The Brunette watched from a discreet distance as they loaded the body into the M.E.'s truck. The police frantically were going in and out of the house, with a section taped off where the guard had died. She was skillfully taking pictures of the officers, uniformed and not, with a HD digital camera.

She cursed once more. This would not make their work any easier.

Miami Crime Lab

Natalia carefully pulled out the bullet fragment out of the floodlight. The bullet looked in good shape, but she would leave that for Calleigh to determine. She carefully set it on the table in a specimen jar, labeling it neat handwriting.

Turning to the sirens, she carefully cut out a piece. She again placed it into a specimen jar.

"Hey," she looked up to see Ryan standing in the doorway, "I analyzed the footprints left on the wall, came up with a generic hiking boot."

He handed her a picture of a plain looking canvass boot, "There are probably hundreds of these in Miami."

"But the interesting part is that I found a foreign element in with the dirt. Now, most of the dirt came from the garden outside the house. I found traces of iron-oxide mixed with foreign dirt."

"Well, I am just getting started analyzing this stuff," she gestured toward the flood-lights and sirens, "It doesn't help that Walter is in Sacramento for a week at a conference, so no one is here to help me."

"Have you heard anything about the kidnappers contacting the wife with demands?" Ryan asked.

"I was about to ask you the same question."

"Huh," Ryan scratched his chin, "Hay, umm, there's a nice Cuban band playing at the Goldflower tonight."

"Cuban band?" she scoffed, "You hate Cuban music."

"I do-" he was effectively silenced by her patient stare, "Okay, but these guys aren't half bad. Really."

Trev

These guys are horrible. Tune your damn guitar, buddy! Jesus, I haven't played in, what, ten years and I can still do a chord better than you!

I grumbled and sipped my Coors. The dance floor was alive with half-drunk college students in skimpy clothes and tourists in Hawaiian shirts swaying madly to the lively music.

"Chto my zdesʹ delaem?" I asked in Russian.

"Razvedka" my companion replied. Reconnaissance.

"Eto yedinstvennaya prichina?" Is that the only reason?

"Nyet" she swished her gin and tonic, "mne skuchno" I'm bored.

I switched to French, "Qui sommes-nous observer?" who are we observing?

She smiled and tilted her head to a couple on the dance floor. Easy to spot. The guy was trying to unwind and dance, but seemed to be failing miserably. The chick, oddly familiar, seemed to be enjoying herself by helping the poor shlub relax. My companion said, "Trabajan para el laboratorio de criminalística."

Made sense. The guy had "lab geek" written all over him. He'd be one of the shmuks I'd beat up in high school.

She grabbed my hand and led me to the dance floor.

"Hell no."

Just once, I'd like to win an argument.

To say that Natalia was having fun was an understatement. Ryan trying to relax when clearly the music to him sounded like medieval torture devices in the hands of tune death babies was just so damn funny. After about thirty minutes of easy, repetitive dances she finally had to sit down and order herself a drink to keep from laughing to hard.

"You are... so stiff," she chortled.

"I am not," Ryan defended, "You're just too loose."

"Sacrilege," Ryan turned around to see man, medium height, brown hair and green eyes, still slightly perspiring from the dance floor nursing a cold, "That be sacrilege, friend."

Ryan chuckled, "What's sacrilege?"

"Tellin' a beautiful woman she's too loose, friend!" the man had a Southern accent, a bit more south than Calleigh, "She mi' wise up and break the hearts of a lot poor fellas!"

"And who might you be?" Natalia asked.

"Trevor Johnson," he shook their hands, "Friends call me Trev."

"I'm Ryan, this is Natalia," Ryan introduced.

"Nice to meet you," she held out her hand.

"Charmed," he smiled and did the dip-the-head-raise-the-hand-but-don't-kiss-it thing unique to the South, "I'd love to stay and chat, but ma' girl's gonna get perty un-glad-like if I don't get her a drink anytime soon."

He grabbed a gin and tonic and left to the dance floor, adding, "And I lahk my girl all glad-like and such."

Natalia and Ryan forgot him within minutes.

"What was that about?"

"Maintaining our cover."

"You made contact."

"Most people don't remember half the people they meet at bars."

"These people are trained to notice things."

"They didn't."

"How do you know?"

"They're off the clock. They're drinking. They are mentally relaxing until they have to show up for work tomorrow morning. When you deal with death all day, a time to relax isn't wasted."

"You seem confidant."

"I am conf- now you're just showing off."

"I took dance lessons in high school."

"I played football. The closest thing I have to coordination like that was speed camp in the summer."

"Come on, I'll lead."

"Which is what I'm afraid of."

PLEASE REVEIW