Participants:
| Scene Title | Connected Or Coincidence? |
|---|---|
| Synopsis | With Cassidy off fetching him breakfast, Coren's left to sit around in his hospital room. Not that he intends to go anywhere. He just had surgery, for God's sake. At least the morphine's good. And Rebecca Nakano shows up to see how he is and what she can do for him (even though he asks what he can do for her before she can ask him). |
| Date | June 1, 2009 |
Cassidy's been gone for nearly ten minutes now, and Coren fully expects her to be at least another half hour or so, if not a whole hour, while she goes about finding him a suitable breakfast. Hospital food just doesn't cut it — that's seriously not food. It's edible clay at the best of times. There's not much for Coren to do except see what's on the television in the corner. Sitting around with nothing to do is seriously not what he had in mind. That's just not something he handles well at all. If it were any other day and he had time off, he'd be drinking or spending his time doing anything but twiddling his thumbs.
Having just been dropped off by Aude, Becca enters the hospital, flashes her badge and is directed to Detective Shelby's room. She takes the elevator up and when she gets to his floor, she exits when the doors are open and pads down the hall until she gets to his room. She first cracks the door to make sure he's not already being visited, and then she opens the door further, stepping in.
She didn't even make it to her lab this morning, so she's not wearing her lab coat, but a white pull-over shirt with a collar and black slacks, with matching black flats and shuffle along the floor when she walks. "Detective Shelby?" Never the socialite, she doesn't want to bother him if he's resting.
That's the nice thing about badges. They make everything so much easier, not that it's necessary to get in to see him, although the thought of having armed guard has flitted about Coren's mind for a short while since Cassidy left. "Miss Nakano," Coren says as Rebecca peeks her head in, turning his head to face the doorway. No, he's not going to turn any other part of him, back still as sore as it is from being shot. "Please, come in. What can I do for you?"
Well, that's quite the question to be asking. She's the one who feels like she should be the one asking that. "I — I wanted to find out how you were feeling is all. I heard about what happened. They say — at least — that you're going to be okay." She's quite the serious one, isn't she? Becca pulls over a chair and sits next to the bed.
"Damn, I should have asked Cassidy to bring me a cup of tea, too…" Coren says. "My doctor's likely to shit a brick with what she's bringing me already, but if they think I'll subsist on the food they serve here, they've got another thing coming." He rubs his shoulder as Rebecca comes closer. "But I digress," he says. "I'll be fine. Just a couple of gunshots to the back. Never killed anyone," he says before he catches himself, "Or … no, I suppose it does." There's a brief pause. "I suppose that's one of the benefits of being evolved. You live long enough to acquire eleven gunshot wounds. Of course, you also live through them." Two more for the back.
"Do you want me to call her and ask her to bring you some?" asks the forensics officer. "I mean, it's no trouble." She listens as he speaks and nods accordingly as she keeps her hands in her lap. "I haven't had the chance to read any reports, but do you have any idea who did this? Or why?" She doubts all evolved could survive what he has in the last 24 hours.
No, just the ones who can endure, or regenerate. "No, no, she'll probably get me tea without me asking," Coren says. Yeah, she's probably thinking the same thing he was. Tea. Need tea. He fiddles with the bed controls to bring himself up into a less reclined position. "Gotta love these electric recliners," he joked, even though laughing probably isn't good for his recently patched up lung. Good thing he doesn't laugh when he says it. "I don't imagine there will be too many reports. I seem to recall hearing two more gunshots while I was lying on the ground bleeding. The man who shot me was about my height, or at least it looked like that from my prone vantage point. Had a really deep voice, too.
"All I know is that he either was the person or was collaborating with the person who called my cell phone forty-eight times this — well, in May. Forty-eight being the call that the lab traced to Old Lucy's. That immediately made me think it was a threat towards Abigail, so I called dispatch and got EMS and backup sent there, then called Cassidy. I arrived first, found out the man left his cell phone there and could possibly still be in the area so I did something stupid and went out into the alley to investigate. Rookie mistake, but I'd do it again if I thought Abigail was in trouble. Haven't the slightest idea who the man is. He did say one thing though." The words echo through his mind clearly, and he's not likely to forget them, either, since he at first thought he was dead. "I just want you to know: I hold your life in my hands." He pauses, "Then he shot me. I didn't see him until I crouched down, and then I collapsed behind the dumpster. Son of a bitch shot me in the back."
