Finally! I didn't think I was ever going to be able to get this one posted. :) Thanks to all for reading, and please remember to review and let me know what you think!
Still do not own, nor is my pocket getting fat with money as a result of this fiction...
Chapter 3: Agent Harris
Agent Harris was a fucking prick. Bobby hadn't been very impressed with him from the start. He had been at the cemetery with another Federal agent, Kirkpatrick. Kirkpatrick had talked to the older Mercers that first day, and he hadn't been too bad to deal with, at least he seemed to have a little common sense.
Harris on the other hand seemed to lack a piece of genetic material that might propel him into the category of human. He did not show emotion or compassion for any of the Mercers concerning what had taken place in the cemetery on New Year's Eve, or what had played out at Jeremiah's warehouse the night before. He seemed to care less that the Mercer family had been thrust into a world of pain and emotional torment for the past month and questioned them all as if they were the suspects in everything that had happened. He'd made several subtle remarks laced with hints of accusation, and had questioned them with a condemning tone in his voice, always insinuating that the Mercers had somehow brought everything down on themselves by not taking the appropriate actions. Hell, what else could they have done? They had informed the cops of everything that was happening. They were working with Johnson and Green, what the hell else could they have done differently? Kirkpatrick had jerked a knot in Harris' chain a few times, telling him to straighten up his line of questioning, and because of that Bobby had more faith in him than Harris and refused to deal with the prick so long as Kirkpatrick was around.
Kirkpatrick had been called out of town on day number two and that left Harris for them to deal with, or that's how Bobby understood it. Harris wanted to ask Craig stupid questions about shit that Kirkpatrick had already gotten answers for. It wasn't anything that he really needed, Bobby was sure of that. Hell, even Green had remarked during a phone call the evening before that it didn't make sense for Harris to need to talk to his little brother. Bobby was willing to give the fucker a few minutes, just long enough to feel him out and see what it was he thought he could get from the kid. The first question he heard that was out of line and he was taking the boy out of there, no ifs, ands, or buts. He wasn't taking a chance on the boy being subjected to any more shit. It was going to be tough enough to get the kid back to what might be half way normal.
He didn't like the way Craig had been acting the past couple of days. He wanted to grab him and shake him hard, just to get some kind of reaction out of him. Nothing seemed to penetrate the hard shell he was hiding behind. Bobby's first instinct was to grab hold of him and smack the back of his head hard enough to jog his brain a bit, maybe jumpstart some activity in that fucking head of his. A month ago he would have done just that, just to get him to do what the hell he wanted him to.
Now it was different. The kid was more than his little brother and somehow yelling and smacking just didn't have the same effect, or appeal. He had no problem smacking Angel or Jack in the back of the head, hell he'd knocked them both a good one that very morning during the debate over the shower; but somehow with Craig it was different now. He wasn't just a big brother to the boy anymore; hell, he wasn't so sure he'd ever been much of a brother to him. He had turned into a fucking parent and how he'd gotten to that point was a mystery to him. Something felt different now though. Being a father type kind of influence for the kid seemed to be floundering now, but it had felt right for as long as it had lasted and he need to reclaim his grasp on it. He needed to fix whatever the hell was wrong between him and the kid and he just didn't know what he needed to do or how to do it.
Somehow, in the past few days, a gap had been forming and he wasn't sure how it had happened. He was afraid to talk to the kid, and wasn't sure why. There hadn't been any kind of issue with pushing the teen to talk or face shit before, he'd developed some kind of instinct about the kid, or so he'd thought, but this just felt different. He wasn't sure Craig was trying to hide from what had happened so much as battling with what the hell he was supposed to do about it; and to be honest that was exactly how Bobby Mercer felt.
He was tired of trying to deal with the bullshit that kept coming up. Every time one problem was taken care of, new, more dangerous shit crept up on his family and screwed them over. What the hell was going to happen to them next? He wasn't sure he wanted to find out. He wanted to get the shit with the cops over and done with and put it all behind them.
There had been talk about Jordan's trial, and the new charges that had been brought against him. The Mercers would have to testify, but Bobby was sure they could keep Craig out of that courtroom; at least he was going to fight with all he had to keep a distance between the boy and the proceedings that would be developing in the months ahead. Enough was enough, and as far as Bobby was concerned this talk with Harris was the last time the youngest Mercer was going to be forced to dredge up memories of what had happened to him in the past month with strangers.
