Barb got home from work and made a light dinner. Bobby was usually home by the time she got there, but she assumed he was working a lead on his case. After eating, she cleaned the dishes and took a shower. It was a cool night, but she still had no desire to turn on the heat. She grabbed a blanket from the hall closet and went down to the living room. Wrapping it around her, she settled on the couch to watch television and wait for Bobby to come home.

The phone woke her. She got up and went to the kitchen to answer it. "Hello?"

Did I wake you, Barb?

"It's fine, Alex. What's up?"

Have you heard from Bobby tonight?

"No. I assumed he was working on your case."

He is. He left the squad this afternoon to meet with a contact. I'm sure he's fine. I thought maybe he would have called you.

"I'll let you know if I hear from him."

Great. Thanks.

She hung up the phone. Alex sounded worried in spite of her efforts to remain conversational, and that didn't sit well with her at all. Now she was worried but there was nothing she could do.

The ground beneath him was cold and hard. Cement. He groaned and rolled onto his back. Memories of getting punched came flooding back and he pushed himself up, alert and ready to continue fighting. A hand came to rest on his arm and a familiar voice calmed him. "Take it easy, kid. You took a beating. You're every bit as tough as I remembered."

He fell back onto the cold cement and moistened his lips. "What happened?"

"Wrong place, wrong time. I am so sorry."

"Gambisi...?"

"No. This has nothing to do with the Gambisis. Carlo has no idea you're looking for Rico. This is something else entirely, something you have nothing to do with...well, you didn't until now."

"What went down?"

"There's a local gang of dealers who've been grabbing our guys and turning 'em over to one of the Columbian cartels. That's what I've been working on. They've grabbed eight of our guys so far. Five of 'em managed to get away. The other three vanished, presumably into the Columbian jungle."

"God, Cal. What the hell did you get yourself into?"

"I'm not worried about me right now. I gotta get you out of here. You got no part in this."

Goren sat up slowly. His body hurt from the beating he'd taken, but nothing seemed to be broken. The spinning in his throbbing head said concussion, but he wasn't puking, so it wasn't bad. "Where are we?"

"Down by the dockyards. My guess is they plan to get us on a boat sometime before dawn, so we've got to get moving soon. They've got one guard outside the door; I haven't noticed anyone else around. These fellas don't seem to be the brightest bulbs in the box. I didn't get the beating you did 'cause I know how to play possum, and they bought it hook, line and sinker." He sighed heavily. "We'll wait a little while to let your head clear some more, then we're getting out of here. Be ready to move your ass—I'll head toward the water and draw their attention if I need to. I don't plan to go into the water unless they come after me. You go the other way, toward the city. Get the hell away from the yards as fast as you can, Bobby. Then you're on your own. There's nothing more I can do for you. The smartest thing you could have done was leave your wallet and your badge behind, but they took your sidearm. They have no idea who you are. For all they know, you're a mark."

"So why'd they take me with you?"

"Convenience?"

"Bullshit. They made me."

"Maybe. But narcotics isn't your gig anymore. You go after the big fish now. And I'm going to send you home so you can keep doing it."

"What about you, Cal?"

"If I make it, I'll get word to you. If I don't...that's a risk we take, isn't it?"

"Is there anything I can do?"

"Just get your ass home safe." He leaned back against the wall. "I've seen you in the papers...Major Case...not too shabby."

"I like it there. I get to flex my profiling skills, and I have one hell of a partner." He felt a pang of guilt, remembering the way he'd left her that afternoon. "I am surprised to find you still out in the field."

"I'll die in the field, Bobby. No desk for me, and retirement will kill me faster than the streets."

"How does Wanda feel about that?"

"She knows me. She accepted my fate long ago. Same with the kids. It's not a matter of 'if' the job kills me. It's a matter of 'when'. What about you, pal? Got a wife yet?"

"No. No wife, no kids." He smiled. "But my girlfriend is for keeps."

"I remember the trail of broken hearts you used to leave behind. This one must be special."

"She is, to me anyway."

"Then we'd better get your ass home to her. How's your head?"

"Hurts like hell, but it's not spinning anymore."

"Feeling strong enough to do this?"

"Let's go."

Eames sat silently at her desk, staring at her partner's empty chair. She was startled when Carruthers dropped down into it from nowhere. He leaned forward. "Sorry, Alex. Didn't mean to scare you."

She rubbed her face. "I'm just tired."

"I don't doubt it. It's almost ten. We found Goren's car, down on the lower East side. I have good news and bad news."

He looked expectant, but said no more, which annoyed her. "Tell me, Ethan, or I swear I'll come over the desks to smack you."

He smiled, then became serious as he recounted what they'd found. "Under the front seat we found his wallet, badge, phone, keys, knife and backup piece. That's the bad news. Good news is so far the techs haven't found any blood. Seems like he left the car there intentionally, and then disappeared. We're combing the area, but so far, no one's seen him. We'll keep looking."

"Thanks."

Now she knew why he wasn't answering his phone. What had he gotten himself into?

The room they were in wasn't very large, and it was lit by the glow from the dockyard lights through the windows that lined one wall. There was a single door. Cal walked over to the window furthest from the door and examined it closely. Quietly, he eased it open and propped it. "This'll be a piece of cake for a runt like me, but a bit of a squeeze for you. Come on."

Cal climbed up onto a couple of crates and eased out the window, dropping easily to the ground. Goren followed, with little difficulty. They hid in the shadows and Cal snorted softly. "Not as big as you look, huh?"

"Just more flexible than I look."

He gave Goren's shoulder a friendly smack. "Head for home, pal. Keep outta sight and be careful."

"Take care of yourself, Cal."

The narcotics cop leaned close and grabbed Goren's arm, meeting his eyes in the dim light. "Don't do anything stupid, Bobby. I don't want your blood on my hands. Trust me, and don't look back." He watched the guilt cross Goren's face and tightened his grip. "Don't go there. Think of your girl and that partner you like so much. I'll be fine. Now go."

He gently shoved him toward the corner of the building. Once he was out of sight, Cal headed off the other way.

Goren stayed in the shadows, making his way through the dockyards cautiously. For a big man, he had an amazing ability to make himself invisible. He listened for any sort of commotion coming from the docks, but he heard nothing. He kept to the shadows, twice avoiding a handful of laughing dockworkers who approached him. They passed on by, never once glancing his way. Apparently, no one had discovered they were missing yet.

He had almost reached the streets when he heard the sounds of shouting in the distance, and he stopped. Listening intently to the commotion, he tried to decipher it. He looked toward the streets, and he thought about Barb and Alex. Then he looked back toward the docks, where a brother officer was in trouble. Think of your girl and that partner you like so much...I don't want your blood on my hands. Trust me...

Looking back toward the streets, he blew a kiss into the air and whispered, "I love you."

Then he turned toward the docks and ran back the way he had come.