Chapter 35

Bobby was holding up pretty well. He hadn't pushed Alex away for a while, now, and though he still had trouble opening up to her, at least he was trying. Really, besides the everpresent pissing contest between him and the Captain, things were going well.

Alex shook her head, just thinking about Bobby and Captain Ross. They'd gotten off on the wrong foot, and it didn't seem they would ever get over it. They'd just wrapped up a case involving astronauts in the NSA, and Ross had made some off the cuff remark about type A personalities and being angry all the time. Bobby hadn't missed the chance to throw the Captain's words right back at him. She sighed. At least the Captain had a good heart.

Every once in a while he would have a coffee with her in the cafeteria downstairs. Although she wondered about his motivations, Alex had to admit she was getting to know her Captain. He wasn't a bad guy. A little too blunt sometimes, but he always seemed to have the best intentions. He spoke to her about Bobby, and grieving, and while she tried not to divulge too much, she could tell Ross had suffered loss, too. He was trying to cut Goren some slack, and she appreciated it.

Frances Goren had been complaining about treatment all along, but this week, she'd had enough. She told Bobby she was done with it. She insisted he come get her out of the hospital. He was more upset than she'd seen him in weeks, but Bobby respected his mother's wishes. He was in Carmel Ridge now, helping her move back to her room at the home, and, Alex knew, trying one last time to change his mother's mind.

Bobby walked beside her as the nurse pushed her wheelchair back to her room. He carried a banker's box full of her belongings in his hands.

"I just couldn't take those meds anymore, Bobby," she told him.

"Ma, it's your… only chance, you know," he said quietly. She almost cried, and he felt the guilt bubbling up again.

"Oh, please, they made me so nauseated I couldn't even read!" They arrived at her room, her home for the last several years. "Well you know what? I'll just spend whatever time I have left right here. No IVs, no wires… no more machines."

Bobby set the box down on her coffee table. He hurried over to help the nurse get his mother into bed.

"All right," he said with resignation, reaching to support her under one arm. "Okay, fine."

"I'm okay," Frances said.

"Come on," Bobby said softly. They got her to her feet and she sat heavily on the bed. As Frances rolled to her side, the nurse lifted her feet to the mattress.

"You can't just give up, Mom," Bobby said firmly.

"Bobby, I may only have a few weeks left." She stared at the ceiling as she spoke. "Please. Don't give me a hard time. Okay?"

He scratched the short hair of his sideburn and turned away from her, nodding slightly. Walking back to the coffee table, he pulled a photograph out of the box he'd just placed there. It was a picture of him and Frank as children. His brother had a protective arm around him. For a moment, Bobby pined for those days. Those were the days before life got so hard.

It was unexpected. Bobby had written Wally regularly since his incarceration. He'd put in a word for the man, helped him get moved from Riker's to a prison in Pennsylvania so he would be closer to his mother. Bobby had sympathized with Wally. He obviously had Asperger's syndrome, and the crime he had committed was directly related to his desire to keep control over his life. The man had killed because he hadn't known what else to do. He hadn't had the kind of support he truly needed, and Bobby hated that. So he'd written him. Until his mother got so sick. Then Wally and nearly everyone else had gone by the wayside.

So the request that Wally wanted to see him had come as a surprise. Alex offered to drive to PA with him, but Bobby said, no, he could use some time alone in the car to think… to clear his head.

Wally stood and rigidly shook Bobby's hand. "110 days since your last letter," Wally said. "Longer than your usual pattern." Bobby smiled, then Wally surprised him again when he asked, "Are you all right?"

"Yes, I'm fine, thanks. How are you?" Bobby replied.

"This transfer to Pennsylvania, it's a big help. My mother can visit," he added.

"That's good. Good." Bobby knew now how much it meant for a man to visit with his mother. There was a strained silence, and Bobby decided to prompt him. "The warden said that it was urgent."

"Not about me," Wally explained. "Mark Ford Brady. He gave me a message for you."

Although Bobby hadn't worked his case, as a profiler of serial killers, he was familiar with the name. Brady had been sentenced to death row for the rape and murder of seven women.

