The air was thick, hot…suffocating. He tried to breathe in but it was being blocked, his throat felt cut off, restricted, like there was a hand tightening around it. Stumbling up to his feet from where he had been laying in the darkness, he searched frantically around for a light as he grabbed his own throat as if trying to pry off the invisible hand. Shivering against the hot heat that filled the darkness around him, he felt his chest clench and shake at the lose of air to his lungs. Looking around, he saw nothing but darkness; there was no light, no signs of life. Emptiness. Staring out into the dark empty abyss, he dropped to his knees as he felt the sudden ease of his aching chest as he stopped gasping for air.

He felt the sudden rush of air shatter his chest as he breathed in a deep breath. His eyes fluttered open into the room as his head spun from the lack of oxygen to his brain. Feeling his body spinning, he closed his eyes as he tried to regain his control. Groaning at the agonizing and disrupted sleep, he rolled onto his back as he rubbed at his sweaty face. The bandage on his hand scraped over his cheek, causing him to wince at the feeling.

Opening his eyes again, he stared up at the ceiling and sighed heavily. There was no ceiling but the bottom of another bed. He wasn't at home, or even in Brooklyn for that matter. He was bucked out at the department on a small bed in a small room on the first floor next to the locker room. Suddenly realizing that he might not be alone, he looked at the other bunks but didn't see anyone. Thank God for that. He didn't want to try to explain to anyone why he would sometimes hold his own breath while sleeping. It was just something that would happen and had been happening since he was a child. Like if he held his breath, kept from breathing and moving, he wouldn't be found. They couldn't get to him, not even in his dreams.

Slowly getting up, he felt the pain radiate throughout his body. His knee, his hand, and his head were all working to knock him back down before he even got to stand up. Yesterday he had over did it. He had pushed himself too hard and he was paying for it like always. Pushing himself up off the small single bed, he slipped on his shoes before making his way to the locker room.

As soon as he pushed the door open, he heard a voice, "Hey, hey, look what the cat drug in."

Bobby glanced up at the voice and saw that it was Rivers.

Rivers was a short, small white guy, who had risen to the rank of detective three years ago when he was only twenty-five years old. That was a great fete in the NYPD. The detective was straightening his tie in the mirror on the door to his locker. His shaggy brown hair was longer than what most cops kept it, coming down to almost his collar but it worked for the guy. According to the rumors that he was starting to pay attention to, the women dug Jimmy Rivers. Next to him, sitting on the bench in front of the lockers was his older partner by at least ten years, Jackson. The partners were never far apart. Where there was one, there was the other.

Jackson had been the first detective, besides Logan, who had tried to get to know him since he came to the island. According to Jackson's file, he was an ex-Marine and the man looked it. Jackson was a tall black man, but Bobby still had a few inches on him, and he was built wide and nothing but muscle. He was also known around Staten Island as the cop no one wanted to fuck with. Jackson's first name was Louis, and because of his rep as a hard-hitter and tough cop, sometimes the guys called him by the nickname "Louisville Slugger" or "Slug" for short. Bobby had seen the scars on his hand to know it wasn't all just talk.

Running a hand through his hair, Bobby asked Rivers, "Do I look that bad?"

"Are you kidding? Where'd you sleep last night?"

"I, um, bunked out, 'ext door," he said as he cleared his throat. It felt rough, and it hurt. Cotton mouth. It could be a side-effect from the pain-killer.

"The pills help?"

Bobby rubbed at his foggy head as he looked at Jackson. "Yeah, thanks. I could barely walk last night until I took one," he told him as he opened the door to his locker. Being the workaholic that he was, he was never without a clean suit and clothes in his locker.

"What pills he talkin' about, Slug?" Rivers asked his partner.

Jackson looked up at him as he explained, "I gave Goren some pain meds yesterday."

Rivers, satisfied with the appearance of his tie, shut the door and snapped on the lock. "That's right, I gotcha. So, Goren, think that knee can stand up to another basketball game tonight?"

"No," was his quick reply, causing both detectives to laugh at him. Bobby, after having spent a lot of nights sleeping at the department, had his whole top shelf full of towels and toiletries. Taking out what he needed for a quick shower, he shut his locker and headed for the showers.

"Are you sure?" Rivers called behind him. "The movement might help the knee."

"I said no," he said to more rolling laughter.

Twenty minutes later he was leaving the locker room and fastening his gun holster to his belt when he felt his cell phone vibrate in his pocket. Flipping it open, he didn't look to see who called as he answered, "Goren."

"Bobby, it's me."

"Eames," he asked a little stunned. "Uh, what-"

"I'm going to need you and Logan to come to Major Case today. What time are you available?"

Bobby approached his desk, and with seeing Logan already there, told her, "After lunch, a, uh, around two would be good."

"Okay, we'll see you then."

When she hung up, Bobby stared at his phone before pocketing it. Peering over at Logan, he felt a twitch of guilt. Last night Logan had offered an apology and a drink. It was Logan's way of trying to make things up to him. Instead of accepting the apology, he had told Logan that if he wanted to make it up to him then to not let something like that happen again. It was the wrong thing to say. "That was Eames, she needs us to come in today. I told her it'll be around two."

