"Agent Fowler?"
Jack Fowler looked up at the blond young man. He was somewhere around twenty-one with incredibly clear blue eyes and a smile. He was wearing a small gold cross and a steel-toned "S" at his throat. His tee-shirt was partially hidden by his white dress shirt. His black jeans were comfortably worn in. His sneakers were new. Rookie, he finally assessed.
"Yes?"
"ID, hon." The young man slapped a hand over his mouth. "Sorry. ID, sir, I've been bar-tending."
Fowler showed him his badge. The young man took his time to read it. "Well, it looks like I can let you have a beer and a ride. Alex Smith. I'm with Westchester PD. These your only bags?"
"Yes. And if you don't mind?"
"Oh, you want ID now." Alex presented his badge. "Legal to drive in the state and everything. Have you had real food today?"
"Depends on your classification of real food."
"Not air-line or fast food."
"Then, no, Lt. Smith, I haven't." Alex picked up the bags and led the FBI agent to his car. Fowler stared. "A Porsche? I must be in the wrong department."
"It was a birthday present. IA said I could keep it." The bags were quickly stowed. "Go on, get in. It won't bite. I promise." Fowler settled into the seat. "It's too cold to put the top down, but it's still fun," Smith told him as he started the engine. "Hotel first?"
"The Day's Inn on Elm?"
"As you wish, milord. I'm at your service. Literally, actually. I've been assigned to homicide for the length of your stay. I'll fetch the files, coffee, evidence, whatever. I'll drive you anywhere and answer all sorts of questions. But I don't work Homicide, so don't ask me about the case. I'm blissfully ignorant and I'd like to stay that way. I work Vice."
"Explaining the outfit and the car."
"Yes."
"Why did they give me an assistant?"
"Chief called and said make this one welcome and I was due some comp time."
"So this is your day off?"
"No, this is punishment because I stepped on Lt. Harlow's toes and she suggested a few weeks of menial labor to make up for it."
"And Lt. Harlow is in charge of Homicide?"
"Crime lab, but she's best friends with Captain Bellows. And Capt. Bellows is in charge of Homicide. Capt. Clarke owes her from way back."
"And he assigned you to me."
"Yes, sir. But don't worry, I'll get him back on my side soon enough. I'm friends with his ex-wife."
"Ouch. That's harsh."
"I prefer to think of it as tactical maneuvering."
"So you're the best gossip on the force?"
"No, no. I just network well. So what's the schedule? Hotel, food, hotel? Or are you desperate to visit the department."
Fowler considered. "Hotel then the department. I can order something in."
"Yes, sir. Remind me to give you my pager number. My wife's out of town for a month, so call me anytime."
Fowler found himself smiling for the first time in over a month. His mouth felt strained with the strangeness of it. "So at three a.m. when I need to get to the station?"
"This thing hits 90. No worries."
"You've got a light for it?"
"It glows in the dark."
"You're kidding."
"I wish. I can't afford to get it repainted. My brother-in-law thought it was fitting to paint a cross with the fire of grace flowing from it. Midnight this thing glows white and red. Someday, somehow, I will force him to repaint it."
Fowler laughed. "That is bullshit."
"But it made you laugh."
"True."
"And here we are. I'll wait for you."
****
Fowler dropped his bags in the anonymous hotel room. The only thing he made sure to take with im were the notes and files he'd brought from the UNSUB's last location in LA. By the time he got back to the car, Smith was cross-legged on the hood talking earnestly with a taxi-cab driver. "Three new ones? What? Is the City closed?"
"Swear on my mother's grave, reverend."
"I'll see what I can do. Under-age. I really can't wait until Crossroads expands. Thanks, Paulo. Say hello to your wife for me. And tell you mother I'll pray for her."
"It's all in her head."
"It'll make her feel better. Trust me."
Paulo smiled. "I gotta run, Rev." The taxi pulled out and away.
"Scaring away my snitches already. Must be a record. Ready?"
"Whenever you are."
The young man checked his watch. He stuck his hand out into the street. A car pulled up next to them. A plastic bag of food exited the window, extended by a dark-skinned arm. "Thanks, Marty. You're a life-saver."
"Pay me next time you're in."
"No problem. Tell Carla 'hi' and all my love to Louis."
"What's that asshole ever done for you?"
"Taught my wife to make pop-overs with cream sauce."
Marty laughed. Then, he waved and left the area.
"Get in. It's unlocked."
"Now you tell me. What's that?"
"Dinner from the finest kitchen in the county. I refuse to let you starve."
Fowler's nose twitched as he got a whiff of garlic and spice. His mouth started to water. He couldn't remember the last time he'd had a real meal. He'd been tracking this UNSUB for months, across the country and back. He was beginning to speed up. Hopefully, this would be the last stop. The bastard would decompensate and they'd catch him. The car went around a sharp corner and then stopped. Fowler looked up at a prototypical police station. "Why do they all look the same?" he muttered.
"Collective conscious creating reality. Or it's just cheaper to go with an already drawn design."
"It's small."
