(PART II)

…

At ten minutes to noon, Jane is impatiently pacing the quiet hallway in the courthouse and sullenly remembers why they agreed not to meet for lunch in light of Maura's unclear schedule. Three testimonials in one day. And on a Friday at that! As if the whole city was trying to overcompensate for the Red Sox' miserable season with a sudden burst of productivity. Stupid Red Sox!

When her stomach announces its equally petulant mood with a grumbling growl, Jane frowns at her watch, then at the still closed courtroom doors and at a monotonously buzzing vending machine at the end of the hallway. What an awesome birthday lunch.

Fishing for some loose change in her pocket, she marches to the machine and inserts one coin after another before choosing a rather dubiously looking granola bar from the limited selection of snacks. And just as the bar is leaving its slot with the speed of a glacial moraine, the courtroom doors open and the murmuring crowd pours into freedom. Of course.

With a stifled groan, Jane finally retrieves the bar from the machine, then rushes back to the courtroom when she spots familiar honey blonde hair leaving towards the other end of the hallway.

A few moments of pushing and shoving later, she finally catches up, but just as she is right behind Maura, she notices the phone in her hand pressed to her ear.

"Yes, I would appreciate that…," Maura politely thanks whoever is at the other end of the line. "No, I don't think she does — we'll have to rely on your excellent taste… Yes… Yes, I'll be there around 5… Alright, thank you. Bye-bye."

Once she is sure the phone call is over, Jane jumps in front of Maura. "You'll be where around 5?"

The blonde stops dead in her tracks. "What are you doing here?!"

"Uh, I'm happy to see you, too."

Her initial surprise turning into a warm smile, Maura appeasingly kisses her on the cheek. "I thought you didn't want to come."

"I changed my mind," Jane shrugs as they stroll towards the exit.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yeah…"

"Are you sure?" Visibly concerned, Maura scrutinizes the brunette.

"Uh huh," she confirms without looking up. "I just thought it would be nice to have lunch together… because it's my birthday and all that…"

Knowingly, Maura tugs at Jane's arm and holds her back, waits until their eyes meet. "What's wrong, Jane?"

For a moment, she uneasily shifts from one foot to the other but then admits, "I kept thinking about Frost… and that he'll never celebrate another birthday… No more cake, no more blowing out the candles… just… nothing…"

Maura nods quietly. They have already talked about it so often before that nothing needs to be said anymore. And all they can do now is wait and hope that time will proverbially heal their wounds. Or at least make them hurt a little less. Swallowing down her own worries, Maura reaches for Jane's hand. "There's a quiet little café about a block away from here… If we hurry, we can make it before I have to leave for my next appointment."

"Okay…," Jane nods as the soft touch of Maura's thumb stroking her skin eases her troubled mind. "Sounds good."

Without further words, they leave the building together, still holding hands and simply enjoying each other's company as the warm summer sun tickles their skin.

Until Jane remembers a certain mystery that still needs to be solved. "Where did you say you have to be around 5?"

"I didn't say anything," Maura smiles, thankful for the change of mood.

A few steps later, the detective can't fight her instincts and tries again. "Oh, by the way, Korsak asks why you didn't invite him…"

Maura chuckles with amusement. "Give it up, Jane."

Resigning herself to her unknown birthday fate, Jane sighs. "Does your little café at least have muffins?"

"I know they have some very tasty tofu muffins that you could—"

"Never mind."

…

The noise from honking cars and stuttering engines of crowded buses crawling through the streets during the afternoon rush hour is heard through the open windows of BPD's sticky homicide squad room as Jane is once again stuck behind her desk. Having handled most of her paper work, she has turned her attention to her computer and to an introductory slideshow presentation about the latest techniques in analyzing bloodstain and spatter evidence, intended to prepare her for an evening workshop scheduled for the coming week.

But as she apathetically browses through bloody Rorschach lookalikes, her mind sneakily reassigns its investigative resources to the still unsolved birthday puzzle. And despite her best attempts to make Maura confess during a spontaneous interrogation over lunch, she is still without a clue.

It's probably gonna be dinner at some fancy-schmancy restaurant… with too many people jumping out from behind some artsy-fartsy decorations and yelling "Surprise!"… And the whole evening will be dull enough to end it in a snoozy-woozy catatonic state… Not that she would mind enduring any and all of that if it made Maura happy. In fact, she would voluntarily overdose on tofu muffins and quinoa cake if it brought a smile to the blonde's face. But is it too much to ask that maybe just once her birthday could turn out the way she imagined it? Just a comfy couch, a pizza and beer, and maybe a movie or two… That's all it would take…

"Hey, Rizzoli!" Lieutenant Cavanaugh suddenly rips her from her thoughts and cheerfully raps on her desk. "Just wanted to take a minute to wish you a happy birthday."

"Thank you, sir," she murmurs as he shakes her hand.