Bobby dropped his arm across the teen's shoulders as they followed Johnson back to where Harris was waiting. He wasn't lost on the tension that seemed to turn the boy's frame rock hard at his touch. The simple gesture had become habit for him, and he'd thought the boy had grown comfortable with it as well, but the past few days seemed to take them back in years as far as comfort and that bothered the parent part of him.
Craig didn't hesitate in taking the chair at the desk with Green's name plate displayed on the chipped and worn wood surface. Harris had papers spread out across the vacant desk he was using and didn't voice much more than a grunt when Johnson greeted him.
Harris had no problem talking to Craig in the middle of the precinct, having taken up a desk next to Green's station. Bobby thought that had to be a good sign that the questions weren't going to be too invasive for the kid to handle. Hell, if the 'Fed' wasn't going to insist on some private room this couldn't be much of anything to worry about.
"I'll be at my own desk, if you need me." Johnson looked at Bobby, obviously speaking to him.
"We will be fine." Harris didn't look up from the papers spread out in front of him. His voice was flat, and seemed to lack that human element that might make a person feel comfortable being in such close proximity to him.
Johnson rolled his eyes and kept his gaze on Bobby. The man didn't turn to walk away until Bobby nodded his head and motioned for him to go. He looked over at Craig, who was swiveling the office chair under him from left to right and back again. "Sit still." He looked around to find an empty chair for himself.
Craig stopped the motion but didn't look up to meet his gaze. Bobby dragged a chair over from a nearby desk and positioned it between Craig and Harris before sitting down. "So, Agent Harris, how the hell are you?" He asked, trying to sound casual.
"Hmmm," Harris didn't look up from the papers. He picked an ink pen up from the desk and made some marks on one of his papers. "Craig, I am sorry to drag you down here, I know this is awkward for you." His words sounded mechanical and practiced; spoken while he read through his papers.
"Yeah, it's awkward for me too, Harris, so why don't you put your papers away and get down to business, or we're out of here?" Bobby let his arms fold across his chest and felt his jaw tense up. He wasn't looking forward to watching this man fling questions at the teenager next to him.
Harris didn't lift his head, but it did turn slightly in Bobby's direction. His eyes shifted position to pull the man into his line of sight, seemingly taking notice of him for the first time. "Mr. Mercer." His lips formed a thin, straight line that looked unnatural; as if he were holding back a frown. Well, hell, at least he was learning to hold the frowns back.
"Agent Harris," Bobby sighed. "Can we get this over with please? I need to get my brother home." He knew it sounded lame. "He's been through a lot of shit, and this ain't the best timing for this, you know?"
Harris finally sat back in his chair, "Of course." He turned to the desk, picked up a clipboard with paper and an ink pen attached and held the board out in Craig's direction. "I would like for you to write down, in your own words the events that led up to your presence in the cemetery on January thirty-first." His voice still lacked the emotion one might expect an adult to show given the circumstances.
"He already gave a statement to the local police about why he was there. It was recorded, can't you use that?" Bobby reached out and took the clipboard when Craig made no move to accept it from the agent.
"Some time has passed. Sometimes, memory improves and something else comes to light after a few days have gone by." Harris kept his gaze fixed on Craig, who was staring at the clipboard in his brother's hands. "I need the statement in writing with a signature in order for it to be admissible in court." He shifted his gaze momentarily to Bobby, but returned it to the boy. "I'm asking nicely, but I can get a warrant and force this." Emotion finally filtered through on his voice, but it was hard, and demanding, holding a threat. "It would be best to co-operate." He finally focused fully on Bobby. He reminded Bobby of a hungry wolf, just aching to take a big chunk of emotional stability out of the kid in front of him. He wanted a reason to rip away at the kid, Bobby could see it in his eyes and it brought those parental instincts he'd found recently to the surface.
"We're here to co-operate Harris. I just don't understand why you need this from him. Why can't you use the recorded statement that Johnson got from him on Saturday?" Bobby was going to make this guy explain it to him. He didn't like what he was hearing and feeling from Harris, and if the man couldn't give him a good enough reason then he was going to stop this shit real quick. "I was told you wanted to ask a few questions, not get a whole new statement from him."
