A/N: Thank-you so much for the initial reviews. I can't tell you how much I appreciate them. I should warn you though, this is my first story with a fairly prominent witness, and I'm praying it is even halfway to realistic. My knowledge of law enforcement is not exactly plentiful.

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"Cassidy Ford, formerly Cassidy Farmer of Salt Lake City, Utah," Stan announced, tossing a file folder onto the table in the conference room while his two inspectors looked on.

Marshall was quicker and picked up the envelope before Mary could get to it, leaving her to appeal to Stan.

"So what's her story?"

"Pretty cut-and-dry," Stan shrugged while Marshall perused the contents of the file. "Lived with dad and grandpa; pop-pop was a habitual gambler, got into it with the bookies in the alley behind the apartment; wound up dead from a blow to the head."

"Why did she live with the father and grandfather?" Mary inquired. "Mooched off a card-game lowlife and couldn't make her own living outside of…you know, the family business?"

"Uh…" Marshall murmured, beckoning with his finger, his eyes on the folder in front of him. "Might want to take a look."

Shooting Stan a glance, she leaned in her seat to see what Marshall was observing. Staring back at her from inside the folder was a little girl, enormous brown eyes and auburn hair, freckles sprinkled across her nose. It was a school picture, so she smiled happily, her hair combed and tied off with a turquoise bow in the back. One of her front teeth was missing.

"You could've mentioned she was a munchkin, chief," Mary grumbled resentfully.

"Oh, did I forget that?" Stan bounced on the balls of his feet in his usual carefree way. "My apologies."

"So…how does she fit into this?" Marshall asked, waving his fingers at the picture and then raising his eyes to meet Stan's. "What'd she see?"

"Her grandfather being murdered," Stan reported bluntly. "From the upstairs window, but from what I can gather she got quite an eyeful. Worst part is, the bookies caught a glimpse of her too."

"So…why not off her on the spot?" Mary wanted to know, pulling some back pages out of the folder behind Marshall's hand. "She's a kid; she couldn't defend herself."

"That's the tricky thing," Stan continued, taking a sip from his coffee. Mary did her best not to inhale and fought off telling him to toss it in the garbage. If she wanted to be a part of this case, she had to hold her tongue. Stan was already reluctant to put her in the field as it was.

"The dad hit the alley shortly after his old man was killed and tried to go a round with the bookies himself," he went on. "Wherever the girl went in the meantime remains a mystery but the police got her before the killers did, so that's something to be grateful for."

"And what about the dad?" Marshall consulted the papers spilling from the folder and saw that Mary now had the information.

"Alexander Farmer?" Mary voiced, thumbing through the documents herself. "He's not coming into the program with her? Does he have a rap sheet?"

"Not that I'm aware of," Stan replied. "But nobody saw what happened in the alley after the grandfather died and several of those bookies turned up dead later in the evening…"

"And his prints are all over the crime scene," Marshall nodded in understanding as he put the pieces together.

"Right you are, inspector," Stan inclined his head as well. "Until he gets things sorted out with the police in Salt Lake as well as Child Protective Services, Cassidy is our only witness and she's already been placed with a foster family currently in the program."

"Jesus…" Mary muttered, her eyes straying back to the picture of the little girl who couldn't be more than seven years old. She looked alight with joy in the stilted school photo – perfectly groomed and styled. You'd never know the kind of turmoil wreaking havoc on her life at home.

"Where's the mother?" Mary asked as she slipped the picture into her palm, the finish smooth against her fingers.

"Dead," Stan answered. "The grandmother too. Mom was a drug addict and bit the dust before Cassidy was a year old. So, if the dad – Alex – turns out to be legit he is the first of the law-abiding citizens in his family."

"Quite an accomplishment," Mary muttered disdainfully. "But not likely."

"Don't count your chickens on this one," Marshall wagged a disapproving finger as he continued to sort through the papers. "By all accounts, Alex is a stand-up guy; he was only housing the grandfather in the hopes that he would get some help, according to his statement. Not so much as a traffic ticket on his record."

"Hey, newsflash Colombo," Mary butted in. "Maybe you haven't figured this out after all your years in law enforcement but…criminals lie! What a shock!" she put on a face of mock-surprise and Marshall frowned.

