Jo's tennis shoes made almost no sound in the otherwise silent basement of the antique shop. She went quietly from shelf to drawer to box, hunting for something, anything, that would explain the old picture of Henry she'd found in the subway. Skulls, knives, bones, tools, pages and pages of notes – all of it was decidedly weird, but not conclusive.

Voices startled her from her search.

"You know, I have a collection of Sharpies in the morgue–"

"Do you have a death wish, kid?"

"It would appear that she needs the rest."

Slowly, she opened her eyes.

Hanson, Henry, and Lucas were crowded around her desk, staring down at her. She lifted her head from her arms to glare at them. "Did I hear something about Sharpies?"

"No," Lucas said hurriedly. "Definitely not. That would be a childish joke that we would never consider, ever, because we're not, you know, children."

"Right." She blinked a few times and sat up. "How long was I asleep?"

"Long enough that I was considering blackmail photos," Hanson replied with a grin. "Late night?"

"You could say that." Jo ran a hand through her hair. "You have an update for us, Henry?"

"That I do, Detective." He hesitated. "Do you need a moment, or–"

"The update, please," she said, raising her eyebrows at him. He nodded.

"Of course." Placing an envelope on her desk, he launched into a lengthy explanation about the chemical he'd found under their victim's fingernails. Jo fiddled with her empty coffee cup, half-listening to his dramatics, thinking about what she'd found in the past three nights of rooting through his basement. Or rather, what she hadn't found.

After some deliberation, she'd decided to go through the objects in his basement first, then take an overview of his notes. She'd wanted to go through his notes first, but she suspected that he used them more often and would notice if they were moved. Unfortunately, almost all of the objects were a complete mystery to her.

"Jo? Are you all right?"

She shook her head and smiled at Henry. "I'm fine."

"Well, I think we ought to start with Todd Jennings's cousin, Roger," he said. "His work at the processing plant would give him access to the chemical we found."

"But what would be his motive?" Hanson wondered. "From what I can tell, he seems like a decent guy. Not the brightest bulb in the box, but pretty normal."

"That's why they call us 'detectives,'" Jo teased. "Let's go detect." Getting to her feet, she stretched her arms behind her and beckoned to Henry. "You coming?"

His eyes lit up with the warmth he seemed to reserve especially for her. Or not, she mused, picturing the woman she'd seen him with three nights in a row. "Lucas, will you please ensure–"

"–that the DNA results are catalogued as soon as they come in? On it, boss." Lucas gave him a lazy salute and meandered towards the elevator. Hanson followed, muttering something about checking out the crime scene again.

Jo pulled on her coat, checked that her weapon was secure at her waist, and fell into step with Henry. "So did you have a late night?" he asked.

She shrugged. "Not really. Just having trouble sleeping, I guess."

"I know some excellent remedies for insomnia," he told her eagerly. "Did you know that sugary foods like cookies or cupcakes can actually act as a sedative?"

He continued to regale her with increasingly off-the-wall insomnia cures as they made their slow way through midday traffic. Jo tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and stared at the cars in front of them, thinking about where she'd left off in his basement. She had one more box she wanted to go through before she started taking pictures of his notes to peruse at home.

Hold on.

She turned to Henry. "Did you just say that howling like a lonely Beagle can help you sleep at night?"

He grinned at her. "I was wondering how long it would take for you to tune in again."

Jo huffed out a laugh. "Sorry. I'm distracted, I guess. Just thinking about the case."

"Are you quite sure you're all right, Detective?" he asked, putting a hand on her arm. "Pardon me for saying it, but you've seemed distracted all week."

He'd put a hand on his mystery girlfriend's arm just last night, and it had led to a make-out session against the wall of an old Chinese restaurant. Jo felt herself tense. She could tell he felt it, too, because he quickly removed his hand.

"Jo?"

"I'm fine," she told him, turning a corner and gesturing towards an office complex. "Here we are. Roger Jennings's boss said he goes between the plant and the office, but that he'd be here all day, making calls and getting things ready for the next shipment."

"Jo," Henry tried again as she parked along the street. "Please, talk to me. What's wrong?"

