A/N - Sorry, all, for the lateness of this chapter. RL intruded again. Spent all day yesterday in the ER with my husband who apparently has a kidney stone-not fun! Hope this will hold you over... xx

Chapter 3

"What do you want for dinner?" Catherine positioned Abigail in the front of the cart and started heading down the first aisle.

"Whatever you want."

"Vincent, that doesn't help me."

"I'm good with whatever you want to fix."

"Fine, but since I'm out of ideas for tonight, I need some help."

"Oh. Sorry. I thought I was giving you the choice."

"Thank you. I always appreciate your thoughtfulness, but it's okay to have an opinion and express it once in a while."

He shrugged. "Okay, but I like everything you cook." Seeing her look, he changed tactics. "Or . . . I could barbeque. How about steak?"

She twisted her lips. "Too expensive. We have to start watching our budget, remember?"

He frowned. He finally had a legitimate job and still it wasn't enough. Catherine continued to consult and brought in a decent amount, but one of them had to be home with Abby at all times. Welcome to the real world. "Chicken?" he finally suggested.

"We've had chicken three times this week already."

"Something with hamburger, then? I know, let's just pick up some burgers."

"I don't want Abby to get used to us eating fast food."

He threw up his arms. It wasn't like their infant daughter was going to join them in the meal, although Catherine was still breastfeeding. His frustration level rose just a notch. "I thought you wanted me to choose. Tell you what, you pick it out, and I'll cook it—whatever it is."

The baby started to fuss. Catherine sighed and stopped the cart. "Let's just forget it. I'm not that hungry, and it's almost time for her nap. If she goes down any later, then you know she won't sleep tonight." She pulled the baby from the cart.

"Yeah, this definitely isn't working." He frowned at the idea of not getting dinner. Maybe JT had something to eat . . . .

"It's just that . . . this parenthood-thingy is more difficult than I thought," she said, trying the calm the situation down. "I mean, how do single moms do it? Feed the baby, change the baby, put the baby down for a nap, clean the house, do the dishes—not to mention the laundry—"

"And some hold down jobs, too. Listen. I have an idea. I'll take you two home. You can put her down for a nap right now, then I'll come back here for supplies, myself, and fix you dinner at home. A surprise. What do you think?"

"Fine."

"Fine."

After dinner, Catherine seemed more relaxed. "I didn't mean to jump at you earlier."

"I know."

"I'm just worn out."

"I know."

"It's not like either of us have grandparents begging to take Abby for an afternoon or anything."

Sad, but true. Vincent bit his tongue to keep from saying anything derogatory about her only living parent—Bob Reynolds. A normal grandparent he was not. Not that he even knew about Abigail—a very big blessing. "No, but we do have friends."

"Who? Tess? She has offered to help, but you know she's not a kid person."

"Says who? Regardless, Tess is a cop. She's extremely capable. She could handle an infant for a few hours."

"But how could I ask something like that of her?"

"Because she's your best friend—you have a right to ask. If she doesn't want to do it, she knows how to say no. Give her some credit."

"I know, but—"

"We have another option, you know."

"Thing One and Thing Two?"

"Hey, don't be mean. Tori and Blaise have offered to take her a number of times. Blaise even reminded me of that just the other day. They sincerely want to help. Besides, I believe they're rethinking their decision not to have any children. At least they'd like to get some experience first."

"They are not experimenting with parenthood using my child!"

"Our child."

"Of course. I didn't mean anything by that."

"I know. Sorry." He swung around on the couch, took her face in his hands, and kissed her on the forehead. "Look. Saturday is coming up. What do you say we invite them over for the afternoon? They can get to know Abby, spend some time with her, see how they gel."

"While we're still here?"

"At least one of us, yes."

"I guess we could do that."

"We can do the same with Tess sometime soon, too."

She twisted her lips, still resistant, but it was a good plan. They needed to do something. "All right. Call them."

"You sure?"

"No. But I'm willing to try anything. I know you're as exhausted as I am. I feel bad going off to work even for half a day."

"You know I'm fine with it. Like you said, normal doesn't come easy. We've got to pay the bills just like everyone else."