"We're fairly low-crime. Welcome to the suburbs. We get domestic violence, narcotics, run-aways, burglaries, and the occasional full-scale gang-turf war."
"And murder."
"Plenty of it."
"No bomb threats?"
"Just from the FOH for mutant-friendly policies." Alex shrugged. "Our budget is small, but we've got heart. Or maybe it's stupidity. I'll show you around after you meet Capt. Bellows. We might, mind you might, be able to find a clean table for you."
Fowler followed the young man with the strangest feeling that he should be looking for a white fluffy tail. Captain Bellows turned out to be a middle-aged woman of Asian descent with the merest hint of grey in her hair. Her eyes were dark and haunted. "A pleasure, Agt. Fowler. I hope Alex hasn't frightened you off."
"No, not yet. We'll see after the food. Is there someplace I can get up to speed on the local cases?"
"We cleared a table for you in the conference room. There's a phone and a bulletin board. There's restricted access. Here's the key. Alex will show you there and I'll get Vinnie to meet you."
"Vinnie's on the case? Great," Alex grinned.
"Be good."
"I'm always good, Capt. Bellows."
"Shoo, Alex."
"This way, Agt. Fowler."
"Call me Jack."
"Jack." They walked down the hall to a glass-doored conference room. All the blinds were drawn. "Here. Eat up. I'll see if Vin needs a hand with the files. Anything else you need?"
"Coffee?"
"Cream, sugar?"
"Cream only."
"Halle Barry or Uma Thurman?"
"Mocha."
"Check. Give me a few. Take off your coat, relax."
Jack Fowler hadn't relaxed in years. He shook his head. I can't believe they gave me a cheerleader for an assistant. Hell, they gave me an assistant. He took a moment to take in the quiet of the room. Then, he unwrapped dinner. It was a large meal including a salad, lemon-pepper chicken, a side of rice and an order of steamed veggies. Fowler licked his lips. It smelled good and looked better. He took a bite of chicken. He sighed. That was nice.
"Knock-knock."
"Who's there?"
"Coffee and files."
"Come on in, Alex."
Alex was accompanied by a black-haired man, running a little to paunch, in a cheap black suit and red shirt that screamed dealer. Fowler raised a brow. "Vinnie Cappella, this is Agt. Jack Fowler. Here's your coffee. Call me if you need anything. Here's my card. Vin, be good. Don't piss this one off."
"Hey, I'm not the one who pissed of the Fed. And where's my dinner?"
"Still at Marty's. The usual?"
"Yeah. You paying?"
"Don't I always? Enjoy!"
Like a whirlwind, Alex was gone. "Friend, I take it?" Jack said.
"Used to be my partner before I moved to a different department. I ended up in Homicide last year." Vinnie shrugged. "I'll get the files laid out for you. Most of our murders are gang or Family related. We don't get psychos out here much."
"Why did they give me an assistant?"
"Because Lex told off the last FBI agent we had here."
"Sit down and tell me more about my assistant."
Cappella laughed. "God, what do you want to know?"
"Why did he tell off an agent?"
"The fuck-nut thought she knew more about the Family structure in the City than Lex. She came to this conclusion because we're a suburb. She deserved to get ripped for being and arrogant asshole."
"And Alex would know more because?"
"He's made his career off of infiltrating families and preaching to gangs. He may look pretty, but he does have a well-hidden brain. If you want to know who runs drugs on any given street corner, he'll either know or find out. He never arrests without perfect evidence. That's how he pissed off Lt. Harlow. He snapped at a lab-tech for breaking an evidence chain. And so, in payment for his sins, he is now your scrub."
"You and he working together on this case?"
"No, Alex doesn't work homicide. He does not look at crime scene photos and he does not get involved in the cases at all. Don't ask him to."
"Why not?"
"Lex lived through some heavy shit. He takes on large scale crimes with no problem. But he empathizes with the victims so heavily that he can't stomach the investigation."
"He can't keep his mind on the killer?"
"He doesn't believe in vengeance or revenge. He can't find the objectivity he needs for it. He buried most of the unknowns we get. He can't help being a preacher. Or an incredible actor. You'll figure him out soon enough."
"He's married?" Fowler prompted as he continued to eat. The coffee was nasty, but the rest of it was good.
Vinnie rolled his eyes. "He had no choice. She decided for him. That was an adventure. He kept trying to fix her up with someone her own age, but she laughed at him. Too bad she's out of town. That woman's a force of nature. If you're here long enough you'll run into his in-laws. And we thought he was crazy before he met them?" He shook his head.
"What's the story behind the Porsche?"
"It was a gift form a gangster's wife. IA said he could keep it because his cover would keep it. Personally, I think they've screwed him out of so much that they felt he deserved something for a 24/7 job from Hell." Vinnie set out each file on the table in obsessively neat rows. There were three large files.
"Those are your files?"
"The last two are. The first one is Mike Pulti's. He's on leave. Some asshole backed into him and broke his back. They aren't sure he'll ever be back. Tell me about yourself, Agt. Fowler. How did you end up here?"
"I've been tracking this one for a long time, Detective Capella. I want to catch him here and now before anyone else dies. In LA they ignored me until he'd already left. How did you get the call in so quickly?"