"I told you, I'm fine." She got out of the car and headed towards the building without waiting for him. She couldn't deal with this right now – she had to focus on the case. Someone had been murdered, and as much as she hated it at this moment, that trumped her curiosity about an old photograph of Henry Morgan.

"What do you know about Roger Jennings?" Henry asked as he caught up to her in the lobby. She relaxed a bit, grateful that he was talking about the case.

"Well, he and his cousin seemed to get along well. They were close to the same age, they went into similar lines of work, they even got married around the same time."

"But?"

"But he's in some debt," she continued, loving the way he waited for her to finish with his head tilted a little to the side. "And besides our victim's wife, Roger stands to inherit the most from his cousin's will. So there's some potential motive there. Not much to go on, but it's a start."

"Henry?"

He nearly jumped when his name was called from one of the offices. When Jo saw who had said his name, she wanted to jump herself.

It was the mystery woman.

"Camelia," Henry breathed.

As she came out to greet them, his shock turned into a smile. "Camelia! I wasn't expecting to see you here."

She gave him a kiss on the cheek. "Always expect the unexpected, darling," she replied. The lilt in her voice suggested that this was an inside joke. "And who is this?" she asked, turning her gaze to Jo, her smile fading a little.

"Detective Jo Martinez, I'd like to introduce you to my – girlfriend, Camelia Reed." His pause before saying "girlfriend" was not lost on Jo, though she pretended not to notice as she shook Camelia's hand.

"Ah, so you're here for work," Camelia said, returning her attention to Henry. Jo took the opportunity to study her. Even with shorter heels on today, she was still an inch taller than Henry. Her dark blonde hair fell just above her shoulders. Her carefully manicured hand rested on Henry's chest as they talked. "Has there been a murder?"

"There has indeed. I assume you're also here for work?"

"You assume correctly, although it would be so lovely if I wasn't busy so I could watch you work," she said, resting her head on his shoulder for a moment. "We're considering investing in the company. My supervisor sent me over."

"Well, we shall leave you to it, then." Henry kissed her on the lips, which surprised Jo. He wasn't usually that comfortable with public displays of affection – not on the job, at least.

"See you tonight?" Camelia asked.

"Of course."

"Nice to meet you, Detective Martinez," she said with a nod before returning to the office. Jo waited until the door was closed to turn on Henry and poke him in the chest.

"Henry Morgan! When were you going to tell me?" she demanded, raising her eyebrows with a grin that she hoped didn't seem forced.

He held up his hands. "We've only been dating for a week," he assured her. "We wanted to keep it just between us for a while."

"Not from what I just saw," she teased. "I want details, mister. How did you two meet?"

"She came into the shop to purchase a silver serving tray," he said stiffly. "We hit it off, and last week we made it official." He gestured down the hall and changed the subject. "Shall we go meet with Roger?" he asked. "You may interrogate me about Camelia later."

"I'll hold you to that."

Their interview with Roger Jennings was short. This time, it was Henry who seemed distracted, and not in his usual I'll-just-be-over-here-waiting-for-my-big-reveal kind of way. It didn't take Jo long to realize that Mr. Jennings couldn't be their murderer. His cousin had been killed with a shovel, and he struggled to lift his stapler. He had nerve damage in both of his wrists, he explained, showing them the voice-to-text program he used to type. However, he struck Jo as a shifty character; he couldn't meet her eyes, and he had a soft alibi. He claimed to have been at home, asleep, at the time of the murder, but his wife had been out of town, and there was no one to corroborate his story.

"Well, he didn't commit the act," Jo commented on their way out. "Doesn't mean he didn't hire someone, though."

When Henry didn't reply, she looked over at him. He was staring towards the office Camelia had been in earlier. It sat empty now.

"Henry?"

He glanced at her. "Hm?"

"I think this is where I'm supposed to say something about a lonely Beagle."

He shook his head. "Sorry. What were you saying?"

Jo sighed. "Just that he couldn't have been the killer. He could've hired someone, though."

They got into her cruiser, and Jo was about to buckle her seatbelt when Henry put his hand on her arm again. This time, when she tensed, he didn't pull away.