That having been decided, the very next morning Catherine was called in to the precinct unexpectedly, leaving Abby with Vincent until late afternoon. When the doorbell rang at 3pm he had formula heating as he was waiting impatiently for the clothes to finish because they were out of diapers. The baby had just started crying in the nursery, having awakened early from her nap. He grabbed her up and ran to the door. Obviously, Catherine had her hands full and couldn't manage her keys. So relieved she'd returned, he jerked open the door with a giant smile. It quickly died.

"Oh. It's only you."

"Thanks. You were expecting . . . ?"

"Catherine. But you'll do. Here." He put the baby into Tess's arms without a second thought and ran into the kitchen.

"Whoa! Wait." Tess held the baby at arm's length, then realized that was a bad strategy. Abby looked up at her without recognition and started screwing up her face for a scream. "Oh, no, no, no. It's okay, baby. It's Tess, remember me? Vincent! Where are you?"

"Just a minute, I've got to finish this. Dang it. I let it heat too long. Now it has to cool off."

Tess followed him into the kitchen. "Where's Cat?"

"Wasn't she with you? They called her into the precinct. It's laundry day and I forgot. I ran out of diapers."

At that, Tess held the baby away from her again.

"She has on the last clean one."

"Oh."

"But it's taking forever for the dryer to finish."

"You want me to run to the store and pick up some disposables for you?"

"No! Don't leave me. Besides, Catherine would ring my neck. She likes the cloth ones better."

"Well, there is something to be said for convenience. We are living in the modern age, you know."

"Tell that to Catherine."

"I think I'll stay out of it."

"Good plan. Are you okay with her for a few more minutes? I need to run to the back room."

"I'm . . ." she looked down at the baby who had noticed her gold necklace. "We're fine—for the moment. Go. Quickly."

He was gone a few more minutes than he said, but finally reappeared with bib and blanket in hand. "I thought Catherine would be back by now. I just got a call from the hospital. I need to check on a patient."

"What? Have you tried calling Cat?"

"She didn't answer. She may still be in her meeting."

"Well," Tess swallowed, uncomfortable but willing to volunteer for her friends' sake. "I guess I could—"

The doorbell rang again.

"Maybe that's her now!" She hurried for the door.

"You?"

"JT?"

Taking in the unusual but endearing sight of Tess with a baby in her arms, JT's mouth dropped to the floor.

"I'm just holding Abby for a minute," Tess stammered, and looked helplessly toward the hallway where Vincent had disappeared again. He came around the corner just then.

"JT! Perfect!" he cried.

"What? Why? I just came by to see if you wanted to watch the game together, but I see you don't have it on."

"Game? What game?"

"Whoa. I never I thought I'd hear those words out of your mouth. Never mind, dude. You're obviously otherwise distracted."

"JT, could you stay with Tess and Abby for a little bit—just until Catherine returns? I need to run to the hospital. A patient is coming out of surgery and I need to be there."

"Wait. What? Tess and—"

"It's just for a short time."

Tess gave him a don't-you-dare-leave-me-here-alone look.

"But I—I—I—"

"Thanks, buddy! Tess, here's her bottle. She'll be fine until her next diaper change. The laundry should be finished by then. After she's done, just pat her gently on the back for a few minutes. Don't worry if she burps it up—sometimes she gets a bubble." At her alarmed look, he quickly went on. "There are some toys in the corner that she likes a lot. Or you could read to her. I'll be back just as soon as I can!"

Before either Tess or JT could object, he was out the door. They looked dumbfounded at one another.

"What just happened?"

"Oh, goodie. Just what I'd planned to do this afternoon." JT folded his arms accusingly.

"Don't blame this on me! I just stopped by to see if Cat wanted to go shopping."

"Great. But what am I supposed to do? I don't know anything about—" he looked at the baby with a frown that made Abby start to cry, "that."

