Title: Rum Punch
By: Stacy L.A. Stronach
Fandom: Law & Order: Criminal Intent
Pairing: Logan/Goren
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con & Underage
Note: This fic may contain TRIGGERS: descriptions of child abuse and child sexual abuse. I've tried to keep the descriptions from being exploitive, however they may cause discomfort. Please do not read this if you could find it disturbing.
Summary: A case brings up some bad memories for Mike; Bobby tries to help.***
"So, what did Mrs. Logan make her boy?"—Carolyn Barek
"Rum punch. (pause) Private joke."—Mike Logan
in "Diamond Dogs"They're called out to the scene on a cold, grey, damp fall day. In a dumpster behind the Church of St. Andrew, a Catholic Church, is the body of a young boy. A couple of people scavenging the garbage for "treasures" found the body and reported it.
Mike Logan climbs up and into the dumpster, squatting next to the small body. He nods a greeting to Elizabeth Rodgers, the ME, who is kneeling on the other side of the boy. He looks closely at the body. The child is probably between ten and twelve years old; he is pale and little-boy skinny, his paleness enhanced by the dark green and black bags of trash beneath him. All the boy is wearing are boxers and a necklace, a St. Christopher's medal. "Cause of death?"
"From the ligature marks around his neck and the petechial hemorrhaging in the eyes, strangulation looks like a good bet," Rodgers replies, tilting the child's head back so Mike can see the marks. "There looks to be lots of bruising, both new and old" she adds, pointing out some areas of mottled purple, green and yellow all over the body. "Help me turn him."
Mike pulls the boy closer to him while Rodgers pushes gently under his shoulders. "More bruising and this." She pulls the boxers down, exposing the buttocks.
There is blood smeared across the lower buttocks and the back of his upper thighs. Mike figures that he knows, and won't like, what Rodgers will say to his question. "Raped?"
Rodgers nods sadly. "I'd say yes, given the damage I can see from a quick check. Of course, I'll know more, for certain, once I get the post done."
They return the child to his original position and Mike points at the medal. "Have you looked at that?"
"What for?"
"Inscriptions. Some folks will inscribe stuff on the medals for their kids," Mike says, shrugging. He looks at her and she nods, so Mike reaches forward and flips the medal over, holding it at the end of the chain so he can read the finely etched script. "To our son, Joshua Gabriel Evans, love Mom and Dad," he reads aloud. "Hell of a lot of good it did him." Mike drops the necklace back against the boy's pale body.
"Find anything?" Carolyn Barek, Mike's partner, asks when he peers over the edge of the dumpster.
Mike climbs out of the dumpster, removing his gloves and dusting his pants off once he's standing upright again. "Yeah, he's wearing a St. Christopher's medal, it's got an inscription. If it's his, his name is Joshua Gabriel Evans. Looks like he might've been beaten and strangled."
"What on earth is going on out here?"
Barek and Logan turn their heads, looking at the man who has just spoken. He's wearing the collar and black suit of a priest. He's short and thin with brush cut greying hair and blue eyes. He's looking at them with a mix of concern and apprehension.
"I'm Detective Barek, this is my partner, Detective Logan. And you are?"
"Father Declan Cowan, I'm the priest here. What happened?" he asks again.
"We found the body of a young boy in the dumpster here," Logan says, pointing his thumb. "Would you be willing to take a look and see if you know him?"
"Of course, Detective Logan," Father Cowan replies without hesitation.
The body is being moved to a stretcher for transportation to the morgue. Once the attendants finish getting the boy's body out of the dumpster, Mike motions for them to wait and then takes Father Cowan over. He reaches for the zipper, looking at the priest. Father Cowan nods. Mike opens the body bag just enough for the child's face to be seen.
The priest crosses himself, gasping. "It's Joshua Evans. His family…his family are members of this parish. Dear God," he murmurs the last, saying a quiet prayer for the child. "The parents—"
"You know where they live, Father?" Barek asks.
"Yes, of course. Perhaps I should come with you, they're both quite faithful and they'll need the support," Cowan offers.
Barek looks at Mike. He shrugs. If the parents will be comforted, what the hell. He has no use for priests but knows that some people still do. "Of course, thank you Father," Carolyn says.
"How old was Joshua?" Mike asks.
"He just turned twelve. He was a good boy."
"What about the rest of the family? Any other kids?"
"Jack and Peggy, his parents, they have one other child. A daughter, Nora, she's 18 and will be graduating this year, with honours," Cowan says, almost proudly.
"What do the parents do for a living?" Barek asks.
"Jack is a contractor, owns his business. Peggy helps him out with the books, but doesn't work outside the home. She does do charitable work, though."
"Thank you, Father."
By the time the three of them make it over to the Evans' residence, it's almost six. Mike and Carolyn look at one another before he rings the doorbell. This is the worst part of their job, telling family members that someone they love is dead.
A man, who looks to be in his mid-forties, opens the door, peering out hesitantly. "Yes, can I help you?" He sees the priest standing behind Mike and Carolyn and his face takes on a wary, guarded look. "Father Cowan?"
Mike and Carolyn hold up their shields. "Mr. Evans?" When the man nods, Mike continues. "I'm Detective Logan, this is Detective Barek. May we come in, please?"
Jack Evans nods and steps back, letting them in. "What's this about, Detective?"
"What in the hell are the cops doing here?"
"Peggy, please," Evans pleads.
Peggy Evans looks like she's in her late forties but Mike guesses she's probably younger. Her short black hair is uncombed and her clothes are dishevelled. For some reason, she makes Mike think of his own mother even though, physically, she looks nothing like her. "What did Josh do this time? Why else would they be here?" she asks. She frowns when she notices Father Cowan. "Must be bad if the priest is here," she mutters.
"Mr. and Mrs. Evans, can we sit down—" Mike tries again. And then he smells it, the alcohol. Mrs. Evans is a drinker.
"For the love of God, just TELL us!"
"Is this your son, Joshua Gabriel Evans?" Mike asks. He holds up a Polaroid picture of their son.
"Yes, detective," Mr. Evans manages, but he has a look on his face that is at once disbelieving and knowing.
"I'm sorry to tell you this but Joshua is dead," Mike says quietly.
Both parents stare at him, wide-eyed, for several seconds. Then Peggy Evans lets out a sob. "No, not Josh. NO!"
Her husband wraps his arm around her shoulders, closing his eyes as he pulls her close. Father Cowan slips between Mike and Carolyn and goes over to the couple, trying to comfort them.
Carolyn clears her throat, and says, gently, "We know this isn't a good time but we really do need to speak to you about your son."
"Of course, let's go into the living room," Mr. Evans says, leading his wife along.
The door opens before anyone moves. Mike sees a young girl standing on the threshold. She's got light brown hair and is about Barek's height and there is confusion in her blue eyes. "Mom, Dad, what…what's going on?"
Her father leaves his wife with Cowan and goes over to the girl, hugging her. "Oh, Nora honey, I'm so sorry. It's…Josh. Josh…Josh…he's been killed," he whispers against her hair.
The only reaction Nora has is to close her eyes and stiffen against her father's embrace. She pulls back and glares at Mike and Carolyn. "Who are they?"
"They're detectives…looking into Josh's death," Mr. Evans explains.
"He was murdered?"
