Part 10

Kyle braced one hand on the open refrigerator door and wrapped his left arm around his ribs as he bent over to examine the contents. He made a face and straightened up just as McKenzie came into the kitchen. Her green eyes flashed with annoyance when she saw that he was the first to be up and moving around. He knew Patrick had relieved her at 4am, taking over the watch and letting her catch a few hours of sleep, but she didn't look like she had gotten a minute of rest.

"What're you into now?" she asked grumpily.

"Just checkin' out the options for breakfast. Figured it's the least I could do since I'm takin' up space but I'm not on the clock." He gestured at the open refrigerator. "Kinda seems a little on the slim side."

"We're not runnin' a catering service here, Valenti."

"You know, it wouldn't hurt to treat her – "

"Spare me the bleeding heart routine," she said with a snort. "My job is to protect her and keep her alive. Nowhere in the job description did I read a single requirement for making friends with these people."

"I'll assume it hasn't escaped your notice that your witness is pregnant."

"And I'll assume you have a point."

"She needs to eat better than this. Considering the lack of food in the place I'm guessing you guys must eat a lot of takeout."

"So now you're an expert on pregnant women? Well, hell, Officer Valenti, maybe we should just put you in charge."

"Detective," he corrected her. "And what's the big deal with lettin' her know how her friend is?" He turned to lean back against the counter as he elbowed the door shut.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Don't question the way I do my job, Detective Valenti."

He shook his head. "I wasn't. You handle the job just fine from what I've seen. I have no doubt that anyone who comes after her will regret it. It's your lack of compassion I question."

"Compassion for criminals. Uh-huh, you must be the laughingstock of the NYPD." She filled a mug with coffee, grabbed a day-old bagel, and left the room.

"You're battin' a thousand," Patrick said, his tone amused.

Kyle turned his head to look at the agent. "Yeah, well, it's not a popular concept and it has to be taken in context."

The other man studied him as he went after the coffee. "It's certainly an odd concept for someone in law enforcement." He grabbed the sugar and dumped several teaspoons into the dark liquid. "I can't say I understand it." He sipped his coffee and nodded to himself before shrugging. "That kinda naïve thinkin' might be understandable for a rookie, but you've been on the force long enough to know better."

"At what point do we just throw in the towel? No, I don't believe we can save every one of them but I do think if more effort was put into it we could actually make a difference."

"I think you're reachin', kid, but you're entitled to your opinion. You're never gonna convince Mac though."

"Just hear me out. The majority of offenders you deal with have a history of criminal behavior, right?"

Patrick nodded. "Sure."

"They probably have rap sheets that go back to their teens and even further back in some cases. And in most cases there's something that triggers their actions whether it's abuse, neglect – "

"You're dangerously close to excusing them."

Kyle shook his head. "No, I believe people should be held accountable for their actions. But I also believe if we were more proactive with juvenile offenders we could decrease the number of adult offenders. How often do these kids get into trouble and instead of trying to reach them, guide them in the right direction, we just let them slip through the cracks and accept that the only future they have is behind bars?"

"Man, I see what you're sayin' but I don't really see a way around it. By the time we deal with 'em they're either career criminals or they're in too deep to ever really get out. These kids need more than a few hours of therapy or a few weeks in a rehabilitation program, and there just isn't enough money to fund the kind of programs that would give them the intensive one-on-one time they really need."

"I refuse to believe that." He grinned. "There's an answer out there and I'm workin' on it. Maybe it won't change the face of criminal justice but it might just save some kids from throwin' their lives away on a life of crime."

"Good luck with that. Word of advice though?"

"Sure."

"Don't try to recruit Mac to your cause." His eyes flicked to the doorway his partner had disappeared through. "Her first partner was killed by a 15-year-old gangbanger. She doesn't have a lot of sympathy for criminals of any age."

Her dislike seemed to go deeper than that, he thought but didn't say it out loud. "That's tough."

Patrick made a sound of agreement before straightening up. "I'll have to make a run to the store later today so I'll make you a deal."

Kyle's eyebrow quirked in interest.

"I'll pick up whatever you put together on a list but you've gotta do the cooking." His cooking depended on whether or not there was a microwave available and Mac lived on takeout. "And me an' Mac, we don't do dishes."

