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.
He draws in a breath to say something, he's not sure what, then lets it go, shaking his head. "I don't know? I..."
Neal looks out the window for another moment. "Ever since I talked to Ellen--my aunt, the one who was hanging on to that painting for me. The one Kramer almost caught me with. Ever since I talked to her, I've... been thinking about them."
He leans against Malcolm heavily. "I think I'm just tired."
"You've been through a lot," Malcolm tells him. "Too much. And there aren't a lot of outlets to... purge it. Most people would think your story is crazy. You just... need to be patient with yourself, okay?" he advises.
Too much. Neal can't argue and won't even try. He hasn't slept, really slept, since two days before the commutation. He was too nervous, and then Kramer sent him back to prison for a night. With Malcolm's own close call with the edge of the veranda, he's... tired. He's so tired. The commutation feels like a fever dream, still, and he'd swear there's an anklet chafing his skin.
It's probably not a surprise that he falls asleep on Malcolm's shoulder half-way to the precinct.
He's standing in the middle of Phillips Drive, the houses around him pristine. Pristine and empty. It's summer, maybe, or the very end of spring--either way there's an edge of crispy heat to the air.
A sound, something, gets Neal to turn around sharply, and in the half-second before he wakes up he would swear he sees Raylan walking toward him, dripping shadows.
Neal jerks sharply, fixing Malcolm with a wide-eyed look that doesn't quite register his face. Then he does. Forces himself to breathe a little easier. "Yeah. I'm. Yes."
He looks out the window, sees where they are, tries to get his head pulled back from the realism of that open street. "Right."
Neal immediately shakes his head, the idea of going to sleep again without someone else--without Malcolm, specifically--making him feel queasy. "I'm good."
A blink. A tiny, crooked smile. "Exaggeration, but I'll be fine."
Malcolm nods. “Okay. Come on,” he says gently, still concerned but feeling better with Neal close too. He slides out of the car to lead the way into and through the precinct.
Neal takes his hand before they go inside, recognizing in a distant kind of way that he's starting to get almost dependent on the contact. He should work on that, he needs to work on that, but right now the thought of trying to exhausts him.
They get to the conference room without incident, even though Neal is still half-braced for Kramer to appear from some corner. JT glances over as they come in, then goes back to fixing photos to the case board.
“I hate to say it,” JT tells them over his shoulder, “but the wife looks good for it.”
“Neither the mother nor the au pair present as killers,” Malcolm tells them. “But that’s the problem with a depraved heart; they might not seem like a killer. We need more information.”
"Agreed," Gil grunts. "And we need to figure out motive. JT, take the husband--just because he was the vic doesn't mean he's innocent. Dani, you've got the the au pair. Malcolm, you and I... and Neal. Will talk to some of the other moms in this little Influencer circle."
Neal relaxes a little when Gil doesn't try to argue for him to leave.
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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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Neal looks out the window for another moment. "Ever since I talked to Ellen--my aunt, the one who was hanging on to that painting for me. The one Kramer almost caught me with. Ever since I talked to her, I've... been thinking about them."
He leans against Malcolm heavily. "I think I'm just tired."
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It's probably not a surprise that he falls asleep on Malcolm's shoulder half-way to the precinct.
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"Neal," he says softly, giving his knee a squeeze.
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A sound, something, gets Neal to turn around sharply, and in the half-second before he wakes up he would swear he sees Raylan walking toward him, dripping shadows.
Neal jerks sharply, fixing Malcolm with a wide-eyed look that doesn't quite register his face. Then he does. Forces himself to breathe a little easier. "Yeah. I'm. Yes."
He looks out the window, sees where they are, tries to get his head pulled back from the realism of that open street. "Right."
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“Are you okay? Do you want me to meet you back at your apartment? Maybe you should get some rest instead of pushing yourself.”
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A blink. A tiny, crooked smile. "Exaggeration, but I'll be fine."
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They get to the conference room without incident, even though Neal is still half-braced for Kramer to appear from some corner. JT glances over as they come in, then goes back to fixing photos to the case board.
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“Neither the mother nor the au pair present as killers,” Malcolm tells them. “But that’s the problem with a depraved heart; they might not seem like a killer. We need more information.”
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Neal relaxes a little when Gil doesn't try to argue for him to leave.
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