Tess soothed the baby. "Don't listen to him, Abigail. He's just a fussy-pants." To JT she said, "You don't have to do anything. I'll do . . . whatever needs to be done. Just stay with me. I haven't had to deal with a baby since my oldest brother had his last one—several years ago. I'm a little out of practice. Besides, Vincent said it would only be for a short time and Cat should be here any minute."

"Famous last words."

"Turn on the game if you want to. Maybe the noise will be soothing to her."

"It's hockey."

"Oh. Forget that idea, then. Here, read this." She handed him a baby care book.

JT stared at it for a moment then plopped down onto the sofa. "I suppose one of us had better read the instruction manual," he said, and started flipping through the pages.

Catherine came home an hour later to find Tess and JT calmly sitting on the living room floor with Abby between them, cooing and gurgling. They were smiling and laughing and good-naturedly fighting over who Abby likes better. She stared at the scene, dumbfounded. "Tess? JT! What on earth? Where's Vincent?"

"Who?" They turned in unison.

"Very funny." She took Abby up in her arms. The baby automatically reached for her hair, which had been cut to shoulder length some time back to make it easier to deal with.

"He had to run to the hospital to see a patient after surgery. Said you'd be back any minute, but that was an hour ago," Tess offered, a slight twist to her lips.

"So he called you—both of you?"

"Uh, no. I just stopped by," JT said.

"Me, too. It was just a coincidence."

The pair smiled at each other secretively, but Catherine caught it. Interesting. Last she'd heard, JT was seeing Sara again, and Daws had asked Tess out on a second date. She mentally shook herself. Now was not the time to be wondering about that. "Well, thank you so much. I was suddenly called in to work. I don't know what we would have done without your help."

"Something you might want to give some thought to for the future," Tess gently reprimanded. "They have something called babysitters, you know."

Catherine remembered she'd used the neighbor and her daughter once, but that had been a true emergency. "Sure, but . . . once of us is usually here."

Tess walked over and smoothed a hand over Abby's dark, silky hair. "Well, we got along just fine, so if you need someone in a pinch, don't be afraid to ask me, or—us." She looked uncertainly at JT, who nodded.

"Okay . . . I'll try to remember that. Thank you."

"I took the clean diapers out of the dryer and stacked them in the nursery, by the way, so you're all set."

"Wow. Thanks."

"And we fed her an hour ago, so she's probably ready for another nap again soon."

Catherine smirked at her friend. It was a different side of Tess she wasn't used to seeing. She guessed, coming from a large family, it was to be expected, but still. She recalled the time they'd gotten passes to the hotel pool and how Tess had balked at sharing it with a young family. Times had definitely changed—for all of them. When had it happened?

"Anyway, I should get going now." Tess stood.

"Me, too," JT said. "Tell Vincent I'll call him later."

"Sure, but—" When Tess started for the door, Catherine put a hand on her arm. "Do you have to run off so soon? I just got home. Can't you stay and chat awhile?"

Tess looked at JT. He gave her a look that Catherine couldn't help but wonder at, then tossed her a grin and a wave and left. Tess turned back to Cat.

"You stopped by for something, obviously."

"It wasn't important." She sat back down on the couch. "Sure, I can stay for a bit."

"You still haven't spilled on all the details of your date with Daws. I'm all ears." Catherine spoke in a low voice, even though JT was long gone.

Tess looked everywhere but at her. "It was . . . great, actually. We had a lot of fun."

"And?"

"And that was all."

"Really? That's all I'm going to get?"

Tess shot a look at the door through which JT had just left before meeting Cat's eyes. "For now. I still don't know how I feel about it—all this, you know? I can't help feeling like I'm cheating or something."

Cheating was something Tess understood, at least. But this was a different situation altogether. "On JT? You can't cheat on someone you're not currently with."

"Tell that to my heart."

Very interesting. Cat gave up with a laugh. "Okay. Well, I guess you'll tell me more when you're ready. I, um, I hope this afternoon wasn't too awkward, though."

"Not at all. He was a big help. We're still . . . friends, you know—no matter what happens."

Meaning, no matter where their other relationships lead. Well, that was good news indeed. "I'm glad. We love you both, you know. I'd hate for there to be awkwardness when we all get together."

