Tom reached out and placed his index finger on the third photo, dragging it out of the row and across the table toward him. He stared down at it, his finger still holding it against the table. He looked up at Fuller with wide, brown eyes. "Him. It's him."

The next day, Captain Fuller walked down the hallway of the police station and saw Doug coming to meet him. "Is he in there?"

"Yeah," said Doug as he joined the captain, heading down the hall. "Michaels is just waiting for you before he goes in."

The two men reached the observation room and entered. Detective Michaels stood, leaning against the table and staring through the glass. On the other side sat Marty Walsh, an officer standing behind him. Walsh looked nervous, his fingers tapping a steady beat on the table in front of him.

"Mark," Fuller greeted the detective. "How long's he been in there?"

"Couple of hours." Michaels laughed a little. "Honestly, I think we could have cracked him after just 10 minutes."

"Yeah? You think he's going to give up Eckert?"

Michaels looked at him. "I think he'd give up his mother right now to get out of here." Then the detective grew serious. "By the way…we had to give up the tail on Eckert."

"What? Why?" asked Fuller.

"He's got a lawyer…claims we're harassing him."

Fuller paused, expecting Doug to jump into the conversation. When he didn't, Fuller said, "You're kidding me, right?"

"Nope. And unfortunately, they're right. We haven't charged him with anything. He hasn't made any threats against Hanson or his family. Hell, we couldn't even get a restraining order if we wanted to. I'm telling you, this guy knows how to keep his hands clean."

"Has anybody told Hanson?"

"Yeah," replied Michaels. "I went over there this morning. He seemed pretty calm about it, actually. I told him we're keeping the watch on the house and on them if they go out…and that I was pretty sure we'd have Eckert back in custody soon."

Fuller responded, "He might have seemed calm, but we need to get this moving, Mark. I don't know if Eckert would go after him now or not, but this is hell on Tom. It needs to end."

"It will," said Michaels. "We're making progress." He looked through the glass at Walsh.

"Let's get to it then," said Fuller, and he headed out the door with Michaels following as Doug sat down in a chair by the table. Fuller stopped and looked back into the room. "Doug? You coming?"

"Huh?!" Doug looked up, clearly startled by the question. "Me?? You want me to go in too??"

"Sure." Fuller smiled. "You'll behave yourself. Right?"

"Right!" Doug answered as he jumped up from his seat, knocking the chair over in the process. "Whoa…uh…sorry," he stammered as he picked the chair up.

"Try to contain your excitement a bit, okay?" said Fuller.

"Yeah…sure," said Doug as he followed the others.

The three men entered the interrogation room, and Fuller and Michaels sat at the table opposite the increasingly agitated Walsh. His eyes flitted back and forth between the men at the table and then to Doug who had taken a seat in the corner. Walsh continued to look back and forth at the men as they sat silently looking at him. After a few minutes, he could stand it no longer. "Look…it wasn't my idea! I didn't even know those guys! Not any of them…I swear!"

Michaels looked over at Fuller. This was going to be easy. "So," he began, "you just…what? All happened to be out for a stroll in the park at the same time?"

"No, man! It wasn't like that!"

Michaels leaned across the table. "All right then…tell me what it was like."

Walsh continued looking at them frantically, his forehead breaking out in a sweat. "That guy…the big one…Lee…his name was. He started talking me up at the Overboard Lounge a couple of nights before…kept buying me drinks, feeling me out…said he knew I'd been locked up 'cause my tat looked prison made. He wanted to know what I was in for…if I'd ever killed anybody…hurt anybody." Walsh lowered his head, then looked up, his eyes pleading for them to understand and believe him. "He was buying me drinks…he was a tough guy…I just…fuck, man, I started bragging…told him I'd done all kinds of crazy shit. I was just trying to impress him." He lowered his head again.

"I guess you did, huh?" said Michaels.

"I guess," Walsh mumbled.

"So what'd he do? Hire you?"

"Yeah…well…he said he'd pay me to help him out with something. Said it would be fun…just grab this guy and rough him up a little." Walsh shook his head, his eyes wide. "I swear, man…I didn't know he was gonna…shit, man…that was some sick stuff."

At that, Fuller could keep quiet no longer. "So why didn't you stop him?" he asked angrily.

Walsh looked at him and replied with his own question. "Stop him? Have you seen this guy? Have you seen him mad? Stop him? Hell...wasn't nothin' I could do, man."

"So what did you do?" questioned Michaels. "What was your part in this?"

Walsh looked around uneasily. "Uh…don't I need a lawyer?"

"Are you asking for one?"

"Yeah…no…shit, I don't know. I just want out of here."

"Well," Michaels continued. "Keep talking and we just might make a deal with you. But we need to know what we're working with first."