"Yes," Carolyn says. "We really need to speak to all of you, please?"
They follow the family, and Father Cowan, into the living room. The parents sit on the couch, the mother almost yanking the girl's arm to make her sit beside them. Father Cowan perches on the edge of a chair near the sofa.
"When was the last time you saw Joshua?" Mike asks, taking out his note pad and pen.
"Yesterday morning, before he left for school," his mother answers.
Mike raises an eyebrow in surprise. "He was gone overnight—"
"He was at Kevin's place. Kevin's his best friend…Josh spends…spent a lot of time there. They were working on a project for the science fair."
"When were you expecting him home?"
"Today, for supper. We don't eat til six-thirty or seven because Jack doesn't get home before that."
"What about you, Mr. Evans, when was the last time you saw him?" Carolyn asks.
"Yesterday morning, just before I left for work. He was eating his breakfast…"
"Nora did you see your brother at school?" Mike asks.
"Um, no, I didn't even see him before I left yesterday. I go to the high school and he's in the middle school. I had to leave early, I have band on Thursdays," she whispers.
"Thank you, Nora," he says. "Would Josh have gone right over to Kevin's place after school?" he directs the question to Mrs. Evans.
"No, he would've had tutoring with Father Cowen yesterday, between three and four, right, Father?"
"Yes, that's right, Peggy." He looks from her to Mike. "I was tutoring Joshua in English and history, not his strongest subjects, you understand."
"Did he show up?" Carolyn asks.
"Oh, yes, yes, he did. I would certainly have phoned his parents if he hadn't. He was a few minutes early and left shortly after four."
"Did someone pick him up?"
"No, he walked. Kevin's house is just a few blocks from the Church," Father Cowan says.
"Had he been acting differently, maybe having problems at school?" Mike asks.
"Not that he mentioned to us," Mr. Evans replies.
"Nora?" Mike looks at the girl. "Were you two close, did he say anything to you?"
With a listless shrug, Nora says, "We weren't best friends, but yeah, we talked. He's a good kid. He never really said anything. Like, I don't think he was picked on or anything, most of the kids seemed to like him. I dunno."
Mike knows she's lying. About what, exactly, he isn't sure. "Okay, thanks. If any of you can think of anything…" There is silence from the family and the priest. "Okay. We'll need to get the name and address of his best friend."
"Kevin Jacobson," Father Cowan replies before providing them with the address.
"We're really very sorry for your loss," Carolyn says to the family. "Thank you for talking to us, we know this isn't easy for you. We may need to speak with you again."
Mr. Evans stands up. "Thank you. And, of course, if you need anything else, we'll do everything we can to help."
"We can show ourselves out," Mike says.
Once they're outside, Mike looks at his watch, then at Carolyn. "It's early enough, we should go talk to the best friend."
"Yeah. What was your take on that?"
"I think the daughter knows something else. She was lying or holding something back, I'm sure of it. And I'm willing to bet Mom is the one who put a lot of those bruises on Joshua. She'd been drinking."
Carolyn nods and gives Mike a sideways glance. "That doesn't mean she's an alcoholic, Mike."
Mike snorts. "Yeah. Whatever." He shrugs and says, "Well, she looked like it to me. But I think we need to talk to the girl, Nora," he says.
"I agree, I think she was holding something back, too. We need to get her alone, maybe catch her at school tomorrow. We should see if she's 18, then we won't need her parents permission to talk to her."
"Sounds good," Mike says, climbing into the car. It takes them less than half an hour to get to the Jacobson's house. Another door to knock on with more people to whom they will deliver bad news.
Mike and Carolyn are sitting with Kevin and his mother, Daisy, in the family's small living room. Kevin's short for his age and heavyset, verging on overweight. His red hair is cut in a brush cut, which he runs his hand through, nervously, and his green eyes are magnified by the glasses he's wearing. His mother, from whom he obviously inherited his colouring, sits next to her son, arm around his shoulders. They're both doing their best to keep from crying.
"I'm sorry that we have to bother you with questions right now, Kevin," Carolyn tells him softly, leaning forward to touch his hand. He moves slightly away from her touch. "Josh's parents said he was supposed to stay here overnight last night. Did he?"
"Um, no, no, he, ah called. I dunno, it was around five, I guess. Said he couldn't come over," Kevin almost whispers.
"Did he say why?"
Kevin glances at his mother and then at Carolyn. Mike looks at his partner who nods. She stands up. "Mrs. Jacobson, I need you to come out to the kitchen so I can ask you some questions, okay?"
"But what about—"
"Kevin is just giving us information. You'll be okay, right, buddy?" Mike says.
"Yeah, I'll be okay, Mom."
Mrs. Jacobson allows Carolyn to take her out into the kitchen. Mike leans forward, looking at Kevin. "Can you talk to me now?"
Kevin hesitates for a moment. "Josh made me promise not to ever tell anyone…."
"Kevin, Josh won't mind. You might be able to help us catch whoever did this to your friend," Mike says.
The boy thinks it over for a few moments. "Yeah. I want to help. Josh called me from his tutoring session with Father Cowen. He said, he said that he couldn't come over because the Father wanted him to stay over and help out with some Church stuff."
"You said he called around five, are you sure?" Mike asks, flipping his notebook back to where he'd noted the time Cowen said Joshua had left.
"Well, it might've been a bit before, but like, not that much cus Mom always has supper on the table at five and she called me to supper while I was talking to Josh," Kevin answers.
"Good. Now, did Josh say anything specific about Father Cowen and why he wanted him to stay? Did that happen often?"
Kevin shakes his head. "No, he didn't tell me why he was staying with Father Cowen. And it'd happened a few times before. Last month, when it did, I asked him why he stayed there. He didn't want to tell me at first, but …" Kevin pauses, unable to look at Mike. He stares at the clock on the mantle and continues. "The Father was doing…things to him. Bad things, you know," he says the last in a whisper and Mike leans in to hear him.
"I have to ask this Kevin but what sort of bad things?"
"Touching him where he shouldn't, you know, like, you know, sex type stuff, touching his bird and other stuff. Josh didn't tell me everything but he hated it. Hated going there for tutoring and for Church. He said he was gonna tell on the Father, soon," Kevin shrugs.
"Is there anything else you can think of? Anything Josh might've told you about what was happening with Father Cowen? Did he do anything to you?" Mike asks gently.
Kevin's eyes start darting around the room again but this time, when he answers, he looks at Mike. "No, we're Anglican, so I didn't really know him, met him once or twice when I rode my bike over to see Josh after his tutoring sessions. I don't know anything else," he says.
"You've helped us out a lot, Kevin. Thank you," Mike begins. He pulls out one of his business cards, handing it to the boy. "You know what, if you think of anything else, even if it seems small or like it might not matter—give me a call, anytime, okay?" He reaches out and shakes Kevin's hand. "You did good. And I am very sorry about your friend."
"You'll catch whoever did this, right?"
"Yeah, I will, Kevin," Mike says, knowing that he'll do his best and he hopes that he hasn't just lied to the kid. But what else could he say?
On the way back to One Police Plaza, Mike relates Kevin's story to Barek. "I knew that priest was involved," he says, anger in his voice. "He lied about when the kid left."
"Not all priests are pedophiles, you know."
"All the ones I've ever known have been," he replies.
She raises an eyebrow in surprise. "Personal experience, Mike?"
