Chapter 75

Bobby walked eight blocks before he managed to settle down enough to make his thoughts congeal into something other than raw emotion. He had words now, instead of colors. He was furious! How could they doubt him?! He knew Wallace better than any of them, even Alex!

As he thought her name, he felt a piece of his heart go numb. Betrayed. She had betrayed him, sided with Ross and Rodgers. Rodgers must have made a mistake. Or maybe she was trying to please Ross, doing this as some kind of favor to him.

Ross never had liked him. Moran was playing Ross, Ross was playing Rodgers, and Nicole Wallace was playing all of them. And Eames, Eames! She should have stood by him. Why couldn't she?

He felt the dampness under his eyes and quickly raised a hand to squelch the tears. No. Eames was not going to do this to him. Wallace was not going to do this to him.

She could hurt him, but she wasn't going to break him. Bobby Goren would stay on his feet.

His phone rang. He snatched it out of his pocket and read the display: unavailable. Immediately, he thought it would be Nicole.

"Goren."

"Mr. Goren, Mr. Gage has asked that we call to inform you he's being discharged?"

"Uhm, oh, well… okay."

"He wanted to ask if you would be picking him up?"

"Ah…" Bobby sighed. "Yeah. Sure. Tell him I'll be right there."

They said Declan had to leave in a wheelchair, so Bobby pushed him carefully down the hall. He'd already filled him in on the case. The old man's wheels were turning. He munched zealously on a chocolate bar as he considered the case with Goren.

If it weren't for the fact that his brother was dead, maybe Bobby could be excited about it, too. He pushed the wheelchair with a frown.

"So… she… led you… to her own heart?"

"That's what the ME wants me to believe," Bobby replied.

"Yeah, but you don't." Declan licked his fingers and spoke with his mouth full. "Or maybe… you just can't accept it. Your greatest nemesis, brought down by someone else."

Is that what Alex thinks?

"All right… working theory: Nicole had a partner who turned on her."

Goren stopped pushing the chair and walked around in front of Declan. His mouth formed words that couldn't break free of his thoughts. Finally, he said, "Someone who knows her history with me?" Who the hell would that be? Logan? Deakins? Eames?

Declan postured himself in surprise. "You."

Goren stared at him, dumbfounded. "Me."

"You're being set up," Declan said simply. "They're probably already investigating you, like I was!" He smacked Goren hard on the leg with his hat. "God! When Eames was kidnapped."

Goren looked away, then turned back. Finally, this was making sense again.

"I never blamed you. Come on, move, move!" Declan started the chair rolling again, and soon Bobby was at his back, pushing him down the hall. "My daughter was very clever! Come on!"

At last they left the confines of the hospital. Bobby's mustang was parked just outside the door. Declan got to his feet and walked eagerly toward the car.

Jo. Jo could have known about me and Nicole… "How's Jo?" Bobby asked.

"She's very well, considering. The irony is we spend more time together now than ever before. She's an intriguing case," he said, tucking his binder under his arm and turning back to Goren. "All right, go through your case files. It's someone from your past. Don't rule anyone out. You have to ask yourself, Bobby, who benefits from all this?" The man settled into the seat and Goren shut the door for him.

He looked away in frustration. Declan was a lot to handle, and he wasn't sure how much more of this he could take.

Still and all, he thought about what the old man said. After he dropped him off, Bobby went home. He ate a bite, and tried to make sense of Declan's rambling.

His phone rang. "Detective Goren?"

"Yeah," Bobby said.

"Who did you want me to run these LUDS on? You made a mistake, put your own name on the request."

Bobby's blood ran cold. He stood frozen a moment until the anger started to thaw his insides again.

"Detective Goren?"

"Oh, uh… no, that's right, Simmons. You're supposed to run them on me. They consider me a s-s-s-suspect in my brother's murder."

"Wh—" the man paused and seemed to choke. Then he cleared his throat. "Well, uh, sorry to bother you," he said nervously and hung up.

Bobby held the phone tightly in his fist. His jaw twitched. He spun on his heel and headed straight back to 1PP.

Investigating a fellow officer was a very private affair. Alex was set up in the interrogation room, with her laptop and a portable printer. She'd received the information from downstairs via email, and printed it out. When Ross walked in, she stood and handed them to him. "Goren's LUDS and cell records. No calls to Phoenix or Pittsfield."

"He's smart enough to use a no-name cell, someone else's email."

Alex sighed in frustration. Ross was going to be a total pain in the ass about this. She glared at him.

"Just a theory," he said, noting the look on her face.

"Based on nothing," she countered, with venom in her voice.

The door opened and Simmons came in. "Captain, I've gone through these accounts you gave me."

"Simmons is taking a look at Goren's family finances," Ross explained.