"I just told you, I need it written and signed." Harris let his voice snap in response.
"Bullshit." Bobby shook his head. "If it needed to be written down Johnson would have had him write it down. Or Kirkpatrick would have had him write it down. He never said anything about needing it in writing." He didn't trust the man's word. He needed to hear some logical reasoning.
"We wanted to give him a few days, let things settle down. Like I said before, sometimes memories change, or new memories surface after some time has passed. We need this written statement to go with his recorded statement." Harris drew in a deep breath as if he were trying to keep some kind of control over himself.
Bobby looked at Craig. "You think you can write it all down?" He asked the boy. He still didn't feel comfortable with it, but he would feel Craig out. If the kid was okay with it, then there may not be a problem.
"There is no choice here; he's going to have to give this statement." Harris nearly spat the words in Bobby's direction, not giving Craig a chance to respond to the question himself. "Any discrepancies will warrant further questioning, so we will see where we stand once the statement has been submitted. Please, hand him that clipboard so we can get this over with?" His impatience was showing now, and it drove through Bobby like a hot knife. Hell, no, the asshole was not trying to accuse the kid of lying before, was he?
"Not if you're going to treat him like shit. You want to get official with all of this? I can insist that my lawyer is here with him for this. In fact, maybe that's exactly what I should do." Bobby took a quick look at Craig and could see confusion building behind the boy's eyes, he was sure of it. He was not going to let this son of a bitch screw around with his brother's head.
"Mr. Mercer, I need this written statement from him. If you want to call your lawyer down here for that, then by all means, do." Harris sat back in his chair, his arms folded at his chest, mirroring Bobby's early position. "It isn't going to change what we need or get from him in the long run. It's only delaying the inevitable."
"I think I'll do just that." Bobby stood and tossed the clipboard onto the pile of files and papers covering the desk. He wasn't about to tell the man that Robert Bradford had already advised that the questioning wasn't necessary, and that Bobby could refuse to allow it without council present.
None of the questioning his brothers had been going through had been like this. No one had tried to insinuate any of them were guilty of anything, despite the fact that all four brothers knew deep down that they had set out Saturday morning to find and kill Macks. The reason they were still answering questions, still giving statements, was so it could be used to bring charges against Jordan, and clear the Mercer brothers, all of them, from any wrong doing so that the insurance companies they were battling would pay out what was owed to them.
They all needed their cars, and they all needed to get Jeremiah's business back on track. This whole thing with Craig wasn't relevant to any of that, and Bobby didn't like the way Harris was talking and acting with the kid, or with him. He had a feeling about this Federal Agent. He wasn't like Kirkpatrick; he was trying to dig for shit that wasn't there. He was trying to find some way to blame the Mercers for Adam Macks' actions, and he didn't' understand why. Why the hell would the man try to turn this into some kind of mission against his family?
Okay, maybe he was over reacting; maybe he was seeing something that wasn't there. His instincts might have been a little off. He just couldn't shake the feeling that this guy was out to cause more trouble for the Mercers and he was sick and tired of fighting for every fucking chance to get their lives back on track. What the hell else did they have to give up? They had already lost a mother, and almost lost Jack. Jeremiah and Angel had nearly been blown to smithereens and charbroiled on top of it. Craig, hell, he didn't want to think about what the kid had been forced to deal with. The bullshit seemed to keep coming and Bobby was sick of it.
Harris stood as well. "Mr. Mercer, if that's the way you want to do this, then fine. I thought we could get this out of the way before Kirkpatrick returned, but if you don't wish to co-operate, then we can do it the hard way." His voice was stiff.
"Kirkpatrick is returning? Good, I want him to be the one to do this then." Bobby nodded his head. "I'll call my lawyer as soon as I get home, and he can contact you. The arrangements can be made through him. Don't bother calling me." Bobby let his own frustration show in his words. He wasn't going to put up with this guy trying to push him or his family around.
The men stared at each other for a long moment before Bobby held his hand out in Craig's direction. "Come on Craig, let's go." He didn't bother to look down at the boy.