Vinnie shrugged, the tightness of his shirt showing either a lack of finances or recent weight gain. "I talked it over with Capt. Bellows and ran it through the network. Your case showed up and the call went out."
Fowler looked at the detective for a long moment. "You're leaving something out."
"I noticed some similarities between the cases during a late night. That's all. My partner, Mark, well, he had a few qualms about calling for help, but. . ." Capella shrugged again.
"Where is your partner?"
"At home wit his wife and kids. He'll be in tomorrow. You have a partner?"
"I'm between partners. I'm a consultant, not a field agent."
"Sounds like a bitch of a way to work. One of the reasons I left Vice is because you're on your own a lot. When I get off, Mark can take over. This isn't our usual sort of case. I've hit more dead ends. . . " The man trailed off. He shook his head. "Eat up. This stuff will keep."
****
They were pouring over the files by the time Alex returned. He dropped off food for Vinnie and a pager number for Jack. "Put in '411' so I'll know it's you and come on up. I'll be in the gym."
"You go other places?"
"Keep it up and I'm cutting you off. You should join me once and awhile."
"Did you eat?"
"I have something downstairs. Remy cooked last night, so I stole the leftovers."
"You headed to our gym or the one at the school."
"Ours. The competition over at the school is murder."
"Is it time for a full-out?"
"Yes. See you later, Jack. Vin." Then, he was gone again.
"It's a little late for a trip to the gym isn't it?"
"Not for Lex. It's a twenty-four hour gym. It's a short track, but he deals well enough. Better than having him running through the streets. Too many people want him dead these days. So, is there evidence you want to see or do you want to get some sleep?"
"I'm going to do some correlations. You don't have to stay."
"I'll see you in the morning. I'm on hour 36 right now. Good luck, Jack."
****
Jack sighed. It was so much easier to work alone. The conference room quickly became his space. He pinned up the relevant victim's pictures and details. He started making charts and grids. After several hours he was satisfied enough with his progress to lock up the conference room and go in search of his ride.
He didn't have to go far. Alex was there, waiting. He was busy doing something on a very slim laptop. "Be right with you, Jack. Unless you're looking for the bathroom? It's down the hall on the left."
"Already found them. Paperwork?"
"Sort of."
There was something different about the young man. He was quiet - not sullen - just quiet. It was as if whatever frantic fire that energized him had been banked. When he closed down the computer and looked up, there was a deep sorrow in the bright blue eyes. Then, Alex blinked and he was once again the bright young thing.
"So, back to the hotel?"
"Is there someplace I can get a cup of coffee around here?"
Alex checked his watch. "Drips is still open. It's not much, but it's all that's open at 1a.m."
"Do you need to get home?"
"Nothing waiting for me there except laundry and dishes. I live on coffee. Keeps my doctor from freaking about my low blood-pressure."
"Vinnie said you were a runner."
"Marathoner. It's fun. Gives me time to think. Time to pray."
Drips wasn't the worst coffee-house Jack had ever seen, but it was running a close third. The booths and chairs only matched in the sense that they were all scavenged from the trash. There were dark stains on the floor-boards from coffee or blood or both. The customers were hard-core partiers sobering up before moving on, caffeine-fiend students scribbling frantically, and hard-luck cases waiting to be told to get out at closing.
Alex got them two coffees and found a not-too-dirty seating arrangement for them to settle into. "This is. . . atmospheric," Jack said taking the cup gingerly.
"I'll have to file that away. Most people call it a shithole."
"Well, they're right."
"Never said they weren't. Here's your coffee."
"What do I owe you?"
"For what?"
"Dinner and coffee."
"Don't worry. I keep a tab here." Alex waved away the question. He sipped his own coffee carefully. "oh good. It's drinkable. So tell me the plan, Jack."
"Tonight I plan to drink my coffee and interrogate you."
"Me?" Alex's voice was injured innocence. "Whatever it is, I didn't do it."
"You didn't tell off a federal investigator?"
"Oh, which one?"
"FBI, I assume."
"Oh, her. Arrogant ass. She thought she knew more about the local families than we did. She also talked to me as if I were an idiot because I don't use English idioms."
"Meaning?"
"She thinks English isn't my first language." Alex shrugged. Suddenly, there was a young Asian woman behind the cop. She winked at Jack.
"Bad cop. No donut," she said in Alex's ear.
"Aren't you supposed to be in Milan?" He leaned his head back to look up at her.
"My prick of an editor wanted to see the proofs in person. And before you ask, no, I left the kids in Milan. There's no reason for all of us to take this detour. I'm out in five hours. Can I crash at your place for a few?"
"Always. You've got a key. There's leftovers from Remy in the fridge. Alarm clock is in the linen closet. And be careful of Ray's experiment in the bottom crisper. She's growing cultures for Hank."
"Gotcha. See ya." She left with a wave.
"And that was?"
"A sibling-in-law. She's relatively harmless."
"I take it you're a regular here," Jack stated dryly.
"She probably asked the first druggist she found where I was. Or rather where my car was. There are only two in the area. I own one, my father-in-law owns the other."
