A tired hand moved through her hair as she moved toward the police tape, already dreading what today would bring. Her father stood waiting patiently for her, and from the look on his face he knew this was going to be gruesome. Why couldn't any murders be normal? Or easy to solve for that matter? Everyone knew the first forty eight hours was the most tense, and she knew this was going to be just like any other case. Keeping her up all night wondering just who took out the poor vic this time.

Just like with Neal…

Taking a deep breath, she tried to push the thoughts away, of how she still didn't know who killed him, or how Henry had grown up not knowing his father. They'd both been excited to know she was pregnant, then she got the call…

Mary-Margaret had thankfully been willing to baby sit as Emma went through law school, a new fire in her to get justice for what had happened to her lost love. It wasn't enough that she didn't know who'd kidnapped her from her parents as a child, who made her go through the foster system until they'd found her again. No, life had taken the man she'd loved from her as well, and she intended to make whoever did it pay.

"Lost in thought again?" His words were soft, she barely heard them, going tense before looking her father's way and giving him a small smile.

"Nothing unusual, you know that."

"I do. Come on, Humbert's waiting for us." He gestured with his head to where the man was standing over the body taking pictures and collecting evidence, Coroner Ruby Lucas crouching by him.

"Looks like I'm the last to arrive." She looked at her father with a raised brow.

"You looked tired last night I—"

She raised a hand, not wanting to hear it as she stepped past, letting out a breath. While Emma appreciated his concern she was well aware this was her job, that she was needed here. It was also a pleasant distraction from other things. "So, what've we got?"

A mess of dark hair looked up when she spoke, smiling up at her. "Swan. Looks like our vic was taken by surprise, likely followed down the alley and struck from behind. What gets me is that she was definitely posed to look like this, and these aren't her clothes. Roommate said that she was last seen in something else—"

"Which I am going to leave it to you guys to scope the area for, by the way." Ruby butted in, moving over to bump shoulders with Emma. "I got what I can off her, I'll know more once she's taken in. All I can tell you for certain is that she was definitely hit on the back of the head, that's the cause of death for sure." It was with that that the woman left, leaving the three detectives to look over the scene.

Emma couldn't take her eyes off the woman however, something about the way she was posed bothered her. Well, not bothered—it was somehow familiar—

"Emma?" Jolted from her thoughts, she looked in David's direction with a questioning look, "we were just saying we should canvas the area, see if we can find anything else. Maybe the killer dumped her clothes nearby."

She gave a nod in answer, though already Emma had an idea on who to go looking to for answers, "we should also visit Killian Jones' home."

"Yes we – what? Emma, I know you like his books but I doubt he has anything that can help." Graham didn't bother adding anything, just looking at them with a smirk and a raised brow, as if he knew something they didn't. She'd have to wring it from him later, not while her father was standing right there however, giving her a tired look. It wasn't as if she was obsessed with the mystery novelist, she just enjoyed his books and how much research and effort went into each one

"The placement of the body, the clothes, even the method of death, it's straight out of his book 'Frost Bite'. The first in his Zoe Frost series." Emma had fallen in love with the heroine the moment she'd picked up the book; spunky, sassy, not afraid of saying what things were, Zoe was everything Emma had wanted to be. If she was honest with herself, she was a bit jealous to know that the woman was based off the authors late wife. She hadn't been surprised to read 'Killer Heels' and find the heroine had met her fate… "I'm not going to rule him out as a suspect just because I'm a fan of his works, Nolan." Emphasizing his surname to remind him that they were on the job and any personal things could be dealt with later when Mills wasn't likely to have both their asses for it.

"Looks like we're paying Jones a visit then, aye? Lets do what we can here then and go see the man, though—"

When he suddenly cut himself off, Emma frowned, wondering just what the man had been about to say. Her brows knit together, giving him a questioning look, even more curious as he raised a hand, signalling not to ask. Oh but she would though, just not here, and not with David around. "Hopefully he's home when we go to ask him about this."

Now that, that had made the man still, back tense, refusing to look Emma's way. All Graham gave her was a sound of agreement, humming it as he stood, camera in hand, ready to photograph any other evidence. She was definitely going to have to ask him about that later, especially as she'd never seen him act like this, it was like he was hiding something.

