Despite her impressive hangover Andy made it home only three minutes later than her usual time. She allotted the three extra minutes to the time when she had to run over to a trashcan to vomit. By the time she got to her flat she actually felt marginally better. She locked the door behind her and started to shed clothes as she walked through her flat to the bathroom. She thought of having a quick shower and falling into bed but the tingling hum of overused muscles that enveloped her body made her choose a hot bath instead.

She ran the taps, poured in some bubble solution and went out to the press to grab some towels. But before she could step into the water, her phone started to ring. She dashed through the flat to her jacket that was by the floor at the door and rummaged through the pockets for it and managed to grab it before the callee hung up.

"Hello?"

"Hey Andy, its me."

"Hey Traci, how is your head?" She said with a chuckle as she started to walk back to the bathroom.

"Ugh what a day to have a hangover."

"I know, you are the worst best friend ever."

"Or the best."

"No, definitely the worst." She heard Traci laughing as she stepped into the bath and slid low into the hot bubbly water. "How has it been working with Gerry on the case?"

"Oh my god…amazing. I got to talk to the forensics team, ask them for specifics, Gerry got me to check through the evidence reports and report back."

"Sounds like you are doing all his grunt work."

"Well yeah I am," Traci chuckled again. "But I'm learning, I'm learning so much!"

"That's great Traci."

"Anyway I just wanted to make sure you survived the day. Wanna meet for breakfast in the morning before shift?"

"Yeah great. Lucy's? On Dundas?"

"Perfect. See you there at about 8.30. Goodnight Andy."

Andy hung up the call and stretched up to put it on window sill behind her. She closed her eyes over and let herself sink low under the water and lay there for a few minutes. The details of the case started to swim around her head. Something about it was niggling at her but the hangover she was nursing stopped any productive thoughts from forming.

The picture of the crime scene, the young girl dressed only in underwear sitting on a chair with her throat cut. The house with the windows and doors locked up from the inside with no point of entry or exit located. No prints, DNS, hair, cells or footprints. Something about all of these things added up to something familiar that she couldn't quite get her head around.

Then it dawned on her. The realtor. The house was for sale, the realtor would have stored a key at the house to show prospective buyers. This might be the entry / exit point the killer had used. The realtor had been checked out, had an alibi and seemed genuinely upset by the discovery of the body at the show house.

Andy sat up out of the water and grabbed her phone. She flicked to her contacts and instinctively went for Sam's number but she hesitated. She remembered the remark he had made about meeting Emma and instead she scrolled to Olivers number.

The phone rang a few times before going to his voicemail. She tried to contact Traci and Gerry but either they didn't answer or it went to voicemail. Resigned to her last contact, Andy highlighted Sam's name then pressed the call button.

It rang four times before he answered and he seemed to be breathless when he did.

"Sam I have some questions about the case."

"Questions? Now?" Sam seemed to be quite out of breath and it made her wonder what she had caught him doing but she shook her head free of the thought and pressed on.

"The realtor-"

"The realtor was cleared."

"Yeah but the realtor could have left a hideaway key at the location of the house." Andy spoke quickly sensing he was on the verge of hanging up on her. "If the killer had that key he would have had access to the house, as well as being able to lock up behind him."

"If there was a hideaway key…"

"It's the only explanation Sam!" she continued and ignored the sound of rustling sheets from his side of the call. "And if he had that key, maybe we'll get a print either on the key or on the lockbox or where ever the key was stored."

"Okay, okay. I'll call the realtor in the morning and check it out."

"Or…I could call them tonight?" She stood up out of the bath and stood naked in the bathroom as she talked on the phone.

Sam was silent for a moment then she heard his sigh. "Knock yourself out."

He hung up the phone and she stood there for a moment staring at it in her hand. She raced out to the living room where her laptop was on the sofa and booted it up then quickly looked up the realtors contact details. Using her police credentials she managed to get contact details for the right realtor and called her straight away. But there was no answer. The phone had been turned off and there was no option for voicemail. Andy tried the head office again but whomever she had managed to contact before was no longer answering. Resigned to having to wait until tomorrow Andy returned to her bath and topped up the water with more heat, then sunk beneath the surface again.

Sam hung up the phone and put it down on the bedside table but stood there for a moment more before he turned back to his bed. Emma was waiting for him, she was wearing a pair of shorts and a bra and was kneeling up on the bed with her hands on her hips. The look on her face was not the smiling ecstasy he had seen there only moments before but instead she was frowning. He walked over to the bed and sat down on the edge with his back to her so she crawled over to him and hugged him from behind.

"Everything ok?"

"Yeah…just this case."

"Was that Gerry?"

"No, no it was Andy, she thinks she knows how the killer got into the house."

"Oh?"

"Hideaway key. The realtor might have left at the house."

"Hmmm good thinking." Sam looked over his shoulder at her and smiled. "You don't think so?"