"And IA doesn't have a problem with you owning it? Doesn't it make you a little too recognizable?"
"No. Everyone knows I'm their best shot if they need a cop or a preacher, but I can change enough that my own wife only recognizes me by smell. It's not like I take it to work in the field."
"I'm still getting over the birthday present aspect." Jack sipped his coffee. It was more than drinkable. It was perfect. He'd have to get a tab for himself.
"Well, Izzy's pushy. She had my other car towed to a junk yard and parked the Porsche in its place. The wench." Alex was smiling. His eyes twinkled. "I bitch at her regularly about upkeep, but the garage in town gives me a fair price. And the chop-shop folks always call me to give it back in perfect condition when the rookies steal it. Everyone else knows better."
"And Izzy is?"
"My best girlfriend." Alex's smile grew. "Luckily, my wife likes her. But, enough about me. Tell me about Jack Fowler. Did you really catch the Jack Sprat killer?"
Fowler groaned. "Why is that always the first question?" He sipped his coffee to buy some time.
"You don't have a Porsche or a wife who's 8 years younger than you are to distract people. Spill it, Jack. And not the shit you fed the papers."
The agent went on alert. What did this boy think he knew? The young man just watched him, eyes steady. "I found the bastard. I shot the bastard. The investigation agreed it was justified."
"And your partner?"
"Is blind in one eye, but still profiles. He just can't take the travel that field work needs. He does local work, stays on the East Coast." Fowler shrugged. "Who told you?"
"About what?"
"My partner."
"I have good sources. If you need to talk, I'm here."
"Like you understand the frustration. Everyone thinks you're perfect. Especially Vinnie."
"Vinnie doesn't know any more than I've told him. I have lost a lot of people in my time. I've witnessed crises of faith and miracles in the same day. Don't be an asshole, Jack. You find killers. You crawl in shit all day. When you need to unload it, I'm here. You have my card. You can always call me. Always. Even when you move on."
"You're too nice for me to drop that crap on you."
Alex straightened and something changed. Fowler saw the sadness in his eyes. There was something else - charisma, he supposed - that drew and held his eyes. "I have seen the best and the worst in this world. I have been everything from a saint to a killer. You just look inside, wander around in killers' minds. I become them. There is no one, Jack, no one who will understand you better or listen more closely than I. You cannot scare me. You cannot taint me. You cannot hurt me. I can be what you need at three a.m. when the nightmares come to call or I can just make you smile and keep you fed. That is your choice. But, heed this, I am not stupid, foolish, or sweet." The blue eyes held Jack's green for a moment. Then, Alex's posture softened. The sadness lingered for a moment, then faded.
Jack repressed a shiver. There was something disturbing about being able to watch the masks shifting. They drank their coffee in silence. Jack ran through what he knew of the officer in front of him and came to his conclusion. "I don't bare my soul in coffeehouses. I should probably turn in."
"As you wish. Anything you need before we get there? Anything you want to take back with you?" A tilt of the head and the sly smile made Jack laugh.
"Not my style."
"Too bad. Most of the group could use the business. Come on then. Let's go." They were almost out the door when Alex turned back.
"Benny, you off again?" he asked the young man by the door. The words were soft, but the tone was cold.
"Sorry, Reverend. It just feels so good. And Mary was bitching and the kid was squalling. I just. . . it just calls you, man, and it's so sweet."
"And your sponsor?"
"What sponsor?"
"N. A. was part of your deal, Benny. If I catch you with anything in your possession, I will turn you in. You hurt your girls every time you do this and I'm getting tired of it. You go to the meetings, get back into rehab or I call your parole officer with a suggestion that he do a drug screen every day for a month. Clear?"
"Crystal, Reverend." Benny was a thin, almost adult junky, with gangly limbs and hollow eyes. Alex lifted his chin and kept eye contact despite the insect fidgeting of the man's body.
"Do you need detox?"
"No, man, no, I'm fine."
"I'll call Mary tomorrow. Clean up, Benny. Don't lie to your therapist anymore. Give me the word and I'll make sure your 'uncles' get investigated."
Jack found himself conducted to the car in short order. "Snitch?" he asked.
"Parishioner. And we're off. What time should I pick you up in the morning?"
"Seven thirty."
"I'll be there." Jack stood in front of the hotel and watched the car drive away. He shook his head. As he wandered up to his room, he considered his "assistant." There was no question he was a good person. Still, he didn't seem to be a cop. He was too flexible on the rules. He gave more chances than a parole board, if his discussion of "Benny" was any indication. Then, there was the larger than life personality. The realization hit him like a sucker-punch. He stood in the middle of the room.
"Please, let me be wrong," he murmured. "Please."
****
"Morning, Jack," Smith said. His hair was in disarray, but it looked too perfectly mussed. It must have been done on purpose. The blue eyes should have been tired, but weren't. "Breakfast?"
"You're driving."
Alex laughed. "Breakfast, it is."
"I'll get the check. I get per diem for a reason."
The young man gave him a salute. Once they were comfortably ensconced and had their food, Jack asked the question that had burned so brightly the night before. "How long were you Homicide?"