"Ask me!" Alex cried in exasperation. This was so unfair! "Goren had medical bills. He went six months without a paycheck. He's not flush."

"She's right," Simmons said sadly. "He's got credit union loans, he's got charge card debt, he pays the minimums."

"You look at life insurance?" The Captain asked, determined to be thorough.

"Uh, not yet," Simmons said. "Just take one second to run a check," he said, and rushed to Eames' computer.

"Start with Frank Goren," Ross ordered.

"Frank?!" Alex asked him. "He lived hand to mouth. He didn't have a job, or credit. How could he have life insurance?!"

"Well, this just… popped up," said Simmons. "A Gen Life policy in Frank Goren's name. It's for $500,000."

Alex shook her head.

"Who's the beneficiary?" asked the Captain.

"William Brady."

Alex stared at Ross, feeling like she'd just been pierced through the heart. Finally, he asked Simmons to pack up the equipment and asked Eames to accompany him to his office.

Alex closed the door, calling after Ross. "There's an explanation."

"William Brady is the name Goren used when he went undercover at Tates. Why is there a policy on Frank's life in that name?!"

"Someone went to a lot of trouble to set Goren up!"

"I have to go upstairs with this, get him a psych consultation." The door burst open and Alex spun to see Bobby standing there, rage oozing from his pores.

"Someone checked my LUDS," he announced, closing the door. "My credit union account, my emails…" He looked straight at Eames, who flushed with guilt. "You think that I'm a suspect?" he asked her.

Her mouth screwed up as she thought. "Bobby, right now, you are a suspect, but I—"

"You think I'm capable of something like that?" he asked her quietly.

Alex frowned at him, her answer in her eyes.

"You called Frank the night he was murdered, Detective. Did you go over to his apartment when he didn't answer?" Ross asked.

Bobby stared at Ross, and at the thought of what he was being accused of, he bucked. He jerked towards his Captain, trying to bite back the fierce anger he was feeling. "You think that I would kill my own brother?" He turned his back on the man and paced away.

"You're a detective. What should I think? You're under sustained stress… your mother's death, your suspension…" Ross paused a little longer, then continued. "Your father."

Goren paced in front of the door like a caged animal. He stared Ross down, hatred in his eyes. Stepping forward, he threw out his fist to emphasize his words. "My father?!" he screamed. He moved closer to Ross. "Your girlfriend tell you that?! Hmmm?"

Alex sighed and shook her head.

"You don't have the guts to ask me yourself?" It was a quiet challenge, and Ross took it.

"I'm asking you now."

Bobby bit his lip, and the pain was clear in his face. He stared at Ross, then turned and walked back to the door. He opened his binder and withdrew a sheet of paper. "You guys want to pry?" he asked. Angrily, he threw the paper hard against the ground. "Knock yourselves out!"

"That is not what this is about," Alex declared.

"Yeah, my father," Bobby replied, looking through the glass at the bullpen, "he was a killer." He yanked the door open. "Yeah. So… I'm that too, is that it?" He said to Ross. He stepped even closer and lowered his voice to almost a whisper. "Yeah. I'm a killer." With that, he stood and stared at Ross, until he could see how uncomfortable the man was. Bobby's eyebrows waggled, and he almost smiled. At least he'd made him squirm. Then he walked out, without a word or even a glance in Alex's direction.

She stood with her hands braced against the captain's desk, wondering how in the hell she could fix this. She turned to the Captain, who bent down to retrieve the paper.

"You happy, Captain, that work for you?" she snarled.

"The question had to be asked," he said. Walking around his desk, he held up the results of the DNA test. "And here's our answer. Mark Ford Brady is Robert Goren's biological father."

Shit. Eames felt Bobby's pain. "So that means Goren is suddenly capable of murder?!" She scoffed and looked away.

"You have a better suspect?" The captain challenged her. C'mon, Eames, almost there. He had worked with Alex long enough to know she had to be pushed to do her best work. She was all procedure until something pushed her outside of the box. Then she was masterful.

Danny Ross didn't have the answer, either, but he knew he had the best Detectives in NYPD working for him. And he knew that Eames, with her back against the wall, was the best hope Goren had.

"No, but I have a witness," she said, suddenly pleased with herself. "My partner would tell you, with serial killers, the most important interview is with someone who survives."

Goren was lost. His brother, gone. Declan raving mad, driving him batty with his crazy questions, his outrageous theories… And now, Alex had turned on him, too.

You are a suspect, Bobby.

He gulped back a sob. How could she do this to me?! The sob struck again, and he bit his fist to try and stop it. He barreled out of the subway train and flew up the stairs, down the street and into his building.

He leaned against his apartment door as he shut it, and the sobs hit harder than ever.

He'd lost them all. He had no one.