"Absolutely no awkwardness here."

"Fantastic. So, why did you stop by?"

Tess waved it off. "I was feeling in the mood for a new pair of shoes. But also, Dawson—I mean, Doctor Griggs," she quickly amended, "mentioned there was someone of interest he wanted you to see."

"Cherrie Ellison?"

"Oh. I thought it was pronounced like Sherrie. Wait—how did you know about her?"

"It's pronounced cherry—like the fruit. Vincent brought home her photo the other night. Yes, she's an old friend, actually—very old. We used to play together as kids. She lost her mom before I did. After that, we really kind of bonded. But that was a long time ago. I haven't seen her in years."

"How did you two end up being playmates?"

"Her father was . . . he worked with my mom."

"At Muirfield."

Catherine frowned. "So? Just like me, Cherrie was never involved—I know that for a fact, Tess. As soon as she graduated high school, Dr. Ellison sent her across the country to study medicine. As it was shortly after her mother passed, I think he found being a single parent difficult. Anyway, I only saw her a few times after that."

"How did her mother die?"

"Cancer, if I remember right. Why? Are you suspecting foul play or something? Tess, whatever you're thinking, you're wrong. Dr. Ellison may have been a Muirfield scientist, but it seemed like he loved his wife, and his daughter was just a shy, geeky girl who loved animals. You can be a Muirfield brat and still be normal. Besides, Cherrie didn't have the temperament to be one of Muirfield's goons."

"Well, she eventually became a geneticist just like her father, although we've found no connection between her and any of Reynolds' operations so far, thank God, other than she occasionally consults for the FBI."

"As do I now. And you won't. I remember her telling me privately that she and her dad never got along, so I can't imagine she knew anything about his work. She was very angry with him after her mom's death. They . . . parted ways on unfriendly terms."

"And not because she blamed him?"

"Tess . . ."

"I'm just trying to figure out the connection. Anyway, Butler's meeting with her is curious, isn't it? Worth looking into.

"And I think you're going to find nothing, but I suppose you're right—I could give her a call. Now that we're plugged into the FBI once in a while, ourselves, I could say I came across her name and wanted to touch base again."

"Hmm. A plausible excuse, I suppose, but I'm nervous about exposing you, Vincent, or Abigail to anyone like that."

Catherine looked down at the baby in her arms. She looked so normal, and yet they all knew the possibility of that was very small. Could Cherrie Ellison be the same way? She shrugged. "I wouldn't have to mention anything about them."

Dr. Cherrie Ellison studied the log in front of her, then stared out the window, lost in thought, recalling the first meeting she'd had with Christopher Butler in her office the week before. He'd showed up unannounced with a blood sample for her to test.

She'd studied the small vial in her hands and looked over the rim of her glasses at him. "Whose is it?"

"Not who so much as . . . what," he'd said calmly.

"Excuse me? I thought you said this was human blood—is it from an animal?"

"Just take a look. I think you'll be intrigued."

She'd put the vial firmly down onto the desk. "Mr. Butler, I don't know what kind of game you're playing, but I don't have the time. Take your sample and go. I have a horrendous schedule this week overseeing a project that could literally change the way major diseases are fought. I don't have time to—"

"It's a hybrid."

"What?"

"Blood from a natural, living, human-animal hybrid."

She'd looked at the vial again. "Is that a joke? You know that isn't possible."

"Isn't it? If you say so—you're the expert. But I'd take a look if I were you."

That had been the start. What Butler didn't know—and there was no possible way he could (although a frisson of doubt kept sneaking its way into her veins) was that she'd been studying the plausibility of human-animal hybrids for years—ever since she'd discovered her father's secret documents after he was killed. And it was very possible. She was living proof. A natural one, though . . . .

Before Butler had left, he'd also dropped some info she suspected was highly classified—that the military had experimented years ago on U.S. soldiers in an attempt to make the first super-soldiers using cross-species DNA—and one of those men was still alive and living in New York City! She'd long suspected that's where her father's work had been headed, but hadn't had actual confirmation. Now, after having seen the man Butler pointed her to, she was beyond intrigued.

