by Aiden Bates
Screw it. If he was going to stay awake at night, he was going to do it for a case, not for an alpha who had left him high and dry ten years ago. Why should he care if Pat's colleagues loved or hated him? It wasn't Elias' problem. He was going to finish this case, and then he was going to move on to the next one.
He hadn't expected to ever see Pat again, and once this case was finished he'd go right back to not seeing him. There would be no reason to.
For reasons he couldn't quite understand, that fact gave him an empty feeling in the center of his chest.
***
Pat staggered into work on Monday morning. Nenci gave him a smug look. "That's what you get for going out and hitting those nightclubs every night," he said, waving his finger at Pat. "You're in your thirties now. You can't keep up with that kind of lifestyle the way that you used to."
Pat flipped Nenci off. "Not that it's any of your business, but I didn't go to any bars or clubs last night." He tilted his head to the side. "Actually, no. That's a lie. I did stop in at the Flipped Coin in beautiful Agawam, Massachusetts. Surprisingly enough, I was the first Brazilian person to enter the Flipped Coin since they opened their doors in 1933. The owner, who was probably there at the time, was very eager to tell me that. His daughter was very eager to grab my ass and ask me to teach her how they do it in Rio." He thunked his head on his desk.
Most days, he didn't mind his job. It wasn't the one that he'd wanted, but he was doing good work, important work. Some days, though, it was hard not to look back and wonder what might have been if he'd made a different choice.
"Why were you in a dive bar in Western Mass on the weekend?" Oliver put his hand on his belly and rested his head on Nenci's shoulder.
Pat couldn't get mad at the public display of affection. He'd all but pulled his gun to make the two of them put their issues aside and get together. He couldn't look at it right now, couldn't even stomach it. He looked away. "I was hoping to find some clues and speed this case along. Unfortunately, all I got was a bruise."
"You should have called Ryan and Elias to come with you. At least you wouldn't have had that… person… putting her hands all over you." Oliver wrinkled his nose.
Pat shook his head. "Thanks, but no thanks. The whole point of speeding this case along is to not have to work with Elias, and for him to not have to work with me." He stood up again. "I'm going to go find some coffee."
He could feel the eyes on him as he lurched to his feet, but he ignored them. Let them mutter about him while he was out getting coffee. At least he wouldn't have to hear it. Not like on Friday night, when he'd had the unmitigated pleasure of hearing that his colleagues thought that he was just a stubborn asshole who wouldn't ask for help.
Lt. Devlin was in the coffee center when Pat got in there, and Pat couldn't restrain the little growl that rose in his throat. Devlin winced. "The Scott Gilbert case not going so well?"
"It would be going a hell of a lot better if you put someone else on the case instead of trying to play matchmaker." Pat hadn't planned to say those words aloud, but he didn't regret them once they were out. Sure, they were insubordinate. They were alone, and given what Pat knew about Devlin's behavior with regards to Nenci and Oliver, Pat wasn't too worried about disciplinary action.
Not too worried. He did have that nagging suspicion at the back of his mind that he should probably shut up, but his fatigue and anger were enough to drown it out. Maybe coffee would boost it.
Devlin pressed his lips together, but he hung his head. "I get that I've lost a lot of trust."
"You think?" Pat poured himself a cup of coffee. "You get that I can't even go into that 'team room,' right? Whatever you thought was going to happen, isn't going to happen. Okay? Ten years, nasty break, notice how neither one of us ever wanted to see the other one again?"
Devlin sighed and braced himself against the counter. "He's the best at what he does, Tessaro."
"Damn straight he is." Pat crossed his arms over his chest. "Your point?"
"My point is that we need him to close this case." Devlin raised an eyebrow. "That's important to you, right?"
"You know it is. You need him for this case. You don't need me. I'm an interchangeable part. He'll work faster and better if he's not freaking out that his ex, who he thinks is the devil himself, is right there. And if the detective from Cold Case is someone they'll let into the goddamn room." Pat grabbed his coffee, more to keep himself from punching a wall than for any other reason.
Devlin stared at him for a long moment. "You're not an interchangeable part, Tessaro. You're the best at this kind of case—weird, outside the norm. I was going to put you on the case before I knew the two of you had a history. I won't deny that there's a part of me that wants to see you paired off and happy—"
"Never going to happen." Pat slammed his fist down on the counter, hard enough to make his supervisor flinch. "Not with him, not with anyone. If you can't handle having a single alpha on your squad, I'll transfer back onto Vice, no problem. I'm making a formal request for reassignment. It'll be in your inbox in an hour."
Pat stormed back to his desk and glowered at his computer. If sheer force of will could make electrons move, he'd have done it. After a few silent minutes, he got himself calmed down and turned the machine on. He wasn't going to solve anything by losing his temper like some kind of idiot alpha. He needed to keep his cool.