Logan only nodded a little as he picked up a few files and then his notepad before getting up and walking away.

Bobby closed his eyes and cursed himself. Logan was going to stay mad at him until he apologized. He knew he was in the wrong even when he was in the middle of yelling at his partner over something that was beyond their control. He just couldn't help himself, because even though he was wrong he had to be right; that was until someone came along to tell him how stubborn he was being. And that someone wasn't there anymore. She was gone.

An hour later, he finally gathered up his notes and files and left the department. His car was parked in the back parking lot so he had to go down the back stairwell to get to the exit he needed. As he descended the stairs, he heard voices belonging to two men coming up. Moving to one side, he continued down as the men continued coming up.

The two men he heard were a few other detectives. One was Travis from Homicide, the other was a detective from Violent Crimes that he barely knew. Both men immediately as they spotted him stopped talking. Bobby was confused for a moment until he passed them because that was when he heard a soft whisper.

"That's Goren, the one I was telling you about."

Bobby nearly turned around to ask Travis just what he meant by that but didn't. He had a good guess. It was one that lead back to the reason why he was probably going to be the source of many talks going around the Staten Island PD. He had given them plenty to talk about.

Pushing the backdoor open, he shivered against the assault of the cold morning air on his skin. His mustang was across the parking lot, pass the departmental vehicles and the part of the building that housed the holding cells, the drunk tanks. The snow had finally lightened up. There wasn't a cloud in the sky and it looked like it might even warm up. Slipping into his car, he turned on the heat as he opened his notes and looked at the information he had gathered early this morning.

It was time to pay Elizabeth Miller a visit.


"I can't let you interrogate one of my students without her parents present."

"Mr. McDowell, its not an interrogation. I would just like to speak to her, she can leave at anytime."

"She's only fourteen-"

"Which is the age that she can legally deny having a parent-"

"If she denies, you haven't even spoken to her yet," McDowell said, cutting him off.

"Then let me talk to her."

The principal sat for a moment as that hit him. He looked defeated as he picked up the phone and pressed a button. "Ms. Wilson will you send Elizabeth to my office, please? Thank you." After he hung up, he told him, "She works in the office this hour."

A few seconds later the door to the office opened and in walked the girl he had seen in the photo with Terrence. She was tall for a girl as she looked to be about five foot eight, dark brown hair, and was dressed in her neatly pressed private school uniform. And he was right, her eyes were blue.

She smiled weakly at him before addressing the man behind the desk. "You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, Elizabeth this is Detective Goren. He would like to speak to you."

"Oh?" she asked in near disbelief before fear crept into her face and voice.. "What about? Is my dad okay?"

McDowell quickly stood and rounded the table as Bobby stepped back a little, watching their interactions. "He's fine. The detective is here regarding a death."

"I'm a homicide detective," Bobby gently told her as he pulled out his shield and showed it to her.

At that, she started to shake as she looked at him. Her blue eyes bore into his as she asked in sorrow, tears stinging her eyes already. "Is this about Terrence?"

"Terrence? Who's Terrence," The principal asked.

Elizabeth looked at the principal as she told him, "He's a friend."

Bobby noticed how she wrapped her arms around herself as she answered. "I'll like to talk to you if I may."

Elizabeth nodded as she looked to Mr. McDowell. "Can you call my dad for me?"

Bobby nearly cursed as she said that. "We can talk without your father's presence, Miss-"

"Elizabeth, I like being called by my first name, and he needs to be here." She then turned to the principal and told him, "But I would like to go to a different room. The conference room is empty, is that okay?"

"Yes, of course," McDowell said as he tried to escort her out with him.

"Alone…please," she tentatively added.

The interaction between the two of them seemed off to him. Bobby had never seen a principal act like that with a student. He seemed too protective and involved.

McDowell was hesitant, looking at him like he was the criminal and not the cop, before he finally agreed. "Okay, but if you need me-"

"I know," she said, nearly cutting him of. Elizabeth turned to him as she opened the door. "Come on. Do you want anything? There's a water cooler in the room and machines down the hall."

"I'm fine, thanks. So," he said as he followed next to her, "how long have you been working in the office?"

"Since the start of the school year. My…I mean, Mr. McDowell, he gave it to me instead of having a study hall."

"Uh, why would he do that?"

She glanced up at him as she opened the door to the conference room for him. "He's my uncle. I try to keep from calling him that while at school, but everyone here knows I'm his niece."

That explained it. Bobby smiled at her as he stepped into the room. It was a long room with a long table that sat ten in the middle of the room. "When does your break start?"

"Friday."

"Only a few more days left to go. Have a, uh, a seat," Bobby sat in the chair and the head of the table as she sat in the one on the corner next to him. She still seemed shaken but was trying to hold it together.

"You're going to have to wait to talk to me when my dad gets here," she suddenly told him.

"You're not under arrest."

"But I'm still fourteen, and...you don't know my dad. He's a lawyer, my lawyer."

Great, Bobby thought as he nodded. With her father present he was going to get nowhere with this girl. "Did he know about Terrence?"