"No, no, it is a good idea." He pushed back on the bed and lay down on his back tucking her in close beside him as he stared up at the ceiling.

"But?"

"But…"

"What? What is it that makes you hesitant about this idea?" Emma sat up and leaned on her hand to look down at him. "Is it that it came from her?" Emma chuckled and jabbed him in the ribs. "Did you and her have a fling?"

"What?! No!"

"Oh that was a fast response… too fast!" She jabbed him again, making him jerk away from her. He snatched her hand and held it away from his ribs.

"I've never had a thing for Andy McNally."

"Oh, interesting. But that wasn't the question." She sat up and crossed her legs in front of her. Sam let his hands drop to his sides and avoided her eyes. "Sam? Do I need to be worried? Did I step into the middle of something?"

"No Emma, no you don't." He sat up and faced her. "I've never had a thing for her, we've never done anything, we weren't about to and we never will. Ok?"

"Ok." She smiled, leaned over and kissed him. He pulled her in and deepened the kiss then pulled her back into the bed with him.

Andy lifted her hand out of the water and stared at the pruning skin on her fingers. She was trying to relax but nothing could distract her from the thought that she was missing something. She ran over all the case notes in her head over and over and tried to see what she was missing but it wasn't working. She needed to relax. She reached over to her phone, opened her music folder and selected a playlist. She plugged it into a speaker on the shelf and allowed the music to lull her.

She lathered up the soap in her hands and ran it all over her body then lay her head back and closed her eyes.

"Knock yourself out!" she heard him say with such a flippant tone. Her eyes rolled involuntarily and she heard it again. This time so loud, so close to her ear that she turned and half expected to see him there. She smiled at her empty bathroom and wondered what she would do if he was here.

Cover herself up? Sink low beneath the rapidly fading bubbles? No. She would sit up. Let the bubbles and soap run down her chest and follow their trails with her hands. He'd lean on the side of the tub, his arms crossed and his chin resting on them. Her hands slid along her torso and she moved her legs to grant herself better access. She raised one leg out of the bath and hung it over the side, smiling at the thought that she would have splashed him.

With one hand she cupped her breast, rubbed her thumb over her nipple and arched her back to push her breast into her palm. She didn't think he would stand by being a spectator for too long.

His hands would come into the water with her. Trail soft tracks from her knee to her inner thigh and back to her other knee. He would massage her breasts, maybe even kiss them, but the majority of his focus would be elsewhere. He'd tuck her leg under his arm, and his fingers would pry her apart easily allowing him to slip into her. She bucked her hips at the sensation and splashed water onto the tiles on the bathroom floor. But she didn't care.

It would be a slow rhythm, tantalising her into building up higher and higher until she thought she couldn't take it anymore. His palm would cup her as his fingers possessed her from the inside. She gasped and moved with him, braced herself on the edge of her bath and ignored the sound of the splashing water. She arched her back further, twitched around the fingers and bucked her hips to encourage a faster speed.

The thumb came up to massage her clitoris and she moaned at the sensation. She was close, she knew she was so she abandoned all pretence and went for it. Within moments she was about to fall over the crest of an orgasm when she heard his words again.

"Knock yourself out!"

The mocking sentence pulled her back from the edge and she came crashing back to reality. Everything dissipated, sensations numbed and her fingers froze. She tried to focus, get them back but it was too late. She let her limbs fall limply by her sides for a second then splashed the water in frustration to where he would have been sitting.

"God dammit…" she muttered as she climbed out of the tub and wrapped herself in a towel. She dried off quickly and dressed in a pair of sweats and a hoody. She slipped on her jacket and grabbed her keys. "Knock yourself out," she mimicked then locked the door behind her and ran out onto the street to hail a cab.

Sam lay in bed with Emma. She was sound asleep beside him with one arm draped loosely over his chest. She snored softly but he wasn't able to nod off at all. His brain was working overtime, hearing Andy's voice, her concerns, her ideas, her excitement and frustration. He was surprised that he was able to hang up on her so easily. He thought she was going to call him back. Maybe she went to bed he thought when he remembered her impressive hangover. But something about that didn't sit right with him.

Then it dawned on him. She hadn't gone to bed. No way would Andy have let something like this drop so easily. And no way would she have waited until morning either.

Sam looked over at Emma and wondered if he would be able to get out from under her without waking her. He lifted her arm, and slid out of the bed then slowly dropped her arm and let the sheet fall back in place. He grabbed his clothes and carried them into the bathroom where he dressed.

He grabbed his keys off the mantle in the living room and hurried out to his car.

He parked his across the road from the house and already he could confirm what he had until that point only guessed. He could see her on the top floor, walking around with a flashlight. Sam jogged across the road and checked the door. It was unlocked so he opened it and stepped inside.

