Missing/Found
By Ayesha Haqqiqa
The characters in this story are the property of Dick Wolf. No profit is being made using them in this story.
“Have you seen Serena Southerlyn lately?” Cathy Fillmore asked her fellow ADA Blanche Foster as they waited for the elevator. “She seems to be spooked, or something. She never wants to stay late, and she jumps whenever anyone comes into her office.”
“Oh, that,” Blanche said in a knowing tone. “Didn’t you hear? She just found out about Jack’s reputation.”
“You mean she didn’t know about his affairs with four different ADAs?” Cathy asked incredulously. “I thought everyone knew about them.”
“Well, she hasn’t been here all that long,” Blanche said, “and Jack has behaved himself since Claire Kincaid died.”
“You’re right there,” Cathy said. “He really took her death hard. I remember coming by nights when he’d be alone in his office, just staring at the walls.”
“Are you sure he wasn’t pie-eyed?” Blanche asked. “There was a time there when Jamie Ross was really concerned he’d not be able to control his drinking. And then he quit, cold turkey.”
“Until recently,” Cathy observed. “I’ve heard that he bought a bottle of expensive Scotch for the drawer in his desk.”
“If he’s gone off the wagon, he did it in style, then,” Blanche said. “I only hope—“
“Good afternoon, ladies,” Nora Lewin said cooly as she walked up to the elevator. “I know I’m not often on this floor, but it seems to me the elevator is taking forever. Did you punch the UP or DOWN button?”
Blanche and Cathy looked at one another. Nora smiled and punched the UP button. The car was there in no time, and Nora got on alone.
She shook her head as the car slowly lumbered up to the tenth floor. It was bad enough that Jack had a reputation for womanizing. Now, she was finding out, the whole staff liked to gossip about it. And it was obviously taking time away from their regular work. She would have to talk to the ADAs’ supervisors.
She walked briskly to her office. Just before she got there, Jack came out of his, and walked up to her.
“Just heard from Brisco and Green about the Camden case,” he said. “They’ve found a neighbor willing to talk about the prostitution ring Camden ran.”
“Neighbors always like to talk,” Nora muttered. Jack looked at her puzzledly. “Will you be able to use the testamony to convict Camden?” she asked. “After all, you’ve charged him with murder, not pimping.”
“We have to prove that he was involved with the prostitution ring to give him a motive for the murder,” Jack explained.
“His whole defense is that he was being blackmailed by a prostitute who lured him into a compromising situation,” Nora said. “He’ll say that going to that apartment was part of that scam. The neighbor who saw things better be able to give us proof that Camden was getting money out of the business, and wasn’t an innocent victim.”
“I know, Nora,” Jack said, a bit exasperated.
“I just want to remind you,” Nora said. “The defense will be trying their best to keep Camden’s reputation unsullied, and to make the victim look as bad as possible. This could get dirty, and you’ve got to be sure of your facts.”
“I know.” Jack repeated sharply. “Don’t you think I’m capable of doing my job?”
“Oh, I know you’re highly qualified when it comes to smirching reputations,” Nora retorted.
Jack looked at her, dumbfounded.
Nora, realizing she had said too much, lowered her gaze and went into her office. Thankfully, Jack did not follow.
What had come over her? She was seldom rude, and what she had said to McCoy was hitting below the belt. This whole business about Jack’s affairs was effecting her much more than she thought. She paced the floor. What was it, exactly, that was bothering her? The office gossip? No, that could be handled. Jack’s defense of his actions when she asked about the affairs? She had been glad when he had no response when she asked about his affairs with the assistants he had not married. He should have been ashamed of himself, she thought self-righteously. Was that what she was trying to do—make him feel ashamed?
Stace, Nora’s secretary, came into the room. “Simon Feldman to see you,” she said. Nora breathed a sigh of relief. Simon was a dependable, capable, and happily married EADA. She spent the rest of the afternoon in conference with him on a complicated embezzling case.