"Fair enough." He shifted to look behind him. "The dishwasher work?"

"Far as I know."

He grinned and nodded. "Sounds like we've got a deal. Now, for the hard part…"

"You don't know when to quit do you?" Patrick asked. He knew what was coming. He had overheard the conversation between his partner and the detective.

"Get her the information she asked about for her friend. It'll settle her down. She didn't ask to have him informed about her whereabouts or what's going on with her. She simply asked that someone let her know that he got out and he's okay."

"I'll see if I can get anything but just outta curiosity… what's it matter to you? You don't even know this woman."

Kyle just shrugged and changed the subject. "I'm hungry. Think I'm gonna make some pancakes." He didn't really understand it himself and until it made sense to him he sure wasn't going to try to explain it to anyone else.

"Well, I'll leave you to it then." He drained his coffee and placed the cup in the sink. "I'm gonna catch some shuteye so try not to piss Mac off too bad."

He chuckled. "No promises but I'll do my best."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Alex glanced up when the doorbell chimed and Isabel rested a hand on his shoulder as she got up. He nodded when she said she'd check on it and be right back. Absentmindedly he wondered why she was going to check when Elena would be at the door before the echoes from the doorbell even had the chance to fall silent.

"Well, first off, there's no indication that she ever got custody of the boy after he went into the system," Devon said. "If he spent time in the foster system then her claim that he was in trouble a lot may be true but her having to bail him out?" he shook his head. "I wouldn't take that to the bank."

"Considering her attempt to warn us off I'd say she doesn't want us to find him." He scratched his shadowed jaw.

"My guess would be that's the last thing she wants." He pursed his lips as he made more notations in the small pocket notebook he carried everywhere. "Now, she said she and Mr. Evans were separated at one point and she was involved with another man?"

"Yeah, she said they got back together and Max was born the following year. Apparently there were some problems and she changed the father's name several times on the birth certificate. I think it was the other guy's name, then Philip's name, and after they broke up she had her name put on the birth certificate." He shook his head. "She wouldn't give up the first guy's name though."

"That's okay. We have a time frame to work with and trust me, there's always someone around who's willin' to talk. I'll find someone who remembers."

"She insisted that Philip was his father, but I knew him, Devon. The man would not have left any child of his with that woman."

Devon smiled. "You've told me before that Isabel's father was a stickler for details. That's a good thing and it definitely works in our favor. You're absolutely certain he wouldn't have left the boy – "

"My dad would've never left him with that woman," Isabel insisted as she rejoined them. "The only way he left Max there was if he didn't have a legal leg to stand on, which means he couldn't have been Max's father."

"Then I'd bet good money he had a paternity test done."

"Something like that won't be a matter of public record though," Isabel mused.

"No, but if your father had a paternity test done my guess is he kept the results." He looked at her. "You're certain that it had to be negative for him to leave the boy with his mother so that won't necessarily do us any good. It also won't help us locate him. But don't let that discourage you. I'll start backtracking, dig around and see what I can find on the boy's father."

"Last time you stopped by you said you had some leads… has anything panned out there?"

Devon shook his head. "There's no point pursuing those leads until we have more to narrow the list down." He flipped the cover over on his notebook and held it up. "We've got a little more to go on than we did before your visit with your…" he nodded when her eyes narrowed, "with Ms. Richards," he corrected himself. "I'll start looking in that direction and see what turns up." He stood and pocketed the notebook. "You can expect a call later in the week unless I run across somethin' sooner."

Alex looked at his fiancé after Devon had taken his leave. "Who was at the door?"

"Company for brunch."

His brow furrowed. "I thought we were just having a late breakfast?"

"We are, but some friends called last night to say they were in town so I invited them over."

He glanced down at himself. He was wearing a pair of loose-fitting jeans and a comfortable but worn shirt. "I'm not dressed for company."

"I don't think they'll care how you're dressed," she said with a smile and stood. "C'mon in, guys."

His eyes widened when conversation suddenly erupted and three guys burst into the room, shoving each other and pulling him to his feet for a round of back-slapping and manly hugs. "What're you guys doin' here?" he asked as they carefully lowered him back to the couch. It's the middle of the tour."