"Enough, you two," Stan intervened, taking a seat at the conference table across from them. "Marshall, Cassidy is your responsibility until we can get this situation with her dad worked out. If he turns out to be innocent, she'll be relocated again."

"So, Albuquerque's just a pit stop?" Mary wanted to know. "What if the guy is a walking con-job?"

"We better hope he isn't," Stan replied. "As of now, Cassidy is able to give taped testimony so she won't have to go through the trauma of reliving the ordeal in a courtroom but if Alex is busted, that deal hits the fan."

"Why?" Mary demanded, riled on the little girl's behalf. "What bearing does he have on that?"

"He is claiming he saw about half of what happened through the same window but until Salt Lake PD confirms it, that remains to be seen," Stan continued.

"And if he is sketchy?" Marshall interrupted from behind the folder. "What then?"

"We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," Stan said. "As for you…" he turned to Mary, who was trying not to look over-eager. "Marshall's lead on this, you copy?"

Disappointed, Mary fed him a scowl of deepest loathing, glaring childishly.

"Does that mean I have to sit in the back of the car and do the crossword while he blasts the bookies if they come calling?"

"Mary, this isn't a game," Stan pounded the table in his agitation. "You're eight months pregnant for Christ's sake; I'm not putting you in harm's way."

She sighed exasperatedly, peering at Marshall in the hopes that he would come to her aide but she should've known better. He was even more against her being in the line of fire than Stan was. Giving him a dirty look when he shrugged in an ashamed sort of way, she turned back to Stan.

"Can I do anything?" she pleaded. "Come on. Does it not show how desperate I am to be part of the action that I'm willing to saddle up with a kid? Think about it."

"Are you even sure that's a good idea?" Marshall asked skeptically. "Considering your mood as of late…"

"Oh, don't even go there," she snapped, hardly daring to believe he had the gall. "You want to see a mood; just wait."

Mary didn't miss Marshall flash Stan a look of compliance ever-so-briefly before his eyes swiveled back to the folder.

"You're not missing out on much, Mary," Stan tried to appease her, even leaning in to get a better look at her features. "She's not gonna be under our watch for long and the local PD has most of it covered. She's protected round-the-clock when she's in school; there's a guard in her classroom."

"So, wait," Marshall interrupted. "Where do I come in?"

"You'll consult with ABQ PD…"

"You mean his girlfriend," Mary muttered, the thought not improving her sullen attitude.

Marshall shot her an exasperated look, but didn't respond.

"Check in at the school as needed – mostly just work together with the foster family 'till her dad is able to take her back. Make sure they're all on the same page."

"Will do," Marshall nodded.

Mary was feeling extremely put-out. Here she thought she'd be able to weasel her way into something field-related and the limited amount of exposure in that area made it nearly impossible. Not to mention the fact that neither Marshall nor Stan were taking her very seriously in the matter. In the back of her mind, she knew they just wanted her to be safe but nothing rankled her more than being told to sit down and shut up.

"Speak of the devil," Stan turned as the three of them heard the knock on the glass double-doors separating the elevator from the office.

Mary saw Abigail standing outside – watched her wave at Marshall with one hand while the other held onto the fingers of the little girl in the picture, who looked thoroughly petrified. Marshall waved too while Stan got up to let her in, and Mary's scowl became even more pronounced as she saw Abigail parade inside. Nothing got by her partner and he nudged her with his elbow.

"I'd say your face would freeze like that, but…"

"But what?" Mary snapped. "It's in a pretty permanent position these days, anyway. How would you expect me to look?"

Marshall opened his mouth to respond, but was spared the task of answering when Abigail entered with Cassidy who was wide-eyed and looked fairly worn-down. Mary noticed she was dressed decently – jeans, tennis shoes, and a pink and orange striped polo. She looked to be in good condition but there was no mistaking the terror and sorrow behind her eyes.

"Good morning!" Abigail chirped. "Marshall – Mary," she nodded briefly at the pair of them. Mary didn't say anything, but Marshall stood up.

"Morning, detective."

The way they tiptoed around the fact that they were together made Mary feel faintly sick and she wasn't sure she was up to hiding it.