"And since you're always doin' a good job, I thought I'd do you a little favor in return."

New hope filling her veins, Jane perks her head up. "Please, tell me you got a new case for me!"

"No, to the contrary," Cavanaugh smiles, oblivious to the detective's actual needs. "You deserve a break, so I made a few changes to today's roster. For the rest of your shift, you're only on call in case of emergencies, but you can go home."

"What?! No!" And crushed is her hope. "Did Maura tell you to do this?"

"Doctor Isles doesn't even work for us." The lieutenant frowns in confusion. "She has no authority over how I decide to assign my people."

"Yeah, sounds like something she would say…" Frustrated, Jane sinks back into her chair.

Ignoring her pout, Cavanaugh shakes his head and pats her on the shoulder. "Just go home, Rizzoli. Enjoy your night!"

Without giving her a chance to protest any further, he dashes out of the squad room.

Then maybe she would just have to organize a new homicide case herself. Create a fake crime scene with the help of Rondo and his gang… Just a little ploy that would keep her busy for the rest of the day… Heck, she would even commit a real homicide if it meant she could escape her pesky evening duties. Desperate times call for desperate measures!

Moments later, when Jane has found unexpected joy in plotting the demise of one Detective Crowe, another potential opportunity to busy herself arrives in the form of Korsak, who returns with a stack of case files in his arms and tiredly plops down in his seat.

Launching her swivel chair with a kick of her feet, she whooshes to his desk and grins. "So, how's your rich-old-lady case coming along?"

"I got side-tracked by another case," the sergeant sighs and stares at the files in front of him. "Looks like it's gonna be a long night."

"Then let me help! I'm going crazy if I have to do two more hours of paper work!" Pleadingly, Jane puts on her most innocent smile. "And I'm sure your puppies can't wait for you to get home — unless you have to be somewhere else tonight… like, at a surprise party…?"

Too exhausted to offer further resistance, Korsak searches for his case's main file. "Will you promise to stop bugging me about your surprise party if I let you help me with my case?"

Instead of a response, Jane grins even broader and pushes her chair next to his.

"Just so we're clear," he warns sternly, "it's still my case. You're only providing a second opinion."

"Of course." The brunette nods contentedly and grabs one of the files. "So, what are we looking at?"

When the sergeant finally finds the correct folder with all the details on the break-in at the rich old lady's house, he pulls out several crime scene photos. "The DNA from the blood and skin cells that we found under Mrs. Thornton's fingernails matches the DNA that we found in several B&Es all over town. In all cases except for this last one, the home owners were on vacation or on a business trip or similar. Mrs. Thornton was supposed to visit an old college acquaintance but got sick and postponed her trip for two days."

"So, she was home unexpectedly and surprised our burglar…?" Getting into a groove, Jane flips through the photos. "They had a fight, and she ended up dead…"

"Yup," Korsak nods. "But the DNA match didn't give us any ID, so we need to check all these other cases and figure out if there's a connection. The burglar obviously knew when to strike."

"Okay, so we're looking for, what, a travel agent? The mailman?"

Pointedly, Korsak pushes the stack of folders to her half of his desk. "You tell me."

Jane sighs at the sight.

"Hey, you wanted in on this," Korsak reminds her rather gleefully.

"But let's not forget that it's still your case," the brunette retorts but then resolutely cracks her knuckles. "Nah, come on, I'm just kidding. Let's do this."

Without wasting any more time, they each pick one of the B&E files and start their search for that decisive clue that could reveal the burglar's identity.

And they search and search. And then they search a little more.

After an hour has passed, the pile of reviewed files has visibly grown in size, and only a handful of unchecked cases remain. But so far, their missing link is still missing — the break-ins happened in different parts of town; the victims used different travel agents or booked their trips online; their children don't go to the same school; their homes aren't served by the same parcel service or food delivery trucks. There simply is no connection.

Rubbing her eyes, Jane leans back and tries to focus her thoughts. Once again, she flips through the file detailing Mrs. Thornton's untimely demise. Absentmindedly, she scans the crime scene photos, but suddenly, she frowns at the sight of a feeding bowl in the background. "Why didn't her dog bark or attack the burglar?"

"Huh?" Korsak leans over to see what she is looking at. "Oh. No, the dog wasn't there. Thornton had already given him to—"

And then the realization hits him, and then her, and they both eagerly check all the other files.

"Boston Red Paws — Veterinary Practice & Pet Hotel," Korsak announces after skimming Thornton's file.

Jane flips through more records and photos. "Got another one here. Dog stayed at the same pet hotel when the break-in happened three weeks ago."

The sergeant's face momentarily darkens as he studies another file. "Hmm, might be a coincidence after all — this family here doesn't have a dog." But then he turns the page, and another piece of the puzzle appears. "No, wait, they have a cat!"