She took a breath and shook her head. "No, he didn't."

"Elizabeth, I know you were with him the night he died. Why didn't you come to the police?"

She took another shaky breath as she eyed the table with her arms still clenched around her chest. "I wanted to, but I didn't know what happened. I, I thought about what my dad would say, about that if I didn't know anything then to stay away until the police came to me." Looking up, she finally told him, "I don't understand why you're here. I saw on the news that a cop confessed."

Bobby held her eyes s he leaned in and told her, "I know what the news said, but, that's not...He did confess but I have reason, and evidence to back it up, that he lied."

Elizabeth looked saddened, and confused, as she asked him, "Why? Why would he do something like that?"

Bobby breathed out as he shook his head. "I don't know."

She was silent for a long moment. Bobby was starting to get fidgety waiting. He knew that a lot of times in order to get someone to talk, to reveal themselves, the best thing to do was to remain quiet.

"I loved him. You may think its not true, or that I'm too young to know what love is, but I did. I was devastated when I found out he was killed. I missed almost two weeks of school and my father sent me to a shrink. I still see her twice a week."

"If…If your father didn't know about you two, then why would he let you miss two weeks of school? Why would he agree to send you to therapy?"

Taking another breath, and looking up from the table, she told him, "I told him that I was having problems here, with other students. That I was depressed. He believed me."

"And your Uncle? He would have known that wasn't true."

She actually laughed at him for that. "I lied to him too, told him that I was afraid to tell him because it was about everyone knowing he was my uncle. That the other students just thought the only reason I was here was because of him letting me."

"But the other students have no problem with you here, correct?"

"Right. They don't really care, they like me, that's all that matters."

Bobby knew he was about to get into some personal ground, so he smiled a little and asked, "You know what, I think I'll like a soda. Want one?"

She smiled a little and nodded. "Sure, a Pepsi. The machines are, if you go out this door, they're to the right at the end of the hall."

"Thanks, I'll be right back." Bobby quickly left the room and went to the end of the hall to get their drinks. Elizabeth was openly talking to him and not even realizing it. He wondered if she only thinks that what she says about Terrence and the night he died was the only thing she had to wait to talk to him about with her father/lawyer present.

Returning to the room, he saw that she was still sitting there, using her sleeve to wipe her eyes. Taking out the handkerchief that was in his inside breast pocket, he handed it to her as he sat the cans of soda down. Pepsi for her, Coke for him.

"Thanks," she had told him when she took the handkerchief.

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I was just thinking about him. I'm okay."

Bobby waited until she was settled and drinking the soda when he asked, "Uh, you said that the kids here like you. Is there, or was there, anyone who…um, who liked you more than the others? A boy?"

She laughed a little as she told him, "Just about every guy here likes me. Some of their girlfriends get jealous, but they know I'll never do anything about it."

"Did they know about you and Terrence?"

"Some did," she told him as she moved the can of soda from the table to her lap. Elizabeth was having a hard time looking at him for a long period of time. She was starting to get uncomfortable. "I told my girlfriends. And when a boy would ask me out I told them I already had a boyfriend but I never told them who it was. I think some of them didn't believe me."

Bobby nodded as his next question he had was about the night Terrence was killed. If he asked it and she refused to answer, he had no where else to go in the questioning, if she did then maybe he could get her to talk to him about it before he father showed up. "That night, where did you two go?" He didn't have to tell which night in question he was referring too. That night for her was probably the most important night she had with him. It was there last.

He knew that the night he remember most and thought about most often when he was with Alex was the last night they were together. The night that had been their last.

"We went to the city. There was a show I wanted to see, a play on Broadway. He saved his money and bought us tickets for it."

Bobby smiled with her at the memory. "He sounded like a good guy."

She smiled wider and laughed a little as the tears came. "I miss him so much." Then, she collapsed. The girl covered her face as the tears and devastation in her young life took hold.

Bobby didn't move for a moment, stunned by the sudden break in the girl, before he reached over and pulled her into a hug.

That was how her father found them; Bobby had his arm around her, trying to consol her, when the door opened in walked a man the size of a bulldozer. One look at the scene and Bobby had to quickly move away for the girl and the chair he was sitting in hit the floor as he bolted himself up to his feet before the big man grabbed him and shoved him into the wall.

"Daddy!" the girl yelled as he hit the wall.

Bobby shoved hard against the man's chest, pushing him back far enough to be able to protect himself as he saw the arm dropped back. He didn't give the father time to throw the punch as he quickly brought his arm up and with one quick jerk, hit the man right in the throat. The father stumbled back, grasping his neck as he tried to breathe, and bent in on himself as if he had been punched in the gut.

He still against the wall, breathing hard, as he pulled out his shield and showed it the to father. "I'm Detective Robert Goren," he said as he got his voice under control. "I was just…consoling your daughter. Sorry."

The man eyed him and then the badge, before he sat down hard in the chair and rubbed at his throat. Looking to his daughter who was still sitting but in shock and horror at both him and her father, he asked, "Are you okay? This man wasn't trying to-"

"Daddy!" she yelled in disgust, cutting him off. "He wasn't trying to do anything but give me a hug. I…I was crying; he wasn't…" she seemed embarrassed as her cheeks flushed red. Shaking her head, she couldn't even finish what she was trying to tell him.

