Chapter 42

Ross had asked, and so she'd told him Bobby had gone back out to question Brady. The Captain wasn't happy about it, but he didn't say anything more than "And you think that's a good idea?"

She had simply stood tall and told the Captain, "I trust him."

Now it had been four hours, and she was sure the interrogation was over. Alex was worried as hell. She sat in front of the pictures from Brady's scrapbook, scrawling notes and pinning them next to the pictures. If someone else had to take over the case soon, she wanted it to be clear how far they'd gotten which each woman on the board.

Her phone rang, and she almost dropped it in her haste to answer. "Bobby?" Alex said.

"I'm, uhm, I'm going to Carmel Ridge."

She could barely hear him. He sounded like someone else. His voice was deeper and scratchier than usual. "Where are you?" She asked.

"Uh," He scratched his head and looked around at the bustling gas station. "I'm at the state line."

"You okay to drive?" He really sounded awful, and as relieved as she was that he wasn't still at the prison, Alex was worried.

"Yeah," he whispered.

"Bobby, call me when you get there."

"Okay."

"Take care of yourself."

"Okay."

"I'm here" was all his text said an hour later. Alex sighed with relief and went back to work.

He'd done a lot of thinking in the car, and he needed to get to the bottom of it. His mother had lied to him, and he needed to know the truth about Brady. If Brady was really his father, Bobby didn't know what he would do. He didn't know who he was.

But when he walked into her room, she was frail and weak. He kissed her cheek, and she stirred, whispering his name. Bobby felt a sharp pang in his heart, and he tried to take care of her. He sighed and whispered "okay," as he poured her a glass of water.

"Just have a little drink, Mom," he said softly. "C'mon," he pleaded.

"You know what?" she said. Her voice was tired, and she didn't lift her head from the pillow. "You look like you're not taking care of yourself." He turned aside, setting the glass and pitcher on her tray table. "Hey!" She said to him, and he moved back closer to her again. "Your hair's gray. When did that happen?"

Bobby gave her a smile and chuckled softly. Stiffly, she turned away, grasping the rail of the bed with one hand. He settled into the chair beside the bed, fiddling with his hands in front of his chin.

"Frank told me that… that you showed him a picture… of Uncle Mark." Her strength was nearly gone, and it took her a while to get the words out.

Bobby covered his face with his hands. He couldn't ask her about it now, not this way.

"I don't think he knows who Uncle Mark is," she continued, knowing full well that Bobby had figured it all out.

Her words fueled that need that was burning inside him. "Uh… who he is?" Bobby grunted.

"Yeah," she said.

"You mean Brady?" Bobby was blunt. If he wanted his mother to be honest, maybe he should be honest, too.

"Uh-huh," she replied weakly.

"You're telling me that you know…"

"Yeah."

So she knew he was a serial rapist and killer… Bobby took a deep breath. He wondered if she knew something else, too, like if Brady was his father.

Slowly, uncomfortably, she rolled to her back, closer to her son. She was struggling with the pain, and her breathing was labored. "I want to tell you something," she said, looking at Bobby.

He leaned forward, resting his arms on her bed.

"Your father…was always away. A lot." Bobby nodded as he listened. "A lot," she repeated, for emphasis. "When Mark was on leave in New York, I would ask him to put up some shelves… uh, in the apartment and… uh… your father… he got the point."

Bobby gave her a semblance of a smile. It sounded like she was still lying to him. "Do you remember when he visited?" he asked, cross-referencing her story with Frank's.

"Oh, for God's sake!"

"What about the year before I was born?" Bobby pressed. He was angry, and he couldn't understand why she kept lying.

She was upset now. "I don't see why this is so important!"

"Because I need to know!" He interrupted, raising his voice.

"You do not! You do…" She was furious now, her gaunt face haunting as she fumed at him.

Bobby bit his tongue, feeling guilty to have distressed her. "We'll talk about something else," he declared.

She looked away and paused in thought. "I just never knew for sure," she admitted, and Bobby groaned. "Listen to me, Bobby," she pleaded, reaching out with a bony hand. He flinched and turned away, but then painfully, he turned back.

"I could never… I could…" she stammered.

He got to his feet, bent over and gently took her face in his hands, kissing her on the forehead. "Ma, don't! Just forget it!" He begged her.

"I could never know for sure." He returned to his seat, and she quieted a moment. "Bobby, shhh…." Then, a whisper: "Bobby, I'm sorry." She pouted, and his compassion overwhelmed him. Then suddenly, she punched him, her breath ragged. "Why, why do we have to talk about it?!" she cried. "What is the point?! Will you please tell me, why do you always… do this?!"

