But you know, live and let." "That's a touching philosophy, Randall. Spill." He pulled on his nose, shuffled his feet. "Just that… last assault bust, they say I gotta take anger management and shit. So I stop punching people and starting fights. But I never punched nobody didn't ask for it." Eve supposed the flaw was in her, but she was starting to like him. "I know the feeling." "So they, shit, they say I should do some therapy kind of deal. Occupational, recreational, relaxational. What all. I sign up for this class in ah, crafts." "You do crafts."
"Don't make me no fairy or nothing." He gave Roarke a steely look as if daring him to disagree.
"Did you make the curtains?" Roarke asked, pleasantly.
"Yeah. So?" His fists bunched at his sides.
"It's very good work. A nice use, I'd say, of fabric and color." "Well." He eyed Roarke, eyed the curtains. Then shrugged.
"They come out okay. It's constructive and, you know, therapeutic.
I sorta got into it. I was working on the pillows there at Total Crafts, they got clubs and shit, and instructors. That's where I was the night you're saying. They give you a break on the supplies and shit, and you can use their machines you need to. And it's kinda interesting is all. I got a class tonight, on needlepoint. You can make all kinds of shit, you know what you're doing." "Your instructor and classmates verify this?" "Yeah. But, hey, you go down there asking questions, talking about my sheet, it's gonna mess me up. Coupla skirts in there I'm thinking about hitting on, and it's gonna mess me up." "You forgot about me being the soul of discretion, Randall.
Any of your buddies know about your hobby?" His face went to stark, stupefied shock. "Hell, no. You think I'd mouth off about tricking curtains and pillows to the guys? They'd rag me till I had to pound on them. Then I wouldn't be managing my anger issues and all that." "Got a point," Eve agreed.
You knew it wasn't him when he opened the door." Roarke slid back behind the wheel.
"Yeah, but you've got to run the lap. He says his buddies don't know, but it's possible one does. Or somebody he works with, somebody he's played pool with. A neighbor." She lifted a shoulder. "He nips the cord from Randall, or uses his name to buy it. You can't discount long shots. Let's hit the next."
She went through the paces because it had to be done, but she didn't quibble when Roarke announced it was time for a meal.
Nor did she quibble over his choice of a French place with candles on the table and waiters with their noses in the air.
His name got them a corner booth in thirty seconds flat, with the expected fawning service. But the food was choice.
Still, she brooded over it, picked at it, and did more rearranging of it on her plate than eating it.
"Tell me what's troubling you." He laid a hand over hers.
"It's more than the case." "I guess there's a lot going around in my head." "Give me one." "I told Peabody about… I told her about when I was a kid." His fingers tightened on hers. "I wondered if you ever would. It would've been difficult for both of you." "We're partners. You've got to trust your partner. I'm rank, and I expect her to follow an order without hesitation. And I know she will, and that my rank isn't why she will." "That's not the only reason you told her." "No. No, it's not." She looked at him through the candlelight.
"Cases like this, they get into my gut. I can make a mistake because I'm looking too hard, or I'm looking away because I can't stand to look too hard." "You never look away, Eve." "Well, I want to. Sometimes I want to, and the difference is a pretty thin line. She's with me every day, and she's a good cop. She'll see if I'm off, and she's got a right to know why I am, if I am." "I agree with you. But there's still one more reason you told her."
"She's a friend. The tightest, I guess, next to Mavis. Mavis is different." "Oh, let me count the ways." She laughed, as he'd wanted. "She's not a cop and she's Mavis. She's the first person I ever told any part of it to. The first person I could tell any part of it to. I should've told Feeney. We were partners and I should've told him. But I didn't know, didn't remember most of it when we were hooked, and besides…" "He's a man." "I told you. You're a man." "I'm not your father figure," he said and watched her reach quickly for her water glass.
"I guess. I mean, no, you're sure as hell not. And maybe Feeney… in some kind of way. Doesn't matter," she decided.
"I didn't tell him. Telling Mira was almost an accident, and she's a doctor. I've never dumped it, in a big lump, on anybody but you, and now Peabody." "You told her the whole of it then?" "That I killed him? Yeah. She said something about hoping I ripped him to pieces. She cried. Jesus." She dropped her head in her hands.
"Is that what troubles you most about this? That her heart hurts for you?" That's not why I told her." "Friendship, partnership. They aren't just about trust, Eve.
They're about affection. Even love. If she didn't feel pity for and anger over the child, she wouldn't be your friend." "I guess I know that. I'll give you one of the other things on my mind, then we have to finish the list. I watched the whole hypnotherapy deal today. Mira's brought it up before, she doesn't push it, but she's told me it might help bring things back to the surface, clear it out of me. Maybe the more you remember, the more control you have over it. I don't know. But I don't think I can go there, Roarke. I don't know if I can, even if it means getting rid of the nightmares." "Were you considering it?" "I hadn't ruled it out, completely, for later. Sometime later.
But it's too much like Testing. If you terminate somebody on the job, you have to go through Testing. That's SOP, and you deal. You hate it, but you deal. This is like saying, sure, put me through the wringer, take away my control, because maybe possibly it'll make things better." "If you want to find out more, and you're not comfortable with hypnosis, there are other ways, Eve." "You could dig details out of my past for me, the way you dug them out for yourself." She picked up the water again.
"I've thought about it. I'm not sure I want to go there either.
But I'll think about it some more. I guess finding out what we did before, about Homeland surveilling him, knowing about me, knowing what he was doing to me, and letting it happen to preserve the integrity of their investigation-" Roarke said something particularly vile about Homeland and integrity. Something, she thought with dark humor, that didn't belong in snooty French restaurants.
"Yeah, well. It's played on my head some, finding out other people knew. And it's made me ask myself, would I sacrifice a civilian for a collar?" "You would not." "No, I wouldn't. Not knowingly, not willingly. But there are people out there, people who consider themselves solid citizens who would. Would, and do, sacrifice others to get what they want or need. Happens every day, in big ways, in little ways. For the greater good, for their good, for their interpretation of someone else's good. By action, by omission of action, people sacrifice other people all the damn time."
– -**--
Peabody stepped off the subway and stifled a yawn. It was still shy of eleven, but she was beat. At least she wasn't hungry on top of it, as Feeney had been as happy as she to break for food. Her belly was nicely full of fried chicken strips at least it had been billed as chicken, and she didn't want to question what else might have been inside the batter.
Dipped into some sort of bright yellow sauce, they hadn't been half bad.
Of course, they'd crapped out on everything else, but that was life with a badge.
She flipped out her palm-link as she trudged up the steps to street level.
"There she is." McNab's face, split by a big, welcoming grin filled the screen. "Heading home yet?" "Just a couple blocks away. We covered a lot of ground, didn't pick anything up." "That's the way it goes." "You said it. Did you get any more packing done?" "Baby, you're going to give me a really big sloppy one when you walk in the door. It's done, and we're ready to rock and roll out of here." "Really? Really?" She did a little skip-step on the sidewalk.