The father finally looked at him and apologized, "I thought…I'm sorry, I didn't know what I was thinking. I overreacted."

No shit. Bobby nodded as he stepped away from the wall and rubbed at his neck. It was starting to hurt. That was when he noticed that McDowell was also in the room and he had been standing shocked as well in the doorway. "Uh, you can leave, now, thanks," he said off-handedly as he walked to the door and shut it almost in the man's face.

Getting up from the chair, the man walked over to him and properly introduced himself. "Joseph Miller, Elizabeth's father, and attorney."

Bobby shook his hand before motioning for him to return to the seat he had just gotten out of, but Mr. Miller instead took the seat next to his daughter. Picking up the overturned chair, he sat down hard in it, still rubbing at his neck.

"Detective," Miller announced before Bobby could regain his thoughts and control of the situation, "I need to speak with my daughter in private before we proceed with any more questioning."

"Your, um," he had to clear his throat as he it sounded rough with emotion. Once he was sure it was calm, he continued, "Your daughter isn't under arrest, this isn't an interrogation. I just have a few questions."

"Pertaining to what, exactly?"

Bobby looked to Elizabeth who was eyeing the table. She had abandoned the drink on the table as he hands were once again wrapped around her chest. The once confident teenager was now gone and this little girl had taken her place. Looking up at the father, he told him, "It's about a friend of Elizabeth's who was murdered a month ago."

That stunned the man. He looked to his daughter as she looked away from the table to her lap. "Is she a suspect?"

"As of now, she isn't, but she might be a witness. And I don't want to have to take her out of school; I don't want to have to drag you and your daughter down to the precinct and do this formally, understand?"

"Give us a minute," he told him again.

This time, Bobby didn't hear or see a way he would reconsider. He had no choice but to get up and leave the two of them alone.

A few minutes later he got what he was expecting to get once he learned that her father was a attorney. He got stone-walled. Joseph Miller handed him his business card as he left the room with he daughter at his side.

"She has nothing more to tell you. If you want to speak with her again, I suggest you do it formally and call me first. Do you understand?"

Bobby felt his pulse quicken as he took the offered card. Without answering, he watched as Elizabeth was ushered down the hall by her father.


"Have I told you yet how much I dislike the tedious nature of our job?"

Copeland looked up at her as she sat down at her desk. Smiling slightly, he took the files from her and opened one up. "You have now. And who likes that aspect of our work? No one."

Alex picked up her cup of tea off the desk as she leaned back in the chair: flipping open the file in her hand, she begin to go over the notes from the Connelly murders. "They'll be here in thirty minutes, so anything you find that's inaccurate or doesn't make sense, I need to know."

"Are you nervous?"

She peered over the top of the file as she told him, "No. It's just weird that's all, but I'm not nervous. And you don't have to worry, I'm one hundred percent focused on the case and there is nothing that's going to get me to-"

"Eames, stop. You don't have to try and prove to me that you're prepared for this. I have all the confidence in the world that you're going to get some answers and you're going to pursue this wherever it leads."

That admission surprised her. She had been partnered with Copeland for less than two weeks and the guy already completely trusted her and her abilities. He had never once since being her partnered questioned her authority or tried to test her or her skills as a detective. He was open with her, he accepted her, respected her, and he also appreciated her as not only a partner but his senior. So far, there had been no problems between the two of them. She had found herself genuinely glad that he was her new partner even though her missing of Bobby was still there. She felt that this was not only okay, but a good thing.

Alex smiled at him before going back to reading over the file in her hand. "So, how do you think we should approach them?"

Copeland was silent as he leaned back in the chair and rubbed at his jaw. It was his tell that he was about to say something that might offend her even though it never did, yet. "I just think that it might seem biased if you talk to Goren. You were his partner, and you're still his girlfriend…maybe."

"It's more like theoretically I'm still his girlfriend, at least that's what he calls it." She eyed him and felt her guard dropping. She hated to admit it, but Copeland was right. She couldn't interview Bobby. "I guess that means I'm the one who talks to Logan then."

Copeland watched her for a moment before tentatively asking, "What do you call it?"

"What do I call what?"

"Your current relationship with Goren?"

Alex wasn't expecting that, but why not. She had opened herself up to that line of questioning by correcting him about how Bobby viewed their relationship. How did she view it?

"I say maybe, he says theoretically, and you say…?"

"I say that it's complicated," she confirmed as she flipped over the page to view the phone records that they had gotten back late last night. She had been too tired to take a real good look at it then, but now she was viewing it with fresh eyes. A few numbers jumped out at her as being numbers to city offices and a couple of well-known restaurants around the city.

Picking up the sheet that listed the numbers that had been programmed into the Connelly's home telephone on speed dial, she compared numbers. As she scanned the numbers, one caught her off guard. Checking the number again and then the person the phone number was listed under, she felt herself stiffen.

"What is it?"

Alex looked up at Copeland in confusion. How did he know she spotted something of interest?