"And let me guess," Jane smirks. "Their kitty stayed with that vet."

"Only one way to find out." Korsak reaches for his phone. "You keep checking the other files…"

Sensing the imminent resolution of their case, Jane nods and continues her task while Korsak makes the first call to verify their newly found clues.

Twenty minutes later, they have a list with all the names of the victims and their pets — and a check mark at the end of each line confirms that the veterinary practice and pet hotel run by Richard Gleeson, DVM is the link that connects them all.

"Alright, time to have a talk with that vet," Korsak announces and gets up. "Thank you for your help!"

"Wait, what?!" Jane leaps to her feet. "I'm coming with you!"

"Jane, it's half past 5," the sergeant objects. "Your shift is almost over and I can handle this arrest alone."

"If it hadn't been for me, you'd still be trying to figure out whom to arrest." Desperate to end her shift on a more exiting note — and, coincidentally, to delay her inevitable return to her apartment —, Jane boldly blocks her superior's way. "Come on, I earned this. Besides, someone needs to make sure you actually do your job instead of getting on first-name terms with all the puppies and furry whatnots at that place."

Indecisively, Korsak checks his watch. "Maura will kill me if I don't return you in time."

"Don't worry, I'll make sure she won't get away with it." When the sergeant still hesitates, Jane growls impatiently. "You can either argue for another thirty minutes, or we'll get this over with and be back by the end of my shift."

"We don't even know yet whether it's the vet or one of his staff members — we'll never make it back in time."

"Tick-tock, Korsak."

Eventually, he shrugs in defeat. "Alright, alright. Come on."

On their way out, Jane teasingly nudges Korsak's arm. "By the way, you forgot to tell me, why exactly do you need to return me in time?"

But judging by the sergeant's heavy sigh, she won't get an answer any time soon.

…

Fifteen minutes later, they arrive at the vet's Dorchester practice with its associated pet store and pet hotel all in the same two-story building. Another patrol car stops right behind Jane's sedan, and two officers get out to watch the main entrance and the surrounding premises.

Once inside, Jane and Korsak find themselves in a well-lit lobby with a stone-tiled floor, several plants, and a large birdcage with half a dozen budgies chirping cheerfully and showing little interest in their new visitors. Beyond the lobby, the interior is split into two sections — a spacious store area with pet supplies, fish tanks, hamster wheels, and more to the left, and a reception area with several doors leading to the vet's offices and to the adjacent pet hotel on the right.

Despite his undeniable interest in the colorfully feathered budgies, Korsak heads straight for the reception and clears his throat to get the attention of the elderly lady doing a crossword puzzle behind the counter. When she finally looks up and notices him as well as Jane and the patrol officer standing guard near the door, she frowns. "How can I help you?"

"I'm Sergeant Korsak. This is Detective Rizzoli. We'd like to speak to Doctor Gleeson."

A little irritated, the receptionist puts down her puzzle. "May I ask what this is about?"

"We'd rather discuss it with Doctor Gleeson himself," Korsak explains politely.

"I'll see if I can find him…" Nodding insecurely, the elderly lady slowly scurries away and disappears into the vet's practice.

"I guess we can rule her out," Jane comments dryly.

"Well, Thornton must have left quite a scratch mark on the burglar's skin," Korsak reminds her of the evidence found under the victim's fingernails. "Keep an eye out for that."

While they're waiting, two store customers carrying heavy bags of dog food leave the building, and another middle-aged woman enters with a Golden Retriever following faithfully on a leash. She struts straight to the empty reception, picks a form and a pen from the counter, and nods at her dog. "Sit, Barney!"

While the lady fills out her form, the dog shyly looks around, his tongue sticking out between his teeth. And inevitably, Korsak can't hold back any longer and bends down to run his hand through the dog's golden fur. "Look at you! What a good boy!"

Rolling her eyes, Jane whips out her cell phone and sends off a quick text to Maura.

stuck at a scene with Korsak… will let you know when we're done here…

While Korsak is still busy, the elderly receptionist returns with the doctor following right on her heels.

When Jane notices the two of them, she subtly pokes the sergeant in the ribs. "Korsak…" But he is still spell-bound by the panting dog. "Geez, Korsak!"

A much stronger punch finally secures his attention. "Oww! What— oh!"

"I'm Doctor Gleeson," the gray-haired man in black scrubs introduces himself and shakes Korsak's hand. "How may I help you?"

"Sergeant Korsak, Detective Rizzoli." He pulls out a picture of Thornton. "We'd like to talk to you about Laurel Thornton and her dog."

"Oh, yes, we've heard about what happened to her." The vet shakes his head. "That's so tragic. Do you need help with her dog?"

"Not exactly," Korsak denies. "In fact, this isn't just about Mrs. Thornton's dog but about several other guests of your pet hotel as well."