"I'll look through the dumpsters and trash cans nearby, maybe he tried to dump the clothes on his way out." David said, gesturing in the direction of the nearest one with a thumb. She wanted to tell him not to rule out a female suspect, Jones had a large female fanbase after all, but instead she nodded, putting her hands in her pockets as she lowered herself to look over the body. Graham was still near her, and she could feel his eyes on her, tense and ready to snap, Emma sent him a questioning look, thankful when he finally looked away. If he wanted to keep secrets, fine, but they had better not intervene with the case.

"I've collected as much as I could from the body, including any possible injury marks, but as it was a hit and run—so to speak—there won't be much. Not even evidence under the nails." He gave a sigh at that, pushing his hair back. "Want me to call over the guys to take her away?"

Emma thought on it a moment before nodding and pushing up to stand, "not much I can get from her, I can get the full report from Ruby later seeing as most of it can be taken at face value." Hit from behind, clothing changed in some perverse reenactment of the scene from Frost Bite. Though something felt off, she just couldn't tell what it was, like something was missing.

She'd figure it out later, for now she had to canvas the area for anything they might have over looked, get any surveillance footage, and then pay a visit with New York's most eligible bachelor.

Killian couldn't tell what was worse; sobriety or hang overs. Probably both in equal amounts, but at the moment he was feeling more annoyance with his hang over than with his sobriety. After all, that was something he could easily fix with his supply of rum in the kitchen.

Thinking of that, he looked toward the island where a couple bottles of the drink were scattered, some tipped over, his house keeper would be furious. At least he had the decency to be ashamed, rubbing a tired hand over his face before scratching at the stubble along his jaw. He should probably get dressed, probably answer Isabel's calls about killing off Zoe Frost, probably do a lot of things, but when had he ever done anything he should?

If anything the only thing he was good at doing was fucking up royally.

He exhaled a drawn out sigh as he stretched his arms above his head, pyjama bottoms riding low on his hips. The party for his book release had been great, if a bit annoying as everyone had asked the same thing; why kill Zoe? It was as if they forgot who had been his muse for that very character. At least Zoe had gotten to die with dignity, Milah she—

Closing his eyes he tried to push the thoughts aside, heart beating rapidly in his chest as the memory of her death returned as vivid as the day it had happened. How she'd given him a horrified look as she died in his arms. If he could turn back time he would have died in her place, at the very least make it so she'd died with out fear…

Most days he still wondered if her death had been something more than just an accident, if Robert Gold had something to do with it, but as he was doing his best to avoid that man there was no way he could find out.

As his right hand idly massaged the scar that wrapped around his left wrist, he stared at the counter thoughtfully, pulled from it and how he should clean up by the sound of his doorbell.

Who—?

Hopefully it wasn't Isabel, she'd likely give him a beating for the state he and his home were in. Even more he hoped it wasn't someone who'd want inside his home, which made him grimace and the pain in his wrist worsen. He was a wreck, maybe he could just sent them away, make them leave him in peace to wallow in his own misery.

Gods why did they have to release the book around the anniversary of her death? Why did Zoe have to die around the same time as she died?

Despite the ache in his chest, how old wounds were being reopened and salt rubbed into them, he moved to the door and opened it with a smile forced onto his features, surprised to be greeted with three figures there. While his eyes fixed on Graham a moment, narrowing with confusion and surprise to see his old schoolmate, what at least pleased him was the petite blonde before him. Taking in the sight of her curls as his mind wandered to thoughts of how soft they looked, if they'd be just as soft in with his fingers running through them. There was a harsh swallow as he put on a mask of cocky confidence, leaning against the doorway, taking note of how the act made his old friend tense.

Graham always knew how to read him.

Didn't matter much when the bastard hadn't been around to help when Killian had begun spiralling, then again no one had really been around during that time. Not even his own brother…

"Well hello there, love." His tongue dragged across his lips as his eyes roamed over her figure, not even flinching when the other man with her moved closer protectively. "If you want an autograph—" his head cocked to the side, one brow raising, more than willing to sign wherever she wanted it, though he imagined he'd be willing to do a lot of things with her just to forget other things. Even for a night.

"Sorry, not here for some scribbles on a page." He almost wanted to be offended at that, though what she could really be here for had him more interested, and curious, as it might be the distraction he needed. After all, she was flanked by two men, which had to mean something. "NYPD—" ahh, there it was. "We've reason to believe your first book was instrumental in the murder of a young woman and want to ask you a few question." He frowned at those words, body tense, before pushing away from the door, back into his home. There was a single handed gesture for them to follow him inside, now wishing he'd taken that drink he'd been thinking of before they'd arrived to crash his party, so to speak.

