Don't say I don't spoil you guys! I'm on a bit of a roll here. Thanks for all the reviews especially guitar73 - thanks for your mammoth contribution all in one go! I hope you guys are enjoying the story!

Brooklyn

July 2005

Amy was asleep in the backseat of the car by the time Bobby and Emily arrived back at the latter's home. Exhausted from hours of running around in the fresh air, she had been asleep before they had even left the parking lot. Pulling the car to a halt in the driveway, Emily cut the engine and then turned around to look at her daughter.

"She's like her mother," she commented, "She can sleep anywhere." Bobby, who had also turned to look at the backseat passenger, turned back to look at her and inadvertently bumped his head against hers. Emily jumped back and opened her door. "I'd best get her inside." She opened the back door, carefully undid Amy's seatbelt and lifted her up into her arms. Eager to help, Bobby grabbed the empty hamper and followed Emily to the front door.

"Here," he said, taking the keys from her as she struggled to hold onto her daughter whilst battling with the lock.

"Thanks." She stood back and let him open the door for her. Walking inside, she turned back to him. "I'll just go and put her down. Feel free to help yourself to a drink." With that, she mounted the stairs.

Bobby carried the hamper through to the kitchen and placed it down on the unit. As he did so, he looked around, taking everything in. It was a fairly large kitchen, maple furnishings with a breakfast bar in the middle. It led into a small dining room which in turn, opened into the living room. He wandered through, looking at the pictures that were dotted on every surface. Emily and Paul. Emily, Paul and Amy. In the living room, he picked up the photo from the mantelpiece that he had seen on his first visit and studied his daughter's face.

"Coffee?" Emily's voice behind him made him jump.

"Uh…sure…" he put the photo down and walked back into the kitchen. "You have a lovely home."

"Thank you," she replied. "It was the first house we looked at before we got married. We both fell in love with it pretty much straightaway. How about you? Are you still in your apartment?" He nodded. "Don't tell me, it's full of books on obscure subjects."

"Among other things. Thanks." He accepted the cup from her and perched on one of the stools at the breakfast bar. She sat opposite him.

They sat in silence for a moment before Emily spoke again, "How's your Mom?"

The sudden return to the reality of his life made Bobby look down at the floor. "Not so good. She has…she has cancer."

"I'm sorry."

"They're doing everything they can for her, but…" he left the sentence hanging.

"Is she still at Carmel Ridge?"

"For the moment, but they'll probably need to move her to the hospital…later." He met her gaze, saw her concern and shrugged. "That's life."

"Sometimes life isn't fair." She lifted her hand and seemed to pause for a moment before resting it gently over his. "I hope you have the time with her that you need."

"How do you mean?" he asked, feeling a burning sensation on his skin at her touch.

"Well…I just mean that I hope you have the time to say the things to her that you need to. I wish I had had that with Paul."

"What would you have said to him?"

"I don't know," she replied, "I would have tried to resolve the issues we had about Amy. I would have told him the truth."

Bobby lifted his thumb and gently ran it along her skin. "What is the truth, Emily?"

She looked at him, her eyes pained. "He thinks I had an affair. A real, proper affair. That I spent months sneaking around behind his back. You and I both know it wasn't like that, Bobby." He knew she was right, but it didn't stop him wishing it had been different. "I know," she said suddenly. "I wish it too."

"Wish what?"

"That it had been different."

"You wish we'd had an affair? A real, proper affair?" he repeated her words.

"Is that so terrible? To wish that Amy had been conceived out of love instead of lust?"

"No," he said, although for him, she had been, "no it isn't." For a while, they continued to hold hands, as if the physical connection was enough to transmit all they wanted to say to each other without ever having to say it. The house was so quiet…so quiet…and all they could hear was the sound of their own breathing and their own heartbeats.

"I'd best go check on Amy," Emily said finally, drawing her hand away from his, leaving him with a chill at the loss of her touch. He watched as she walked towards the door into the hallway and the seemed to change her mind. She paused and then whirled around, striding back over to where he still sat, purposefully and determined.

