Hayes POV

"You know, you could've told me."

"Told you what?"

"Whatever the hell is going on. I know how to keep a secret."

I stared at Eames until he pulled his eyes away from the road long enough to look at me.

"What?" he questioned. "I do."

"I know," I said, letting him off the hook. "It's not that I don't trust you. It's just not my place to say anything. This is some seriously heavy shit."

"And now my sister's involved, so…"

"So feel free to ask her."

He grunted in annoyance and then fell silent as he drove us back to the 2-7.

I wasn't happy about the fact that the Logans had taken over our case, but at the same time it was almost a relief because my focus certainly wasn't on that.

It was more on the shell-shocked look on Mike Cutter's face.

And the horrified tone of voice of the beat cop who called to tell me he'd found Anna's body.

And the images in my mind of what had happened to her.

I didn't go to the scene.

I was going to, since Bernard was going, but he'd pulled me aside.

"You don't need to come. Go home and get cleaned up. Your shift starts in a couple of hours."

"B., you don't have to protect me from anything. I'm a cop, too, remember?"

"I know that," he said firmly. "But you're not working this case, so there's no reason for you to be there."

I held his gaze for a long time, and then I nodded.

"Okay. But promise me you'll be careful."

"You think the killer's going to be hanging out at the scene?"

"I don't know where he might be. Or what he wants," I said in a rough whisper. "I don't know hardly anything at all. So when I say be careful, you just need to promise me that you will. And mean it."

I knew I was borderline hysterical, but there wasn't anything I could do about it.

Anna's murder was messing with my head, and it didn't help at all that I'd heard the word Albanians mentioned in hushed tones.

I know a little bit about the Albanian mafia.

They're big in Detroit, and way back when, when I was interning at a law firm in Chicago, I helped out on a case involving the murder of two men who were killed in Detroit and then put on a bus to Chicago, and the bodies weren't discovered until the bus pulled in to Union Station.

While researching that case, I'd learned a few things about them.

For starters, they're the most feared organization in the country. Even the Sicilian Mafiosos are afraid of them, and those are some scary guys.

I typed up a witness statement from a Polish mobster who knew about the beef the Albanians had with the victims, and in it, he made mention of how ruthless and violent they can be…and this was a guy who'd seen the inside of Joliet twice for murder.

I'd also studied the crime scene photos…the images of those two men were burned into my mind, and despite the fact that I've seen hundreds upon hundreds of crime scene photos since then, I've never forgotten those.

I also never forgot the fact that the first two officers who went to arrest the perpetrators were shot to death, and then tossed from the fourth floor window down onto their patrol car parked below.

There was no regard for the police. No respect for laws of any kind except their own.

"Okay," Bernard answered soothingly. "I promise."

So I'd left him, taking the car and heading for home while he rode in Mary's car with her and Lupo, on their way out to Queens.

That was more than four hours ago, and in the time since, Bernard had texted me half a dozen times.

The seventh one came in as we got out of the car in the parking garage.

I'm still at 1PP. You're okay?

I couldn't help but feel bad about my earlier reaction, which was certainly the root of Bernard's commitment to keeping in touch.

It was very unprofessional of me to be so visually affected by Anna's death.

But it was out of my control.

I kept thinking about the pictures of those two men on the back of the bus in Chicago.

And then of Anna Holly, and how she'd so callously been tossed onto the street, dressed only in her badge as though the killer was mocking the fact that she's law enforcement.

"Hey, are we okay?" I said to my partner as we walked across the garage.

"Yeah, we're fine. I shouldn't have put you in the position of breaking Bernard's confidence."

"Okay. Good, thanks. Um…can you give me just a minute so I can make a call?"

"Bernard?" he asked with a grin, and for the first time in what felt like days, I smiled, too.

"Yeah. I was a little on edge the last time I saw him, and I don't want him worrying about me."

"I'll wait by the elevator."

So I dialed Bernard's number, half expecting to have to offer my apology to his voicemail, but instead, he answered.

"Bernard."

"It's me. Bad time?"

"No," he said, his voice instantly softening. "Is everything okay?"

"It's fine. I just want to make sure your focus is where it should be."

"Which is…"

"On your case instead of on your basket case girlfriend."

"You're allowed to worry."

"Quietly. I can worry quietly. I can't have meltdowns at crime scenes."

"It's tough when it hits close to home," he said in understanding. "But this is just another case, okay? Nobody's got a hit on my head."

"So how's it coming? Any progress?"

"We're chasing our tails right now. You?"

"We got benched. Mike and Carolyn are out on Staten Island. Eames and I are heading back into the squad room right now."

I could hear Lupo say Bernard's name, so I said, "I'll let you go, B. I just wanted to touch base with you."

"If I get a break later, I'll call you. Maybe we can catch up for a bite."

"Sounds good. And my head's better now, but I still want you to be careful."

"And risk not coming home to you? You better believe I'm careful."

I hung up with him and walked slowly towards the elevator, lost in thought.

Bernard was right.

As horrifying and tragic as this case was, it was still just another case, and he'd work it like he always does.

And personally speaking, things with Bernard have been better than ever.

In fact, things were so good that I even called my mother on Sunday afternoon, with the intent of telling her about him.

"Lauren, it's so good to hear from you! How long has it been? A month?"

"More like four," I replied. "It was Christmas."

I'd called her a couple of times since then, but I purposely did it at times when I knew I'd get her voicemail. That way I could update her without having to listen to her criticism and disappointment.