He typed up his formal request for reassignment off the case, due to "prior issues." That shouldn't get anyone into any real trouble and should get the point across. Then, since he knew that his formal request would be formally rejected, he got back to work.
Langer hadn't had a lot that was good to say about the area where he grew up—but then again, Pat knew that he was looking at Langer's words through his own distinctly urban lens. He hated jobs that took him out into the rural part of the state. Even some of the more remote suburbs made him feel uncomfortable. Pat was a city boy and proud of it. The thought of "farms, as far as the eye could see," with "forests and abandoned property that you could just go and climb around in, just for fun," made his skin crawl.
Abandoned property wasn't fun. Abandoned property was where creepy people hid out and tried to grab at unsuspecting kids. Of course, given that they were dealing with someone who had a good-sized creep factor to them, and who might have a good number of unsuspecting kids in their custody, the abandoned properties were probably a good place to look. The only problem was that there were too many of them.
Maybe he needed to try a different tactic. He certainly didn't want to stop in at the Flipped Coin again. He sent an email to Elias, copying Ryan and Devlin on it so that there could be no accusations of inappropriate behavior. In that email, he asked for statistics on missing children snatched from public places, with the parameters being that the children had to be very young and snatched from places that were relatively close to Massachusetts.
He added another restriction, too. He had no idea if HomeSafe had a searchable field for this type of information, but he might as well throw it out there. He asked to restrict the search to people who were having difficult days with their children on the day that the kid was snatched.
His phone rang within five minutes. For half a second, he hoped that it might be Elias, but hope died when he answered the call. The caller was Ryan. "Can you maybe grace us with your presence in the team room for a minute or two?" Ryan asked. "We'd like to talk to you about this request."
Great. Now Ryan was pissed at him too. Oh well. It was just one more person who let him down. "I'll be right there."
He should have known better than to hope that it was Elias anyway. Hope, or at least that kind of hope, was for morons.
He headed down to Abused Persons, and to the conference room that had been dedicated to the case. Ryan met his eyes for a moment. "All right," he said after a second, licking his lips. "You want to tell us what that request was all about?"
Pat bit down on the inside of his cheek. "It's hardly a team if
I'm going to get called out on the carpet for asking for information," he pointed out. "Should've expected that, but anyway. Scott's mother, Josie, mentioned that he'd been fussing. Had a tooth coming in or something."
Ryan grimaced, but recovered quickly. Robles had mentioned that their son, DJ, was teething. It sounded miserable. He'd helped plenty of neighborhood people with their teething babies, when they needed a break, but it was probably different when it was your own kid. Maybe the chilled teething rings weren't as effective; Pat wouldn't ever know. "And? That makes her worthy of getting her kid snatched?"
Pat curled his lip. "Seriously? That's what you think of me? Just message Devlin and tell him you agree with my request." He crossed his arms over his chest. He was never going to not have to prove himself. "We've seen other cases where a dead child was returned, wrapped up the same way. So, the suspect is taking more than one kid. If we want to find out how many she has, we need to see how many she took.
"There's no way that there weren't other kids, other babies, in that supermarket. The kidnapper obviously cared for Scott, in her way. I've seen this happen before, although not usually with a child who lives." He tugged at his collar for a second, because that wasn't a case that he wanted to think about. "The kidnapper thinks, 'Oh, I'll take better care of the baby than this neglectful parent.' Without understanding what's going on with the baby, or the parent, or anything else. That one girl, who drowned."
Ryan nodded slowly. "Her mother was escaping abuse. The child might have shown signs."
"That the suspect misread." Elias slumped in his seat. "I've seen this sort of thing before, too. The kidnapper believes that they're a savior."
"It makes sense." Pat spread his hands wide. "Given his condition when he was found, and the care with which the body was treated."
Elias had already turned to his computer. The light from the screen cast shadows on his face; he was even more beautiful like this than he normally was. It would be so easy to go over and put a hand on his shoulder, just to encourage him through this. "It's going to take a little while," Elias pointed out in a soft voice.
Pat turned on his heel and headed for the door.
Ryan cleared his throat. "You don't have to go."
Pat almost hesitated. He wanted to stay, but who was he kidding? Ryan was pissed at him. Elias hated him, and being around him was like a knife to the kidneys. Besides, with any luck Ryan would send a note to Devlin and release him from this crap. "Of course I do." He headed back to his desk.
He might not have the data about the prior kidnappings, but there was still more that he could do. He had other resources. They needed to get a sense of what land might be under cultivation that wasn't on anyone's radar. He could ask Oliver to narrow down that range, if possible. He could get a satellite view of some of the territory that they thought was suspicious. And once he had an idea, he could try to get a ride in the State Police helicopter.
After all, if he'd lost the love of his life over deciding to become a cop, he might as well get some privileges out of it.