She really didn’t think about Jack McCoy again that day. She finished her work and left for home, her mind filled with the details of the embezzling case. She took off her coat and microwaved a frozen dinner, turning on NPR to catch the news. Later that evening, when news gave way to classical music, she went into the living room and settled down on the couch with The Law Review. Her eyes were growing heavy and she was just about to call it a night when the phone rang. Sighing, she answered it.
“Ms Lewin? This is Lt. Van Buren of the 2-7.”
“Yes, Lieutenant, what can I do for you?” Nora put down the magazine and sat up on the couch.
“Well, it’s a delicate matter,” Van Buren said uncomfortably. “I thought you’d want to handle it.”
“It must be very delicate if you don’t want to tell me about it over the phone,” Nora replied.
“It—involves one of your executive assistants,” Van Buren said. “He was picked up for drunk and disorderly outside an Irish pub in our precinct. We’re holding him here, if you’d like to talk to him.”
“Thank you for letting me know,” Nora said. “I’ll be right there.”
She stood up and went to get her coat. The assistant had to be Jack McCoy. This was a new side to Jack she’d never seen. She’d heard he liked to drink, but had tapered off in recent years. She didn’t think the Lieutenant was used to this kind of behavior from him, either, but she’d check when she got to the station house.
Anita Van Buren was there, waiting for her. “I thought you’d like to come into my office first,” she said. She led the way past several desks and into a small partitioned room. She offered Nora a seat and then shut the door.
“First of all, I want you to know that this was a first for me,” she said. “I’ve never seen Jack McCoy drunk before, though one of my detectives has. According to Lennie Brisco, this drunk was worse than the one he witnessed several years ago, the night Claire Kincaid died. Anyway, Brisco and his partner were called to Shannigan’s Pub, where they found Jack shouting loudly to the bartender. He was weaving and unsteady on his feet, and when Lennie asked him to come with them, Jack refused. He made quite a scene, talking about Adam and how Adam would take care of things. Finally, Ed Green, Lennie’s partner, took hold of Jack’s arm, and—well, Jack resisted arrest. We could file several charges, but—“
“What did the bartender want to do?” Nora asked.
“He just wanted Jack out of there. As soon as the detectives put him in the car, Jack got sick. By the time they had cleaned things up, Jack was asleep. They carried him in and put him in an empty holding cell.”
Nora sat quietly for a moment, her head down. Then she looked at Van Buren and said, “If there are no charges pending against Jack, I think it would be best if he were escorted home. May I talk with the arresting officers, please?”
“Of course,” Van Buren got up and went out. In a few moments, she returned with a sad faced, older cop whom Nora remembered seeing around Hogan Place.
“Ms Lewin,” Lennie Brisco said.
“Please, Detective, sit down,” Nora motioned to a chair beside her. “This- behavior-is unusual for Jack, isn’t it?”
“I’ve only seen it one time before,” Lennie said. “That was many years ago, after we’d been upstate to witness an execution. Jack was mad at Claire—you know about Claire Kincaid, his assistant?”
“Some things,” Nora replied discreetly.
“Well, Claire Kincaid was a nice person—real idealistic. And she was against the death penalty. I think she went upstate in hopes to get Jack to agree with her views.” Lennie looked at Nora. “She was really in love with him, you see.”
“I see,” Nora said stiffly. “And what about Jack?”
“He was in love with her, in his own way,” Lennie said. “He’d come to rely upon her, to depend upon her to buoy him up when life got too hard. I think he truly admired her and her ideals, even if he didn’t share them. When she died, it was like the light went out of his life.”
“You make it sound as if he really cared for Claire,” Nora observed.
“Well, yeah. Now, Ms Lewin, I’ve been around the marriage bed a couple of times myself, and for me, I’ve given up finding my ideal. Jack—well, Jack has hope, I guess. That’s why this thing tonight really got me, good. I thought he’d mastered his demons, but something really shook him up.” Lennie looked at Nora. “Don’t be too hard on him when he sobers up. I guarantee he’ll be ten times harder on himself.”