Shane Owens, tall with long blonde hair and green eyes, and sporting a three-day growth of beard threw himself down on the couch next to Alex. "Man, we had a couple days free between shows and decided to drop in on your gimpy ass."

Isabel rolled her eyes and got up, excusing herself to check on brunch and giving the men some time alone. The first time any of them had made a comment like that she had come unglued. But she had quickly learned that it was how they dealt with their friend's injuries. And ultimately, it kept things normal between them. They didn't try to talk around Alex's limitations, openly accepting them and including them in jesting.

"So how're the legs?" George Stafford sat down in the chair facing them, his expressive features showing curiosity. He wasn't quite as tall as Shane, and he had brown eyes and short dark hair that was graying at the temples.

"Getting stronger every day," Alex answered.

The third man sat on the arm of the couch and leaned over to slap Alex on the shoulder. Dean Capriotti shook his shaggy blonde head. "So you're getting upright and mobile, huh?" He picked up one of the crutches and studied it, his blue eyes tracing over the lightweight aluminum. "Are you up on your feet without 'em yet?"

"Not for very long but at least I'm out of the wheelchair and Josh says I'm continuing to show improvement."

"You been practicing?" Shane asked.

"When I can. We've been pretty busy here lately."

Dean snorted and picked up the second crutch, slipping his arms through the cuffs and leaning his weight into them. "He's got a hot babe at home," he said, taking a few practice steps. "You think he's practicing his music or his moves?"

Alex chuckled. "Don't ever let Isabel hear you call her a hot babe." He grinned and shook his head when the guys just looked at him. "Hey, I'm not denying that she is, just saying if she ever hears one of you say it out loud you'll get an earful." He sobered when he caught the look that passed between Shane and George. "You know, if you guys came to tell me my replacement's become permanent you can just put it out there. I'll understand." It would hurt, but he would understand. He had been part of the large group for five years prior to the accident, enjoying the challenge of rock opera and the thrill of playing to packed venues. The shows were physically demanding and an amazing adrenaline rush and while he could still play he couldn't give it everything with the physical limitations currently imposed on him. His replacement was doing a great job and he knew it was a possibility that at some point the guy would become a permanent fixture within the group.

"Told you guys he'd know somethin' was up," Dean said.

George elbowed him. "Jerry's a gifted bassist but he's not you. Brent isn't interested in givin' him your spot permanently," he said, referring to the group's founder.

"Yeah, besides," Shane said as he stretched his long legs out, "Brent would never expect anyone to deliver that kind of news for him. The guy's got too much class and he respects you too much."

"So what's going on if it's not band-related?"

"Well, it is related to the band in a way," Dean said as he hopped around on the crutches.

Shane cracked his knuckles. "I'm gonna need a best man and I wanted to know if you'd stand up for me."

Alex felt his jaw drop in surprise. "You finally asked Emma to marry you?" His head snapped to the side when he heard an excited squeal and there was a flurry of activity and talking as two women rushed into the room and he was helped to his feet for another round of hugs. Emma Halstead, tall with long blonde hair, ice blue eyes, and sporting a large diamond engagement ring was a singer in the group. Lauren Brady, one of the keyboardists, was short with red hair, striking green eyes, and a bubbly personality. The women were talking rapidly, finishing each other's sentences, and his head was turning back and forth as he tried to keep up with them.

Isabel stood in the doorway and smiled as she watched her fiancé, surrounded by friends and having a good time. He had spent most of his childhood and teen years studying classical music and he loved it but when he had been approached by Brent Owens about joining the group his passion for music had really emerged. Blending classical and rock music had pushed his talent to new heights and his love for it was obvious.

"Is he gonna recover enough to ever hit the road with us again?"

She turned her head to look at Dean when he paused beside her, his weight balanced on the crutches. "How old are you?"

He grinned unrepentantly and shook his head to get his hair out of his eyes. "Not that old." He nodded over at the others. "Whatcha think?"

"I think if anyone can do it it's Alex." She believed that he would walk again, but she didn't know if he would ever be able to handle the rigors of touring and performing several nights a week for months at a time. She hoped and prayed he would be able to return to the career he loved because she knew what it meant to him.

