"Mr. McCoy. I recognize you from your recent photographs in the paper. I was wondering when you would join us," Esparza said hospitality. "My good friend, Senor Bruner, asked me to give you his remembrances."

McCoy's game face hid his shock at hearing the chillingly familiar name of the serial killer he and Serena Southerlyn had prosecuted.

"Mrs. Prescott, I've advised the Suffolk County District Attorney that my office has jurisdiction over this matter. He agrees. I will finish Mr. Esparza's interview."

Brooke scanned McCoy's face skeptically. Although she knew she had eeply wounded him, Brooke knew McCoy would have little much patience for siting idly by during her exchange with Esparza. Especially given the feelings she knew had been at the heart of his bitter words the previous day.

"I'd like confirmation of that from DA Jackowski, himself"

McCoy nodded as he gestured towards the door.

"Mr. Cutter has him standing by on his cell phone. He'd like to speak to you as well, "McCoy said effortlessly continuing his bluff.

"Fine," she said curtly, abruptly standing.

Esparza was still laughing when the heavy door closed. McCoy sat down across from him.

"I must congratulate you," Esparza said contritely. "You are obviously more of a man than that cipher our lovely Brooke is married to. For you to-"

"Mr. Esparza, I'm a busy man," McCoy said wearily. "I haven't the time not the patience to listen to another hour of you self important banter. I'm here to make you a deal, nothing more."

"A deal? I have admitted to nothing more than regrets for the hardships my family has endured after my encounter with the state's attorney and the Suffolk County District Attorney's office. How can you make a deal, when you have nothing to charge me with?"

"After I send Mr. Cutter to the Grand Jury with the information we've obtained today, I would image the counts will be murder one for both Valdmir Valenski and Jamie Lefante."

Esparza stared back at McCoy amused.

"Mark told me you had a marvelous sense of humor," he replied confidently. "All you have to connect me to Valenski's death is your own speculation. As for Jamie? Who says he is dead? Not I. I just said it was unlikely he'd be seen."

McCoy leaned back, his eyes narrowing.

"The Baltimore coroner's office had a body brought in a few days before Valenski's murder that matches Lefante's description. His sister is on her way to identify the body. Once that identification is made, I plan to have you changed with conspiracy to commit murder."

"McCoy you are annoying, the way a tiresome fly buzzing constantly around one's head is annoying," Esparza said, as he carefully ran a hand through his hair. "You even if you have a body – which I seriously doubt you do – I have the perfect alibi. I have been in prison since well before these murders were committed."

"I'm sure your friend Mr. Bruner has also told you how determined I can be when we're talking about murder."

Esparza nodded, leaning forward, his hands returning from his thick graying mane to the table, folded together.

Esparza clicked his tongue, in mock retribution.

"Come now, Mr. McCoy," he said in a voice so low McCoy unconsciously leaned in to hear Esparza. "You, yourself stand to benefit the most from this so called conspiracy. After all, you get the glory of sending a man a jury says is guilty of murder to prison – bad press about your personal life notwithstanding. That will leave the field free and clear for you to continue your dalliance with the beautiful Brooke. Of course, you'll most likely sacrifice your career, but man to man? That's a small price to pay for reclaiming what I'm sure you loins already are aching to possess again."

McCoy's eyes flashed ever so slightly, his mind recognizing the attempt to jar him. Esparza saw the opportunity he'd been waiting for.

As Prescott and Brooke abruptly ended their heated exchange, Cutter and Dworkin leapt towards the door. McCoy felt the shank penetrate his chest. Esparza lunged as far as the restrains would allow, holding onto McCoy via the sharpened toothbrush, until the guards pulled him off the bloody District Attorney.

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McCoy fought to remain conscious. He could hear the commands of the warden, as the facility went into lock down. He was looked up into Sam Prescott's troubled face. McCoy thought for a moment Prescott himself would pass out, given the paleness of the other man's face. Prescott pressed his jacket against McCoy's chest in an effort to stop the steady flow of blood.

"The infirmary is sending a doctor up," Prescott said reassuringly. "Just hang on, they won't be long."

McCoy heard what he thought was his voice, a sound just above a whisper, thanking the man. He thought he felt something damp…maybe more blood…on his shoulder. He tried to keep his eyes open as he made the effort to turn his head.

