Chapter 4

"She lied," Bobby said over Alex's shoulder. They climbed into the car and she unbuttoned her coat. "In that picture, her make-up. It was thicker on one side than the other."

"She was concealing a bruise," Alex said, nodding. "I'm going to chase down the cabbie and call it a night." She looked over at him, cocking her head slightly. "You've had a long day."

There it was again. He bristled and told himself it was only because she cared. "I'll take some of those videos home. I may as well watch some hockey tonight. My appointment's in the morning, so I'll be in a little late."

"No problem. I can keep myself busy, digging into his family life."

"Your thyroid levels were normal."

"So what does that mean? It was just stress?"

"Just stress can mean a lot," the doctor said. "And thyroid levels are changing all the time. So just because it was normal when they did the draw doesn't mean it was normal when you felt the pain." The doctor sat down on his stool and looked Bobby over. He sat on the edge of the exam table, slouching slightly.

"Your electrolytes were definitely out of whack. You were just out of a high-adrenaline, stressful situation, it's possible your thyroid contributed to the circumstances. I'd say all the dominoes were stacked and ready to fall. It wouldn't hurt for you to make some changes, now. Your cholesterol is higher than I'd like to see and you could stand to get more exercise. A healthy diet would keep your potassium levels more stable."

Rather than be angry, Bobby nodded. He raised a hand and rubbed the back of his neck, but said nothing.

"Didn't you say your mother passed away recently?"

"Yes. In the past year. My brother, too," he added.

The doctor gave him a compassionate smile. "You've had a lot of stress factors in your life lately. I could prescribe something for depression, too, if you'd like."

"N-no." Bobby got to his feet and paced the floor as he spoke. "If I'm depressed, it's situational, and it's getting better already. I don't need to be medicated for something that will clear up on its own…"

"It's your call," the doctor said. "I was only offering. After all, a headache will clear up on its own, too, but that doesn't stop most people from taking something for it." He smiled. "More important is diet and exercise. I want to see you again in a month."

Bobby strolled in at about eleven and dropped his coat off his shoulders. He tucked it onto the back of his chair.

"Hi. How'd it go?" She asked.

He shrugged. "Okay." He was irritated by the whole thing, really, and he didn't want to talk about it. "Have you made any headway?" He asked.

"Cab ride checked out. He has a short record, a couple of assault and battery charges. Bar fights, it looks like. I've been looking into the women, trying to see if there's evidence of abuse. You get anything from the hockey games?"

"He had a pretty good rivalry with a couple of the other Whales, but when they were on the ice, they were a team."

"I'm tired of all this desk work. Wanna head out with me? We'll meet a few people, then get some lunch?"

"Sure," Bobby agreed.

The Ranger's manager, the coach and his assistant were holed up in the office, under the advisement of the PR department. If it weren't for their badges, Bobby and Alex would not have been admitted.

They shook hands all around. "Mike Wilcox, Rangers General Manager, Bill Hinton, Head Coach, and Rudy Emery, Assistant Coach."

Bobby introduced himself and Alex and added, "We're sorry for your loss."

"How can we help, Detectives?"

"We have determined that Mr. Thornton was murdered." A gasp went around the room, and more than one curse. "We are trying to gather information about the victim as well as the people he associated with." Alex was all business.

"You don't think one of our guys…?"

"Don't be ridiculous. We're a team, here. Those guys are like brothers."

"We're not looking at anyone in particular, yet," Alex explained. "Just trying to learn more, that's all."

"Mack hadn't been on the team very long," Bobby said. "You know, I've always wondered… is there any kind of a ritual associated with that?" He gave his most charming, boyish smile. "I always dreamed of making it pro," he said.

"You play hockey, Detective Goren?"

"No, only pick-up games. He shrugged. You know, a boy's dream. I would have given anything to make it in any sport."

The men nodded their understanding.

"So when you first get on, is there, you know, a welcome party or something?"

The team execs shared knowing looks. "Just a lot of sweat and bruises."

The coach said, "If you survive the first practice, you're one of us."

"So that first practice, is… kind of… kind of a test?"

"You could say that," Emery explained. "The veteran players, they'll all make sure and give the greenhorn at least one good solid hit. It's kind of an unwritten rule, but if he stays on his feet, they leave him alone. If he falls, he has to take another one."

"And how did Mack do," Bobby asked, "in that first practice?"

"As well as anybody. I think he only got knocked down twice," Hinton said.

"He buddies with anyone in particular?" Bobby inquired.

"He knew a couple of the others already, from the Whales. But he really hit it off with Filipek. Brandon Filipek?"

"He's your goalkeeper," Bobby said.

"You're a Rangers fan?"

Bobby grinned. "Who isn't?"

"So?"

"Look, Eames, I really don't want to talk about it." He leaned over his salad and frowned as he took a bite.

"I know you don't, Bobby, but I'm your partner. If there's something I can do that will help, or that I need to watch out for…"

"Look, it's nothing, okay?!" He shoved the salad away and turned to his soup, thankful he'd gotten something that might actually fill him up. Bobby stewed a moment, then turned his angry eyes back to her. He was forcing himself to talk to her.

"He couldn't tell me for sure what caused it, but probably stress. And I just have to… get healthier."

She smiled, and actually seemed relieved. "That's good news, Bobby!"

"It's good that I get stressed out so much I think I'm dying? And then I look like an idiot for wasting everybody's time in the ER?"

"Bobby, you weren't imagining it. The pain was real. I felt the sweat on your forehead. You can't fake that." She motioned to his meal as she took another bite. "I see you're trying to eat better. What else will you do?"

He shook his head and let his knee bounce until his foot on the metal table stand rattled the entire table. He turned sideways and stopped. "I don't know. I guess running. I can always do stairs in my building."

She smiled her approval. "Let me know if I can help."

"I'll call you in about a year, when I have a chance of keeping up with you," he snarked.