Even Diana Bennet, who had seen some of the seediest places in the Lower East Side, had to admit that Doug's was nothing short of a godforsaken hole in the ground. Calling the place a "restaurant" was absolutely laughable. It dark, filthy, and the so-called "food" was a health violation just waiting to happen. As her anonymous caller had advised earlier "If you wanna live long enough to catch this guy, avoid the special. Doug ain't changed that menu in years."

Just another glamorous day here in the world of detective work thought Diana as she eyed her cup of coffee suspiciously. If she titled the mug back and forth, she could see where the thick, black sludge left stains on the sides. Completely disgusted, she placed the foul substance down on the battered table and fished a small notebook out of the pocket of her coat. Under normal circumstances, Diana would have brought a tape recorder, but interrogations could be problematic, especially in a situation like this and she didn't want to risk loosing any potential evidence she had.

The call had come late last night, long after Diana had fallen asleep. She was slightly startled by how much the other man seemed to know about her, and about her newest assignment. Still, this criminal had been baffling the DA for years, and while Diana lived for a challenge, she had to admit she was thankful for the lead.

A quick glance at the wall clock told her that it was almost three. The pretty redhead placed her money on the table and started to put on her jacket, her customary one hour grace period long since over. It wasn't uncommon for meetings like this to fall through, and while Diana had been hopeful, she hadn't expected to gain much. She started to make her way up the dank staircase that lead to the diner's entrance, her thoughts already on the evening ahead and what her next move should be, but just as she opened the door to leave, another customer entered and due to unfortunate timing, collided with the detective head on.

Diana frantically grasped at the air, trying to keep from falling backwards down the small staircase. An open hand flew into her line of vision and she reached out to grab it. Her rescuer quickly helped her regain her balance and gather her things. Diana was surprised to see it was a young woman with dark hair and large, blue eyes. She was flustered and embarrassed, apologizing almost constantly.

"I'm so sorry about that, I wasn't paying attention to where I was going and oh my god, I am so sorry. You're positive you're okay? Because if anything's injured, I'll drive you to the hospital, just say the word."

"No, no, I'm fine, really," Diana, stammered, her head still reeling from the shock. "It was just a bump, no big deal."

The young woman glanced up from where she had crouched to retrieve her dropped keys, giving Diana a chance to quickly assess her face and appearance. The young woman, girl really, the detective realized as she looked closer, couldn't have been more than eighteen or nineteen years of age, a fact she tried to hide beneath a heavy coat of make-up. Without the paint, she probably would've been very pretty. Her eyes were an unusual shade of blue and though they were regarding Diana with a sense of suspicion typical of most born and bred New Yorkers, there was kindness in them too, a sort of gentle sweetness that someone would look for if they needed help in the streets.

Upon realizing she was being scrutinized, the girl shifted anxiously and tugged at the sleeve of her waitress's uniform, drawing Diana's attention to her nametag, which read Kim. The name triggered something in the back of the redhead's mind, a bit of information she had read in one of the case files. It was a long shot, but right now, it was all she had. Instinctually, Diana grabbed the other woman's shoulder, closing the distance between them with a gentle pull.

"I'm sorry, please, if you're alright than I really need to get going. My shift starts in a few minutes and I'm already running-"

"Kim? Kim Robertson?"

The girl's eyes went wide and her attempts to pull away became more frantic as she muttered several, hurried excuses.

"Hey, it's alright" Diana soothed, though still keeping Kim within her grasp "You're not in trouble, but I would like to talk to you. I'm a detective, I work on cold cases the police have abandoned and your name came up in my most recent one. Do you think you could answer some questions for me?"

"I don't know what you're talking about!" Kim cried, now fighting Diana in earnest, "Why can't you people just leave me alone?"

"Ma'am, I'm not going to force you to talk to me, but if you have any information, anything at all, it could be helpful to me and to the victim's family. Does the name Stephen Caulfield mean anything to you?"

With a final, determined wrench, Kim broke free from Diana and made a hasty retreat up the stairs, the detective hot on her heels. The girl dashed out into the fall sunshine, using the crowds to her advantage and disappearing almost instantly. Diana stood in the middle of the street, panting with exertion, her cheeks flushed with adrenaline and rage. Cursing under her breath, the redhead fired a kick off at the nearest parking meter, more to blow off steam than to do any actual damage and stalked away in the opposite direction than the one Kim had run. This could've been it, her biggest lead so far and she had lost them! As she walked, the cool air and exercise began to clear Diana's head and she eventually sat down on a bench to figure out what to do next. Vincent's face suddenly swam into the young woman's mind and she stood up, striding with new purpose towards Central Park. Vincent and many of the other tunnel dwellers had connections, knew of places and people Diana, even with her vast knowledge of the city, didn't. If anyone could find someone who didn't want to be, it was those already in hiding.