"I was an altar boy," is all he says, knowing she'll figure it out like she did with his mother.
She nods her head slowly. "Well, not all priests are like that. My parish priest wasn't," she says, shrugging.
They're stopped at a red light and Mike looks at her, his gaze narrow. "How do you know? Just because he didn't hit on you, doesn't mean he wasn't getting his jollies off with one of the boys, or more than one. And maybe none of his victims told," he replies, trying to keep his anger in check. "Besides, it looks like THIS priest IS a pedophile, so there's not much point having this discussion."
Carolyn sighs as the traffic starts moving again. "Yes, it looks like it, but we can't rely on what amounts to hearsay, either."
"So, what, the kid is lying to us about what Josh told him? Maybe Josh was lying just to get attention. Christ, you're as bad as the Church, blaming the kids. Yeah, we're all fucking liars!"
She waits until Mike's parked the car before placing a hand on his arm to stop him from getting out. "I didn't call anyone a liar. That's not what I'm saying. I'm just saying we have to make sure before we go making accusations. We have to have evidence," she pauses for a moment. "And are you sure your own experiences aren't affecting you on this case?"
Mike snorts, disgusted. "Look, our experiences and perceptions affect every case we work on. And I do know a thing or two about corroborating evidence, I have been a detective for a few years now, you know!" Getting out of the car, he slams the door and strides toward the elevator, not waiting for her to catch up.
By the time Carolyn gets to her desk, Mike isn't around. She wonders where he might have gone and she feels regret at having upset him. She just wants to make sure that when they catch the bastard that did this, if it IS the Father, the evidence is there and will stick to him. Carolyn sighs and sits at her desk, with her forehead resting on her palm, she opens up the file on the computer and inputting the information from her notes.
The cup of coffee is placed quietly on her desk and in a spot where she won't knock it over. It takes a few minutes for the action to register with her and by the time she turns around, Mike is sitting at his desk behind her. She smiles at him. "Thanks for the coffee, partner."
Mike looks up from his own note transcription and returns her smile. "Peace offering. Look, I'm sorry I blew up on you earlier. I just have issues with the priests and the Church. Shouldn't've taken it out on you."
"You? Issues with the Church?" Carolyn says, keeping a serious look on her face. "Not so that anyone would notice or anything." She manages to keep the grin off her face for a few seconds but can't help herself and she ends up laughing. Mike looks at her before his own smile breaks across his face and he joins in the laughter. She waves her hand dismissively. "It's okay and I honestly wasn't trying to piss you off."
"I know. Irish temper gets the best of me sometimes," he replies, relieved that they seem to be okay. "I was thinking, maybe the daughter knows something about what the priest did to her brother? She sure as hell isn't going to talk about it with him in the room."
"I agree, I think we need to talk to her alone, maybe we can catch her at school tomorrow. I checked on Nora. She is 18, so we don't need parental permission to talk to her or to have them present when we do," Carolyn says.
It's almost nine by the time he and Barek pack it in for the day. They've done what they can and hopefully will be able to do more tomorrow, once they talk to Rodgers.
On the way home, Mike is thinking about Joshua Evans. He hates cases involving kids and knows that most cops do, but he thinks he hates them a little more than most. What this boy suffered in life is something no child should have to go through but Mike knows the world isn't a fair place. Never has been, never will be.
He thinks of Joshua's battered body and is pretty sure all the marks didn't come from whoever murdered the boy. Mike thinks it's probably the mother although he knows his conclusions can be skewed by his own past.
When he gets home, Mike changes into sweats and t-shirt before grabbing a beer out of the fridge. He settles in on the couch, turning the TV on, putting it on ESPN, not caring what's on, just knowing that it's something he won't have to think about it; that he doesn't want to have to think about anything. Taking a couple swigs of his beer, he relishes the bitter taste. He sets the bottle on the coffee table, his fingers lingering against the cool glass while he's staring at the amber liquid within.
The year he turns ten is the year his mother falls even worse inside her addiction. Before, she didn't drink all day and she'd hit him, sometimes, but it gets worse when he's ten.
"Look what you did! How can you be so goddamned careless, Mike? Jesus, do you know how much that cost? Do you??" his mother screams at him, wildly gesturing to the spreading wet spot on the floor with the shards of glass scattered in and around it. "Jesus, Mary and Joseph you stupid boy, always with your attention somewhere else," she mutters before reaching out her hand, striking him across the face, quicker than a snake.
Mike doesn't cry. He learned long ago that crying only enrages her further, makes her hit harder and longer. He looks up at her contritely, honestly sorry for dropping the bottle of rum. "I'm sorry, Mom," he says quietly, not looking in her eyes. If he's learned one thing in his short ten years of life it's how to survive his mother's alcoholic rages.
"Sorry doesn't bring things back," she says darkly but doesn't hit him again. Reaching up into the metal jar on the counter, she yanks out some bills. Handing it to Mike, she glares at him. "Get your skinny little ass down to the store, buy me a couple bottles. You know what I like. I'll clean your mess up while you're gone. And don't break anything this time, either!" she yells after him as he runs out the door.
He makes his way quickly to buy what she wants. When he arrives home, he walks in and sets the booze on the kitchen table. "Ma!" he begins but it's the only word he gets out before he feels something hard and heavy hit him on the back. He cries out in shock and pain.
"You stupid little bastard," she hisses at him when he turns around. She hits him again. He thinks it's with one of his father's boots, heavy and solid where it makes contact with the flesh of his abdomen. He tries to move out of range, starting to run as soon as he's clear of his mother. His legs aren't long enough to carry him out of her range. He hears her running after him and cries again when she reaches out, grabbing his hair and yanking him back. "I don't know why the hell I had you. Nothing but trouble, nothing but goddamn trouble you are, just like your father!" She's been hitting as she yells at him and when the third blow glances off his cheek, Mike drops to the floor, curling up to protect himself. He hides the tears and prays that she'll lose interest in him quickly.
Mike grunts when he feels a couple kicks to his back, then all is quiet. He can hear his mother panting from her exertions while she stands there. "Get up and go to your room, I don't want to see your ugly face!" she's screaming now. "Go on! NOW!"
Scrabbling to his feet as fast as possible, Mike avoids looking at his mother and runs down the hallway to his bedroom, careful not to slam the door. That would only bring more punishment. He can feel the new bruises forming on his body and thinks he's lucky that it was only a boot tonight, other times she's used a broom handle, a hair brush, his father's belt….
Stripping off his t-shirt, Mike looks at his body in the mirror, seeing where the new purple bruises are forming on his thin body. Turning his face, he can see a purple streak on his cheek. Normally, she's careful not to hit his face since it raises too many questions from other people.
So many times, he's wondered why God has let this happen to him, so many times he's prayed for it to end but God hasn't listened to him. He's prayed to Jesus, too. But nothing changes and he can't understand why They won't help him. Maybe his mother is right and he is worthless….
By nine a.m. the next morning, Mike and Carolyn are down in autopsy with Elizabeth Rodgers. "COD is strangulation, as I mentioned to you yesterday," she says, nodding in Mike's direction. "Ligature marks and petechial hemorrhaging. I found fibres on his neck; I've sent them up to trace. He was also sexually assaulted, I did a kit and the perp wore a condom. However, I did find pubic hairs inconsistent with the victim." She lifts up his hand. "It seems he may have struggled with his assailant, found skin under his nails, I've sent those off for DNA analysis. Oh, and these older bruises," she pointed to several spots on his body, "and some of the fresher ones look like he was punched or hit with an object. It looks more like long term physical abuse which may or may not be related to his murder."