"Your eyes get wide when you get something," he explained. "And you stopped breathing."

"Oh, it's just I don't think that Greg Connelly was calling 9-1-1 on the night he and his wife were murdered. I checked the speed dial on his home phone, for the number 9, the exchange is for the 128th Precinct on Staten Island."

"Because he was calling 9-1-1; it may not have been the typical approach, but he was still calling the police. And how do you know that it's that particular precinct?"

"It's the same exchange as the number Goren gave me for his desk," she told him before she picked up the phone and dialed the number. Within a few seconds she got a recording. Looking over at Copeland, she told him, "It's the desk number for Detective Lance Sullivan."

Copeland sat the file down as he leaned on the desk. "He was calling Detective Sullivan?"

"Why not?" she said as she reviewed the phone records. "He's called him more than ten times in the past two months."

"This is great news, or at least it would be if Detective Sullivan wasn't dead."

Alex smiled even though she knew that their now main suspect or witness was dead. "I know, but it confirms the dirty cop angle; along with this and what we know about the money, we know our main focus are these cops."

"Right, but not just any cop. He needed a cop that could make it look like he had nothing to do with it."

"Exactly, so why kill him?"

"Good question," he smiled wide at her, showing off those commercial white teeth. That trademark smile was making its way around the department and some of the guys were actually starting to call him Colgate instead of Copeland. "Do you want me to bring it up to Goren?" he suddenly asked.

Alex suddenly felt the need to test Copeland, to see where his morals lied. To see where he drew the line between right and wrong. "It's not his case."

"No, but he was involved with Detective Sullivan's suicide, there could be a link. That is his case."

Nodding a little, Alex smiled back at him. She really did like him. "Okay, you should let him know."

Copeland suddenly narrowed his eyes at her, asking, "Why do I get the feeling that you were already going to tell me that?"

Alex shrugged as she got up. "We need to see what the late Detective Sullivan has been up too." As Copeland gathered up his stuff to follow, she pulled her coat off the hanger as she pulled out her cell phone.

After two rings, Bobby answered, "Goren."

"Hey, it's me. Sorry but there's a change in venue, we're coming to Staten Island."

"We're already on our way."

"Then turn around. We'll be there as soon as we can," she told him before flipping her phone shut. She could hear the frustrated sigh Bobby would have let out after she did that. It was radiated in her own chest.


Copeland was eyeing him from the Lieutenant's office, and he was eyeing him right back. Alex's partner finally looked away from him as he answered something that Williams had asked him.

Bobby glanced over at Logan and shook his head. He had no idea what this was about but it couldn't be good. "How'd you think they'll play it?"

Logan shrugged; he had been answering all his questions with that gesture all day and it was starting to really piss him off.

"Okay, Mike, I'm sorry. You're right, I was pissed off at the whole situation, not at you. Tell you what, I'll buy you a beer tonight. What'd you say?"

Logan was silent for a moment, watching what was going on in the Lieu's office before finally saying, "Apology accepted, and I think that you'll get Copeland. Eames can't interview you."

Bobby nodded in agreement before going back to watching the showdown between Alex, Copeland, and the Lieutenant. The door suddenly opened as Alex walked out followed by Copeland and then Williams.

The Lieutenant came right up to them as she said, "These detectives from Major Case need your help, and I expect you both to give it to them. Whatever they require, I expect full cooperation."

"Is there an 'or else' in there?"

Williams glared right at him as she crossed her arms and said, "With you Goren, there always is."

Bobby couldn't help the smirk on his face. What caught him off guard was the light teasing he saw in her eyes as well. It seemed that the Lieu was starting to like him, even though he was still a pain in her backside. He also saw the slight flicker of amusement in Alex's eyes as well. Copeland was as solid as a rock. He wondered if he was always that way or if it was due to the situation.

It wasn't long before Alex had Logan in the break room while him and Copeland stayed at the desks. The one room that served as the interview/interrogation was currently occupied by Detective Travis and a suspect he was interrogating.

Copeland was arranging some paperwork on Logan's desk, getting his files and probably also his thoughts in order. If he was waiting around for him to start talking, then Copeland would be waiting all day. Bobby leaned back in his chair and just observed. Once it looked like Copeland was ready, he smiled at him and gestured to the files. "You're very precise, orderly."

"I try to be. So, Detective, first off I want to tell you why we're here. See, we decided to start the case over since we were hitting dead-ends. During the second interview and questioning of some key witnesses, we found some discrepancies that we're hoping you and Detective Logan can sort out for us."

Bobby nodded as he leaned forward, placing his arms on his desk as he laced his fingers together. "Yeah, sure. I'll try to help as best I can."

Copeland gave him a small smile as he looked down at the top sheet before asking him, "Okay, can you take me through that day? From the time you got the call to arriving at the house."

Bobby didn't know why that was important but decided to humor the detective. "I got the call on my cell phone from the watch sergeant on duty Danielle Macy. She told me that the call came in from a patrol, Mr. and Mrs. Gregory Connelly were found murdered in their home by the housekeeper, Amelia Ramirez. I told her that the best thing to do at the moment was to keep it off the air, I didn't want the press finding out about it and you know, create havoc before we even got started." The last part wasn't the whole truth; he did it not just because of that but so that he and Logan could get as much time with the case before it was known and given to Major Case.