Gleeson squints in confusion, then glances at the woman impatiently drumming her fingers on the reception counter. "I'm… uh… Why don't I deal with Mrs. Robertson here, and then you'll have my full attention?"

"We'd appreciate if you could make it quick," Jane forestalls any further delays.

The doctor nods and rushes to his customer.

"Didn't see any scratches on him," Jane whispers to Korsak.

"Nope… Guess we'll have to talk to his staff, too. I told you we wouldn't make it back in time."

"Yeah, whatever. Don't sweat it…" Bored by the lack of action that has been so symptomatic of her day, Jane casually strolls to the store. "I'm gonna take a look around…"

Without waiting for the sergeant's permission, she enters this separate area, scours the different aisles for any store clerks and inconspicuously checks their faces for any visible scratch marks — in vain.

As she passes litter boxes, scratching posts, and a whole shelf with books on how to get along with your cat, her phone buzzes in her hand. Still keeping an eye on the store, she quickly reads Maura's response.

Why am I not surprised that you are conveniently "stuck at a scene" right before the end of your shift today?

Grimacing at the apparent inadequacy of her own alibi, Jane sends her defense.

hey, not my fault that the bad guys don't work 9-5… but i promise i'll bring it up when we arrest them… gotta go… love ya :-)

That will do. That should do. Convincing herself that her actions were clearly justified, Jane wanders to the back of the store. But for reasons beyond her immediate grasp, she can't shake the subtle feeling of guilt that is suddenly taking hold of her mind. Feeling guilty about wanting some fun on that one damn special day in the year? Really?! After a mental facepalm about her own ludicrousness, she decides that she should maybe look for some tortoise toys on her way out. A small bribe just in case… Not that it would be necessary… but really, just in case… And after all, what is the worst that could happen? Maura never ever throwing her another surprise party again? Well… that would be a manageable loss…

But she will definitely look for those tortoise toys. Just in case…

As she is about to return to the lobby, she spots a whole section dedicated to parrots around a corner near the personnel exit in the back of the store. Smirking mischievously, Jane approaches a large cage with a reserved African Grey, peeks over her shoulder to make sure she is alone, then taps her fingers against the metal bars.

"Yo, repeat after me!" She leans closer to the parrot, trying not to attract the attention of anybody else in the store. "Yankees suck!" After getting nothing but inarticulate croaking in response, she tries again. "Yankees suck! Yankees suck!" But the gray bird just hops back and forth on its perch. Impatiently, Jane glares at the creature. "Okay, how about this: Jane loves Maura. Can you say that? Jane loves Maura. Come on, repeat after me: Ja-ne lo-ves Mau-ra."

But just as the bird is beginning to make sounds that come close to Jane's prompt, a door nearby swings open, and a thirty-something store assistant appears, carrying a heavy bag of dog food in each hand.

And then he spots Jane and the badge on her belt — and she spots him and the fresh scratch mark on his cheek. And they both frown. They both know what is going to happen next.

Abruptly, the assistant tosses his two bags into Jane's direction and bolts back out of the door.

"Korsak! Over here!" With no time to wait for his answer, Jane runs after the assistant.

And she chases him.

Through a narrow maze of numerous shelves with pet store supplies.

To the left.

Then to the right.

Then to the left again.

Never letting his curly brown hair out of her sight.

Then through another door.

And another.

Into the veterinary practice.

Down a dimly lit hallway lined with cages.

Cages full of pets of all sizes. They screech and they hiss and they bark as Jane and her prey run by.

And the distance between them is dwindling away.

Jane is getting closer.

Much closer.

Forcing the young man into desperation.

Into another tiled treatment room.

He topples a chair to the ground.

And a tray of medical instruments.

Into Jane's way.

But she doesn't fall.

Instead she leaps forward.

And she tackles him. And they both go down.

They wrestle. They roll on the stone-cold tiles.

Until Jane manages to get on top and throws her weight onto his back.

Out of breath, she presses her knee into his ribs, points her gun into his face, and jerks back his arm. "Don't move, asshole!"

Panting and wheezing, and intimidated by her gun, the store assistant gives up his fight and moans into the floor.

And with a satisfying click, a pair of handcuffs snap shut.

Just moments later, Korsak, the patrol officer, and the utterly confused vet storm into the room.

"Got him!" Jane gasps out as she gets up. "Wanna bet that his DNA matches the one we found in… in… uh…" Suddenly, she teeters backwards, searching for something to hold on to, squinting and loosening the grip on her gun.

"Jane? Are you alright?" Worriedly, Korsak steps closer.

"I'm… no, it's… I'm feeling… weird…"

"What is— oh, boy!" The sergeant points at her leg.

And Jane looks down and notices the syringe stuck in her thigh. "Uh oh…"

Just three racing heartbeats later, Jane drops her weapon and collapses in Korsak's arms. And everything goes dark.