Walsh sighed and crossed his arms, more to gain control of himself than as a sign of defiance. He shrugged. "Okay. I admit it. I helped kick the guy around…held him while Lee beat on him."

Michaels raised his eyebrows. "Is that it?"

"I just…held him down. That's all," responded Walsh, eyes lowered.

"So what did he give you for 'helping' him?"

"He gave us each five hundred bucks and some coke…wanted me to drive my car and pick him up." Walsh looked at Michaels. "After…he said to disappear…clean the car out and paint it. He said he'd kill us if we told anybody."

"Us?" asked Michaels. "Who was the other guy?"

"I don't know. I swear. He was at Lee's place when I picked him up."

"Describe him."

"He was about my size…a little fatter, I guess," said Walsh. "His hair was kinda long…real weird reddish color…didn't say much. I don't think he knew Lee either. They never talked. When I dropped them off, he didn't go in with him. He just took off down the street."

"And what was his part in this?" asked Michaels.

"Same as mine. He and Lee got out of the car and grabbed the guy…put him in the back with them on the floor. Then when we got out there, he helped me knock the guy around and hold him for Lee."

"Did Eckert say why he was doing this?"

"Shit, man…what did we care?" said Walsh. "Easy money and some dope, that's all it was about for us. But yeah…yeah…he just said the punk had screwed him over and he wanted to teach him a lesson."

Fuller leaned in and asked, "And you're telling us you had no idea what he was going to do?"

"No, man! Seriously…I ain't into shit like that. I've never done nothing that bad in my life! I wouldn't have gone if I'd known he was gonna…you know…that was sick, man. I never seen nothing like it. That kid was cryin' and screamin'…" He shook his head. "Shit."

Walsh's words hung in the air as everyone in the room silently contemplated them and the images they conjured up. After a moment, Michaels spoke. "Okay…what about the ropes and stuff? Where did they come from?"

"Lee brought 'em," Walsh answered. "He had a bag of stuff with him when I picked him up. Had a gun too."

"Did he use everything?" the detective asked.

"I guess, man…hell, I don't know what all he had or what he did with it."

"What happened to the bag?"

"He took it back home with him. I know he was wiping his hands off on somethin' and put it in there," said Walsh.

Michaels, Fuller, and Doug all traded glances at each other, thinking the same thing. Eckert had brought the sheet with him, planning the whole time to use it as part of his set up. Michaels sighed. "All right." He nodded to the officer. "Get him out of here."

"Hey!" Walsh exclaimed as the officer pulled him to his feet. "I thought we were gonna make a deal!"

"I don't make deals, Walsh," said Michaels. "The D.A. does. Make your call and get a lawyer."

After Walsh was taken from the room, Doug joined the others at the table. "What's gonna happen?" he asked.

Michaels did not look happy as he explained, "The D.A. is probably going to let him plead out to part of it and dismiss the rest so we can have him testify against Eckert. Pleading to those lesser charges though is probably going to mean he can make bail. He'll be out of here in less than 24 hours."

Tom lay on his bed reading a book. It had been two days since he had identified Marty Walsh's photo. Neither he nor his mother had left the house, although they had been assured by Detective Michaels that it would be safe to do so. He looked up as he heard a knock at the door. "Come in."

The door opened and his mother peered in, smiling. "Hey, are you getting hungry?"

"I guess…a little. Supper ready?"

"No," she answered. "I just thought maybe you'd take me out for dinner tonight."

Surprised, Tom replied, "Uh…I don't know."

Margaret entered the room and went over to sit on the bed. "Why not?" She reached over and ran a hand through his hair. "You need to get out of here and have a good time. I need to get out of here and have a good time," she laughed.

He couldn't help but smile back at her. It had been a while since he had heard her laugh, and he realized how much he missed the sound of it. He hated the fact that he was the source of her sorrow these days. The least he could do was try to make her happy for one night. "Okay," he said.

Her face beamed, and she pulled him into a tight hug. "Thank you, sweetie," she whispered in his ear. She sat back and then stood up. "I'm going to get ready. See you in…half an hour?"

"Sounds good," Tom replied. He watched as she left, closing the door behind her, his smile fading then. He sighed, resigned to the fact that he was going to have to go out for the first time since the attack. He had known, of course, that this day would come, and had been dreading it. He got up and went into his bathroom to freshen up. He stared at his reflection in the mirror, turning his head and tilting it, looking at the abrasions and bruises. Some were fading, but some seemed darker. He turned the cold water faucet on as high as it would go, cupping the water in both hands and splashing it over his face. He looked back at the mirror, watching the water slide down his face and drip from his bangs that were hanging low over his forehead. His hands gripped the sides of the sink tightly as he continued to stare at his reflection. Tears started to well up in his eyes, but before they could fall he grabbed a towel from the rack and buried his face in it. He held it there a moment before running it across his face to dry off.