He pulled his gun from its holster and stealthily walked through the house. The ground floor was empty so he hurried up the stairs, balancing only on his toes as he moved. He found her in the main bedroom, crouched over the bedside table, the flashlight in her mouth to free up both of her hands as she rummaged through the drawers.

"McNally," he said as he put his gun back in its holster.

She lurched back at the sound of his voice and slammed against the wall beneath the window. She spat out the flashlight and cursed at him. Memories of her bath came flooding back and she had to fight to hold back her blush, silently thanking god the lights were off.

"What are you doing here Sam?" She straightened up and picked up her flashlight then stood and crossed the room towards him.

"I knew you'd be here."

"So?" She brushed passed him and went into the other room, allowing the flashlight to light her way until Sam followed and switched on the bedroom light. She looked up at the bulb then turned off the flashlight and put it into her pocket then continued to search the drawers.

"What are you looking for?"

"I don't know."

"You don't know? You are just looking through all these empty drawers for reasons unknown?"

"There is something here Sam, I know it." She opened the wardrobe but it was empty. "I was right about the hideaway key." She pulled a small plastic evidence bag out of her pocket and showed him the key. "I'm going to get it dusted for prints."

"You think he would have gone to all the trouble of cleaning up after himself in the living room only to leave his fingerprints on the god dammed key?"

Andy shrugged and walked passed him. He caught up with her downstairs in the living room. The chair the victim had been sitting in had been moved but the blood stain remained. Andy walked around it and crouched down to examine it closer.

"See this?" she pointed out three small circular dimples in the carpet, each about two feet apart in a triangle pattern.

"What?" Sam crouched down next to her to see what she was pointing at.

"What are they?"

"Not sure…"

"Were they mentioned in the scene report?" She asked knowing he had read it inside and out.

"No."

"So maybe they are post examination." She pressed the nearest divot as if touching it would help her explain it.

"Or they were missed."

"Possibly from the scene investigators camera? A tripod as they took shots of the victim?"

Sam looked at her. His eyes were unfocused and it was a moment longer before he spoke.

"No, it couldn't be, they don't allow the CSI team to use tripods."

"What else could it be?" she asked.

"The killer used a tripod."

"To take photos?" they both stood up slowly and faced each other as they talked it out. "Of the victim…that's it… that's where I know this from."

"What?"

"That crime scene picture I saw in the case report, the picture from the CSI team…I've seen it before!"

"Where?"

"I don't know…" she started to pace. Racked her brain looking for a memory she knew existed but couldn't recall.

"Well that's helpful." He stepped into her pathway and stopped her pacing with two hands on his shoulder. "Andy, you aren't going to come to any grand realisation while you pace this room."

Andy looked up at him. He had his hands on her shoulders, she could feel the burning heat melt all the way down to her fingers. His eyes were wide and concerned but it was his slightly parted lips that her eyes lingered on.

"Let's get out of here." He took her by the elbow and led her out to his car.

"No it's ok, I don't need a lift."

"Oh you drove yourself? In that car you don't own? Or were you thinking of hailing a taxi at 1am in this residential street?"

Andy looked up and down the street and realised she would have to walk at least 6 blocks before finding a cab.

"Get in," he said as he opened the passenger door then walked around to the driver's side.

She hesitated only a moment before climbing in and buckling up.

Sam glanced over at her before starting the engine and pulling out into the street. They travelled in silence for a few moments but she couldn't take it any longer.

"Thanks for the lift Sam."

"No problem."

"So why did you really come out to the house?"

Sam was surprised by her frank question. "I knew you'd be there."

"Yeah you said that before. Why does my being there mean you have to come out?"

"I didn't think it was safest to leave you in a house where a vicious murder had taken place. Ever hear of returning to the scene of the crime?"

"How are things with Emma?"

She surprised him again by the rapid chance in subject and it took him a minute to regain his composure.

"Great."

"Good, glad to hear it."

Sam pulled up at a red traffic light and turned to look at her. but before he could formulate any thoughts as to why she was acting to strangely she spoke.

"Hey, this is just two blocks from my house… I can walk from here!" She climbed out of the car and hurried over to the footpath then waved at him and jogged away, leaving him stunned and confused.

He reached into the driver's window and pulled the gag off his mouth. He untied his hands from the steering wheel and when they fell to his sides he lifted them up and posed them where he needed them to be, one perched on the side view mirror, the other on the gear stick.

"Okay… don't move." He circled the car, looked at it through his camera lens until he found the right spot. "Hold it there…" As he pressed the shutter button the flash cast a startling glow on the scene.

The car was wrapped around a large oak. The windscreen has been smashed from the inside. The body in the driver's seat was barely conscious.

He moved around the car then set up his camera on the bonnet and set the timer. He climbed into the back seat and pressed the knife to his neck then waited for the flash, before ripping his throat open.

A/N: Thanks for all the reviews guys. I see we are a fanbase divided. Makes the torturing more fun! Sorry!