They visited his childhood home, now owned by a couple who were doing renovations. They were horrified that their home had once belonged to a serial killer.

Bobby noticed some older insulation in the attic and removed it. There he found a package. He cut open the plastic, and it turned out to be a scrapbook from the 80's. There was a different girl on every page. Bobby recognized Brady's first victim. It looked like they'd found a scrapbook of victims, and there were much more than seven.

On the way back from their first meeting with Mark Ford Brady, Bobby was preoccupied. Both he and Alex had been revolted by the man. There was no doubt in either of their minds that he was a serial rapist and killer and that he killed far more than the seven women he was convicted of killing.

Now, two weeks from his scheduled execution, he was using his victims to try and buy himself more time, not to mention another fifteen minutes of fame. As his execution date neared, his name was starting to splash through the headlines again, and now with the revelation of the scrapbook, there was even more excitement surrounding the news stories of Mark Ford Brady.

His phone rang, and Alex listened to the one sided conversation, easily filling in the gaps as she minded the road. "Frank, I've been trying to get hold of you," Bobby said. After a moment, he glanced at Alex and then waggled his head. "Yeah, I know, I know. Life got in the way. Look. Mom, she… she discontinued the treatment. This is it, Frank. She's decided it's time." He was quiet, listening, and Alex could feel the moment when his anger bubbled up. "She's dying, Frank! How the hell d'you think she's doing?"

His outburst complete, he twitched and shifted in the seat. Then he calmed his voice and spoke again. "Yeah. Yeah, look, I'm sorry. Just, you need to see her. We don't… she doesn't have much time left… all right. Okay. Goodbye, Frank." He ended the call and looked over at Alex.

She frowned. She had tried very hard to steer clear of conversations involving Frank.

"He, uh… he made excuses, said he's been busy, you know…"

"Do you think he'll see her?"

"I don't know," Bobby said quickly, shrugging and stretching his neck to one said. "Yeah. I think so. Frank, you know, he loves her too."

"You could take the time now, Bobby. I can work this with somebody else on the squad…"

"N-no. It's okay. When it's time, I'll, you know… I'll go then."

She bit her bottom lip. He was going to try to do it all, burn the candle at both ends. While she knew it wasn't the best thing, somehow she knew staying with his mother 24/7 wouldn't be the best thing for him, either. It wasn't going to be easy for him, that was for sure.

Bobby had done his research, and Brady fit the profile of a serial killer to a tee. It was almost frightening how much he had in common with the man: raised in Brooklyn, time in the army, broken home, absent father, charm with women…

One by one, they were identifying the women in the scrapbook. One woman's husband was convicted of killing his own wife, even though he'd walked in and saw Brady strangling her. The case wasn't just about providing closure to families, it was about justice.

They ate some lunch and hit the road again, on their way back to Pennsylvania. Bobby's phone rang. He apologized to his mother, rubbing his weary eyes.

"Oh, uh… Mom, I'm sorry. We have a… it's an inmate on death row," Bobby tried to explain.

Frances was stoic. "Well, one death row visit is as good as another." She paused to give the words time to sting and then continued speaking. So, uh, your brother dropped in today, again. He said you have a girlfriend. Who is she?" she asked.

The denial of their relationship was almost knee-jerk. "No, no, no, no. That's…He misunderstood," Bobby said.

Frances knew he was lying. "I want to meet her," she said, and hung up the phone.

Bobby paused, then flipped his phone shut. He and Alex had talked about this, and she had deferred every time to Bobby's wishes. All this time, he hadn't wanted Alex to meet his mother. Frances had changed the game. She wasn't long for this world, and if she wanted to meet Alex, how could Bobby say no? He turned to Alex with a smile on his lips.

"My mom wants to meet you," Bobby said, chuckling. "Uh… my brother's been talking you up." He tried to keep it light, but he was suddenly afraid. What if she didn't want to meet Frances?

Bobby sat quietly, and his eyes glanced in her direction once again. He saw the beginning of a smile on her lips, and they both shared a quiet chuckle.

"I'd like that," Alex finally said. She dropped her hand from the steering wheel and her fingers found his.