The news was sobering at least, though he was sure the state of his home was enough to tell them that the man was far from being in any condition to have murdered someone, or be pleasant company. If anything, it was likely his Irish blood that made him more tolerant of hang overs—that and the alcohol abuse. "Alright, make yourself at home, I'll just go get dressed. An' tell that arse, Graham that he needs to learn to answer his fuckin' cellphone." He sent a dark look over his shoulder at the man, the guilty one sent back was at least somewhat comforting, but it didn't make things easier. Killian had hoped his friend would be of some comfort, but when he needed him, the bastard was missing.

With that he stalked off to his room, in no mood to worry about image, or anything like that. He could hear hushed words from the group in the entrance to his home, but paid no mind to it, they were likely wondering how he knew the officer. Served the bloody bastard right, and it wasn't like Graham could deny knowing Killian lived in New York, he hadn't made his move a secret and he'd been here for years.

This was the house he and Milah had planned to live in…

Shaking away the thoughts, he slipped into some pants, before throwing on a long sleeved shirt, grabbing his cellphone and some socks and shoes. It was with a lick of his lips that he reentered the living room, sitting down on the arm of a chair to pull his socks on, not bothering to look up at any of them. "So which series is it copying?" He could take a guess, but would prefer she tell him so that he'd have more of a clue as to what things were like. Zoe hadn't been his first foray into the mystery scene, but she'd been his longest running one.

He'd only given her up because his therapist and him agreed it was time he let go of Milah, and for Killian, that meant letting go of Milah too. The only thing he couldn't let go of was Bae, but the boy lived with his father.

"Also, if you don't mind, it would be nice to know yours and the surly fellow's name. I know that bastard," there was a gesture toward Graham as Killian looked up to meet the eyes of the woman who he could only guess was leading the three of them.

"First in the Zoe Frost series, it was right out of 'Frost Bite'." Just as he suspected, though he could only guess it was likely staged. He'd have to ask for photos—not out of curiosity, though it was there, but to better know if there was something she or the killer missed. "I'm Detective Emma Swan, this is Officer David Nolan, and as you mentioned you know Officer Humbert."

Ahh, so she had older member of the force with her. He might not know the man personally, but in his research he'd read up about the things Officer Nolan had done, and about his wife. "So what can I do for you detective?" Once he had his shoes on he stood before her, adjusting his sleeves, pulling the left one tight over his wrist to hide the scarring there.

"We need to know if you have any idea who could have done this; crazed fan, enemy out to set you up, things like that." He could see Graham tense at the mention of enemies out of the corner of his eye, they both knew what enemy would be the most likely to do this. Sending a pointed look in his old friend's direction, he knew he'd have to reassure him that it wasn't likely his father doing this. Doubted the bastard cared about Killian enough to chase him down, even then Kieran was a bit more—forward.

"Alas, I don't love. I've a lot of enemies, and a lot of crazed fans. You'll probably find more than a couple restraining orders I've put out on those who've threatened any woman I've been with for more than a couple o' seconds. But I can collect you things like fanmail, message boards, and a list o' enemies. I like to keep track in case anything happens to me." With that said another look was exchanged between himself and Graham before the author turned to head toward his office, hearing a 'that would be great, Mr. Jones' along with the sound of the others following behind.

Even if he didn't feel his father would come for him right that moment, he wanted to be careful as the man was crafty and obsessive at best. Didn't help he was a renown mobster from Ireland, Killian had come to America with Liam just to escape him and his clutches, and hopefully make Liam see the light about the man. It took their mother's murder for him to at least stop being so damn loyal to him, and Killian had never forgiven Kieran for what he'd done to Evelyn.

He stared at his desk, lost in thought for a moment, pulled out by the sound of Emma coughing into her hand. "Right, sorry, was thinking." Offering her a small smile, he moved over to where he kept his fanmail—at least the more recent stuff—picking the box up and setting it on the desk. "My manager, Isabel, has any new fanmail that has come in and not been sent to me yet, which would likely be from the last couple weeks." If it was negative or threatening, chances were she would have hidden it from him as she knew what date was coming up. "This is as recent as the past couple months. I keep anything older in storage. Though I imagine what I have here and what Isabel has is more of interest t' you." With that said he moved over to his laptop, "I can offer you my laptop as well however—as I said—I keep e-mails and track of message boards and the likes. I try to keep in touch with my fans as best I can." There was a small smile as he said that, a distant look in his eyes.