Mike looks at Barek, raising an eyebrow but doesn't bother to comment. He can tell she knows what he's thinking: the mother beat the crap out of her kid. "Thanks, Doc," he says.
"If you find anything else out, let us know," Barek adds. She looks at Mike again. "We should go and talk to Nora Evans."
"Yeah, we should. Let's go."
Neither of them speaks until they're in the car on their way to talk to the girl. "You think it was the mother," Barek says.
"That would be my guess but you know me, I'll keep an open mind," Mike replies with a sly smile.
She grins in return. "Of course. Hopefully, we'll know more after we talk to Nora."
"Hopefully," Mike agrees, although he has his doubts about the girl telling them much about her home life. He knows he would never have admitted what happened in his home to a stranger, especially a cop. Of course, his father had been a cop; Nora's wasn't. So maybe she would talk to them.
The principal, Mr. Biggs, calls Nora down to his office. She walks in and is surprised to see the cops sitting in the chairs opposite the desk. "Nora, these detectives are here to—"
"Talk to me about Josh, yeah, I kinda figured," she says. Here eyes are bloodshot and it looks like she's been crying. Mike wonders why she's at school and then realises she most likely didn't want to stay home
Mike pulls up a third chair. "Why don't you have a seat?"
Shrugging, Nora sits down and looks at Mike and then looks at Mr. Biggs. "Does he have to be here?"
"No, he doesn't," Carolyn said. She turned to Biggs. "Do you mind giving us some privacy, please?"
"I don't know, Nora is a student here—"
"She's eighteen—an adult in the eyes of the law. We just need to ask her about her brother, she hasn't done anything. So if you don't mind?"
Biggs looks from Barek to Nora, who nods. "Okay. But if you need anything, I'll be right outside."
Nora watches him leave and then gives her attention to Mike. "What do you want to know?"
Mike grins, he likes her bluntness. "I want to know what you wouldn't tell us last night."
She bites her bottom lip, letting it slide under her teeth. "It was about that fucking priest. I think he was messing with Josh and not in a good way. Don't ask me why…just a vibe I got." She shrugged her shoulders. "I asked Josh about it one time but he wouldn't answer me…which I think kinda meant yeah, the fucking priest was doing him."
"Why didn't you say something, to your parents or someone else?" Barek asks.
Nora flips her hair over her shoulder as she turns to glare at Barek. "Like, nobody would believe me," she says, her tone implying that Barek wasn't the smartest cop in the room. "My father is at work all the time and my mother's a goddamn drunk. Who in the hell am I gonna tell? Not like I can go to the cops with it!" She's standing now, face flushed with anger.
"Hey, hey, Nora, sit down," Mike says calmly. He touches her arm with his fingertips and she looks at him. "I know, really, I do."
She sits down again, arms crossed over her chest, and glares at him. "What the hell do you know about it?"
"I was an altar boy," he pauses for a moment, leaning in closer to her and lowers his voice. "And I know what it's like to have a mother who's a drunk."
Nora looks at him warily, studying him closely. Finally, she nods. "Yeah. Sorry about that, I just…"
"It's okay. I hate to ask this but I have to. Did you mother beat Josh? Does she hit you?"
"Yeah, she hit Josh. She used to hit me, until the day I fought back. She hasn't touched me since. I tried to keep her away from Josh, but I wasn't home a lot. I did my best for him."
There's no real response Mike can make to that. He understands what she's saying all too well. "Thanks, Nora. Now, do you remember or know anything else that might help us?"
She thinks for a few moments, then shakes her head. "No, I don't think so. Um, can I ask you something?"
"Sure."
"Did Father Cowan do this to Josh?"
"We don't know yet. But if he did, we'll catch him. Make sure he pays for what he's done."
Nora nods her head slowly. "Okay, okay."
Pulling a card out of his pocket, Mike hands it to Nora. "Thanks for your help and if you think of anything, that's my number. You give me a call," he says.
"Okay, Detective Logan," she replies, staring at it as the detectives get ready to leave.
She raises her eyes when Barek walks by her. "Detective Barek," she says quietly.
"Yes, Nora?"
"Look, I'm sorry…sorry I yelled at you."
Carolyn smiles at her and brushes a gentle hand over her shoulder. "It's okay…I understand."
The two detectives don't speak until they're sitting in the car. "Looks like you're two for two, Mike."
"Yeah, well, I really wish I wasn't, you know? We really need to get a DNA sample from Cowan, compare it the hairs we found on Josh's body. Wonder if Carver will think we have enough for a warrant to compel a sample?"
Barek shrugs. "Only one way to find out," she says, pulling out her cell phone.
"Okay," Mike says. He looks at the clock and it's nearing 11:30. "Wanna stop for lunch? I'm getting hungry." Carolyn nods her agreement before speaking to Carver.
Mike listens with half-attention as he makes his way through the traffic to the diner near One Police Plaza. It's a good little spot that a lot of cops frequent. Carolyn finishes on the phone just as Mike's parking the car. "Well?"
"He thinks it will get us a warrant and he'll call us back in an hour or so to let us know," she says.
"Good. More than enough time for lunch."
Carver calls Carolyn back about forty-five minutes later; she speaks to him briefly before snapping her phone shut. "We've got it."
Mike wipes his mouth with the paper napkin, nodding. "Good. We should ask him for a sample, see if he'll give one willingly. If he won't, then we've got the warrant to back us up."
Almost three hours later, Mike sits down at his desk with a disgusted sigh. "I can't believe we missed the bastard by less than half an hour. He better be back when they say."
"It's not like it was a last minute or sudden trip. The Diocese said it was something Cowan had planned for a couple months."
"And you believe them? Like the Church won't lie to protect one of her own. Well, if he isn't back tomorrow afternoon, like they said, I say we go get him. At least he didn't leave the state," Mike grumbles.
Carolyn doesn't reply; she's worked with Mike long enough now to know he's just frustrated and blowing off steam. "Hey, DNA reports are in," she says.
"Great, now we just need him to match it to!"
"I'm sure he'll be back," she shrugs. "If not, we'll get to go on a road trip."
Mike chuckles. "Always looking on the bright side, huh?" He logs into his computer. "I'm going to see if I can find anything on good Father Cowan, if you want to look over those reports?"
It's past eight when Mike and Carolyn call it a day. Instead of heading home, Mike finds himself driving aimlessly around the city. He briefly considers going out to a bar or a club but really doesn't have the energy for it. After a while, he realises that he's heading over to Bobby Goren's place.
Mike is twelve when the priest assaults him. In some ways, when Father Kolinsky reaches his hand down the front of Mike's pants, it is more of a betrayal than anything his mother has done to him.
They are in Kolinsky's office and it's after the other altar boys have left. His parents think that Mike is helping with a "special project", in fact, that is what Mike thinks. The priest is sitting in his chair, Mike standing next to him. It's all Mike can do to be quite when he feels the Father's fingers undo the button on his pants before sliding his long-fingered hand under the waist band and beneath his underwear. When Mike hears a zipper he looks down and sees the priest has his own dick out of his pants and is stroking it. Mike looks away. He closes his eyes, barely keeping back tears as his mind screams at him to leave, to get out. But he can't; this is Father Kolinsky, their priest. A man he is supposed to respect and obey.