He spent the rest of the day framing his request to the lab, making sure to emphasize the issue of infectious disease and missing children. He cc'ed all of the relevant people, so that there would be a trail to follow in the event that Devlin took pity on him and pulled him off the case. Then he worked on looking at those satellite images. The internet worked wonders for that sort of thing; he couldn't get current images, but he was looking for a place that had been in use for at least a decade.
After work, he headed back home. He could have gone out. There was a bar nearby that was sure to offer some entertainment, but he just wasn't feeling it tonight. He wanted the distraction, but not in an anonymous way.
All these years and he was still just an interchangeable part. It wasn't a good feeling. He knew that he was doing good work, and important work, but if he got hit by a bus tomorrow and they had to plug Langer into his role, no one would miss a beat.
No one would even miss him.
Pat wasn't a big drinker. He'd seen firsthand just where that would go, and he didn't need to be part of it. Most of the time, he didn't see the appeal anyway. Some nights, though—some nights, he hated his father even more, for taking that means of escape from him.
He could still hear the old man, slurring as he tried to stand up in his seat. Oh, sure. He's offering to get you a better apartment, pay for grad school, nicer clothes. He doesn't want you, boy. He wants someone else who looks like you, and once he figures out that he can't control you, you'll be out on your ass faster than you can say your own name. You know it's true. I might be a crap father, but I've never lied to you.
God, what was he doing? Was he really sitting around getting all maudlin because Elias was in town? Elias had made his choice. Pat was better off. He was stronger now. He was more independent. His dad had been proven right, after all. Elias hadn't wanted him; he'd wanted someone else who just looked like him. He certainly hadn't shed any tears about kicking Pat out.
It hadn't killed Pat. He'd just thought that it would.
Screw it. He didn't need Elias Salazar. He didn't need anyone. Some people might crave that connection, that union, but Pat did just fine without it. Hell, he did better without it. Not everyone was destined to find The One and spend a life of cozy domesticity. Some people were born bachelors. Pat was born to be a bachelor, and, with the exception of a few years in college, he'd never wanted to be anything else. He needed to stop getting his head turned around and keep his mind on work.
Chapter Four
Elias got through his niece's christening on autopilot. He'd gotten to a point, now, where he could tune out almost everything about these events. If he let himself acknowledge them, he'd have to admit that they were painful, but his strategy of detachment was so well practiced by now that it had become automatic.
He went to the celebration afterward, at his brother's place in Portsmouth. Everything was as elegant as Elias would have expected it to be, and completely unappreciated by the six-month-old infant who preferred to sleep through the festivities. She had no idea that she was the recipient of so much jewelry, money, and other loot. She did, however, spit up all over her satin and lace christening gown.
Elias stayed for as short a time as he could get away with. He wasn't the first to leave the party, but he was in the top five. He trusted that his brother would understand. He'd never been much like the rest of the family anyway; they'd hardly miss him. He headed home and tried to prepare himself for the coming week.
If his baby had lived, what would be different?
The thought always reverberated through his head when he went to family events. He could block those thoughts when he was in the middle of things, but when he was in his silent condo afterwards it would be too much to ask. He hadn't been far enough along to know the sex of his child, but he always thought of it as a boy. His son would have been about ten by now. He'd have been with his cousins, running wild and rambunctious through the mansion and making all of the adults shake their heads.
Or maybe he'd have been quieter and more bookish. That wouldn't have been tormented out of him the way it had been from Elias. Elias wouldn't have allowed it. Elias' child would have been allowed to be himself, whatever that entailed.
He grabbed his laptop and took up a position on one of the couches. Up here, he could see all of Providence unfolding around him. It was truly a beautiful city. Maybe it wasn't as big as Boston or New York, but it was home. He loved it.
He opened up his laptop and checked his messages. The HomeSafe data center had spat out the search results he needed. There were no similar kidnappings outside of Massachusetts’s boundaries, which was good. There had been victims who had crossed state lines, but the abductions had taken place within Massachusetts borders. That meant that the FBI was unlikely to get involved. That should have disappointed him, because Elias wouldn't have the same conflicts with any of the FBI agents that he had with Pat.
Pat could transiti
on to other cases, and they could return to never seeing one another again.
Damn it. Elias put his laptop away, before he broke it. Why was it that he couldn't manage to be happy about that?
He always contemplated how life would have turned out if his child had lived. Now that Pat was temporarily back in his life, his fantasy world spun out a dream of what life would have been like if Pat hadn't left. What if Pat had taken Elias up on his offer, gone to grad school, done what he'd wanted to the whole time? What if that baby hadn't been Elias' child, but their child?
What if Elias hadn't made their relationship contingent on Pat going to graduate school? What if he'd accepted Pat's decision? The baby would still have been theirs.
He shook his head to clear it. The time for what-ifs was long since passed. The baby wouldn't have lived. He'd miscarried for a reason. Pat would have left when he realized that Elias couldn't give him children anymore. He needed to be realistic.
That need for realism didn't stop him from crying himself to sleep that night, in the privacy of his own room.