Really, fan contact was one of the few joys he got these days.

"What's here—and what your manager has—should do for now, thank you."

Killian nodded in answer, looking her way as he pulled his phone out, sending Isabel a text to bring any new fanmail to the precinct, as well as what was going on. Added to that, he mentioned that she didn't need to worry, that he wasn't a suspect.

"So, you stalk your fansites?" That was from the surly one, which had Killian looking his way with a dry stare.

"As I said, I like to keep in touch with my fanbase. I also know about all the fan forums, popular blogs, and the likes. Yeah it's probably a bit paranoid, but I write crime novels, plus it's good to know what people are saying and what I'm doing right or wrong." He wasn't going to let someone who didn't know him or his situation judge him for what he did in his spare time, sometimes he looked because it would lift his spirits, even the tiniest bit.

"Having your laptop would be a great help, Mr. Jones." He could see the blonde giving Detective Nolan a dark look, thankful for it in a way. "Especially as the suspect likely tried to reach out to you in more than one format, so we can cross reference them with any forum posts, blogs, or even letters."

Giving another nod at that, he began to collect anything he may need, thankful in a way as he would have likely spent his day sulking about the house otherwise. While the circumstances were tragic, he had little reason to leave his home these days. "I'll be ready to leave momentarily." He gave them an—albeit forced—smile before collecting his charger and various other things, anything he felt he may need during his consultation on this case.

They thankfully left him to collect his things, giving him a moment to rest his hands on the desk and breathe. His eyes closed as he bowed his head, back bent forward as all his weight rested on his hands. The amount of shame he felt for them coming in to see him in this condition was astounding, but it was no surprise, he was going to have to be more careful. Especially as he didn't want this getting back to Liam and his brother to come down on him, worrying the bloody mayor was something he didn't want to do. So as soon as possible he was going to have to clean up here, or at least pay the cleaning lady extra and tell her to not let his brother know.

Powers that be, he only hoped Isabel didn't tell Liam about all this.

Slipping the laptop, chords, and other essentials into a messenger bag, he headed out into the living room, sending a quick text to his cleaning lady that he'd pay her extra for the mess. Along with apologizing profusely, and telling her to not let his brother know about all of it as this was a bit of a disaster.

"Well, Miss Swan, I'm ready." He looked up from his cellphone at the three who looked at him curiously, wondering just what they were thinking. Killian tried to push any paranoid thoughts aside, instead putting on his usual front of a cheery demeanour, even if his mind was reeling with what they may be thinking or what they could have been talking about before his arrival.

"Right, we have two cars outside so you can ride with me, Mr. Jones." Swan gestured to the door as Killian nodded, grabbing his keys off the counter before following them to the door, his image falling for only a moment as Graham passed so he could eye the other man darkly. Chances were they were going to have a talk after all this, but only after the case was over with as he wasn't going to let his own problems get in the way of justice.

He locked up behind them, watching the two men head for their car before following Detective Swan to her own, and climbing into the passengers side. It was awkward and quiet, but at least it was better than being at home, he just hoped she wouldn't ask—

"So, have a party last night?"

"Aye, 'fore you count me as a suspect I have enough witnesses to count for where I was." And how much he'd drunk that night, and the night before. "Anyone there last night could tell you, and as you could see by the amount of alcohol bottles I was too inebriated to commit murder. Passed out some time after midnight after someone helped me to my room and let the guests out."

It was all true, he had had a few people over that night for a small tight knit book release party, mostly the elite, and after a few had stayed as Killian drunk himself into a stupor. Mostly other author friends who criticized his choice in killing off his big selling heroine. The same bastards had also criticized his choice in making his big seller a woman. Something that made him consider that he needed new friends.

"It's just standard procedure, you know that." That he did, didn't mean he had to like it though, in fact he hated it, glaring out the window as they headed into the city and through it's walls. "Just give me a list of contacts we can corroborate the story with in case anyone does want to point the finger at you, alright?"

"Aye, aye." A heavy sigh left him, pinching the bridge of his nose, knowing this would go easier if he cooperated. He had a feeling that even though this would get him out of the house for the day, he wasn't going to enjoy it.