"I think you're right," he said quietly. "I know the food's almost ready so I'm gonna go flirt with Elena."

Isabel snorted softly and took the crutches from him. Elena enjoyed flirting with the attractive drummer so who was she to tell him no? They were a rowdy group but they were good people and she had gotten to know them very well in the time she and Alex had been together. They had spent plenty of time in their home since the accident, catching up with him between shows and on their downtime. She knew before the day was over the instruments would come out and for a few hours Alex would enjoy an evening where he didn't think about his limitations. Afterwards, when the others had gone home, he would be contemplative for a while, musing over what he was missing by his inability to do what he loved. And then, once his doubts had surfaced and he faced them, they would be put away and his determination would take over again. She smiled and pushed away from the doorframe when he motioned for her to come over and join them.

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Max rolled over and wrapped his arms around his pillow, enjoying the feeling of the crisp sheets against his skin. He was reluctant to get up but knew he needed to shower, do a load of laundry, and make something to eat before he met Liz for their walk. Date, he corrected himself. At least she had called it a date. She'd probably laugh until she made herself sick if she knew he'd never been out on a date.

He walked into the living room and threw the patio doors open, walking outside to inhale the cool morning air. Since this side of the house faced the privacy fence and he was virtually unseen by anyone at the house he had no qualms about stepping outside before getting dressed. He stood there for several minutes, enjoying the sun on his skin and watching a couple of squirrels chasing each other around a tree. A third squirrel was at the base of the tree, digging to bury or unbury something. He looked up when movement caught his eye and he frowned at the cat creeping along the top of the privacy fence that bordered the backyard. He stepped off of the porch to pick up one of the white rocks that were arranged around the flowers that had been planted to border the porch. He flicked his wrist, sending the small rock flying to smack against the fence and scare the cat off.

He supposed it was survival of the fittest but he hated seeing anyone bigger and stronger preying on those who were smaller and weaker. The squirrel had scurried up the tree, stopping halfway up and turning so it was facing the ground. It chattered angrily at the unknown source of the disturbance and after determining that the threat was gone it returned to the base of the tree and resumed digging.

Max smiled and turned to go back inside, stopping short when he found Liz standing so close.

"I'm on my way out for breakfast but I'll be back at noon." Her gaze traveled over him and she smiled in approval as she ran the tip of her forefinger over the waistband of his boxers. "It's a shame you'll have to cover all that skin up when we go out."

His eyes dropped when her finger hooked in his waistband and gave it a tug. His eyebrows lifted at the piece of folded paper that she pressed against his abdomen before releasing his waistband to snap back against his body and hold the paper in place.

"See you at noon."

He watched her walk away and wondered what was going on. She had changed tactics on him, which made him suspicious. He started to walk inside and felt the paper shift against his skin. He used his foot to shut the door and removed the paper, unfolding it and looking it over. He smiled as he read it over and stuck it to the refrigerator using one of the magnets stuck to the door.

He started walking to the bedroom to grab his clothes to toss them in the washer when he paused and turned, going back and pulling the paper off of the refrigerator. No need to leave that where her father or his parole officer could find it, he thought as he folded over the recent lab results that gave her a clean bill of health. That would just be difficult to explain. He put it in a safe place and went to start a load of laundry.

When the clothes were in the washer he considered his options for breakfast, finally deciding on a bowl of cereal that he ate while studying the list he had been sketching out. He was still trying to figure out where Ava could be and so far everything pointed to Damon. The condition of the apartment, the money stashed in the bathroom wall, her missing visits and not being there when he was released, it all suggested the man's involvement. He had been back to the apartment, had pulled the money out, counted out the roll of hundred dollar bills, and put it back again. He just knew she had gotten involved too deeply with Damon, whether it was running drugs or… he swallowed with difficulty. God, he hoped it wasn't anything worse than that.

She had become so withdrawn over time but she had refused to tell him what was going on. Part of it he knew was because their conversations had been monitored but that wasn't the only reason. Something in her eyes had dulled and he knew the life she had been living had taken part of her soul the way she had told him it would. She had either seen or done something that was more than she could deal with. He had tried to ask the right questions, tried to get her to confide in him, but that last few months when she had visited him she had consistently steered the conversation away from her.