"Did you call anyone before you reached the residence?"

"Yes," Bobby confirmed that because he knew it was in the report. "I called the M.E., Eddie Kerr and told him about it, and that I wanted him to keep it quit to not cause alarm. Then I called the CSU supervisor, Rachael Porter. I told her the same. They agreed to meet there as soon as they were able to get away from work."

"Then what?"

Bobby spread his hands open in a 'what else' gesture as he told him, "We arrived on scene. The responding officers were still there. At the gate we met Officer Felton. She waved us through the gate. Officer Gabriele met us at the door. We, as in Logan and I, did a second search of the house first, before we spoke with Gabriele. He gave us the rundown of the housekeeper showing up for work, upon entering the house, she found the Connelly's dead, and then called the police."

"Why did you do a second search of the house before talking to the responding officer?"

Bobby stared at Copeland like that was a ridiculous question to ask, because to him it was. "I wanted to make sure nothing was missed the first time. See the scene, confirm that their was no one hiding anywhere."

Copeland stared right back at him as he asked, "You didn't trust him?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"I don't know him. I have no idea how long he's been on the job. I wanted to secure mine by covering my ass. Anything else?"

Copeland then grinned at him and Bobby blinked back at the perfectly white teeth that showed. "What time did the housekeeper say she showed up for work?" he asked as he looked down at the papers to confirm the time.

"Uh…four."

At that, he looked back up, asking, "Are you certain of that?"

Bobby wrinkled his head in confusion as he acknowledged, "I'm positive. Was that not the time she told you?"

"Was the front door unlocked when she arrived?"

Bobby wanted him to answer his question but knew the tactic, he was building the worry in him that he had been wrong with his answer. "No, she said she had to unlock it."

Again, Copeland looked down and the papers for confirmation. Rubbing at his head, he sighed before leaning back in the chair. "How was the door locked?"

Bobby sat confused by the question and waited for further explanation.

"Detective, if the killer was someone who didn't live there, how did he, or she, lock the door when leaving? Were all the keys accounted for?"

Bobby suddenly realized that something was wrong with not only the time that was given for discovery but also how that discovery was made. "As far as I know, all the keys were accounted for. Ramirez had a set, so did the son, Kevin, as well as the two deceased victims. Four sets."

"And there was no forced entry."

"None."

"Then, Detective, why was the back door pried open?"

That nearly sent him into shock. Bobby sat there, staring at the detective, as his mind raced over every fact and detail about the case. Every room was checked, by him, twice. Every door was looked at, photographed, and documented. "It wasn't."

Copeland reached for the stack of photos he assembled and picked up the top one. Handing it to him, he said, "This is the way the door looked when I reexamined it yesterday."

Bobby took the photo and looked at it. It was clear as day, the backdoor had been pried open. "It had to have happened afterwards. Do you have the photos that were taken that night?"

"Yes, we do. And not one of them is of the back door."

He could feel the distrust as much as he saw it in the detectives eyes. Bobby sat back in the chair, dropped his hands to his lap, and shook his head. The scene had been a setup from the very beginning, and even now, after it was examined and processed, it was still being manipulated. Breathing out hard, he rubbed at the back of his neck subconsciously. Evidence was disappearing, and being fabricated, all at the same time.

"Detective," Copeland continued, "you said the housekeeper arrived at four. She said she told you three-thirty. And we checked the schedule of her work hours with the Connelly's, she worked for them from three-thirty to eleven-thirty."

"And let me guess, she said the front door was unlocked when she arrived?"

Copeland leaned on Logan's desk as he asked him again, "Officer Gabriele said when you arrived, you told him to wait outside as you and Logan went into the house alone."

"He had already walked through the crime scene, I didn't want him to contaminate evidence."

"But it was okay for you too? Why didn't you wait for CSU and the M.E. to arrive. You knew the situation before you got there, why risk going in."

Bobby's patience was slipping. He didn't have to listen to this. Pushing away from his desk, he stood and leaned down over Copeland. "I told you why. I didn't do anything wrong and you know I didn't. If you were in my position you would've done the same thing. And what is this? Huh? So, I got the time wrong. And I messed up the fact about the front door being unlocked. If you ask Eames she'll tell you I suck at the paperwork. I was probably tired when I filled the damn thing out and what I put was what I remembered. I'll correct the mistake, re-file it, and then you'll have no more issues."

"Except the one that says that I don't think you're telling me that truth."

Bobby wanted to smile. The thing was, he wasn't telling the truth. He was lying through his teeth to keep it from being taken any further. He knew the facts of the Connelly murders; he remembered everything that was said and done during that case, but he also knew the score. There was something going on and he knew exactly what it was. Whoever had killed the Connelly's were now screwing with the evidence, gaining reasonable doubt through tainted evidence, inconsistencies in the occurrence of the crime and the discovery of the bodies, and also going after the integrity of the detectives who worked it. It so happened that the detectives were him and Logan.