Alex froze. "Two months," he answered after a long moment. His voice was flat. "I don't have the heart for it."
"That's the short version. You profile don't you? You get inside their heads."
"I told you that last night. I become them. I can't live with that."
"Here?"
"NYC."
"This is your 'retirement'?"
"In a way. I was too big a target in the City. It is calmer here. Not safer, but calmer."
"Big case?"
"Yes."
"And it's not gone to trial yet." Jack nodded to himself. That mad a lot more sense. Alex didn't act like a small-town boy. Westchester wasn't tiny by any stretch of the imagination, but it wasn't New York City. Alex made sure his mouth was full so that Jack wouldn't be able to get anymore information. Jack had used that technique himself. He smiled. "I'm a very patient man, Alex. And I am incredibly nosy. What's the real reason they assigned you to run me around? Any uniform could do the job."
It took a few minutes and a fresh cup of coffee to get an answer, but Jack's patience was rewarded. "The chief wants you to feel welcome."
"And?"
"My partner's on assignment. I'm on call if he needs me, but most everything else is already finished except for the paper-work. So, all things being equal, calming down Lt. Harlow and Capt. Bellows with a human sacrifice who can't charge his time to their departmental budgets seemed like a good idea."
"Where do you really fall in the hierarchy?"
"Wherever I'm told to be."
"You are a very good liar," Jack said with a little envy.
"Practice makes perfect. I'll set up press conferences and such for you as well. Just say the word."
"Where is your wife?"
"It's fashion week in Milan, then Paris. I might see her by the end of the month if there are no late shows. She's a photographer."
"And that doesn't bother you?"
"Should it? She chased me until I caught her. She waited two years for me, despite the fact that I set her up with every guy or girl I thought might work for her." He grinned. "It was a long list. Every damned weekend though, she'd show up complaining about something that would knock three more off the list. Wench."
"So, she was what? Twelve?"
"Sixteen. Eight years difference. I feel incredibly old right now, thank you."
"How long have you been married? You can't be out of your twenties yet."
"I'm thirty-one. Six years legally. According to her since she gave me this." He tugged on the "s" necklace. "Which would be thirty days after I met her." He shrugged.
"She was 16?" Jack's brows rose. "And no one's brought charges?"
"There was no sex involved, Jack. No sex without a ring and license was my rule. Her parents agreed and didn't sign off on her petition." There was a hint of satisfaction in his voice. "She tortured me with couture. I tortured her with rhetoric. I think she'd like you. So, what can I do for you today?"
"Don't try to stonewall me, Alex."
"I think the chief needs to re-think his policy. I shouldn't be the one here. I'm not transparent enough for you. You need someone who'll prattle on about his family."
"There is a reason he assigned you and it wasn't politics."
"He knows my ability to ferret out information and that I know my way around."
"Do you know anything about the case?"
"No, and I don't want to."
"A fresh set of eyes is always useful."
"No." Alex's eyes were flat and surprisingly cold. "Don't try to push me on this. It's not a good idea."
The agent looked into those steady eyes for a moment. "And how many have died because you refuse to use your gift?"
"I don't misuse the gift God has given me. If I did you would never have known any of what you know. You would think of me only as a not-too-bright officer assigned to run you around town. Don't try to guilt me. It doesn't work. You have no idea how many people I have saved using my talents as I do. Back off, Fowler."
"Or?"
"You'll find life very difficult here."
"You wouldn't obstruct my investigation."
"Never. But you're working with one of my good friends and I'll have no compunctions about making life physically uncomfortable. You won't have access to my sources and I will not go above and beyond for you."
"I think I can deal with anything you'll dish out."
"You've only known me for a day."
Jack held up a hand. "Not guarantee one way or the other."
"The sooner this gets resolved, the sooner their bodies can be laid to rest."
"They're hustlers. No known family."
"I'm their family," Alex stated. Jack winced.
"I'm sorry."
"I thought Vinnie had told you. I'm the resident preacher for the unknowns and unwanted. Nothing huge, but I always bless the bodies and pray for their souls."
"He did. I just didn't realize it was personal."
Alex blinked as if he'd never thought of it that way. "How could it not be? I spend my life steeped in their world. I'm closer to most criminals than my own parents. They're my flock." The young man glanced at his watch.
"Are you on a schedule today?"
"Hehn?"
"You keep checking the time."
"Oh. Just seeing if it's late enough to call a friend to wish her happy birthday. I think I remembered to send flowers yesterday." He frowned. "I better call and check."
"And you wife doesn't pitch a fit about you having female friends?"
"Why would she? I knew them first. She gets creeped out by my ex-fiancée sometimes, but not jealous."
"You are a very unique person."
"We all are. God's infinite variety means we all have commonalities and differences. The combinations of these this is what makes us who we are."
"You're preaching."
"Sorry." The shrug was unrepentant. Jack laughed and shook his head.
****
"Hey, Jake," Alex said with a grin. "How's tricks?"