Craig didn't move.
"Come on Craig, move your ass." Bobby's frustration with Harris was still obvious in his voice.
"Bobby, why can't I just write down my statement?" Craig asked the question quietly.
Bobby turned and looked at the kid. Shit, what the hell was wrong with him? Wasn't he listening to anything he'd just said to the asshole agent in front of them?
"It's not like it's changed since Saturday, and I can write it down pretty quick. It won't take long." Craig muttered.
Bobby wanted to reach out and smack the back of that fourteen year old head. Fuck this shit. "Move your ass, or I'll carry you out of here myself." His voice came out quiet, but he made sure the threat was indisputable. No, he wouldn't smack him, but he wasn't beyond picking the kid up and carrying him out of there.
Craig hesitated for a long moment, long enough that for a split second Bobby thought he was going to have to carry through with his threat. When the kid did finally stand Bobby couldn't hold back and snatched his arm up in a firm grip. He pulled Craig past Harris, towards the hall, and back to where Johnson's desk was located. "Don't you ever question me with shit like that again, you got that?"
It was the first time since Saturday that Bobby felt pissed at the kid. It was the first time he hadn't opted to treat the kid as if he might break, and it felt good. It felt better than he thought it would. After everything that had happened he'd been dealing with the kid as if he'd fall apart over any little thing. Hell, he had done exactly that in the past. He'd fallen into an emotional pit before, and his brothers had been forced to dive in after him.
"But I can write it down; it's not a big deal." Craig muttered.
"I said no. You got that? You don't question me Craig. This is serious shit and I don't like the way Harris wants to deal with us. Not just you; he treats our whole family like we're nothing but a bunch of thugs and I ain't gonna let him do it. He can go through Robert, and when the time comes, we'll deal with Kirkpatrick not that asshole." Bobby didn't loosen up his hold on the boy. He didn't like the idea that the boy was questioning his judgment. Maybe he was over reacting, but he only had his instincts to go by, and his instincts were usually pretty damn good.
Bobby didn't let go of the boy until they reached Johnson's desk. The new detective looked up over some papers he was holding in his hand. He sighed heavily and slowly lowered the neat print that was in front of his face to reveal the grim expression they had been hiding. "Well, either that went very well and you are done already, or there is a problem." He spoke quietly, looking from the teenager in Bobby's grips back to the man hovering over him.
"That asshole don't want to explain shit to me, he wants Craig to write his statement down, and he has the statement on tape. He acted like he thought Craig was lying or something. He said sometimes memories change after a little time, and any 'discrepancies' would warrant more questions. He's accusing Craig of lying, that's what he's doing; and he's trying to dig for shit that ain't there." Bobby stated the facts as he seen them. Sure, Harris hadn't said he thought Craig had been lying, but he'd hinted to thinking it was so.
Johnson sighed again and reached up with his right hand to rub his temple with slow, calculated circles. "He does need the statement in writing Bobby, it's his job." He stated calmly.
"Craig ain't writing shit down without a lawyer present. Now if the man had asked questions, it might have been different, but he insinuated Craig's statement was gonna be different than what he gave you Saturday." Bobby argued. He let go of the boy's arm and barely noticed the teen reached up to rub where he'd been holding onto him. "He ain't gonna go through that shit Johnson, I won't have it. He told the fuckin' truth and I won't have anyone accuse him of lying. If they want a written statement it's gonna be done with my lawyer in the room."
Johnson looked at some officers walking past the nearby doorway. "Bobby, please settle down, will ya? You're putting on quite a show for the uniforms. You are well within your rights to want a lawyer present, that's not a problem" He sat up in his chair and motioned to two metal chairs positioned next to the wall, close enough to his desk that they could talk comfortably.
Bobby moved towards the chair, but hesitated when he looked at Craig. "Hey, why don't you go get something out of the machine?" He dug into his pocket and pulled out a fistful of change. "Stay out there until I come for you, okay? I need to talk to detective Johnson." He held the coins out to the teen and waited until he'd left the immediate area before taking his seat on the other side of Johnson's desk. He strained his neck to make sure he could see Craig from his position before he looked at the cop.
Johnson looked frustrated. "Now why did you send him out of here if you are going to eyeball him the entire time?" He asked while glancing out the door himself as if he were checking on the teen.
