Standard Disclaimer.

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The warrant came through and she made the choice to drive uptown and collect Evan and serve it in person, the same way she had visited Martha. She figured he would be more agreeable if they came to him and offered him a ride in an undercover, rather than sending out some uniforms to track him down.

Evan McKinnon was high profile enough that she nixed the bulletproof vests. She pulled her Crown Vic into a spot just behind the valet drop off section of pavement outside Evan's building and waited until she saw Ryan and Esposito's car slide around the corner and pull in behind. When she saw them parked, her eyes drifted in the rear view mirror from their car in the background to her own face in the fore. She took in the frown lines and the crease between her brows and forced herself to relax.

They had a warrant for Evan's DNA, and were just bringing him in for questioning on Monroe's murder. He would object, he would bluster, but for his reputation, he would come. If he refused, she would put cuffs on him and drag him in. If he was innocent – which she privately doubted- he wouldn't even mind that much. Any publicity is good publicity, right?

Nothing to worry about. She was just so tired.

She took a deep breath and stepped out of the car after making sure her identifying NYPD pass was on clear display on the dash. A quick slide of her fingers down her hips reassured her when she felt the cold of her badge and her Glock on opposite sides of her body. Tucked into the holster she had an extra clip which helped settle the tense ache in her stomach which was starting to cramp her abdominals. A comforting weight, like she imagined the weight of a loved one around her stomach.

The boys came up to flank her, each of them performing their own last checks; cuffs, weapon, badge, cell. Car keys.

"Okay," she sighed. "Let's make this as quick and quiet as we can. The last thing we need is a media fair on this."

They both nodded.

"And remember, he's on some pretty strong prescription drugs. He was fine when I saw him this morning, but try not to provoke him."

"I understand your patient confidentiality responsibilities, but I also know they are compromised when you suspect that your client may harm himself or others."

"Detective Beckett, unless you get a warrant, I can't share anything."

"I have a warrant already being processed. I'm just trying to help."

"And I would very much like to be a part of that, but…"

"So answer some questions, please. What was Mr. McKinnon discussing during his sessions with you? His wife, Michelle, said he was stressed."

"Yes, he was seeing me for stress, okay? Most of my clients have stress related issues. Evan McKinnon has a very high demand job as a director."

"Was that all he was stressed about? Did he ever talk to you about any relationship problems?"

"We discussed some of his work relationships in regards to making a healthier environment."

"What about with his wife. Did he mention the affair his wife was having?"

"I take it she told you about that," he sighed. "Yes. He found out a month ago. He said a colleague of his from LA was in for the weekend and saw them together at the Savoy. He said he never found out who the man she was having the affair with was."

"Do you think he was telling the truth?"

"Yes. No. I'm a counselor, not a full psychiatrist and I can't read minds. He was understandably upset and jealous, but that was amplified by his stress. He's been taking liberties with the dosage since he found out so I suggested he cut back to the recommended prescriptions, wait until he felt better and maybe try and talk about it with his wife."

"What prescriptions?"

"I won't release full details until I see that warrant."

"I appreciate that, Sir I do, but could you perhaps let me know what class of medication he is using?"

"He was on anti-depressants" the huff came off as static. "Sleeping meds, pain meds for migraines..."

"Sir, does the name Tony Monroe mean anything to you?"

"It sounds vaguely familiar."

"Can you remember what capacity you heard it in?"

"No," the slow intake of breath was resigned. "But I can check my notes. Would you like to hold or will you call back?"

"I'll hold."

She took the lead, showing her badge to the doorman and continuing on without pause. It meant she had to clip on her badge again in time to get the door for herself, but she didn't want to get caught on the street and lose time justifying their presence. The doorman could have told them if Evan McKinnon was currently at home, but considering the high end nature of the apartment building, the doorman was more likely to call up to the apartment and give Evan a heads up. If he was there.

Kate couldn't risk him doing that, so she got the door herself. The bronze gilded wood moved easily under her hand. She had always thought the job of a doorman must really get to your arm muscles, but with a door like this, the hardest part of the day would have to be the standing or putting up with the self-indulgent, overbred women who lived here and needed a door like that, just so they could actually push it open without having to appear as though they were putting any effort into it.

Okay, that was a little harsh. But she was still sore about having to get the door for an elderly woman in her tenant building who had been completely ungrateful, arrogant and had dropped two bags of tinned cat food on her foot.

They were clearly not the clientele the building was used to, not dressed up or subtly rich enough to be residents or family, but also not in uniform for gas, T.V or any other domestic services. Takeout? She had a hard time thinking the people who lived here sprang for pizza or dialed Mr. Wong's. The stares that followed them were uncomfortable, but she threw them off, only thinking for a second that it was a good thing Esposito had traded in his favourite shot gun for his service piece this time.

Then again it might have been entertaining to watch.

Ryan hit the call button and she briefly envied the prompt car service. True, she preferred to take the stairs; it was only a flight, but whenever she had luggage she had to wait a good minute before the doors opened for her. She mentally told herself to get over it. Her apartment was fine. At least she didn't live with a suspected killer –not that she was aware of. They stepped inside, looking grim enough that no one else tried to ride with them. She let the doors closed at pressed for the 11th floor.

"Are you still there?"

"Yes, I'm still here."

"Mr. McKinnon only mentioned a Tony Monroe once. At the beginning of January he said Monroe was a producer he was going to be working with next year."

"Was that all?"

"He said Monroe was pushing the board to fire him. I said he might be a little sensitive and to give it some time, but he never made another appointment."

"Monroe wanted Evan fired." Kate repeated.

"I offered to talk to him about it, because he was clearly angry, but he didn't want to share. I already told this to the detective who I spoke to earlier."

"Just how angry?"

"Detective," he protested.

"Tony Monroe was murdered less than a week after that appointment, so I'll ask again, how angry?"

"Oh God."

That justifies a DNA test alright.

"What about Kristine O'Connor?"

"The actress?" he sounded shaken. "Evan never mentioned her."

Kate took the left fork after they flowed silently from the elevator. The higher they went up the larger the apartments became and the fewer there were on any given floor. From a designer's point of view it might not have been the best use of space, but here nestled in the Upper East Side, there wasn't a shortage of people willing to pay for the privilege of space in New York City.

It wasn't a penthouse, but she was sure between Michelle and her husband, the only apartment down this corridor, would be every bit as luxurious. The door was a creamy white with bronze fittings, almost delicate looking and deceptive in the extreme. It was a high end lock and was sure to have more security on the other side. Kicking this puppy in was going to be painful.

Esposito and Ryan formed in behind her, unconsciously falling to either side and dropping their hands to the butts of their service pieces. She glanced once at either of them and they nodded. They might not have been a team too long but she knew she trusted them to do their job.

She raised her hand and knocked. "Evan McKinnon, NYPD."

They all waited, breathing silently. There was no sign of movement behind the door, no sound of footsteps from either of the residents. Were they not home? Did they just have very plush carpet?

"Wait, did you hear that?" Esposito asked, ear close to the lock. "I think I can hear music."

"NYPD, open up," Ryan used his fist, competing with any background noise.

A crash of a door within the apartment won out and Kate tested the door handle. She really didn't want to have to kick this in unless she had to.

…