"You are not working on Easter Sunday," Johnny Eames said, feigning shock when he found his sister hiding out in a non-crime-scene guest room at their parents' house, poring over her laptop computer.

"Nah," she said, slamming the laptop shut and standing to embrace her brother.

"Come on downstairs. The kids are all asking for you, and dinner's almost ready."

She started to follow him, but he stopped and turned to face her. "Dad said not to talk to you about the baby, so … what did Goren do? I can take him, I know I can."

She let out a half-hearted laugh. "One, you cannot 'take' my partner, and two, I promise you, he is not the father. And three –"

"The father turned out to be the perp in a crime you're investigating."

"Stop. If you're really concerned about my safety, you'll stop with the conjectures now."

"I saw the APB on the guy you brought here on New Year's. It's not 'conjecture.' If I was good at 'conjecture,' I'd have made detective. The department had better have your back every step of the way."

"Johnny," she whispered, "they do."

"So, right, I guess you didn't take communion this morning?"

"Cool it," she hissed.

Johnny ducked to the side. "I didn't know how else to –"

"Listen to Dad and don't broach the topic."

Eames joined her family downstairs, where John was already carving the ham and dishes were being passed around the table. Cathy Eames, the family matriarch, reached over to stop Susan, the eldest Eames sister, from passing a bottle of red wine to Alex.

"No, no, hon, Alex is still pregnant."

The five adults at the table who hadn't known about the pregnancy immediately stopped what they were doing.

No one wanted to call Cathy out on her mistake. Since she'd suffered a stroke a few years back, she often said out loud what she was supposed to keep to herself. Up until today, no one had minded much.

Alex had wanted to tell her mother everything, but she couldn't, at least until after the trial, if there was a trial. Until then, the extra DNA she carried was the only evidence they had that even suggested that Willem Kreiner was involved in the crime.

"Who's the father?" Susan asked matter-of-factly.

Laura, the sister who was in the loop, tossed a dinner roll at Susan. "Not Sunday dinner conversation," she insisted.

"Do you know, Laura? Come on, tell us."

"Guys." Eames shook her head.

"Mom said you are … "still" … pregnant. The father's not around?"

"The father has some serious health problems in his family, and it might be a problem for me to carry his baby to term," she lied, thinking fast. John nodded, satisfied with his daughter's lie. "And we're not … together as a couple right now, so …"

Susan dropped her fork. "Bobby Goren?"

"His whole family's got problems," Laura said, playing along.

"He couldn't even join us for dinner?" Cathy asked.

"I told you, we're not together." The thought of what her mother might say to Goren half-amused her, a little bit of light in what was turning out to be a dark situation.

Eames' cell phone rang. Relieved to be saved by the ringtone, she flipped open the phone and went into the kitchen.

"You're going to want to come down here," Goren said.

"I can't. Easter Sunday. Fighting with family."

"We aren't fighting!" Susan shouted from the other room. "Get your ass out here, Bobby, and face the family!"

"What was that?"

"I'll explain later. What's going on downtown?"

"Rodgers would like to see you. It's … there's a body we need to look at."

"Can it wait a few hours?"

"Eames, we …"

"Okay. I'll be there in an hour." She snapped her phone shut and returned to the dinner table. "I'm needed downtown," she told her family.

A collective groan. "We have a break in a case, it's important," she said.

Forty-five minutes later, she joined Goren at the M.E.s. Her heart fell to her toes when she saw Willem Kreiner's body on the table. His eyes were open. She didn't want to remember his eyes.

"Is this your guy?" Rodgers asked. She didn't seem too thrilled about having to work on Easter Sunday, either.

"This is him. This is … definitely … him."

"Three shots to the chest."

"Defensive wounds?"

"Not a one."

"He avoids getting picked up by Interpol for fifteen years but is shot point-blank in the chest?"

Rodgers looked quickly to Goren. "Time of death is between nine and noon today," she said. "A jogger found him up in Riverside Park and the wounds were still pretty fresh."

Eames shuffled her feet. "I get you."

"You'll give us your EZ-Pass?" Goren asked.

"Yes, it's in my car. I haven't been in the city since last night, and I was at my parents' since eleven o'clock this morning."

"We already ruled you out, Eames," he said. "I mean … I knew it couldn't have been you, but …"

"But for the first couple of minutes, I was a very good suspect. I understand."

"They already found the gun. It was in the river, but we're hoping to get a print or two off the cartridge."

"We should go upstairs and update Ross," Eames said, averting her eyes from the corpse.

"Right." Goren walked towards the door.

"You'll have your evidence on Tuesday," Eames told Rodgers. "But please don't say a word to anyone outside of Major Case about the day."

Goren and Eames returned to their desks upstairs and, for a while, said nothing to each other. Ross, who'd been called in when Kreiner's body was found, emerged from his office to join his detectives.

"Don't bother waiting for the lab," he said. "Nothing will get done until tomorrow. Go home to your families."

Eames tilted her head and looked up at Ross.

"I mean, nothing's going to get done here today, anyway." Foot planted firmly in mouth, Captain, she thought.

Goren made a loose fist and pounded his hand on the desk. "The lab also needs to see if they can match the slug from Novak's shoulder to the slugs in Kreiner's chest. Maybe the same woman – Lucy Colacci –shot them both. She was angry at Novak for getting her hands on the information that would expose her as the Lavin family shooter. And think about how this woman must view unplanned pregnancies, think about what that must remind her of. She may have been furious at Kreiner for getting you pregnant. Three shots, one after the other, all aiming for his heart."

"Go home, Detective," Ross insisted.

"I need to look at –"

"He's been here for two days straight," Ross told Eames.

Eames shot Goren a look that (hopefully) cut right through him. "Wait'll we see what we get on the gun," Ross continued. "I want this case to rest on fingerprints, not feelings."