Nora sighed. “Since no charges have been pressed, I think it would be a good idea if we got him home.”
Lennie raised his brows. “We?” he asked.
“Yes,” Nora said. “I think I need to go with you.”
“Ok, but it won’t be pretty,” Lennie said. “I’ll go see if we can wake him up and get some coffee in him.” He got up and left the room.
Nora got up and followed Lennie down to the holding cells. There was Jack, his suit jacket still damp from where he’d gotten sick, sprawled across the floor. Lennie squatted down and shook Jack’s shoulder. Jack moaned, and rolled over. Lennie shook harder, and Jack’s eyes opened to slits.
“Whacha want? Oh, is you, Lennie,” he said.
“Come on, Jack, it’s time to go home,” Lennie said, helping Jack to sit up.
“Home. Yeah. I hadda a good time, Lennie,” Jack said. “Lesh do it again sometime.”
“Let’s not,” Lennie said.
Jack frowned. “But she died las’ time, not this time, Lennie. I didn’t do anything thish time, but she got me anyway. Right in the heart. Wouldn’t let sleeping dogs alone.”
“Yeah, right,” Lennie said. “Can you get up and walk? We’ll get some coffee and then I’ll take you home.”
Jack looked at him. “You know, it isn’t right, throwing a man’s rupu-reputation in front of him like that,” he said. “Damn, if I couldda do things differntly—“
“Yeah, Jack. Look, can you help a little?” Lennie was trying to lift Jack to his feet, but Jack was like a dead weight.
“Help? Jus’ a minute.” Jack leaned over and retched. Lennie stepped out of the way just in time.
“Come on,” Lennie sighed.
Jack got up, shakily, and walked to the cell door. That was when he spied Nora. “You,” he said.
“Come on, Jack, let’s get that coffee, ok?” Lennie was guiding him out of the cell, but Jack turned his head to look at Nora, who hung her head and covered her eyes with her hand.
She didn’t realize she’d remained standing there for so long until she heard someone clear their throat. She turned and saw Lennie standing beside her.
“He’s had some coffee, and should be sober enough to navigate home,” he said. “Are you sure you want to come?’
“Maybe it would be better if I didn’t,” Nora said.
“I think that’s a good decision,” Lennie said. “Before my AA days, the last person I wanted to see when I came off a drunk was my boss.”
“I’ll talk with Jack tomorrow,” Nora said.
Lennie looked at her. “Hey, be understanding,” he said.
Nora went home, but she couldn’t sleep. She realized that her cruel remark had caused Jack to go out on a binge. The first one since he lost Claire, Lennie had said. What else had he said? Something about Jack still hoping to find his ideal. Somehow, that wasn’t the picture Nora got when she thought of him having affairs with his four assistants.
She’d always prided herself on her fair-mindedness. She had always tried to do what was right, what was ethical. So naturally, she had condemned Jack for crossing the line and sleeping with his assistants. She had looked on it as an unfair assertation of his power over them. She had never thought there could be more to it than that. But what if Jack was truly looking for love? He was a man who was wedded to his work. He would naturally look for women who were equally dedicated to the law.
Nora thought back. Other than having affairs, Jack had been an exceptional executive. He had always given his assistants leeway to follow their instincts on cases, and had encouraged them to try cases as first chair. And, since her advent as DA, Nora had noticed nothing untoward in Jack’s behavior with his assistants. He had sometimes disagreed with Abby, but respected her opinions. And he had gone so far as to defend Serena before the Disciplinary Committee. And Nora knew that he had not asked for sexual favors in return.
What was it about Jack that bothered her so, then? Nora leaned back on her pillows and stared at the ceiling. Then it hit her. She was an idealist, just like Jack. And he had failed to meet her ideal, which had made her disappointed and angry. Nora sighed. She hadn’t realized until that moment how much she cared for Jack McCoy.