Before Bobby had time to react, Emily gripped his face and pressed her mouth against his. Her kiss was fierce and powerful and yet, it wasn't desire that he tasted, but anger. He couldn't stop himself responding to her, trying to pull her into his arms. But she didn't melt against him. Instead, she pressed both her palms against each of his shoulders, keeping herself a distance from him. As she continued to kiss him, she started hitting him, lightly at first and then stronger until he actually started to feel pain.

"Emily…" he tore his mouth away from hers and tried to grab her arms. "Emily, stop!" Even though they were no longer kissing, she continued to hit him, her face screwed up with anger, hot tears forming in her eyes. As she hit him, she cried out, like a boxer pounding his opponent. "Emily!" Eventually, he managed to catch hold of both her wrists.

"No!" she cried out, the tears pouring down her face, "No, no, no!" She tried to struggle free, but he was stronger than she was.

"Emily…"

"Oh God…!" she sobbed, "Oh God…" Suddenly, she sagged against him, her anger spent to be replaced with deep sorrow. "Oh God…what have I done…?!" He stood up and took her in his arms. This time, she didn't resist, allowing him to wrap her closely to him. Her face was buried against his chest, her body convulsing with sobs. He held her, gently stroking her hair, whispering to her that it was ok.

"What have I done…?" she continued to cry, "Oh God, what have I done…?"

XXXX

Queens

July 2005

Jenny Patrick closed the door of her apartment behind her and leant against it, dropping her shopping bags in the process. Another severe work-out for her credit card had come and gone and she was home with numerous articles of clothing that she knew she would never wear. Glancing at the clock on the wall, she saw that it was after seven and her stomach growled. She didn't even know if she had anything in the apartment to make for dinner. It may well be that yet another phone call to Uncle Shanghai's Fragrant Kitchen was in order.

Leaving her bags in a heap on the ground, she walked down the hallway to her bedroom where she shucked off her jacket and changed into a comfy pair of sweats and her slippers. Then she cranked up the air con, although she was convinced she had left it on when she had gone out. Glancing at herself in the mirror, she saw the face of a worried twenty-five year old looking back at her. The interrogation at the Major Case Squad the previous day had seriously rattled her. When she had tried to talk to Lisa about it afterwards, the older woman had told her in no uncertain tones to keep her mouth shut and all would be fine. When Jenny had tried to protest, Lisa had reminded her of what Owen had said and that had immediately quelled her into silence. Lastly, Lisa had told her she had been an idiot for mentioning Emily Roscoe. Jenny hoped that wouldn't get back to Owen.

She walked out of the bedroom and back down the hallway into the living room. Grabbing the remote control she switched on the TV and channel hopped until she found a rerun of America's Next Top Model. Turning the volume up so she could hear it, she walked into the galley kitchen and straight into the person standing by the fridge.

"Jesus!" she swore loudly, "What the hell are you doing here?"

She never got her answer. The first bullet made her stumble back in surprise, the second, caused her to fall to her knees. As she looked up into the face of her killer, the third bullet hit her squarely between the eyes and the last sentence on Jenny Patrick's page of life was written.

XXXX

Brooklyn

July 2005

"I'm so sorry."

Bobby turned from where he was standing at the front door and saw Emily framed in the doorway of the living room. It was almost midnight and the house was in darkness save for a light shining behind her, making only her silhouette visible. She stepped forward and flicked on the lamp next to the door, casting a soft glow in the hallway. He saw that her face was pale and drawn and her eyes tired from emotion.

"Were you going to sneak out without saying goodbye?"

"I thought you were still sleeping." After the tirade had ended, Emily had been completely exhausted. Bobby had carried her to the sofa and laid her down. He had been going to leave then and there, but she had grabbed his hand in hers and in a sleepy voice had asked him to stay. He had sat on the floor beside the sofa, holding her hand while she slept, her forehead creased in anxiety.

Around six-thirty, Amy had woken up and come downstairs looking for her mom. Clicking into survival mode, Bobby had raided the freezer and found a pizza. The little girl had devoured it hungrily and then gone back up to her room to play. When she had asked about her mother, Bobby had told her that she was really tired and sleeping.

"Like a fairy princess," Amy had declared.

