of it but she wasn't about to let him off the hook. She thought seeing Agent Field's wife might be just the thing for him. If he confronted his guilt over what happened, maybe he could move on. Maybe even remember a few things he'd somehow managed to forget under the blanket of his injuries.
"Maybe tomorrow." Don added.
"Really. Colby and Liz have a few more questions for her about the case. I'll pick you up, take you round. Two birds one stone that sort of thing."
"Nah. Should probably go on my own."
"Nah. Not gonna happen."
"Excuse me?"
"Speaking as a friend here, not an agent. You can't get there yourself. She's not exactly the most stable person herself at the moment. I could use a hand asking those questions. She sees you she might understand we know what she's going through."
Don hid his smile. Megan had hoodwinked him and convinced him with her psycho babble but he didn't care. "Ok."
"Wow. That was easy. While you're on a roll maybe I should throw my two cents in about why you should go easy on Charlie."
"No way Reeves. He's let his emotions take over on this one. He's not providing you with accurate data and now he's stealing files from my desk."
"Don, you're his brother. Let him emotions take over on this one. Besides, Charlie doesn't lie, Liz asked him about that folder. I heard her. She doesn't know I heard but I know. He didn't know anything about it."
"Trust me. It was information, it was in his house, he knew about it."
Megan said no more. She was too busy inwardly grinning in the knowledge that Don Eppes was finally taking an interest in his own case. Wait till I tell Charlie.