It seems to take forever for whatever the Father is doing to be done. When it's over, Mike feels a hand on the back of his head. "What a good boy you are Michael, God loves you. Look at me," he says.
Mike opens his eyes, unable to meet the priest's gaze. "Father?"
"This is just between us. If you tell anyone, I'll be very upset, God will be upset with you. This is part of His plan for you. Understand?"
Nodding mutely, Mike still doesn't move, unsure of what the priest wants.
"Do up your clothes. It's time to go home, Michael," Kolinsky says softly. Mike can feel the other man's eyes on him, as he gets ready to leave. When Mike's hand touches the doorknob, the priest speaks again. "That's a good boy. You're my special boy, you know that?"
Mike nods, just wanting to get out of there and get home.
"Now be a good boy and run on home," Father Kolinsky tells him. And Mike does just that. He runs home and hides in his room the rest of the day.
It starts out slowly enough: some fondling, some hugging and sometimes a little kissing. But as the months go on, it progresses. The Father has a couch in his office; he starts inviting Mike to sit on it with him and then invites Mike to lay down with him. Mike never thinks about the fact that it's Sunday afternoon and no one else is around. He doesn't realise until years later that although the priest never raped him, he thinks it was a close call a couple of times. He's read enough to know that abuse is abuse, but he still feels lucky that the abuse only went as far as it did. He has no doubts that if it had continued, he probably wouldn't have been so lucky.
The abuse goes on for almost eight months, until one day, Mike's friend, Billy Marino, tries to recruit him for the priest. Mike punches him because he realises in that moment that what the priest has told him is a lie. Mike isn't his special boy; Kolinsky has other boys. That was the one thing Mike thought he had with Kolinsky: he was special. Deep down, Mike isn't that surprised at finding out about the other boys, after all, hasn't his mother and to a lesser extent his father, drilled it into him that he's worthless? Mike knows now that he can't ever go back again.
After that day, Mike refuses to go to church again. His mother flies into a rage and somehow Mike knows if he told her the truth about Kolinsky, she'd call Mike a liar and beat him. She almost does for his refusal to go. For once, his father has found some balls and stands up to her, telling her it's just a phase Mikey's going through, he'll go back eventually.
Of course, Mike hasn't gone back to the Church; he never does go back. He's an Agnostic now: knowing God isn't possible for the common man, not by a long shot. He's been into churches for weddings and funerals but he doesn't worship…and he's even decided that when he dies, he doesn't want a church service. His mother, if she outlives him, will be furious but Mike doesn't really care.
He parks his car, sitting for a few minutes before finally climbing out. He knows Bobby won't mind—they've done this before. They've become friends over the past year that Mike's been working with the Major Crime squad. Not best friends, but buddies who hang out, drinking beer and watching sports. Or talking about sports and politics…. Mike enjoys spending time with Bobby.
Things had changed a few months ago, during a tough case for Bobby; he'd come to Mike's place and they'd talked. At first, it was about the case but then…talking had turned into something more: kissing and sex. Mike didn't think it would happen again, but it had, several times. They never discussed "it" but Mike has thought about it, hell, he's jerked off thinking about how it felt to have Bobby fucking him, how it had felt to suck him off.
Mike leans his head back, closing his eyes. He's been telling himself he just came over here to talk, but in truth, he wants Bobby again. Wants the warmth of his body on top of him, to be wrapped around him in sleep. Mike thinks that he should leave but instead, finds that he is getting out of his car, locking it before going into Bobby's building.
For a brief moment, Mike wonders if he should turn around and head home. It would probably be the safer, smarter and saner thing to do. But somehow he finds himself standing outside Bobby's apartment and he silently curses his feet for the traitors that they are. He watches his hand reach out and ring the bell, wondering why it seems like it is someone else's finger that pressed the button. He shakes his head, weary of the distracted nature of his thoughts. Glancing at his watch, Mike sees that it's almost ten. Christ, Bobby was probably asleep—
"Hey, Mike," Bobby says when he opens the door, leaning against it. He's dressed in sweat pants and a t-shirt and it doesn't look like he's been sleeping.
"Hey, Bobby. I didn't realise it was so late, I shoulda called first," he begins to apologise.
Bobby just smiles at him and moves aside, waving him in. "It's okay. I…don't sleep a lot. Was just catching up on some reading."
Mike hangs his jacket up and takes off his shoes before following Bobby into the living room. He sits down on the sofa, loosening his tie and undoing the top two buttons on his shirt.
"You want a beer?"
"Yeah, that'd be great," Mike says gratefully. He looks around the room, sees a couple books open on the coffee table next to the chair. The stereo's on and Mike grins when he hears Ol' Blue Eyes singing about "New York, New York". That they have a similar taste in music has helped their friendship, too.
Returning to the living room and standing beside the couch, Bobby holds out the open bottle of beer, which Mike grabs with a nod of thanks. He takes a long drink of the cold liquor. Christ, he needs it more than ever now. He's a little surprised when Bobby sits next to him on the couch. They both sit half sideways so they can see one another. It's not that Mike minds Bobby sitting so close; he just doesn't usually do so. Mike picks at the label on his bottle, unsure of what to say, of where he should start.
After a few minutes of silence, Bobby finally speaks. "Cases with kids are always tough."
"Yeah. It looks like the priest may be involved. We're waiting on DNA. Course, Barek figures it's my past colouring my view of what's happening here…"
"Is it?"
Mike leans back against the couch, exhaling a long breath. "That's just it. I want to say it isn't…but it could be," he pauses for a moment, glancing at Bobby. The other man is watching him, head tilted to the side, the same as when he's interrogating a suspect. "I was molested by the parish priest when I was twelve. Just touchy feely crap but…" he trails off, unsure how much he wants to share.
"But it still happened, it was still molestation."
Mike nods. "Yeah. Did you ever…?"
"No, I don't think our priest was into the kids. But who knows for sure?" Bobby shrugs his shoulders, pausing for a moment. "With this case though, does it look good for the priest having been involved?"
"Well, he says Joshua left at four, but we pulled the LUDs on the rectory and the Jacobson's house and there was a call at around five, when the best friend said Josh had called him. The sister says that she thinks the priest might've tried something with Josh. She really didn't know for sure if he'd done anything to Josh; they weren't really close. Although she seemed suspicious. Christ, I dunno," Mike says, taking another drink of beer. "We got a warrant for him, when we went to pick him up, he'd fucked off upstate. They say he'll be back tomorrow. Christ."
"Given what you've told me, the good Father would definitely be on my list of suspects.
"Oh, he was from the get go with me. But I'm doing my best to make sure any bias I might have doesn't affect the case."
Bobby simply nods in understanding. There is silence as they drink their beers; it's comfortable silence. Mike finds that he's staring at Bobby's hands, they're huge.
"Mike, why did you come here?" Bobby asks, his voice barely above a whisper.
Raising his eyes, Mike looks at Bobby; stormy green eyes staring into warm brown. Mike knows something is going to happen. Something he wants but knows he shouldn't…something that shouldn't happen. "I wanted to talk about the…case," he replies voice equally quiet.