"Right. I still wish you would've come home for the holidays."

"I am home, Mom."

"New York City isn't home to anyone," she said haughtily, and I instantly regretted calling her.

But Bernard was sitting next to me, with his arm around me, and his fingers were lightly stroking my arm, and I felt so content and happy that I decided to ignore her jab and take another stab at having a conversation.

"How are things at work?" I asked her.

"Brutal, but that's how I like it. You remember Alana Skinner, don't you? She was a couple of years behind you in school."

"Yes, of course."

How in the world could I forget her when she was a main topic of our conversations?

She actually finished law school and now worked as an associate in my mother's firm.

"She just made partner," she told me excitedly. "At thirty-three. Isn't that great, dear? And you know, that husband of hers is such a wonderful man…he found a nanny for the twins and then took her off to Paris for the weekend to celebrate."

"That's…great, Mom."

"Isn't it? Such a beautiful family," she said wistfully. She sighed into the phone and then said, "So what about you? Are you still…what's your title again? A murder cop?"

"Mom, you're a lawyer. You know damn well I'm a homicide detective."

Bernard squeezed me gently, presumably to try to keep me from getting worked up, but my mother and I are old hands at this little game.

"Homicide detective. Right. That just sounds so…masculine. You know, promise me that when you settle down it won't be with another cop. You need to find a nice man who'll be willing to stay home with the kids while you're out running around catching killers."

And there we were.

In the exact spot where we inevitably ended up, every single time we spoke.

"Don't date a cop," I repeated through clenched teeth. "Got it. Okay, Mom, I need to run."

"Okay, dear. You take care and don't wait so long to call me next time, okay?"

I hung up with her and tossed the phone onto the coffee table before turning to Bernard, sliding my leg over his so that I was sitting on his lap.

"Don't date a cop?" he asked me with amusement.

"That's her theory. She wants me to date a man who'll stay home with the kids."

"Lauren..." he said gently as he tucked a piece of loose hair back behind my ear.

"It's fine," I said dismissively. "I guess in my euphoric state I forgot how single-minded she can be. And I'm sorry I didn't mention you. I just…it's not that I…"

"That's okay," he said with that smile of his that sends a tingling sensation down to my toes. "I don't mind being your dirty little secret."

And just like that, my mother was forgotten.

"Are we going up or what?" Eames called out to me, bringing my focus back to the present.

"Up," I agreed as I tucked my phone back into my pocket, and then I trotted the last several feet and got onto the elevator.

"Eames, Hayes!" Loo called out as soon as we walked into the squad room. "My office!"

"What'd you do?" Eames asked me under his breath as we weaved our way between the desks.

"I was going to ask you the same thing," I teased back.

"It's not what you did, but what you're about to do," Loo said, apparently either having heard our remarks or read our lips.

I'd never say it out loud, but she's almost like a mother in the sense that she just knows things.

And I don't mean like my mother.

Because I like Loo.

She's a really good boss.

I followed Eames into her office and then we both stood in front of her desk while she closed the door and then sat down.

"I got a call from the chief. You lost your case?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"I bet that just burns you up, doesn't it?" she said with a smirk. "You do all the running around and then Major Case gets the glory."

"No, ma'am. It's fine."

"Uh huh," she said disbelievingly. "Well, if it helps, I fought for you to keep it. But it was out of the chief's hands this time."

She shuffled around some papers on her desk and then looked up at me.

"You look like hell, Hayes. What's going on?"

"Oh, I was…I didn't get any sleep last night."

"Something tells me it wasn't the good kind of no-sleep either. Everything okay?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"Good. I've got another case for you, since you two are suddenly free."

She held out a piece of paper, so I took it from her and then stood close to Eames so that he and I could both look it over.

"And I don't see Major Case stealing your thunder on this one," she added. "So dazzle me and wrap it up quickly, okay? Our numbers were down last month and I don't want May to look even worse."

"No problem there, Loo," Eames said with a cocky grin. "Me and Hayes are back in the house, so things will start getting done."

"Uh huh," she responded with amusement. "We'll see about that."

She dismissed us, so we left her office and headed back to the car.

"A floater. That's original. I wonder why killers take the time to dump bodies in the river," he mused.

I held out my hand for the keys, but he shook his head and went around to the driver's side.

"You're asleep on your feet, Hayes. I'm driving."

"They do it to get rid of evidence," I commented, choosing not to fight about who was going to drive. "Didn't they teach you that at the academy?"

We bickered all the way to Battery Park where a crowd was gathered on the pier for the water taxi.

We badged the uniformed officers and made our way to the end of the pier where a body was laid out, underneath a sheet.

"The ME's on his way," one of the officers said.

I knelt down and pulled back the sheet, exposing the bloated, discolored face of our victim.

"ID?"

"Nope. Hard to say if the wallet worked itself free from his pocket, or if the doer took it out, but there's nothing on him."

"What do you think, Eames?" I asked as I did a visual inspection of the corpse.

"TOD? Yesterday. Or Saturday. I don't think longer than that. He's in too good shape."

"Uh huh," I agreed. I slipped on some gloves and did a quick pat-down, but I didn't find anything.

I looked for another moment and then stood up, looking at my partner as I said, "Okay, so where do you want to start?"

"Well, we need a name," he said. "So let's get a picture, and then head back and run him through missing persons. By then, maybe the ME will have something for us to go on."

TBC...