In order to do his job, Bobby was going to have to protect the corrupted bastards that killed the Connelly's; that was until he could take them down for it himself.

"I told you, Copeland, it's my mistake. I got the facts wrong due to lack of sleep. I'll correct it. Thanks for bringing it to my attention. As for the missing photo of the back door…I think maybe it was either never taken or got lost, hell, maybe something happened to the film itself. I don't know. If you say the door was pried open, then maybe it was…I can't be sure."

Copeland looked up at him for a long moment. He could tell that the detective didn't want to buy what he was trying to sell, but he also saw the hint of belief. The detective didn't know what to think. "You know that Detective Eames is talking to Logan, what if he doesn't confirm?"

Bobby shrugged. "Then that's on him, isn't it? All I can tell you is what I know."

"I'll like to see your personal notes on the case."

Bobby finally sat back down now that his anger was gone. He eyed Copeland as he opened his top desk drawer and pulled out the file he had on the Connelly murders. In the folder weren't copies of any reports on the case or photos from the scene, instead what was in it were his own personal notes he had written down in his binder about the case. It was his own personal thoughts that weren't to be included in the official case file. He had no problem handing it over to Copeland with a slight smile of his own.

Copeland took it and immediately flipped it open. One look at what was written and he frowned in confusion. Flipping through the sheets, he shook his head, asking, "What the hell is this?"

"My notes."

"Huh-huh, no one in their right mind would consider this to be notes. It makes no sense."

"It does to me," Bobby told him simply as he shrugged. "Anything else you want?"

Copeland sat for a moment, a clear sense of frustration and annoyance radiated off him as he said, "Yeah, I also want your notes on Detective Sullivan."

At that request, Bobby barely blinked or moved. "Excuse me?"

"Detective, your Lieutenant did say full cooperation."

"Pertaining to the Connelly murders."

"And this does. We have reason to believe that Greg Connelly was trying to call Detective Sullivan before he died. I need what you have on him."

That was an interesting turn in the case. Bobby wondered how they had came up with that as he once again opened the top drawer and withdrew a file. Handing it to Copeland, he told him, "It's the same, uh, nonsense as what's in the other file, just, you know, about Sullivan."

Copeland took a quick glance and the contents of the file before shaking his head. "Thanks, Detective, we'll be in touch."

"Yeah, I bet we will."

Bobby watched as he left the squad room. Logan was coming around the corner at the same time Copeland was leaving and they nearly collided.

Logan only gave Copeland a look that meant business before joining him back at the desks. Leaning on the desk, and dropping his voice, he asked, "What the hell is this about? These corrupted assholes are fucking with the case."

Bobby nodded as he quickly got up and went to find Copeland and Alex. He needed to talk to Eames.


Alex looked up from the table in the break room as Copeland sat across from her in the chair Logan had been sitting in. "How'd it go?"

"As to be expected. He either screwed up the paperwork from lack of sleep, or, he's covering."

"Goren wouldn't be covering. He's not the best at the paperwork; that's why I do most of it."

Copeland smiled a little before telling her, "I've got Goren's notes but-"

"Oh no, don't tell me you're actually going to try to decipher them? No one can except Goren. Believe me, I've tried. After one minute I felt my head actually start to cave in on itself."

"Then why does he do it if he knows that no one is going to understand it? Why make it hard on his partner if he's not there to explain what this is?"

"You actually think he does it on purpose? He doesn't. It's the way his mind works, it's how he makes connections. We may not understand it, but he does and to him it's all logical, even though what's on those pieces of paper follows no reasonable logic or linear thought process, to him its as clear as directions on how to tie a shoe. And you can ignore the drawings that are all over the side and top of the pages. He likes doodling when he's talking because he says it helps him keep his thoughts focused, but they don't mean anything." Alex saw someone come around the corner; looking up, she saw it was Bobby.

Approaching them, Bobby asked her, "Eames, can we talk?"

"We're on duty, Detective," Copeland told him as stood.

Alex suddenly felt like this was going to turn into a showdown between ex-partner and new partner, and she didn't like it.

Bobby glared over at Copeland before addressing her again, "It'll only take a couple of minutes."

Alex felt the struggling currents within her. Give in and talk to him or continue doing her job. "He's right, Bobby, if it's personal then it can wait until I'm off duty. If it's work related, I guess I can give you a couple of minutes."

Bobby looked down at her for a long moment; she could tell that he wasn't expecting to be given a choice. "It's work related," he finally told her.

Alex nodded as she looked up at Copeland.

Copeland looked reluctant, but he nodded as he told her, "I'll see what I can find in Sullivan's desk."

She nodded as he left; Bobby watched him leave before turning back to her. Sitting down, he was now across from her.

Bobby saw the smirk on her face and asked, "What's going on?"

"I was about to ask the same. I'm trying to conduct my investigation and you're stopping me."

Bobby suddenly looked like he'd been kicked before he pushed it down as he told her, "I need to know the deal with Detective Sullivan and why you're suddenly interested in him?"

Alex looked around and saw detectives coming in and out of the break room; several of them glanced their way before getting coffee, drinks or snacks out of the machines, or something out of the refrigerator.