He finished his breakfast, tossed the clothes in the dryer, and went to take a shower. When he came back out wearing just a towel he wasn't surprised to see Liz sitting at the kitchen table. He walked over to grab the notebook when he saw her flip the cover open and he carried it back to his room to put it away before going back to the kitchen. "You wanna break in here, go right ahead, but don't go through my personal things."

She tipped her head back to look up at him. "Who's Ava?"

"None of your business."

"Old girlfriend?" She studied his body language as he moved around the kitchen, straightening up. "Old lover?" She frowned when he continued to ignore her and she could see his jaw tightening. "Did she leave you when you went to prison?"

He slapped his palm down on the counter when she continued to question him. "What part of it's none of your business do you not understand?" he bit out.

"Why don't you want to talk about her?"

"Because it's personal and again, none of your business." He went to get his clothes out of the dryer and carried them into the bedroom so he could get dressed. She was asking questions he wasn't prepared to answer and he didn't want to spend the day pissed off so he took a few minutes to calm down before going back and facing her.

Liz got up and started to move around the kitchen. She wondered why he was so sensitive about some girl. Maybe they had been together and she had dumped him when he was sentenced. She had to take a different approach with him, give him space and let him come to her. The night before she had found herself really listening to what he was saying and while he hadn't changed her opinion he had made her stop and think. She wouldn't have stayed long enough for any other man to say so much and she wasn't exactly sure why she had taken it from him.

She leaned back against the sink when she heard him coming down the hallway from the bedroom and her eyes traveled over him. The jeans he was wearing fit him better and the gray tee shirt was loose but clung to him just enough to hint at the muscles beneath the soft material.

"We can go," he said as he waited near the doorway.

"Look, I know I can be too direct and sometimes people don't like that."

"You're not direct," he said with a shake of his head. "You're rude and invasive. I don't care if you ask questions but you have to be willing to let it go if I tell you to back off."

"It's just a question."

He nodded and approached her, placing his hands on the counter on either side of her body. He watched her eyes darken and her breathing quicken. "And if I ask you why you're on the verge of panicking anytime I get close like this… you gonna give me an answer?"

"No!"

"Why not?"

"Because it's none of your business!" Her hands clenched into fists against his chest.

"Exactly," he said softly. He stared into her eyes. "How can you want to have sex with me when the very thought of me near you like this sends you into a panic?" He slipped his arms around her and reversed their positions, holding her against him but keeping his grip loose as he linked his hands at the small of her back.

"It's not panic," she denied, hearing the way her voice jumped with the adrenaline pumping through her system. Liz hated the feeling of panic that set in every time someone cornered her. It was something she couldn't control no matter how hard she tried and it made her feel weak. It made her feel powerless. It made her feel like a victim all over again.

"Tell me one thing, Liz."

Her hands were still fisted but they had loosened when she realized that he was holding her but there was no pressure in his embrace. "Tell you what?" she asked carefully.

"Did someone assault you?" He pressed a finger to her lips before she could answer. "It's just a question and you don't have to explain. Just a simple yes or no."

She didn't understand why she felt compelled to be honest with him. She could say it was because it was the only way she was ever going to get him into bed but she was honest enough with herself to know that wasn't it. She struggled with the word as it stuck in her throat and her eyes watered as she looked away and gave a single nod.

Max felt something twist inside of him at the sight of the tears she was trying so hard to hold in and he reached up to gently brush away one that managed to escape. "Now ask me a question."

"What?" she asked, her surprised gaze flying up to stare at him.

"Ask me a question."

"A question… about what?"

"Anything."

"Is Ava your girlfriend?"

"No."

"Now what?"

He smiled at her. He wouldn't push for information. He had a feeling getting that single nod out of her was more than anyone else had gotten so he called it a win and dropped the subject for now. She wasn't going to respond well to him pushing about that topic so he decided to take it slowly and see what she would willingly reveal. "Now we go for a walk through Central Park like we planned."

It wasn't until that moment that Liz realized one of his hands rested on her hip and the other was massaging the back of her neck. She didn't even know when he had moved them, when his arms had stopped caging her. Instead of pushing the way she normally would she decided to follow his lead and see where it would take them.