"Our little lady here is ready for some meet-and-greet," Abigail continued, patting the child's head as though she were a dog. She didn't answer, but looked around the room with mild interest, her eyes not meeting anyone else's.

"Great," Mary couldn't resist interjecting, her feet now resting on one of the chairs as she leaned in her own seat to stretch out the kinks in her back. "Should we go over the MOU with her?" added sarcasm.

"Mary, you are too funny," Abigail chuckled obnoxiously and Marshall laughed as well. "Nope, Cassidy here just came over to meet with Inspector Mann so she can get comfortable with him during her time here in Albuquerque."

Stan was smiling kindly at the little girl and Marshall did the same. Mary kept her face even and moderate, lounging rather unattractively now in attempts to get comfortable. She barely listened as Abigail gave Marshall the details on when her foster family would be by to pick her up, and was merely satisfied to see the door shut as Abigail bid them all farewell.

It wasn't that she hated Abigail. She didn't. In some ways, there wasn't even much to dislike about her. It was just…something. Something irritating, something off-putting…something about all the time she spent with Marshall.

She'd never been good at sharing.

"Well, Cassidy," Marshall began once Abigail was gone, pulling a chair out for her to sit in.

Surprisingly, she grabbed her own chair – the one closest to Mary – and sat there instead. She hopped up, legs dangling a few inches above the ground, running her hands up and down her jeans. Marshall chose to ignore the slight and sat in the chair himself. Stan lingered in the background, letting his inspector do the work.

"I'm Inspector Mann. But you can call Marshall," he said invitingly. "It's pretty easy to remember – 'cause I am a Marshal," and he pulled the badge off his belt for her to look at. Slowly, she took it and turned the star over in her fingers, examining the points with scrutiny.

Wordlessly, she handed it back to him and nodded. Then her eyes strayed to Mary, who was now slouched down so far in her chair her neck was against the back. Unexpectedly, Stan kicked the underside of the seat just hard enough to get her to sit up. Wiggling her too-wide-ass into the spot, she tried to give the little girl a smile but she knew it looked forced and awkward.

"That's my friend Mary," Marshall continued, seeing Cassidy's eyes on her. "She's a Marshal too."

Cassidy swallowed, her gaze shifting off Mary's face and onto her stomach. The woman suddenly felt self-conscious and wished she could hide the bulge. Unlike most adults, Cassidy didn't bother trying to hide her interest. She stared, completely unabashed and Mary found herself adjusting the shirt around her middle.

"Hey Cassidy," Mary cast her a lazy wave, deciding to leave the introductions at that.

"Is there anything you want to ask us?" Marshall inquired gently. "Anything you want? Are you hungry?"

She shook her head, eyes flitting now between both Mary and Marshall.

"You talk?" Mary demanded loudly and she heard Marshall sigh.

Hey, she wasn't known for handling with kid gloves, never mind that it was an actual kid this time. Marshall knew that better than anyone.

But it seemed Cassidy was going to surprise them both.

"Is there a baby in your belly?"

Her voice was soft and meek, but Mary knew curiosity well-enough to know how to spot it. Deciding this could be handled pretty briefly, she nodded and shrugged.

"Mmm hmm," she replied indistinctly. "Anything else?"

Mary had never heard a louder silence. It was intoxicating, like it was cloaking them all under some giant sheet, trapping them from the outside world. She didn't know how she knew it, but Mary sensed a much bigger question ahead – with more weight and a lot more riding on it than she was prepared for.

Cassidy transferred her hands to her lap and her eyes followed her thumbs as she twisted her fingers back and forth. Marshall was about to speak, but Mary beat him to it.

"What?" she whispered as tenderly as she could, leaning in to place a hand on the child's shoulder. "We never tell secrets, so don't worry."

When the little girl looked up, her face was wet with tears, sparkling against the pattern of freckles on her nose.

"Where's my daddy?" she said in her tiny voice, this time laced with much more dread. "He said he was coming back for me. Where is he?"

And it was the one question Mary couldn't answer. After all – what did she know about where dads went when they abandoned their daughters?

XXX

A/N: I'm sure this will spike some ire with the introduction of Abigail – she's good at that, eh? ;)