Bobby leans closer and their eyes do not leave one another. "Is that all?"
"I'm not sure."
"I think you are," Bobby says with that little grin he has.
Mike can't think of an answer and he curses Bobby's almost psychic ability to read people. He wonders why the other man is so calm when Mike's own heart is beating so fast. When Bobby takes his bottle from him, setting it on the table next to his own, Mike doesn't take his eyes off of his face and when Bobby looks at him again, Mike sees something in his eyes. It's something he knows and wants and something he's sure his own eyes are showing Bobby.
When Bobby turns back to look at him, he's closer to Mike, so close. And when he leans in, Mike finds he's leaning closer, too. His eyes drift closed as their lips press together and then he slides his tongue out, licking at Bobby's lips and the other man opens his mouth to Mike. He slides his tongue in, mapping and tasting and moaning.
Bobby pushes Mike back onto the couch, covering Mike's body with his own. Mike spreads his legs, letting Bobby settle between and pulls Bobby closer, their hard cocks pushing together, friction from the layers of cloth frustrating him.
Mike's hands slide along Bobby's back, finding the edge of the soft cotton t-shirt and letting his hands wander underneath, moving up the warm skin of Bobby's back. He pushes the shirt up as far as he can without pulling it off, letting his fingers trace random patterns over Bobby's back.
One of Bobby's hands is cupping the back of Mike's head, while he's worked the other one between their bodies, his fingers worrying at the buttons of Mike's dress shirt, slowly undoing it.
Mike groans when Bobby drags his mouth from his, trailing little licks and small kisses along Mike's jaw line, down to his neck, sucking and nipping at the soft flesh there.
"Oh, god, Bobby, yes!" Mike hisses, tilting his head back, exposing more of his throat to Bobby's talented mouth. Bobby slips his tongue out, licking along the base of Mike's throat, his tongue leaving a damp swath of skin behind as he licks higher, in short strokes. He gently sucks on Mike's Adam's apple, making the other man whimper, his fingers digging into Bobby's back, his hips pushing up against Bobby and making their cocks rub together. Bobby can't help but moan; he licks his way up to Mike's mouth, kissing him again.
Mike opens to Bobby, as he always does. He keeps one hand stroking up and down Bobby's back, while he brings the other one between them, pulling up the t-shirt, exposing as much skin as possible. Mike lets his hand glide through the hair on Bobby's chest, seeking out a nipple, tweaking and pinching one when he finds it.
Bobby moans into his mouth, while his hand slides under Mike's half undone shirt, rubbing over a nipple, and he chuckles when Mike moans. He pulls back, staring down at Mike, his eyes almost black with lust. The sound of their panting breaths drowns out Sinatra on the stereo. "What do you want, Mike?"
Staring at Bobby for several long moments before answering, Mike sighs and says, "You, I want you inside me, I want to be inside you, I want you to fuck me, please, I don't care."
Bobby gives him a quick kiss before moving to sit on his knees between Mike's legs. He pulls his shirt off, arms stretching over his head, body taut as he yanks it over his head, throwing it across the room once it is gone. Reaching out, Bobby strokes his fingers over the bulge in Mike's pants, making Mike whimper with pleasure, his hips lifting off the couch. "Bobby!"
"C'mon, let's go to bed," Bobby stands up, chuckling at the glare he gets from Mike. He makes sure everything is turned off and locked up while Mike makes his way to Bobby's bedroom. By the time Bobby gets in there, Mike has stripped naked and is lying on Bobby's bed, pillows propped up behind him. Mike watches Bobby staring at him. He smirks at him, "Like what you see?"
Bobby doesn't reply. He merely pulls down his sweatpants and steps out of them, gloriously naked. Mike's eyes rake over the other man's body; Bobby isn't a body builder by any mark, but he's kept himself in very good shape. His cock is hard, jutting out in front of him. Mike is still smirking. "Is that for me?"
Grinning back, Bobby says, "All for you, Mike, all for you." Opening the nightstand drawer, he grabs the lube before climbing onto the bed. He kneels between Mike's legs, again, and Mike plants his feet on the bed, exposing himself to Bobby.
Mike stares at Bobby as the other man slicks his fingers up, pushing one into Mike's hole slowly while he strokes Mike's cock with his other hand. Mike tries to keep watching him, but the visual stimulation is too much for him. He closes his eyes, savouring the feel of Bobby's fingers in his ass, fucking him, stretching him. It's been too long and Mike is impatient. "C'mon, Bobby, do it, please," he begs.
Bobby leans over Mike, fingers slipping out of Mike's ass when Bobby captures Mike's mouth in a hard, hot kiss. Mike grabs onto Bobby's arms, keeping him close but wanting him inside already. Finally, Bobby pulls back and kneeling on the bed, he strokes his own cock, spreading lube all over it.
Mike closes his eyes, feeling the head of Bobby's cock against his hole and then he can feel the pressure of it, pushing in and filling him and it feels so good. "Yes, god, yes, Bobby, so good," he whispers. He likes this, loves it, being filled with his lover's cock, filled with all that heat.
Lifting his legs, he hooks them around Bobby's waist, urging the other man to move, wanting, no needing the friction of being fucked. He wants to forget about his day, forget about this case, forget about everything but the feeling of Bobby fucking his ass.
Bobby leans down, managing to capture Mike's mouth in a kiss; he licks at his lips, his tongue, tastes him, moaning when Mike kisses back, sucking on his tongue. "Please, fuck me, Bobby, please," he begs in a hoarse whisper.
Mike watches, seeing Bobby's pupils dilate at his request, observing as Bobby props himself up and pulls his dick almost all the way out of Mike's ass before slamming back into him, and Bobby sets a slow hard rhythm. Mike closes his eyes, relishing the feel, and he gasps when Bobby's cock rubs against his prostate. "Yes, fuck, yes, god, Bobby," Mike whispers, his words trailing into nonsense syllables when Bobby grasps his cock and starts stroking him, quick and hard, just the way Mike likes it.
Bobby's thrusting faster, his hand stroking Mike faster and Mike can feel his orgasm building. He tries to warn Bobby but the other man is ignoring him or just doesn't care. Mike is moaning, leaning his head back when he feels his body tighten, feels his hips thrust, pushing his ass down on Bobby's cock and his dick into his hand and Mike shouts as his release hits him. He's barely aware of Bobby still fucking his ass as the other man reaches his own climax.
"Oh, fuck, yeah, Mike, Mikey, yes, fuck, oh GOD!" with one final shout, with one final thrust into Mike's ass, Bobby is coming, his seed spurting inside of his lover. His hips jerk a few times and then he collapses onto the bed, half on Mike, half off and his cock slides out of Mike's ass. Bobby nuzzles the side of Mike's neck, making contented humming noises as their breathing evens out.
Mike turns on his side, almost asleep as it is, and Bobby curls up behind him, after reaching for the tissues on the side of the bed. He quickly wipes them both clean before wrapping his arms around Mike. Almost asleep, Mike hears Bobby whisper, "I love you."
And Mike is wide-awake. He tries to keep his body from tensing but he can't believe Bobby said that; he wonders WHY Bobby had to say anything at all. He can't deal with this…Mike closes his eyes, wondering what the hell he's going to do.