Jack called in sick the next day, which didn’t surprise Nora at all. “He said it was a 24 hour bug, and that he’d be better tomorrow,” Stace, her secretary, had told her. “He said there was nothing pressing on his schedule, but if Serena had any questions, she should see you.”
Nora nodded absently. She was distant and distracted the whole day. Serena, who came in for consultation, couldn’t help but notice it.
“I’m sorry, Nora,” she said, “but I really need to know how to handle this deposition,” she said for the second time.
“What? Oh, I’m sorry, Serena,” Nora said. “Since we have two depostions with conflicting accounts, I’d say that the detectives need to go check out their stories. Then we can have some idea of who is really telling the truth. When we think we know, we can confont the liar and deal with it from there.”
“Of course,” Serena said. “I’ll call the detectives and put them right
on it.” She paused. “Are you all right, Nora?”
“Yes, I’m fine. Why do you ask?” Nora said.
“Because you’re acting like Jack did yesterday afternoon. Distant and distracted. And now he’s come down with the flu. I just hope you don’t get sick, too.”
“I don’t think I will,” Nora replied, and Serena left.
She was tempted to call, but kept putting it off. It was five o’clock and time to go home before she made up her mind. No hiding behind a phone when she needed to apologize. She’d go to Jack’s apartment and tell him face to face.
She got out of the cab and looked up at the steps of the brownstone. You’re not getting any younger, she told herself, and mounted the steps to the vestibule. She hit the buzzer under ‘McCoy’, and waited for the click. Then she walked down the hall and knocked on his door.
“Who is it?” Jack said. He sounded terrible.
“Nora.” She waited, holding her breath.
“Go away,” Jack moaned.
“Please, Jack, let me in,” she said.
:”I’m not feeling well,” he said.
“Jack, I need to see you,” Nora persisted.
“Why? To see how I look after a drunk?” Jack asked bitterly.
“No, to apologize to you,” Nora said quietly.
Silence. And then Nora heard movement, and then Jack opened the door.
He hadn’t shaved or combed his hair. He’d changed his soiled suit for a pair of jeans and a ragged bathrobe which was knotted loosely at his waist. He turned and made for the couch without looking at her.
Nora made her way into the cluttered living room, moving some magazines to the floor so she could sit on a chair. Jack lay back on the couch, his eyes closed.
“Jack, what I did yesterday was wrong,” Nora began.
“No, you probably saved me a night in jail,” Jack sighed, not opening his eyes.
“But I think you’d have preferred a night in jail to seeing me there,” Nora said. Silence. “But that’s not the only reason I came. I want to apologize for what I said to you in my office. You know. The remark about reputations.”
Jack stirred. He opened his eyes and looked at her. “Not that it wasn’t deserved,” he said. “I’m not a knight in shining armor, and I’ve never claimed to be.”
“But I didn’t have the right to judge you like I did,” Nora said earnestly as she leaned forward in her chair. “I don’t really know why you had relationships with those women. I assumed I knew, but I don’t know for sure.”
“And your assumptions were wrong, I assure you,” Jack said quietly, looking away. “And anyway, Claire’s death cured me of all that.”
“Jack, look at me. Please.” Nora implored. Jack turned his head to face her. “There’s a bit more to this—apology. I realized last night why this whole thing about you has bothered me so. I haven’t given up hope.”
Jack looked at her, puzzled. “I don’t understand,” he said.
Nora took a deep breath. “I haven’t given up hope of finding my ideal. But last night, I realized that maybe we make our ideal rather than find it. And our ideal should be something—or someone—who is living, changing. Someone with flaws, but who perserveres. Someone who is also looking for their ideal.” Nora stopped, and blushed.
Jack just looked at her. “So, you are saying that maybe we should be tolerant of one another?”
“Yes, I think so,” Nora said.
Jack smiled. “Apology accepted,” he said.