Bobby watched Craig sit on a bench in the hall way before turning back to Johnson. He shook his head. "I need to find out if Harris really needs this shit like he claims. You can confirm it with Kirkpatrick, can't you?" He asked quickly. "I don't believe a word Harris said to me in there, I don't like that son of a bitch, and I don't trust a word that comes out of his mouth." He leaned up in his seat.
Johnson let out a groan. "Bobby Mercer, I shouldn't be talking to you about this, especially not here. You know everyone on this force knows your name. There ain't one cop in this building that don't know your record, or know what the hell you are capable of. You don't think that kind of reputation managed to get back to the Feds?" His voice changed and turned very quiet. "If Harris is looking for ammunition, it ain't to take down a fourteen year old kid, Bobby. You know that. If he's after anything, it's you and your brothers, but not Craig." He held a finger up and pointed it at Bobby. "We ended up with a dead cop, another dead body lying in the street, Patrick Dennis, you remember him? You'd do better to co-operate with him and let him find only what is there for him to find, and that is the truth concerning this case. If he starts digging, he might find something more. He's questioned how you boys managed to be part of three deaths at two different locations. He's questioning everything about Macks' shooting. He's obsessed over all of the statements and evidence. You're right; he's digging hard for something. He's questioned everything concerning this case; don't give him more to question." He was giving Bobby a warning; that much was clear. "You want to get your lawyer in here, fine; you do that, but let the FBI get that written statement from Craig. Don't refuse to give him what can get him off your ass. Got it?"
Bobby felt instant confusion. "What the hell is he looking for? We didn't do anything wrong here, we were fighting for our lives; everything we did was in self defense. Hell, we don't even know if Jack's shot was what killed Macks; but you were there, you know Macks had a gun aimed at me. Jack saved my life; he probably saved all of us."
He would have kept talking but Johnson held his hand up to silence him. "Bobby I did not witness the shooting, or what lead up to Macks with a bullet in him. That is all testimony from you and your brothers."
"And Johnny," Bobby reminded.
"Yes, Johnny Giovanni's testimony backed up yours, but that doesn't mean Harris can't find holes in it." Johnson managed to lower his voice even further. "You boys are telling the truth here; don't let Harris fuck this up by finding some reason to pursue the stupid ideas that are burning at his brain cells. Come on, just do the smart thing, let him get what he needs so he can prove himself wrong."
Bobby could feel his senses tingling. Something more was up, he could feel it. "Johnson, you gonna tell me what the fuck is going on?" He could see a flash of something in Johnson's eyes as soon as he asked the question. "You ain't telling me everything." He nodded his head. "What the hell, Johnson, I trusted you and you're gonna throw us to the fucking wolves?" He felt his anger building. He should have known better than to trust a cop. If Johnson was screwing him over that meant Green was a part of it too, and he was going to be paying the price for allowing himself to fall into the trap that had been set for him by a so-called friend. He wanted to put a hole in the wall at that moment. He stood, setting his sights on the doorway. He was going to go find his brothers, all of them, and they were getting the hell out of there. Fuck the cops. Fuck the Feds, fuck them all.
Johnson shook his head quickly. "No, Bobby, it's not like that." He stood as well, matching Bobby's motion and blocking his path to the door. "I can't talk about it here. You call Green. You talk to him. He wanted to tell you about it from the start but I thought we could get by without saying anything. You're telling the truth, so there isn't anything to worry about, you just have to let Harris get what he needs to he can get the hell out of town." He still kept his voice quiet.
"Get out of my way." Bobby spoke the words through clenched teeth. He didn't want to hear what the cop in front of him had to say.
"Call Green, promise me."Johnson didn't move.
Bobby felt the side of his mouth twitch as he started the Detective down. He held in the words he wanted to shout at the man.
Johnson looked defeated after a long second and stepped to the side, allowing Bobby to walk past him.
Bobby didn't look back as he grabbed hold of Craig's arm and pulled him from the bench, barely slowing to do so. He heard the kid asking him what was wrong, but it didn't actually register. His brain was operating on that instinct he'd doubted just a short time before. He was gonna call Green alright, and he was gonna get some fucking answers.