By the Book

Chapter 17

Chapter 17 Road Trip

Burke Residence. January 8, 2004 – Thursday morning.

While everyone else was waking up and getting dressed, Peter caught up on email. He became absorbed in the updates on recent cases, and was the last one to head downstairs. As he reached the living room, he could smell the omelets and coffee El was making, and heard Henry strum a guitar. Neal came out of the kitchen with a stack of plates and flatware, which he placed on the table. Then he glanced over at Henry and sounded surprised when he said, "You kept it."

Henry stopped playing and shrugged. "I thought you might want it back someday."

"Thanks," Neal said as Henry handed him the guitar. Neal leaned against the recliner and played a chord and said, "Hello, my friend."

Henry shook his head. "You'll never be as good as me, but I know you can do better than that."

"You saw the piano at my place. That's what I've been playing the last month; I haven't practiced with a guitar in weeks. And I'm supposed to be setting the table."

"Well, then you need to practice, and I think I can figure out the table."

After a few more chords... Or at least that's what Peter assumed it was, not being into music himself, Neal started playing an actual song that Peter vaguely remembered hearing on the radio. Neal repeated "Hello, my friend," and then continued onto more lyrics.

Henry sang along while arranging the table. It brought to mind what Ellen Parker had said in St. Louis: the Caffrey side of Neal's family loved music, and couldn't pass up a piano without playing a song or listen to the radio without singing along. Neal had even mentioned memories of his mother singing in the kitchen while she cooked, and probably felt at home as Elizabeth hummed while pouring coffee.

Peter followed her into the kitchen. "You know the song, too?"

"'My Sacrifice'," she said, thought a moment and added, "by a group called Creed." She handed Peter a plate of toast which he carried back out to the dining room.

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Neal flipped through radio stations as Henry drove to the FBI offices. They had been following Peter's car for the first few blocks, but as usual the agent had sped ahead as if he were in a race. Neal landed on a station that was starting the song "The Reason" by Hoobastank, and he listened with intent to play it on his guitar that evening.

As usual, Henry couldn't help singing. But when the song ended he turned off the radio. "So, you can't lie to Peter. Does that mean you gave the FBI all of your aliases when you made your confession?"

Neal knew which alias had Henry concerned. "I withheld the name Neal Legend. It's more a pseudonym than an alias. That's how I justified holding it back."

"You promise you'll keep that one a secret?"

"I have to. And if anything goes wrong, it's the one escape I have left. The FBI knows nothing about that part of my life, and they don't need to. I don't want to give Peter any clues or reason to follow that thread."

"You've mentioned Shawn to them."

"It was hard not to. But I didn't give a last name. I've implied Shawn is a friend of yours, without a criminal past, and therefore not of interest to the FBI." Neal looked at Henry. "You know, I used to be confused when you talked about Shawn in the third person. But when I started gathering aliases and tried to keep them all straight, I had to do the same thing. Each alias had different personalities and quirks, and I thought of them as different characters I played, but not me. I finally understood how Shawn could be blisteringly angry that I left, and you could still be my friend."