She'd let him leave the vial and then took it home instead of using Paradigm's labs. If it was something unusual that correlated with her private work, she couldn't risk someone seeing the test results there.

Now, after having confirmed it with her own instruments, it was time to decide just what to do about it. Butler hadn't made his purpose known yet—he was just baiting her. It was working. She was extremely curious now.

Problem was, the blood he'd given her was from a female, not a male, and the DNA didn't have the manufactured hallmarks she was used to seeing in her own blood. So he hadn't lied. It was from a true hybrid, the way Butler suggested-a natural born hybrid.

With her cell alarm reminding her she was past due for a meeting, she sat at her desk and stared out the window. What could the FBI be up to? Butler was a familiar face—she'd had some minor dealings with him over the years, mostly in reference to special projects he wasn't able to divulge the specifics of—typical FBI modus operandi. It always stunk of something nefarious—and that reminded her of her father. She'd tried her best to avoid it. This time it would be impossible. Or maybe not.

Before any decisions were made, more stealthy research was needed—that much was sure—and another visit to the 'lair.' Perhaps she could get a look at J.T. Forbes' research notes—he was bound to have them lying around somewhere. And if she was really lucky, she could follow the super-soldier home. He must be connected to the female somehow.

She leaned back and put the heel of her black, serviceable pumps on the window ledge. She smiled. She had a million questions for Butler, none of which she could ask outright. Hopefully, answers would come in time. Butler thought he'd use her. She, instead, would use him, and possibly be able to further her own research along. With the sample he'd given her, she'd already discovered a few intriguing things. What he didn't know was just how far her own research had already taken her. If only he knew . . . .

"So . . . Vincent said you decided to take some classes?" Catherine passed a bib and blanket to Tori, who sat on the floor with Blaise and the baby in the living room.

"I thought I should. I never finished my degree, after all." Tori glared at Vincent. "Something interrupted it."

Vincent put up his hands. "Hey, it wasn't all my fault." That he'd killed her father in order to protect her was water long under the bridge, but she was obviously still sensitive about it. Yes, her life had certainly been disrupted, but if they hadn't found her, where would she be now?

"Tors . . ." Blaise warned.

"I'm just saying. Anyway, I'd been working on my MBA. I thought I'd see what I have left to do. I still have some insurance money tucked away. It's time to put it to good use. Perhaps someday Blaise and I will start our own business."

"Oh? What type of business?" Cat asked, trying not to jump in when Abby started to fuss.

"Something philanthropic," Blaise immediately responded and took Abby up in his arms. She immediately quieted.

"Something profitable," Tori said at the same time.

Vincent and Catherine both laughed. "Perhaps you need more time to think about it."

"I guess so."

As meetings went, it wasn't bad. Tori seemed a little awkward with Abby at first, but she soon warmed up to the task. Blaise was a natural. After an hour, Catherine even felt confident enough to suggest Vincent go and get in a jog. He hesitated for no more than a second.

Outside, the air was still nippy, but he liked cold weather for jogging the best. The city was quiet and so was his heart.

On his return route he noticed the cat.

"Hey," he said to it, as if it would answer. "Aren't you the same cat I saw at JT's?"

In response, the cat actually appeared to flinch, but continued following him.

"Go back home. I don't need another mouth to feed."

At that, the cat stopped and stared up at him for a moment.

"I mean it. You may be cute, but you need to find yourself another benefactor." With that, he sped up, hopefully leaving the furry feline far behind.

Cherrie paused on each level of the fire escape, studying the interior of each apartment. Every unit was either dark or obviously the wrong one. Finally she reached the fifth and final story. Seeing the quiet domestic scene with the baby on the floor, she almost dismissed the unit as another dead end when suddenly she heard his voice—Keller's. She ducked out of sight, then peered cautiously around the corner again. Yes. Right guy, but what was this? He lifted a baby from a redheaded woman's arms.

So he and the redhead . . . ? She was still trying to digest that astounding piece of information when another female came from the back room—and not just anyone—someone she quite certainly recognized from her past: Catherine Chandler!