His partner looked away from his computer screen. His eyes were brown today, which usually meant tired or bored. Alex dropped to a crouch next to the desk and rested his chin on his arm. "Hey, Lex. They're about normal." Jake ruffled his partner's hair. "I hear you're trying to be politic."
"Very funny. Clarke's still pissed that I told off the last Fed. Roushe treating you well?"
"You worry too much, Lex. Matt's good at this too."
"I know. You would not believe how incredibly bored I am."
"You could catch up on your paperwork."
"I did that yesterday. I'd rather bother you."
"You're a brat, Lex." Jake was smiling though and his eyes were now their actual green.
"So can I tempt you into lunch today, or are you heading out?"
"I'm heading out. There's a Brotherhood rally downtown."
"Sorry to hear that. Don't let them get you into too much trouble. Call me if you don't have dinner plans."
"Tell my you aren't cooking?" he said in mock-horror.
"Would I poison you?"
Jake laughed. "Oh, go get some work done. Shoo. I'll call you."
Alex stood up. He gathered his "mobile office" from under his desk and went to find a quiet nook near Fowler's conference room. He put the hands-free set on his ear and fired up his laptop. The Bartalones would laugh to see him languidly leaning against a desk, laptop neatly balanced while he shamelessly stole WiFi from the Panera Bread next door to the station. The first change he'd made after taking over the family operations was to modernize it. The police could gather all the physical evidence in the world, but the truth of the matter was that if they lost their grip on Alex the case was dead in the water. He'd bury the family under so many layers that no one would ever find them.
****
Vinnie watched Alex working with an amused smile. There were lines of numbers scrolling past in a blur of motion. The usual dress shirt was open and one sleeve was pushed up exposing a muscled and scarred forearm. He knew that Alex was only three years his junior, but he looked vulnerable and young sitting there. He smirked. "Does Jake know where you're hiding from the paperwork?"
"Oh, fuck off, Vinnie." Alex scowled up at his ex-partner. He looked sulky. Vinnie just laughed. "Does Jack want dinner or something?"
"I volunteered to get some of the evidence from forensics. Coming?"
"Didn't you hear? I'm his gopher."
"I needed the 'fresh' air. Besides, I know how you don't get along with the team."
"Well, if they didn't screw up my cases, I wouldn't rip them up and down would I? Let me just tie this up. Negotiations are such a bitch." Alex ran a hand through his hair. "You want me to pick up coffee for later?"
"Sure. My usual. Oh, heads up . The photos are pinned up on the corkboard."
Alex shut down and slipped the equipment into his bag. He stood up in one fluid motion. "Thanks, Vin. I'll be careful." He tossed the bag over his shoulder.
"How are you doing anyway? I haven't seen you in months." They took the stairs to the basement.
"Working my tail off. Never hold three jobs, Vin. It's a killer."
"How are the kids?"
"Adjusting. Izzy and I had stopped taking them to see him when they asked, so his move wasn't a big deal."
"And you?"
Alex glanced over, suspicion flashing in his eyes. "Why do you ask?"
"Well, there's a rumor that you were in love with him."
"Where did you hear that?" The young man seemed genuinely surprised.
"Is it true?"
There was a long moment of silence. "Maybe I was once, but he hit me, Vin. And he cheated on me and Izzy and not meaning sleeping with us both. I never trusted him. So, no, I don't love him. It was a job. No different than playing pedophile-bait. Thank God I look too old now. I'm good at what I do. Thanks for caring though."
Vinnie turned Alex to face him. "No evasions or lies right now, okay?"
"Okay?"
"Are you safe?"
"As safe as I've ever been or can be. There's still money on my head, but I'm safer in Westchester than anywhere else. Don't worry about me. Worry about your gut." Alex poked him in the belly.
"That was an evasion. Are you safe from Nicky Bartalone?"
"Nicky isn't the danger. He never was. Don't waste your worry on me. And I still want to know who thinks I'm in love with him." Alex started down the next flight of stairs. Vinnie caught his collar. He'd had plenty of practice. His partner could lie straight-faced and pretend to be someone else with just a breath to think. Vinnie shook him.
"Not to me, kiddo."
"I'm not a child. Nicky is the least of my concerns. Let me go."
"Look at me, Lex." The furious blue eyes settled on his own. "Don't lie to me. I've got your back no matter what. But you start lying to me, I'll beat the shit out of you." The fury turned to shock. "Are we clear?"
Alex nodded. "We've got evidence to pick up. I'm not discussing this here." Vinnie released his grip. "And just so we're very clear, if you hit me, well, I'll tell Ray." He grinned. "Then I'll sit back and let her beat you."
"You deserve a spanking."
"I'm armed."
Vinnie smirked.
****
Alex set the last box on the table and collected Fowler's signatures on everything. Evidence made him obsessive. Vinnie was laughing quietly at the expression on Jack's face. Alex ignored that. "Okay, so coffee and lunch in an hour. I'll file the paperwork and arrange for the ME to meet you in the morgue. Anything else?"
"Go home and take a nap. It'll be a long day. I won't need a ride back to the hotel. Vinnie volunteered. For anything else I'll page you."
Alex saluted.
"Isn't it Izzy's birthday?" Vinnie asked - mischief in his eyes.