Finally, Mike slips out around three in the morning, careful not to wake Bobby up. He knows he's a coward for leaving like this, for not facing Bobby and dealing with what happened. He needs time to process it, though. Managing to get dressed quietly, Mike heads out to the living room, unaware of Bobby watching him.
Even when he's a teenager, he doesn't raise a hand to his mother. Her punches, slaps, and hits hurt even less. He also stays out of her way a hell of a lot more, running the streets with his friends. They're not hooligans, not by any stretch; yeah, sometimes they get into mischief but hell, Mike isn't the only one of his gang whose dad is a cop, no way they want to get in call-the-cops type trouble.
Mike is just fifteen the first time he has "real" sex with another person, a girl (not the groping that Father Kowalski did to him; he doesn't consider that sex). Her name is Jessica, and she's an older woman, all of sixteen. As he's getting undressed (they're at her parents house, they're away for the afternoon) he turns his back on her to remove his shirt. He hears her gasp and looks over his shoulder at her. "What?"
She gets to her knees on the bed, naked already, and reaches out a hand and runs it lightly over the nasty mass of purple spots and lines on his back. "Jesus, Mike, what in the hell happened?" she asks, a touch of fear in her voice.
He considers, briefly, lying to her and telling her he got beat up by some asshole at school but instead finds himself saying, "My mother. She gets drunk a lot and she's an angry drunk. I got in her way and wasn't fast enough to get out of it again." He shrugs, and finishes stripping down. Mike sees the disbelief on her face, but once he's naked it doesn't last long. She's smiling at him and reaching out and jerking his cock.
Strangely, even though it's his first time, Mike feels no shyness or hesitancy with Jessica. It certainly isn't her first time, so she shows him what to do and how she likes it; Mike is an eager and willing student with an almost instinctive desire to please his partner. He almost comes when she guides his cock inside of her, but manages to hold on for a few strokes. When he comes it hits him hard, this is nothing like when he jerks off by himself. He looks at Jessica. "You didn't…" he trails off, his dick sliding out of her.
She grins at him, blue eyes flashing with mirth, blonde hair spread out on the pillow behind her. "No, but that's okay," she says. "We can give it another go in a few minutes."
He stares at her and then returns her smile. And being young, his recovery time is amazing and he does indeed give her another go a few minutes later. This time he lasts longer and manages to bring Jessica off, too. Although he enjoys being with her, even at fifteen, it feels like there's something wrong, or something…missing but Mike has no idea what it is.
Mike is only 17 the first time he has sex with another guy. He's known Ken Miller since they were in grade school. They hang out together, a lot, both their old men are cops. They'd jerked off together, watching one another but not touching, when they'd first discovered what their dicks could do but it hadn't gone much beyond that. Ken is as tall as Mike is but he's slimmer, less muscled. Mike plays basketball, Ken is on the track team. Ken has shoulder length light brown hair and eyes so brown, they're almost black and while he'd never admit it to anyone, Mike thinks his friend is kind of good looking.
It's late spring, a few weeks before the end of school and he's staying at Ken's place while his parents have gone on a vacation to see his dad's parents down in Florida. Tonight, Ken's parents are away at a party, probably won't be back until late. As much as Mike and Ken might want to have their own party, Mr. Miller is a cop; he'd kill them and hide the bodies. Instead, they're lying on a blanket, with the basement door wide open, listening to music and smoking some weed. They're also looking at the porn magazines Ken inherited from his older brother, who's gone off to college.
When Ken reaches down and starts stroking Mike's dick, he freezes for a moment but it feels so good that he doesn't try to push Ken's hand away. He shoves Mike's shorts down then stops for a moment as he works himself out of his own shorts. Ken takes Mike's cock into his hand again, stroking him, teasing him. Ken knows what he's doing and while Mike watches, part of his drug-hazed brain is trying to decide if he should return the favour. Then Ken moves his hips, sliding his dick along Mike's own hard length, wrapping his hand around both of them as well as he can and he starts undulating his hips, making their cocks slide together. Mike grabs Ken's shoulders, his fingers leaving purple bruises he's gripping them so hard.
It doesn't take long for Mike to come, shouting his release, gasping and panting for air. It felt so good, felt better than having his cock inside of Jessica. A few seconds later and he feels the brief heat of Ken's come as he orgasms, his seed shooting over Mike's spent cock.
They lay there, bodies close together, cocks softening, still touching. Ken leans forward and presses a dry, chaste kiss against Mike's mouth. Mike gasps at the contact and Ken takes advantage, sliding his tongue inside Mike's mouth, tasting, teasing. Mike groans and lets him, it feels too good not to let it happen. He finds that he's responding, sliding his tongue along Ken's and into Ken's mouth. They wrap their arms around one another and Ken rolls them over so he's on top. Mike starts running his hands up and down Ken's back, revelling in the feel of the strong muscles under the skin.
Later, Mike lets Ken fuck him and Mike is surprised to realise, after Ken has collapsed next to him, that he's actually enjoyed it. It's better than sex with Jessica was. Mike's not sure what that means…although as he goes through life, he quickly learns that things are much easier if he focuses his attention on women, so he does. Every once in a while he gives in, goes over to Jersey to one of the clubs there but he always worries about being found out…
The next morning, Mike arrives at the same time as Carolyn and they ride the elevator up together. As he presses the floor button, she looks at him, eyes narrowed. "Are you okay? You look tired."
He shrugs. "Yeah, just didn't sleep well last night, that's all," he says casually. And it's really not that much of a lie. He grins at her. "I'll be okay."
**************************
Later that afternoon, Mike and Barek are back at the house, searching the boy's room for clues of any sort. Mike has a gut feeling that the priest did this, that the bastard was another one of those pedophiles the Catholic Church seems so intent on protecting.
They've been there about fifteen minutes when Barek's cell trills it's tone and she answers it. Thirty seconds later, Mike hears his own phone ring. "Logan."
"Logan, you and Barek need to get over to St. Andrew's. Father Cowan's been shot and killed," Deakins says.
"What, when?"
"About twenty minutes ago. The cleaning lady found him when she came to work this afternoon."
"Okay, captain, thanks," Mike said, flipping his cell closed.
Barek has already finished her call and looks at Mike. "That was the Arch-Diocese, they said Father Cowan is back and waiting at his Church for us to—"
"No good, Barek. That was Deakins. Someone shot and killed Cowan, about half an hour ago."
"What?"
"The cleaning lady found him--"
"Excuse me?"
Both Logan and Barek turn when they hear someone speak from the doorway. It's Nora. She walks into the room and stands between Mike and Carolyn. "Can I talk to you?" she asks, directing the question to Mike.
"Of course," Barek replies immediately.
Nora glares at her. "Not you. I need to talk to Detective Logan alone. Please," she says.
Mike exchanges looks with Carolyn. Hell, if the kid is willing to talk…"Detective Barek can wait in the hallway while we talk, okay?"
"Fine," Nora says, watching until Carolyn is outside the door. She doesn't ask or insist on the door being closed.
"What do you need to talk about, Nora?" he asks gently.
