AN: I'm keeping my promise to complicate this story ridiculously. ;)
Eames was somewhat surprised when the Manhattan District Attorney walked into her office at nine o'clock in the morning. "Wheeler called me last night," she said.
"Alex, what do we do about this?"
"You should ask Major Case how they're handling it."
The desperation in his eyes did not match his role as DA. Was he seeking emotional support, too? Eames wondered. She had no more of that to offer.
"My daughter gave the LAPD a description that matches that of a serial killer who is circumstantially associated with Overland and who you brought in to Major Case four times."
"And who is, definitively, dead."
"I understand that. But I need an explanation for what happened to my daughter." Now his face was sour. "What do we do? Tell me what we need to do, and my office will put its resources fully behind you."
"What Major Case needs to do," Eames said, scribbling a note to remind herself to call Wheeler as soon as McCoy left, "is conclusively rule out Nicole Wallace by finding a body. I guess in this case, a heart is not enough evidence that there's a body out there somewhere."
"Mike Cutter tells me that a detective at Manhattan SVU was involved in a case where fake DNA was planted at a scene." McCoy paused to remove a receipt from his trenchcoat. "My flight leaves in two hours. I should head out to JFK soon."
"There's a difference between faking trace DNA at a crime scene and faking a heart."
Despite his needing to leave for the airport, McCoy sank into a chair and placed his head between his hands. "I don't know what to do," he said. "No one has ever attacked a member of my family before. Rebecca always felt safe. Now this person goes after her while she's with my grandson, and I find out that Claire was killed because of a woman we put away."
"This won't make it better, but no one has ever gone after my family, either," Eames said. "We are dealing with a sociopath here."
"A heartless sociopath."
She let out a puff of air through her nose. "Sure, you could say that."
"How's your nephew?" McCoy asked. It was almost funny how familiar they'd become in the last two weeks.
"I'm going to see him tonight," she answered.
"With a police escort, I hope."
"My brother, his wife, and I on the Staten Island Ferry, with a police escort."
"Good." He nodded in approval and stood up again. "I'm off to see my daughter. Take good care of yourself, Alex."
"I will. You too."
McCoy went for the door, then gave her a strange look before he left.
Later, Bernard, in an interesting mood after a long shift, would tease her: "I think the D.A.'s got a thing for you, Loo."