"I've decided it's time for me to step out from my lab and start doing more field work. I'm going to start by going to the scene of your shooting and see if I can find anything out with my gift." There's a definite new fire in her eyes as she speaks, Becca having made up her mind only an hour or so ago when she heard about the second shooting. "I was going to ask Cassidy to come with me when she gets back. I can probably get you — at least a face. It'll bring us one step closer to finding out what's going on. You don't know if it would have anything to do with Tyler Case, would you?"
"Good for you," Coren says. "And be quick about it too, since I think Abigail would like the alley back. At least clean up the blood, anyway." He gives a bit of head-shake, "Cassidy is on administrative leave, but I'm sure she'd like to be there even if in an unofficial capacity. You'd have to grab another detective or just some uniforms. I'd advise whichever ones were there last night, as far as the uniforms go," Coren says. "I can't say I know of a Tyler Case, though the name seems vaguely familiar. Probably heard it in passing," he says. Which of course begs to the question that he asks next, "Who's Tyler Case?"
Rebecca says, "To be honest, I don't really know all the details — but I worked forensics on the case for Detective Myron." She pauses for a moment, as her eyes tear up a little at the mention of the recently deceased. Becca clears her throat. "Those of us who worked the case have been getting very odd text messages — saying Case was back on the street. We aren't sure what's going on with it, as of yet. I'm almost certain that Detective Myron's death has to do with Case. I just can't prove anything."
Shaking her head, Becca shrugs. "I only know the work I did on it. He seems to have been some sort of replicator that I know. After he was taking down, he was whisked away by Homeland Security. I hadn't heard a word from that point on until last month when I got the text." She's not sure how much she can talk about the ongoing case, so she stops there. "You weren't involved in the original case, so I don't understand how this could be related, but then again, as close as the shootings were — it's hard to believe they're not related too."
Coren lowers his head at the mention of Detective Myron. Man gets shot and killed not long before he gets shot. He can't say he hadn't wondered about a connection between the two. An awful lot of cops have been dying as of late. "Back on the street? What was he taken off the street for? And what details do you know?"
"The thought had crossed my mind," Coren admits, "An awful lot of cops have been dying as of late. I thought for a moment I was next." Something he'd never admit to Cassidy. "I'm unsurprised to hear about Homeland Security, though. They do seem to swoop in an awful lot, like overgrown bats. But if the recent killings have been related to a specific case I was not involved in…. No, that doesn't quite make sense."
"It's like there's a connection, but then there's not a connection. Maybe if I go to both scenes, I can find out one way or the other if they're related." The tech offers a small smile towards the detective. "It's a little after the fact, but it's really all I can do to help — if it even does that. The fact that both shootings were at night, in the dark — there's no telling what I'll be able to see." Becca takes a deep breath and lets it out. "Hopefully, it'll be enough."
"I guess we'll see, won't we?" Coren asks. "Hopefully your gift will shed some light on the situation, one way or the other. Not that anything you see is admissable, but at least it gives us something to work. It's more useful than the untraceable cellular phone. Speaking of which, I imagine it's worked its way into evidence by now. I secured it along with Abigail's description of the man who left it. It will have her finger prints on it, I imagine." And although Coren is unaware, it also has another man's prints on it, the one who found the phone after it had been left behind.
Becca tilts her head and then remembers. "I haven't been to the lab yet this morning — so I haven't seen it. But if it's there, I'll do what I can with it. Is there anything else that I should know? Anything at all?" she asks, glancing at her watch briefly. Not that she has anywhere to go. Not really.
"If anything springs to mind, I'll be sure to let you and whoever is investigating my case what I have. I think everything's been said. I'll get Cassidy to bring me a pad of paper to write my statement on and then someone can pick that up or she can drop it off," Coren says, using the bed controls to recline a bit now. Morphine, baby.
Becca stands and nods, seeing that he's about to get some rest. "Well, I'll let you be. I'll get out there first thing in the morning and see if there's anything that I can 'see' that'll be useful. Get some rest, Detective." She reaches over and places a hand on his arm and gives it a squeeze.