She was hysterical. He could see what was left of her eye make up steadily flowing down her cheeks. Brooke frantically ran a hand through his hair, the other hand pressing down on Prescott's to increase the pressure on McCoy's chest.

"He's still bleeding," Brooke nearly screamed at her husband through her sobs. "We can't let him bleed out, Sam. You have it do something…"

"Cutter where the hell is that doctor," Prescott snapped.

"He'll be here any second. Here," Cutter said adding another pair of hands to the effort. "Jack? Are you still with us?"

McCoy tried to nod his head, the effort to open his eyes growing rapidly more difficult. Finally, he was able to focus on Brooke's face. She met his disorientated gaze and gave him a shaky smile.

"Just had to be your macho self and butt in," she grasped, unable to stop her tears.

"On to me," he whispered.

"Was there ever any doubt," she said as she moved closer to his ear."No more talking. Just listen and save your strength."

McCoy weakly shook his head, the feeling of fatigue from the loss of blood making every effort to move a struggle.

"If I don't…tell..,"he breathed. "Becky, I love her…love you, too…"

"Stop it," she said as she cradled his head in her arms. "You're not going to leave me, Jack. I'll follow you to hell if you try."

Prescott looked up from the makes shift compress when he heard Brooke utter the same words she had so many years before. The last words he remembered before losing consciousness on the court house steps.

McCoy responded her words by slightly turning his lips upward. His eyes continued to watch her as the doctor and his assistant began examining the wound. His mind spun as he began to float in and out of consciousness. Esparza's taunting, the feel of the jagged edge breaking his skin, the raw terror in Brooke's eyes, all replayed in his head as he was moved onto a gurney.

"...Memorial is ninety minutes away…the bleeding has stopped, but the only way to be sure it doesn't start again is to get him sewn up…,"someone was saying.

"You can't take him to the hospital ward," a voice he recognized as Brooke's was frantically shouting. "A prisoner just attacked him with a guard not five feet away! What the hell do you think they'll do to him lying in a hospital bed?"

Next he heard his court room nemesis make an appeal that made McCoy inwardly chuckle.

"You people Medvaced one of my clients from here to Manhattan General last month," Dworkin interjected. "I suggest to do that now or I will personally see to it Mr. McCoy's daughter sues not only the prison, but you personally, for negligence."

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The next sound he heard was the steady 'beep' of a heart monitor. Slowly he opened his eyes to find Brooke anxiously watching him. A relieved smile coming to her lips as she saw noticed his weary gaze.

"I called Becky. She and her mother were at a concert up in Portland. Becky just played her voice mail back. They should be here in another hour or so."

McCoy chuckled weakly as he thought of how many times his daughter had chastised for habit of checking his messages in a less than timely manner.

"How long have I been out?"

"Oh…"she said taking a glance at her watch. "It's nearly midnight. You got off easy. A lot of internal bleeding, but the shank missed your lung. A few stitches and some bed rest and you should be on your back to being the opinionated, hot headed, stubborn SOB we all know and love."

McCoy pursed his lips together, the dull achiness that filled his upper body causing him to stifle his laughter.

"Marry me."

Brooke's eyes widened as a slow smile came to her face.

"That would make me a bigamist. Besides, given those nice things you implied the last time-"

"Male pride," he said weakly squeezing her hand. "Thought I'd lost you…can't let that happen-"

"Jack, you couldn't lose me if you tried," she said as she pressed a finger to his lips. "But you've got to rest. No more talking, at least save some strength for when Becky gets here."

McCoy took a deep breath, slowly letting it out as he felt the tightness in his chest. His eyes began to close as he nodded. His mind like a poorly cut film. Scenes from the day in and out of sequence ran through his consciousness. He remembered Esparza's finger on Brookes hand…the comments about Prescott, as well as Bruner…the way Esparza ran his hand through his hair…

"Bruner…"McCoy muttered his tone agitated and urgent. "Bruner connects…"

Brooke moved closer, laying her head next to McCoy mouth.

"Jack? Honey, what is it?"

….Esparza knows Bruner, McCoy said to himself. Bruner has to know… it has to connect…

"Tell Cutter," McCoy said his voice groggy, struggling to make it through a sentence. "Tell him…pull Bruner…all of Bruner's visitors…"