"Would you care to tell me why Camelia's appearance startled you so much?" he asked quietly.

She shifted so she could look him in the eyes. "Would you like to explain the real reason you haven't mentioned her?" she retorted.

Neither of them said anything for a moment. Finally, Jo told him, "Partners don't keep secrets, Henry. That's why Hanson and I work so well together. I know about the time Mike ran off for two days after Bobby was born. He knows that Sean and I almost got married in Vegas six months before our wedding. We talk to each other. We trust each other."

She didn't say it, but she hoped the implication was clear: I can't trust you, because you're keeping secrets from me.

"I wanted to tell you." Henry removed his hand from her arm and looked away. "But I couldn't."

"Why not?"

"It's a long story."

"Everything is a long story with you. I've come to expect it."

There was a long silence. Jo was really beginning to wonder what the hell was going on when her phone rang. It was Hanson, of course. "Hey, Mike."

"Are you still at Jennings's office?"

"Yeah, why?"

"I think he did it."

"He couldn't have," Jo said, putting the phone on speaker. "He's got nerve damage. He doesn't have the strength."

"He hired someone, then. Look, Lucas and I went to the crime scene–"

She cut him off. "Sorry, did you say you took Lucas to the crime scene?"

"He begged," Hanson replied. "You know I can't resist those puppy dog eyes. Anyway, he says that he found more of the chemical both on the shovel that killed Todd Jennings and on the bedroom door."

"How'd forensics miss it?" Jo asked.

For a moment, all they could hear were muffled voices. Then Hanson said clearly, "It wasn't on the door itself, he says. It was to the right of the door, and it was a very small amount. Like someone'd stumbled and reached a hand back to steady themselves, just for a second."

Jo glanced up at Henry. His stoic expression had been replaced with one of wonder and enthusiasm. She could practically hear the wheels turning in his head. "Let us imagine, then, that Todd and Roger are talking in the bedroom. Roger is distracting his cousin long enough that the killer can get up behind him with the shovel."

Jo picked up the theory. "But Todd hears him, turns around, and gets in a good hit – enough to shove him back into the door and get the chemical from the plant under his fingernails."

"The killer recovers, hits him with the shovel, and kills him," Henry finished. "So now, all we have to do is wait for those DNA results–"

"Wait no longer, Doctor Morgan," Lucas added, speaking directly into the phone now. "We just received them. Apparently, the DNA on the shovel matches one Theodore Digger. Wow, can you get more on the nose?" When no one replied, he elaborated, "Come on. Digger? Killer who uses a shovel? Am I the only one seeing the–"

"We get it," Jo said.

"Right. Anyway, says here he's a worker at the plant. Roger Jennings's main foreman, actually."

"I'll go pick him up," Hanson informed them. "You two got Roger?"

"Yeah, we'll get him." Jo was about to hang up the phone when Lucas started talking again. She rolled her eyes at Henry, who graced her with the half-smile that meant he was just as amused as her.

"Hey, Henry, I see why you like getting into the field with Jo, I feel like Mike and I–"

"Mike?" Hanson put in.

"I feel like Detective Hanson and I have really bonded after making this discovery together," Lucas continued as though Hanson hadn't spoken. "Explains the two of you and your nearly telepathic connection, huh?"

Henry visibly flinched, and as Lucas rambled on about the likelihood of telepathy, Jo had to wonder… did she and Henry still have that connection she valued so highly?

The uncertain look in his eyes made her doubt it.

Another chapter up, yay. I think that posting and reading your comments is helping my creativity. :) While I love writing from Jo's perspective, my favorite person to write lines for is and always will be Lucas Wahl. What a guy. Expect more of that and a fun Lucas twist at the end because he's just great.

foreverHenry919 - thanks for your review! I remember reading that Matt Miller planned on introducing more immortals to the series, but I hadn't heard the idea that Henry would be dating one. Interesting note. I agree, a little odd for Jo to break into the shop, but I think it's more out of concern for Henry than anything, mixed in with a little jealousy and impatience.

KenH - thanks for your review! All good questions which will be answered in due time... ;)