He looked away a moment, his shame getting the better of him. Then she sobbed and he turned back. Overwhelmed with sadness, he said, "Mom… oh, Mom," and his tears welled up, too. She reached out her hand, and he took it eagerly. Bobby stepped closer, caressing her hand with both of his, as she tried to quell her tears.

He stared at his mother, and thought again of her incredible strength. To have endured so much pain, so many trials in her life and to have survived it all. Bobby loved her. He wouldn't speak of it again.

The next morning, he still sat beside her. She was unresponsive now, even in the sparse moments when she opened her eyes. There was a quiet knock at the door and he looked up.

Father Tom stood there, waiting for an invitation to enter the room. "Hello, Mr. Goren, I was wondering if I might come in?"

Bobby stood and stretched, nodding. The priest gave him a kindly smile as he walked in. Bobby had met him before. He made it a point of visiting Carmel Ridge regularly. Ever since he'd heard Frances had stopped eating, he was coming by every day. "She's getting closer," he said, looking at Bobby's mother with compassion. "Soon she'll be free of the pain and worries of this earthly life."

Bobby stood back and said nothing, only gave the man a polite nod.

"She'll want her last rites," Fr. Tom said.

Bobby's eyes snapped to his. He thought it over quickly in his head. The man was right. It would comfort her to know he had abided by the rules of her faith. "Okay," he said quietly.

Bobby watched as he kissed the stole and ducked under it, draping it over his neck. He listened to the prayers, and watched as he anointed her with holy oil. Bobby couldn't help but join in on the final amen.

As quickly as it had begun, it was over. The priest tucked his things away and sat down on the couch, now turning his attention to Bobby.

"And how are you holding up?" he asked.

Bobby tilted his head and shrugged, sighing.

"I know you've strayed from the faith, Robert. Your mother told me. But in times like these, the Church can be a comfort to you. God is always with us… whether we want Him there or not."

Bobby cleared his throat and turned away, looking back at his Mom. "Look, uh, I don't really want to…"

"A prayer can be as simple… as private… as a thought, you know."

"Look, you're not helping!" Bobby snapped, raising his voice. Just as quickly, he quieted down. "I just… I don't want…"

"I'll keep you… both… in my prayers," Fr. Tom said, and quietly slipped out the door.

The afternoon sun was still coming through the window blinds. Bobby realized suddenly that her chest wasn't moving. He glanced up at her face. "Mom?" he whispered. "Mom?" Tears spilled out as he pressed the button to call a nurse. He touched her cheek with the back of his hand, crying, and asked once more, "Mom?"

Alex fished the phone out of her pocket and saw the text was from Bobby. Quickly she opened it and read two words: Mom's gone.

Alex sighed sadly, frowned, and walked to the Captain's office. She knocked, and he turned in his chair, looking up.

"Bobby, uh, just texted me. His mom passed away."

He gave her a silent nod, and she went back to her desk. Alex dialed his number, but it went straight to voicemail. He must have turned off his phone.

It was almost five o'clock when the Captain sought her out. He handed Alex a yellow legal pad filled with page after page of confessions. Brady had sketched each victim and written her story out by hand.

"Brady's lawyer brought it in," Ross explained. "Brady said it was a birthday gift for your partner."

Alex frowned as her loathing for the man returned. She flipped through the pages.

"…and requested that she hand deliver it to him. I said he was on family leave."

"How much does it cover?"

"From Germany to his arrest in '92. Names, places, dates."

"I'll let him know," she said quietly.

"Brady's lawyer also wanted to know if either of you would be attending the execution tonight."

She sighed and turned to walk away. "I think we'll pass," she said.

"I left a message for your partner," Ross called after her. "But, when you speak to him, tell him I said to take all the time he needs."

She nodded. "I will."

"Have any arrangements been made?"

She shook her head, thinking of the one conversation she'd had with Bobby since the text came in. She'd had to call the facility to talk to him, he still had his phone turned off. He wasn't thinking straight, overcome by grief and exhaustion. All she'd managed to do was tell him she loved him. "Uh… not yet," she told the Captain.

It was after 8, and Bobby sat in the darkened room that was now so very empty. He'd managed to collect her things into boxes, and had them stacked neatly in front of him. Once that job was done, though, he'd found he couldn't bring himself to carry them out of the room. It was her room, and somehow removing her things was going to give some permanence to this strange notion that she was gone.