"I know you're aware that his suicide is my case, Eames. Your investigation is running into mine. I have the right to know."

Looking back at Bobby, she finally exhaled. She knew this would happen and she knew that she had to tell him. "Phone records for the past two months show that the Connelly's have been calling Detective Sullivan."

"Here at the department?"

"Yes. Once we know his cell number, we'll be able to see if they've also been calling it, but that's just more confirmation that they've been in contact."

Bobby looked confused as he asked, "Was he called the day they were killed?"

"That we don't know," she told him. "It can't be confirmed." He looked really confused now as he looked at her, waiting for the explanation to come. Alex spotted another detective come into the room. He lingered longer than the others at the coffee machine, putting cream and sugar into the cup while checking out the kinds of bagels and donuts on the counter. "The speed dial that Detective Sullivan's number was under was 9. We're thinking he was calling him since no other numbers were dialed."

She could tell he was taking it all in and making connections. Alex felt the familiar thrill of working with him; going over facts of a case and knowing he was about to inform her of something that would led to a break, or some direction that would put them on the path of the killer.

"Tell me about the money?" he asked her instead.

"First off, you were right. Connelly was trying to scam someone with the phony IRS records. He wasn't running a casino but one giant cycling of dirty money. The thousand we got from Logan, clean. The bills we got from you, your FBI friend got hits, multiple hits, on half your winnings." She waited a beat and she could tell that Bobby was going to spoil her big revelation.

"Let me guess, money that were marked by the PD were among them."

"Bingo. No matter what you do, you can't clean it, so who do you give it to, a bunch of gamblers who're going to either keep filtering it through the casino or put it out there on the street. Either way, it doesn't come back to the casino. There were also a few hundreds you had that were supposed to have been used by the drug squad during a takedown. I'm trying to get a hold of their files here to see how that happened."

"I know exactly how it happened. Either the undercover stashed some then claimed a guy got away with the dough, or, somewhere between transport and evidence lockup it went missing. How was Connelly laundering it?"

Alex smiled as he asked that question. "The ol' usual way. And I don't think it's his money."

"Of course it isn't. If it was he wouldn't need to false tax records claiming that he put every dime through, because he didn't."

She knew that she didn't have to say anything more. Bobby had it all worked out in his head.

"He had a source. A, uh, main guy that came to him with the money, say exactly what's been doubled in Connelly's account. A good million or more. It's from drugs or whatever, the source needs it cleaned. He, or she, invested it into the casino boats. Connelly then spent it on whatever he needed, new slot machines, better entertainment, whatever, and since no red flags went up before I'm guessing that less than nine thousand was ever spent at once."

"Because if he did then it would have to be reported."

"So, like you said, not all of it could be cleaned, and since he couldn't keep it or spend it, he gave it to the people, let them win it. The money is now out of his hands. However, the good stuff goes back to the source, but minus what went out of the casino." Bobby paused before he leaned back and smiled a little. "He was scamming his source. The guy wouldn't know how much couldn't be washed. Connelly was taking a bigger cut than what the guy was giving him..."

He trailed off and she knew that something big just clicked in his head. "What is it?"

Bobby focused on her as he informed her what he was thinking, "There's no real way to prove the dirty money itself came from the casino."

"Bobby, you got the money."

"Yeah, but if it's not coming out of the slot machines, uh, money that comes directly out of their vault, it can't be proven. Connelly was smart because he could've always claimed that the dirty money filtering around the poker games and black jack tables came from the gamblers themselves. Connelly and his source couldn't be touched."

"So, what made his source decide to kill him?"

Bobby shrugged, "You don't know that it was his source who did it."

Alex couldn't help it, she felt her longing for him deepen as they continued to look into each others eyes. She was missing him, and not only as her partner. "I miss this," she admitted to him.

Bobby's smile was warm as he confirmed, "Me too."

He had that look, the one that told her he wanted to say something else but was not certain if he should. Alex watched as he rubbed a little at his neck as he looked around. The room was, at the moment, empty besides the two of them.

Looking back to her, Bobby asked, "Would you like to have dinner with me?"

Alex was taken back by that at first. Bobby had just asked her out on a date. She still sounded surprised as she asked, "Tonight?"

"No, it'll be this weekend, um...Friday or Saturday."

She heard the fear and uncertainty in his voice. He thought she was going to say no. Alex couldn't help but smile as she answered, "I'd love to."

And she really couldn't help but love the small, smug grin that formed on Bobby's face with that answer. He slowly stood and waited on her to get up. Motioning for her to go ahead of him, Alex started out of the break room and into the squad room. Looking back, she noticed that Bobby wasn't paying attention to her, but to the detective that had come into the break room when they were in there. When the detective caught Bobby's eyes, he gave a teasing wink and smile.

She had clearly missed something, Bobby hadn't wanted her to see the exchange and for some reason it stirred a tense sense of worry in her stomach. Pushing it down for now, she decided she would bring it up later. Right now, she still had work to do. Finding Copeland hunched over Detective Sullivan's desk, she pulled up a chair and started going through the drawers he had yet to get to.

TBC…