Bursting through the tunnel with her lights going and her cheap imitation siren blaring she could feel the sluggishness of the morning drivers as they moved out of her way reluctantly, a few of them honking in retaliation, other less sophisticated people offering her rude hand gestures.

"I'm three blocks away" she said into her cell phone, hearing Wordy's grunt of acknowledgment on the other end as he focused on the situation . She heard the door of the van opening on the other end, the sounds of footsteps mixed in with voices in the background and then silence again as the door was slammed shut.

"Did you get a hold of Jules?" Greg asked on the end of the line, his voice faint as both phones were on speaker.

"I'm here" she said loudly, wishing for the headset that she would receive when she got to the scene. It was strange sometimes after a long day to take off the earpiece and no longer have a handful of people talking in your ear. Like the voices in your head had suddenly stopped, leaving you to your own devices.

The usual swarm of squad cars and crown vic's told her that she was in the right place even before she picked out the command post through the crowd. She was just able to muscle her own car through to the curb where she pulled in next to a familiar faded chevrolet malibu that she couldn't quite place. Sam appeared from beneath the police tape that was barely holding back the onlookers. He was loaded with an extra set of gear, with a C8 Carbine slung over his shoulder.

"Jules" he said by way of greeting.

"Sam."

She yanked her jacket off and pulled the vest over her head, no longer feeling or focusing on the cold that hung around them, their breath coming out in clouds.

She accepted the utility belt in which she stored her own glock 17 that she had retrieved from her car. Sam yanked an SRU cap down on her head, handed her the usual headgear and they set off, back through the crowd of civilians and the reporters who shot questions at them as they passed and who they both pointedly ignored, not that she would have anything to say if she could, as she had no clue what was going on or why she was needed so badly on scene. They ducked back under the tape and moved to the command post.

She had no idea what to expect as she mounted the steps into the truck to find Greg and Wordy waiting for her, expressions serious as they both fought to hide the confusion at the turn in events and their wonder as to why a subject would ask for Jules by name. She could read it in their faces because she couldn't help but wonder the same thing. And the only options that she had managed to come up with was that either the subject knew her or they wanted to kill her and it was clear by the looks the others were giving her that they too had come to the same conclusions.

"Caucasian woman, late twenty's to mid thirty's, light complexion, dark hair, dark eyes. Approximately 5'6" Spike's description came through.

Three faces stared back at her as if expecting this information to clarify everything.

"Are you kidding me, that could be anyone. Hell, you could be describing me" she exclaimed in annoyance.

"All right, just hold on" Wordy told her reassuringly, holding up a hand to keep the peace. "Were just about to gain access to the video footage. Then we'll see if you recognize her."

"How's it going in there Spike?" Greg said into the headpiece. No one wanted to shoot the young woman without first finding out who she was and what she was doing there with a gun in her hand.

"Could be worse."

"Glad to hear that."

"C'mon Wordy." Jules demanded impatiently. Greg had denied her request to speak to the woman before they found the connection and though she saw his point that there were probably a hundred people who would like to see her dead, many of whom wouldn't have minded pulling the trigger themselves she had the feeling that it wasn't the case. She was trying to bring up a memory of a young woman about her own age. Dark hair, light skin, driving a chevy. Needless to say, no one held much stock in gut feelings when every decision could mean the difference between life and death.

"Just give me another second."

"I think now would be a good time to give her another call" Spike's voice came through, sounding worried. "She's getting more and more agitated. We'd better hurry up if she wants to talk to Jules. She is not looking happy."

Jules watched as Greg picked up the phone and was patched through to the building's phone lines.

"Where are the hostages being held?" she asked Wordy in a low voice. She had seen no signs on the outside which meant that any number of business' could have been in place there.

"Um, first floor, some family services thing. Social workers and such." He glanced up from the screen. "Does that mean something to you?"

She gave him a look and turned away.

"This is Sergeant Greg Parker again."

She could hear a woman's voice muffled on the other end of the line.

"I want to help you but your going to have to tell me your name." He paused again for the response.

"Well, I've got constable Callaghan on her way but first you need to tell me what I need to know. Just tell me your name so that I can help you out here."

"Jules" Wordy said in a low voice so as not to disturb the call. "Footage will be up in about 5...4...3...2...1..."

"Thank you for cooperating,Mickey." He glanced over at Jules expectantly just as the screen filled with the surveillance video and her breath caught in her throat.

Michelle 'Mickey' Holtz. Thirty one. Red chevy malibu. It had been a while.

"Jules?"

"I have to go in there."