A few hours later, he had ventured upstairs to find her sprawled out on her bed fast asleep. He had pulled the covers around her and left her to sleep. Downstairs, Emily had slept on, oblivious to everything. He wondered if it had been the first time she had slept properly since Paul had died.

"I'm sure I don't have to ask if Amy's ok."

"She's sleeping."

"Thank you," Emily said, "for…for everything. And I'm sorry, I'm really, really sorry…"

He held up his hands, "You don't have to apologise."

"Yes I do," she said, stepping forward, "I practically tried to beat you to death earlier and that's not…that's not me. You know that, right?"

He looked down into her worried face, "You've had a lot to deal with over the last few weeks, Emily. It's only natural that you need to…vent a little."

"I know, but I'm angry at me not at you and…and it's inappropriate…it's not as if you forced me or anything. And…we were supposed to be talking about your life. You know, about your mom."

"Yeah well," he looked down at his feet. "Maybe it's not the best time to talk about her."

"I want to make it up to you," she said, "I want…"

"How?"

"How would you want me to?"

He laughed softly, "You don't really want me to answer that question."

"No," she said, looking away, "No, I guess not."

"Did you mean what you said earlier?"

"About what?"

"About wishing we had had a proper affair?"

She seemed to think about this for a long time and Bobby found himself holding his breath. "Yes." There was a lock of hair caught against her eyelash and he reached forward to push it away. "Don't…" she said shakily, stepping back. "My anger at you was wrong, my…hitting you was wrong. My kissing you…" she broke off and looked up at him. "I can't…" her voice was barely a whisper, "I can't handle how I feel about the rights or wrongs of that right now."

"I understand." Man I've got to get out of here before I grab her… "I'd better go. Thanks again for the picnic. It was great being able to spend time with…with both of you."

"You're welcome."

Bobby unlocked the front door and stepped outside. Emily came and stood on the step, watching as he made his way back to the car. When he reached it, he turned and took a few steps back towards her. "Maybe…"

"Maybe what?" she asked when he didn't continue.

"Maybe…I could take Amy to the movies or something sometime." He tried to gauge her reaction, "Or maybe we could all go."

She paused before replying. "That would be nice."

"Great," he opened the door, "I'll call you?" It was a question, not a statement.

She nodded, "Ok. Night Bobby."

"Night Emily." He waited until she had closed the front door and the lamp had been switched off before getting into the car. As he did so, his cell phone rang.

"Goren."

"Bobby, it's me." Alex. "I hope I'm not disturbing…"

"No," he cut her off, "no, you're not."

"I just got a call from the Captain. Jenny Patrick's been murdered. Her body's been dumped not far from her place. He wants us over there ASAP." She paused, "He said, and I'm quoting this verbatim, 'whatever your partner's personal issues are, they take second place to this investigation.'"

Bobby nodded at no-one in particular, "Ok. Give me the address. I'll meet you there."

XXXX

Emily woke with a start at four am, the phone on the bedside table ringing in her ears. It took her a few moments to work out precisely where she was or what was happening and she had no idea how long it had been ringing before she lifted it.

"Hello?" she said, groggily. There was no answer on the other end. "Hello?" Again, no response. Figuring it to be a wrong number, she replaced the receiver and pulled the blankets up around her body again. Seconds before she lost herself in sleep, the phone rang again. This time, she was awake. "Hello?" Again, only dead air. "Who is this? Hello?" Determined not to be the first to hang up, she held on listening to the silence on the other end, until she heard a soft click and the other person hung up.

Feeling instantly chilled, Emily snapped on the bedside light and immediately went to check all the windows. Once she had checked the bedroom, she went through the rest of the house, quietly, so as not to wake Amy. She went downstairs, turning on lights as she did so, making sure each door was locked, each curtain drawn. When she was satisfied, she sat down on the couch and turned on the TV, comforted by the sound of voices in the room. She wrapped her arms around herself suddenly chilled despite the warm night. She thought back over the events of the day and when she recalled the kiss in her mind, she felt a tug of desire in her abdomen. God, it would have been so easy to give in…

Just as she was about to get carried away with her fantasy, the phone in the hall rang again. From her position on the sofa, she could see it. But for some reason, she couldn't bring herself to answer it.