She was gone, and rationally, he knew it, but he couldn't accept it. So he sat in the chair and stared at her things, at the barren walls around him, at the empty bed.

The door opened behind him and he heard nurse Theresa's voice. "Mr. Goren?" He turned his head slightly. "I'm sorry. Uhm…visiting hours are uhm… I mean-I mean it's time…"

"I know," he said. "I'd just like to stay here a little while," he said.

Silently, she left him alone in the room.

The door opened again, and Bobby didn't move. Alex walked up behind him and folded her arms across her chest. "Hey," she said quietly.

Bobby tilted his head and she heard him sigh.

"I can help you with this stuff," she told him. She wasn't going to give him any other option. He was going to have to move on.

He sighed again, crumpling forward in a slouch. Alex's hands were soon moving slowly against his back. She kneeled down beside the chair. "C'mon, Bobby," she said. "C'mon."

He turned toward her, then, and they embraced. Bobby sobbed, and she tried to soothe him. "Shhh," she said. One hand stroked his hair and the other his back.

After a few minutes, he quieted again. "C'mon," Alex repeated, and she held his hand while he got to his feet. She picked up a box and handed it to him. She picked up the other and walked him towards the door. Outside, she asked the nurse to get someone to bring down his mother's paintings. Bobby walked in a daze all the way to Alex's SUV. She helped him load the things into the back and then drove him to the hotel.

He was very quiet, and she didn't push him to talk. They got ready for bed and climbed in. Once there, Alex stroked his back with her hand until he finally fell asleep.

He was very much in a daze for the next day or so. Alex helped him make the arrangements, a requiem mass and a graveside service. Two days of visitation in the funeral home.

She'd tried to reach Frank, but he'd disappeared again. She left messages with the Church he'd been attending. It was the only way Bobby had to contact him. Bobby had left messages, too, but now he'd completely written off his brother.

He stood, nervously pacing near the front pew of the visitation room, pausing to look at family pictures or to receive the occasional kindness from a visitor.

Ross came, and Logan. Alex's sister dropped by. Fr. Tom popped in and out. A few people his mother knew in the old neighborhood offered their condolences and told him stories about Frances in her prime. Bobby was rigid and polite with all of them. He was getting through this, as best he could manage.

When Lewis came, she finally took a break. Bobby and Lewis had been friends since childhood, and Alex knew if anyone else could keep him together, it would be Lewis.

She'd made the final calls for him, and was surprised to find that he'd already taken care of everything. He'd made the arrangements and paid for it all in advance, and all they needed now were the instructions to move ahead. The funeral home was in Canarsie, and her funeral would be at St. Brendan's, just down the street. The graveyard was close by, as well. After all these years of exile, Bobby had finally brought his mother home.

Alex walked out of the home and sat down on a park bench, feeling the crisp air bring new life into her skin. She'd told Bobby about Brady's confession, and he'd told her Brady might be his father. He told her what his mother had said. Alex had tried to reassure him, but she could see he was looking at himself differently now. He was examining his life through a microscope, trying to see if he'd inherited any of the awful traits of that horrible man.

Now she understood what Brady'd meant when he said the ledger was a birthday present. Bobby had been right, as usual. Brady had been playing a game all along, and he had been the pawn.

Alex took another breath and went back inside, to find Lewis and Bobby standing in front of a snapshot and laughing together. It was a real smile he was wearing, not the well-behaved, polite one that had been pasted on since they started this visitation. She walked over and joined them, and her hand went to his as he and Lewis explained what they were laughing about.

The funeral was small, but reverent. The handful of people who came, the Captain, Jimmie Deakins, Logan, Wheeler, Alex's father and sister, Lewis, a few people from Carmel Ridge and from the neighborhood were really and truly there for Bobby. He cried once more, and she rubbed his back, and after a while the crowd dispersed. Lewis hugged him, hard, and promised to have him over in the next week or so. Ross told him again to take all the time he needed. Finally, Bobby and Alex walked to his place.

In the safety of his home, he accepted her kiss and then collapsed heavily on his couch. He was tired.

Alex stayed with him through that first couple of weeks, when he finally felt the relief and the guilt and didn't know what to do with himself. She knew that Brady was still on his mind, but she'd done as much as she could to help him with that.

A/N Thank you all for reading and reviewing! I have decided there will be a part three. I can't seem to be satisfied unless I follow this through to Frame. There will be a brief (hopefully) intermission while I figure out just how I want to get there. It's not over yet!