"I have to tell you what happened," she begins, and then stops for a moment, collecting herself. "Father Cowan was a fucking bastard. He was an equal opportunity abuser; boys, girls, it didn't matter. He tried to get me, but I ran away and I made sure I was never alone with that fucker again. Until today. He told me—"
Mike sighs, closing his eyes briefly, fairly sure where this was headed. "Nora, stop, you really should have a lawyer—"
"No, I don't want one. He told me, told me how much he liked fucking my brother, how much it'd 'hurt' him to kill him. Fuck, I did it, I killed that bastard. He killed my brother, he hurt him and God knows how many others, and nobody was doing anything about it. I did. I stopped him!"
"Nora…," Mike trails off. There's not much he can say and certainly nothing he says will change what happens. He feels sick inside, it should never have come to this. "Where's the gun?"
"It's in my car," she says. "I know I shouldn't have but he was evil and the fucking Church wouldn't do anything and the cops, you guys—"
"Were building a case against him, you didn't give us the chance to do anything," Mike says, moving closer to her and taking out his cuffs. "You know what I have to do…."
Nora stares at him for a few long seconds and whatever she does or does not see in his eyes satisfies her. She turns around and Mike gently puts the cuffs on her. Barek comes back into the room with the gun and she looks at Mike. He shakes his head sadly as he reads Nora Evans her rights. "Nora Evans, you are being arrested for the murder of Declan Cowan. You have the right to remain silent…."
Mike and Carolyn are lucky tonight. With the case closed, they leave just after six; Deakins tells them the paperwork can wait until tomorrow. Mike figures it's just a matter of the overtime budget getting used up. Either way, he again finds himself driving aimlessly around town.
He feels like he's not only failed Josh Evans but Nora as well. Her life is ruined because she took revenge, because he couldn't get to Father Cowan fast enough. Mike has spoken with Carver and while the ADA made no promises regarding Nora, he did take what Mike said "under advisement". He hopes they'll be lenient with her. Yes, she did kill someone, but he was a molester who killed her baby brother….
He tries to put the case out of his mind. Of course, in doing this, he starts thinking about Bobby. How he'd left the other man's apartment this morning…. Mike knows that what he feels for Bobby is more than casual, more than just friends or fuck buddies. And it frightens him.
Mike is 34 when he begins a relationship with another man. Until that point it had only been women that he'd date or see on a regular basis. Men were for one-night stands, for quick, anonymous sex.
That was before Benjamin Stone, EADA comes into his life. They work together for years before anything happens. It was after a particularly rough case. The defence had really dug deep and hard, trying to discredit everyone Stone put on the stand, including the cops. Unfortunately, the tactics had worked and the jury, after deliberating for six hours, had found the man (who'd killed three women) not guilty. He and Ben end up going out for drinks to drown their sorrows. They eventually end up back at Ben's place and have really great sex. Mike is surprised when Ben asks him to stay the night. He does.
Mike doesn't plan to but he falls in love with Ben; the older man tells Mike that he loves him, too. They're together for almost two years before it ends. And it ends not with a big fight or high dramatics…but with Benjamin Stone leaving Mike, leaving New York City, on a plane in the middle of the night. Just like a thief in the night.
Ben has sent Mike nothing, he never called him or attempted to communicate with him in any way before or after they broke up.. Of course, they'd had to keep their relationship quiet, so no one knew. Well, almost no one.
"He just up and left, without calling you?"
Mike nods. "Yeah. I don't get it, Liz. He said he loved me. Am I really that fucking worthless—"
"Mike, whatever was going on with Ben, I'm sure it had very little to do with you. You said he was under a lot of pressure, was feeling trapped by the job, by just being here," Elizabeth Olivet reaches out to place a gentle hand upon Mike's arm. "And you _know_ you are not 'worthless'. Far from it." She pauses for a moment. "I know it hurts right now, I know it seems like you'll never get past this…but you will. It's cliché but it's a cliché for a reason, time does heal all wounds. You're strong enough to get through this, Mike."
He gives her a wry grin. "I'm glad one of us thinks so, Doc. I…Hell, even my mother pounding the shit out of me didn't hurt like this does."
Just over a year later, Mike is angry at some asshole homophobic councilman getting away with murder; he decides, spur of the moment to punch the bastard out. Of course, this ends his time as a detective and at the 2-7. He ends up on Staten Island, pounding the pavement. Almost two years after that, he gets a letter from Ben Stone.
He stares at the plain white envelope and wonders if he even cares what it says or if he should just throw the damn thing in the garbage, where it belongs. Mike can't help himself; he's a curious animal and he reads the letter. It's typical Ben, full of himself and of apologies to Mike for how he had treated him. Mike just shakes his head and wonders how he ever thought he was in love with the older man; how he could've ever thought Ben was in love with him. As he trashes the letter, Liz Olivet's words come back to him and he realises that she is right. He got over it.
Ten years, ten years of hard work—making his way up through the ranks again and Mike has another chance. Not only at being a detective…but now, possibly, at love.
Mike sighs when he ends up at Bobby's building again. He runs a hand through his already mussed up hair, wondering if he should try and talk to Bobby tonight or not. He decides it's better not to wait, to deal with things now. Get it over with, whatever "it" ends up being.
He stands in front of Bobby's door and stares at. Mike almost changes his mind but the next thing he knows his hand is reaching out and he's ringing the bell. He waits, impatiently wanting to yell at the other man to hurry up.
The door opens and Bobby peers out. His expression doesn't change, Bobby simply stares at Mike; he speaks before Bobby can slam the door shut. "Look, I'm sorry about last night, I need to talk to you. Please?"
Bobby tilts his head, considering Mike's request. Finally, he opens the door and stands back so that Mike can come in. He heads down the hallway to the living room and Mike follows him.
Sitting down on the sofa, Bobby doesn't say anything. He just stares at Mike, his head tilted to the side. Mike can't sit down, he's nervous, so he starts pacing. Finally, after a few minutes he stops and looks directly at Bobby. "I'm sorry about last night…this morning. When I ran out on you. Saying you loved me scared the shit out of me," Mike said. "If it wasn't obvious," he says, with wry self-deprecation.
"Just a little," Bobby says quietly.
"Well, let's just say the last man who told me he loved me? He left me. Just up and left—no by your leave, thank you very much or even a fuck off. He just got on a plane and left the city. And me," Mike doesn't sound angry when he speaks; he's long past that, he's not even bitter…just resigned. "Before him, I'd never been involved in a relationship with another guy, just quick sex. And after him, I swore I'd never do it again…." He can't look at Bobby anymore; he drops his gaze to the floor, looking at the pattern in the carpet.
His words seem to hang in the air while Bobby watches him, it's obvious that he's thinking, considering his words. "I didn't know that and I'm sorry that that happened to you. But I'm not _him_, whoever he was. I can't promise I'll never leave you, hell, we're cops—never mind one of us could be hit by a taxi. Or a bus," Bobby grins a little. "All I can tell you is that I love you, Mike, I want to be with you and that all I can offer you is me." Bobby looks away. "I'd say we'll take it slow but I really think it's too late for that."
Mike raises his gaze to look into Bobby's warm brown eyes and what he sees there—it doesn't frighten him, not now that he's facing it. He watches Bobby stand up and walk over beside him. "Mike?"
"I don't think I'm much of a catch, but…I want to try. And I know you're not him, you could never be like him." Mike pauses for a moment. "I do love you." He smiles at Bobby before leaning over and kissing him, knowing that things will work out better this time. They have to.
***