"Oh shit. The flowers. I forgot to check on the flowers. Maybe Tracy's covered for me. Dinner. Did I promise her dinner?" Alex muttered. "Don't work too hard."
****
"Who is Izzy?" Jack queried as he shuffled through the evidence - looking for the out of place piece.
"The one who gave him the Porsche."
"Not his wife?'
"No, not his wife." Vinnie paused. "At least I don't think so. He is guardian to her children and they take care of each other. Best friends without benefits."
"And his wife hasn't castrated him yet?'
"You haven't met his wife. No, Lex is too conservative to cheat on Ray. So, no wife of your own?"
"You don't misdirect conversations as well as Alex. Still, let's get these things sorted."
****
"Izzy, my sweet. . ."
"Just admit you forgot and backpedal from there."
"Wench," Vinnie said fondly. He was dressed like he'd come from preaching and Izzy was willing to bet he'd been in the middle of a meeting when he'd remembered.
"Well?"
"I forgot," he said, sulking. He was too cute when he pouted. He still looked like Nicky's alley-cat, only a breath older. She tousled his hair affectionately.
"Don't sulk. You'll give yourself wrinkles."
"I could use some." He shrugged. "Well, the kids are away. Ray's out of town, so where do you want to go for dinner?"
"If you're buying, we'll do McDonald's."
"I'm perfectly capable of affording a reasonable restaurant. Ray assures me that forty a person is reasonable." He rolled his eyes.
Izzy laughed. "Not unless you change into something more in keeping with your station in life, Alley-cat."
"Why do you call me that?"
"It suits you. Come on. There's still a suit of yours hiding upstairs.
****
Alex glared at his beeper. "Sorry, Iz, I've got to run." He kissed her on the cheek. "Happy Birthday."
"I know you're just trying to get out of watching 'Man of LaMancha' again." She smirked. "Work or parish?"
"Work. I'm a gopher at the moment for a visiting VIP."
Izzy snickered. "Go on then, sweetie. Call me later and tell me where your wife's hiding out."
"Told you, Milan."
"And you're here?"
"Me at a fashion show? I don't think so."
Izzy shooed him out the door with perfectly manicured hands. It wasn't until he got to the office that he remembered he was in Armani not jeans. "Shit," he muttered. "Too late."
****
Jake caught sight of his partner hanging his coat over the back of his chair and stared. He took a sip of coffee. Suddenly, he could believe that the man he thought of as a his partner could really be Vinnie Lorenzo-Bartalone. Alex glanced over his shoulder. "Have you eaten?"
"Yes."
"Too bad. I was planning on Torrini's."
"Nice suit."
"Izzy insisted. I'm supposed to be upstairs right now. You haven't seen me."
Jake saluted. "And you can bring me Tiramisu when you get back."
"Got it." Alex jogged up the stairs.
"It has got to be illegal to have that much energy," Jake murmured to his coffee mug. He smiled to himself. Alex was going to crash soon and crash hard. He just hoped it didn't take anyone with him.
****
Jack studied his "gopher" carefully as he argued quietly with Vinnie. He was dressed in a suit much nicer than his salary should allow him. He was frowning, but didn't look angry. His arms were crossed over his chest. A small sea-shell decorated with beads hung around one wrist. It should have looked out of place, but didn't. Their voices were low and intense.
"I’m not asking you to break any confidences, just to give me more than I've got. Just give me good names."
"Then find me head shots. No crime scenes. D'accord?"
"I wouldn't do that to you. Here. Four."
Alex studied the pictures. His fingers shook. "Oh, Lord, how have these children offended thee?" he asked softly. "Carl Jones from Indianapolis. Louis Bell from Allentown, Pennsylvania. Maurice Black from Seattle. This one, though, I didn't know. I've never met him. They look so broken," he murmured, tracing one of the faces with his fingers as if he could comfort the dead. "Where is this one from?"
"My last stop in Minneapolis," Jack said.
"No fair testing me," Alex stated. He rubbed at his temple. "I'll see what I can find out, if you want. I know someone who can run the DMV database for pictures."
"We did that. He lived off the system."
Alex passed Vinnie the pictures. The phone rang, startling all three men. Alex answered it. "Homicide. It's for you." Alex passed the phone to Vinnie. He didn't move. He watched Vinnie's face.
"Where? We're on the way. There's another one."
"I'll catch a nap. Call me fifteen minutes out and I'll start the coffee. Vin, don't you have a partner?"
"Yeah. He's got the rest of our cases."
"Poor bastard." Alex left them.
"I'm surprised he didn't offer to drive."
"I'm here." Vinnie shrugged. "I never let him drive."
"Why not?"
"Half the time he was supposed to be a teen. It didn't make sense. Besides, he had a shit car that used to blow tires, wires and anything else it could on a regular basis."
"And so we're leaving him to nap." Jack followed Vinnie out. He carefully locked the door of the conference room.
"Nap? No, he'll go flirt with his partner, run a few laps, and work on case reports."
