"June doesn't, and it's her house." Neal takes Malcolm's hand, heart squeezing at his throat. "I want you there. If you like it, I want you there even more."
JT intercepts them. He gives Neal a passingly curious look - no stolen goods on this job that they know of - but doesn’t say anything and turns his attention to Malcolm.
“Wanna see something weird?” he asks.
“Always!” Malcolm replies brightly.
JT leads them upstairs, to a room with feet sticking out of a ball pit while JT explains the party was a sip ‘n’ see.
Malcolm steps around to where Edrisa is standing for the best view of the body and its fatal wound, talking through his theory.
Neal meanders around the fringes, not as bothered by the body as he might once have been, still not prioritizing getting close to the body. Gil wanders over to him, eyebrows raised.
"Heard you got the commutation. Congrats." That's about all Neal gets before Gil is eyeballing Edrisa and Malcolm and the fact that Edrisa has her hand against Malcolm's chest.
Malcolm is staring at the champagne bottle in the victim’s neck in utter fascination and it’s not until Gil points it out that they both look at her hand and then Malcolm steps back, giving her an apologetic look, then glances around for Neal with the spell of the corpse broken.
Neal smiles at Malcolm's fascination, enjoying that rather than the body. He also tries not to focus on the way the little coroner--Edrisa, he remembers--and the way she's looking at him. He brushes his fingers lightly against Malcolm's arm.
“We’ll see. No premeditation. This was a crime of opportunity… and anger. We’re going to go talk to his wife,” he explains, gesturing for Neal to walk with them.
Neal falls in next to Malcolm, automatically taking note of everything on their way to the nursery, pricing things out in his head and plotting escape routes. An automatic mental habit, a little bit of private entertainment.
He stops mid-mental-plan when they walk into the nursery and he sees the dead man's wife. The anonymous body suddenly given context. Neal falls back a step, letting Malcolm take the lead.
Gil asks the questions, but when the mother shakes her head, mentioning apologetically that she’s been in such a daze; baby brain, Malcolm leans forward faintly.
“That psychological haze is an adaptive reaction to help mothers bond with their newborns,” he explains softly. “It’s a cloud of love; nothing to be ashamed of.”
But there was little else the mother or au pair could tell them. They headed back to the precinct.
Neal keeps his eyes on the cab window as they drive, not really seeing what's outside. A cloud of love. Did his mother feel that way with him? When it came out that his dad was a murderer, a cop killer... He murdered himself, Neal thinks absently, goosebumps prickling along his scalp.
He drags in a breath and shifts his attention to the interior of the cab, reaching for Malcolm's hand.
Malcolm’s eyes flutter open to the sound of his phone ringing and he’s not entirely sure he’s actually awake. Still, he answers.
They’ve discovered the nanny’s real name, spoken to her husband in Montreal. Retrieved her criminal record from Canadian authorities.
Malcolm sits on the edge of the bed, looking out Neal’s window at the city after hanging up. Nothing they’ve learned explains why she didn’t take the baby when she ran. Nothing they’ve learned explains any of his questions.
Neal didn’t expect to fall back asleep. He comes around a little when Malcolm is on the phone, but lets him drift in sleepiness until the conversation ends. He sits up enough to run a hand down Malcolm’s back. “You don’t look happy about whatever they said.”
“The nanny was using a fake name. She has a criminal record in Canada. Assault. She went missing a handful of months ago, according to her husband. He’s looking for her.”
Malcolm looks at Neal over his shoulder.
“It doesn’t make any of this make sense. The missing piece is still missing.”
“Assault is an easy way to write off self-defense, if you get the wrong cop.”
There’s a grim irony in it. Neal rubs his face with one hand. “I think he’s worth looking at. Maybe…”
Maybe. There’s some little something tugging at him that he can’t put his finger on. Something the Malcolm of Mathias said about memories, about the people who have to deal with them. “What if she never intended to take Nina? We assume she did, because the scenario fits an expected pattern made easier to assume by the violent context. But what if she never wanted to steal her?”
“A lot of cops are the wrong cops, when it’s a cool and collected man’s word versus an emotional woman’s word,” Malcolm muses as he sees where Neal is going with that. “But what could she…” He pauses. “The bleeding. What if she was telling the truth about it? It could be a symptom of a larger health problem. Any sort of bleeding disorder would make a pregnancy high risk.”
"If he knows about the baby... if it's his... if he's an abuser... he might feel entitled to the baby. Someone already prone to violence could have easily killed Ezra if he refused him access to his daughter," Malcolm points out.
Neal can’t help it. He feels weirdly exhilarated. They’re figuring this out, solving it, and yes it’s the same kind of rush he gets from conning a con but it’s more than that, too. They’re stopping a killer. Or at least working toward it.
“I understand why you love this,” Neal murmurs. “Before Mathias I don’t think I could have, but I do now.”
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The drive isn't too long, really. The house is grand, the crime scene bustling. Neal sticks close to Malcolm.
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“Wanna see something weird?” he asks.
“Always!” Malcolm replies brightly.
JT leads them upstairs, to a room with feet sticking out of a ball pit while JT explains the party was a sip ‘n’ see.
Malcolm steps around to where Edrisa is standing for the best view of the body and its fatal wound, talking through his theory.
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"Heard you got the commutation. Congrats." That's about all Neal gets before Gil is eyeballing Edrisa and Malcolm and the fact that Edrisa has her hand against Malcolm's chest.
"Edrisa?"
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"Interesting case?"
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He stops mid-mental-plan when they walk into the nursery and he sees the dead man's wife. The anonymous body suddenly given context. Neal falls back a step, letting Malcolm take the lead.
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“That psychological haze is an adaptive reaction to help mothers bond with their newborns,” he explains softly. “It’s a cloud of love; nothing to be ashamed of.”
But there was little else the mother or au pair could tell them. They headed back to the precinct.
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He drags in a breath and shifts his attention to the interior of the cab, reaching for Malcolm's hand.
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“Doing okay?” he asks.
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They’ve discovered the nanny’s real name, spoken to her husband in Montreal. Retrieved her criminal record from Canadian authorities.
Malcolm sits on the edge of the bed, looking out Neal’s window at the city after hanging up. Nothing they’ve learned explains why she didn’t take the baby when she ran. Nothing they’ve learned explains any of his questions.
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Malcolm looks at Neal over his shoulder.
“It doesn’t make any of this make sense. The missing piece is still missing.”
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"What do we know about the husband?"
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“Nothing. Just that he reported her missing.”
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There’s a grim irony in it. Neal rubs his face with one hand. “I think he’s worth looking at. Maybe…”
Maybe. There’s some little something tugging at him that he can’t put his finger on. Something the Malcolm of Mathias said about memories, about the people who have to deal with them. “What if she never intended to take Nina? We assume she did, because the scenario fits an expected pattern made easier to assume by the violent context. But what if she never wanted to steal her?”
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Neal sits up properly, one hand on Malcolm's waist, the other propping himself against the mattress.
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Malcolm starts texting Gil.
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“I understand why you love this,” Neal murmurs. “Before Mathias I don’t think I could have, but I do now.”
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