Tossing the towel aside, Tom took the bottom of his t-shirt and started to pull it over his head, stopping briefly and uttering a small moan as his sore arms and torso protested the action. When the pain had passed, he finished pulled the shirt off and once again stared at his reflection. His fingers lightly traced over the many deep bruises that covered his sides and abdomen. His eyes looked down the length of his arms, settling on the healing rope marks marring his wrists. He went back into his room and opened the closet door, shuffling through the hanging clothes until he found what he was looking for. He carefully pulled the long sleeved, navy blue sweatshirt on and went to the living room where his mother was waiting for him.

Two hours later, they were both still sitting at the table, laughing in the dim light of a casual Italian restaurant not far from their home. Before leaving the house, Margaret had told the officers outside that they were going out, and an unmarked car was assigned to follow them. It was discreet, but neither Tom nor his mother could pretend or forget that it was there and why. That is, until they reached the restaurant. Once inside and at the table, they felt themselves disappearing into the anonymity of the crowd, and for the first time in a week and a half they felt "normal". They talked about anything and everything except recent events, and when Tom laughed his mother saw, even in the dim light, a genuine sparkle in his eyes that she had feared was gone for good. When they finally finished their dessert and coffee, he even suggested that they catch a movie before heading home. She readily agreed, and they spent another two hours enjoying the ridiculous antics of Will Ferrell.

On the drive home, Tom barely took notice of their escort or the watch detail on the house as he walked his mother up to the door. Exhausted from the outing, he went straight to bed and slept fitfully through the night.

The next afternoon, Detective Michaels' office was full. A meeting had been called by District Attorney Scott Hayden to discuss the progress of the case as well as the details on Marty Walsh's plea bargain. Captain Fuller and Doug sat at the conference table as well.

"Where's Hicks?" asked the D.A.

"On her way," replied Michaels. "Should be here any minute."

"Well, let's go ahead and get this started," said Hayden. "I'm sure you already know…Walsh made bail." Doug groaned and Fuller shot him a stern look. Hayden glanced at the two of them and continued, "We're pushing the hard stuff off onto Eckert. Walsh is pleading to criminal confinement and assault. He'll get at least 10 years."

"And be out in five," Doug interjected angrily.

Hayden looked at Fuller. "Captain, should we reschedule this meeting for a time when your officer here will be more respectful?"

"No, sir," answered Fuller as he turned to face Doug. "I'm sure he understands that you're doing what's best for the case. Don't you, Doug?"

Doug sighed. "Yes, sir."

"Good," said Hayden. "Look, I know this has been difficult on everyone. That's why we need to keep moving and get things wrapped up. The longer this goes on, the more difficult it's going to be to prosecute and the harder it's going to be on the victim."

"Tom," said Doug.

"Excuse me?"

"The 'victim' has a name. Tom Hanson."

"I assure you, Officer Penhall, that I am aware of that. And this is going to be an awfully long process if you insist on fighting me every step of the way. I've been in this position for nine years and in law enforcement for over twenty, and believe me, I've seen every horrific crime you can imagine and some you can't. My job is to make sure the people who commit those crimes are taken off the streets for as long as possible. And if I have to let a few low risk losers back on the streets in order to get the major players put away, then that's what I do. Do we understand each other?"

Doug sat silently. Deep in his heart he still wanted everyone involved in this to pay dearly, but in his head he knew that the man was right. "Yes, sir," he said.

"Glad to hear it," said Hayden. "Look, if anything else comes up later, we can always charge him with more. But right now, we have no evidence to prove Hanson's claims. Walsh is the only chance we have to support his side of it and get Eckert convicted. Without his testimony, we're back to nothing." Just then, his cell phone on the table vibrated. He picked it up and checked the number, then stood up and excused himself. "I need to take this." He answered the phone and wandered over to Michaels' desk to talk.

The other men looked up as the door opened and CSI Angie Hicks entered, looking harried. "Sorry I'm late," she said as she sat at the table and opened a file folder she had been carrying.

"It's okay, Angie…we just got started," said Michaels. "What have you got?"

She sighed. "A lot of miniscule things that don't mean much out of context. We've been over the car a hundred times." Then she brightened. "But…we did find a couple of hairs caught in one of the headrests in the back seat. Reddish…jives with Walsh's description of the other guy. One had the root on it, so we're running it for DNA. If this guy's in the system, we'll find him."

Hayden had just snapped his phone shut and joined the others at the table. "Well, you'd better find him fast. That was Chief Owens." He paused and then sighed. "Marty Walsh was just found dead in the alley behind the Overboard."

It's been a while, hasn't it? I've missed you all! I had some vacation time and some other things going on, but I was really anxious to get this thing going again, so here it is! I hope you enjoy it and are still reading, despite the little break. I promise the updates will be more frequent now, just like before. Please drop a review and let me know what you think! Thanks so much!