****
The damage to the body was expected. Jack sighed. This was one of his cases. No question. The tears were too familiar to bother him. The boy - and he was barely more than that - had been raped and then torn into. Bites dripped with blood at the back of his throat. There were scars on this one's body. He wasn't young enough for most of the tricks anymore. The ME and forensics team worked around his frozen form with quick, precise movements.
Jack's eyes roamed the scene, looking past the scene crew. Capella was interviewing the maid who'd found the body. The bodies were just dumped like so much meat. They don't mean anything when they're dead, he thought, not for the first time. Is he just a rapist? Am I coming at this all wrong? I need another set of eyes. And I know how to get them.
****
Alex roused at the scent of fresh coffee. He blinked to find a note on his mug. "See ya." It was Jake's handwriting. Alex laughed to himself. Jake was still hiding his telepathy, but he was using it. Alex would never have slept through Jake refilling his mug if it hadn't been "suggested" by his partner. Even Ray rarely managed to manipulate him that way. Jake, though, he trusted with more than his life. He blinked truly awake at that thought. No, it was true. He trusted Jake with Ray's life and that was infinitely more important to him. He sipped his perfect coffee and offered up a prayer. Lord, watch and keep him safe as only you can. If you must take him back to your heart, please make it painless.
****
Jack pinned the photos up in a new configuration. Alex was pushing through the door. "Shit, Snake, why didn't you tell me he was on the streets again? And yes, I can afford it! I have patrons. Was he using again too? I wanted to pick his brain about World War II. What street is he on?" the conversation prattled on with the occasional pause or insult thrown in. "All right, I'll call you back. You in the City or at the expansion in Westchester? Well of course I have their number. Bye." Alex hung up. "Coffee and more coffee with Jamaican jerk chicken and beef over rice with curry vegetables and chocolate bars for dessert. Anything else?"
"The ME promised me the first proofs and an autopsy report by one."
"I'll go get copies for you."
"And if you could get the crime scene photos copied I need them on plain paper so I don't feel guilty writing on them. The stack on the corner."
"Right." Jack didn't react to the sour tone. He didn't turn from the corkboard.
"We had a new one last night. I'd like an ID if the ME doesn't have it."
"Got it. Anything else?"
"How long have you been in Westchester?"
"Awhile."
"Did Bartalone find out you were a cop? Is that why you ran?"
"I'll admit you're sharp and that Vinnie has a big mouth, but how exactly did you come up with that?"
"How close am I?"
"Not close enough to worry me. I would know what you think you know."
Jack blinked. There was a firm command in Smith's voice. The phrasing was unusual, but the tone was that of a man used to immediate answers. "I was given the impression that you might have been one of Nicky Bartalone's boys. A lieutenant maybe. And just maybe in the gambling department. They didn't get hit too badly in the sweep that went through a few years ago. I have a friend in Organized Crime who thinks the head of the Bartalone family is getting them out of the business. And rumor has it that the head of the family isn't a Bartalone."
"Mmm." Alex's voice was distracted. Jack glanced at the young man's reflection in the chrome of the window. He was staring down at the table. "Jack?"
"Yes."
"Gossip's not good for you health. If I find you've been spreading rumors, you won't be happy. Would your friend be Jennifer Conway?"
"She would. The Italian families are her specialty."
"She's the agent I told off. She's not half as good as she'd be, were she to think. I'm not what she thinks. I'm not one of Nicky's capos. And tell her that she should keep out of the business of families until she understands the politics. And lastly, if she tries to get me killed, it won't work. They think I’m hiding from the NYPD as Alex Smith." Alex left before Jack could ask anything else. He shook his head.
"I should have guessed Conway'd piss him off."
****
Alex couldn't help it. By the time he'd walked off some of his temper, he'd already started flipping through the pictures just to calm himself. He put them into the file he was carrying and slipped into the stairwell. He sat on the stairs trying to breathe. He looke dup. Please, Lord, not here and now. There's no one for me to call and Jack needs this information. I'll panic later. Just help me hold it together. Please. He felt a soft breath of air against the back of his neck. The panic eased. He forced himself up and to work.
****
Alex dumpeed the papers on the table without a word. Vinnie looked up, worried. The small frown on his ex-partner's face made his back stiffen. he broke off his conversation with Fowler. He hadn't been Alex's partner in years, but he knew that look.
"You looked."
"Bad habit." Alex turned on his heel. "Don't worry, Vinnie. It's bad for your heart. And you need to start working out. I'm going for a run. Page me if you need me."
Vinnie felt a cold lump in his stomach. "Hang on a minute, Lex."
"Why?"
"Because I need to talk to you. Privately."
"I know what you want and it is not going to happen."
"Lex."
"No, Vincent."
Vinnie held up his hands. "Call me in one hour or I'll put out and APB."
"Interfering old spawn of rabid chipmunks!"
Vinnie smirked. Alex slammed out of the room. "I told you I'd get the pictures copied. If you set off his panic attacks, I'll need to do something drastic."
Jack's brows rose. "Panic? That one? I'd be more likely to bet he'd shoot me."
"Lex? He might, but only after a warning. I told you no crime scene photos and you gave him every single one."
TBC