The elevator doors closed and Maggie looked up at her father. "Did I do good, Daddy?"

He smiled at her. "You did great, mouse."

"So you an' Uncle Mike are outta trouble?"

"Uncle Mike is, and that's what I was worried about."

She frowned. "But what about you?"

"Don't worry about me, sweetheart. I'll be fine."

She stepped in front of him and, releasing his hand, held her arms up to him. He lifted her up and she wrapped her arms around his neck and hugged him tight. He sighed softly and felt himself settle. His anger faded in the wake of her simple gesture of love.

As he stepped off the elevator, she settled her head on his shoulder. Eames and Logan met him at his desk. Logan stepped around to catch Maggie's eye. "Hey, beautiful."

She giggled and reached out to touch his cheek. "Hi again, Uncle Mike."

"They didn't upset you, did they?"

"No. They was nice. They jus' wanted to know that you was with me an' Tommy inna woods."

He kissed her cheek. "I'm sorry you had to come in to talk to them, sweetheart."

"Why? They hadda know where you was."

Eames met Goren's eyes as he passed Maggie over to Logan. "I, uh...I need to go back." He looked at Logan. "You're in the clear, Mike."

"Are you?"

Goren just shrugged, kissed his daughter and headed back toward the elevators. Eames caught up with him as he hit the 'up' button. "Bobby, they're not looking at you for this, are they?"

"No. But I think they're trying to determine if I know more than I'm telling."

"You do," she softly accused.

He met her eyes but his own were guarded. "They don't need to know that," he replied cooly.

She took in a slow, deep breath, knowing she had to tread lightly over his strict code of fidelity. "Don't hang for him, Bobby."

The elevator doors opened as he stiffened. "I'll be back," he said shortly.

With a frustrated sigh, she headed back toward their desks. Seeing that Maggie was occupied with Logan and several of the other guys, she sat down and mused over things in her mind. Finally coming to a decision, she reached for the phone and dialed.

As he waited for the elevator to arrive on the fourteenth floor, Goren swallowed his anger. No one needed to know what he figured out, and he was beginning to regret confiding in his partner, something that served only to fuel his anger and unrest. She was his partner, dammit. How could she not back him in this? If Gordy was going to fall for this, it was not going to be his doing. Okay, murder was murder...well, manslaughter, anyway...a crime of passion committed in a moment of anger...

He understood what Gordy had been thinking, and he couldn't disagree with him. There was only one way his children would ever be safe from the threat Wallace posed to them, and Gordy had ensured it. That woman had caused him so much pain over the years. She'd threatened his family, nearly destroyed the happy contentment he found with a wife he loved and children he adored. She'd tried to sabotage a relationship he cherished, one he would fight anyone to keep. He could not quantify the hurt he'd felt when he saw the doubt in his little daughter's eyes, when she told him she doubted he would come after her to save her from Wallace.

No, he resolved as he stepped from the elevator. He would not be the instrument of Gordy's undoing.

Cautiously, Goren lowered himself into the chair Maggie had occupied during their talk with her. They had kept him waiting for more than an hour, a ploy he recognized and did not appreciate. Turner smiled at him. "You have a sweet daughter, detective."

"Thank you," he replied, struggling to find a sense of calm he certainly did not feel.

He noticed that Logan's file, along with Eames' and Barek's, were gone. Only one remained: his. Turner ran her fingers along its edge. It wasn't a thin file, by any means, but it wasn't the file of a chronic screw-up either. He fell somewhere in the middle. He was not a traditional cop and he'd never tried to be one. But his methods and his entanglements had more than once raised the eyebrows of Internal Affairs. And here he was again, in trouble not entirely of his own making.

"Tell us what happened the night of the shooting, detective."

Step by step, he recounted what had happened that night. When he was through, Torres asked, "Did you see where the shots came from?"

"No, I didn't."

He knew better than to volunteer information. They had gone through whatever motions they felt they needed to and eliminated Alex and Mike from their suspect pool. Alex, he knew, had never been seriously considered as a viable suspect. They threw her in there to knock him off center, but he knew better. Going after Mike, though—he knew they were serious about that. A true scapegoat...it still angered him. He couldn't quite keep that anger from filtering through into his voice.

"Why are you so angry, Detective Goren?" Turner asked.

He struggled to remain seated as well as to get a handle on his anger. It wouldn't serve any good purpose to go off on this panel. "I'm fine," he answered tightly. "Can we just get this over with?"

Irritated, Davies got right to the point. "Do you know who murdered your suspect, Nicole Wallace?"

He had prepared himself for this question, but he was still surprised by how difficult he found it to lie to Internal Affairs. He geared himself up to answer no, but the door slammed open before he had a chance to reply. Four angry faces glared at the man who intruded on the hearing as Goren turned in his chair. Goren felt the color drain from his face as Gordon slammed the door behind him and stepped forward. "Gordy..." he muttered as the FBI agent came into earshot.

With a subtle flick of his wrist and a passing glance that was meant to reassure, Gordon stepped up to the table. "I heard you people are looking to take him down for the shooting of a suspect."

"This is an internal matter..."

"Like hell it is. I was there, people. I saw what happened, and I know who did it. Why aren't you asking me what happened? Why are you trying to pin it on a guy who was 500 miles away, or the arresting officer, who couldn't possibly have done it?"

"We never said Detective Goren committed the murder."

"No," Goren snapped. "You think I orchestrated it."

The looks of surprise on the faces in front of him told him he was right. He was thirty seconds from turning in his badge when Gordon spoke again. "Come on, people. He's a good cop, an honest one. Didn't he bail your asses out two years ago with that whole Waters mess? You're barking up the wrong damn tree. NYPD had no hand in Wallace's execution."

Goren leaned back in his chair, a look of honest bewilderment on his face. Execution? Turner and the members of the panel looked from the FBI agent to their cop and then back. "Explain yourself," Turner demanded.

Gordon removed his badge from his pocket and held it out for them to see. "Terrance Gordon, FBI." He pulled out an envelope and handed it to Turner. "Ms. Wallace's death is a federal matter. Your people had no role in it."

Turner studied the paper in her hand before handing it to Davies, who in turn passed it to Torres and Shannon. She glared at Gordon, struggling to keep her tone even. "We do not approve of the FBI using our people..."

Gordon waved a hand at her. "We didn't ask, did we?"

Goren's bewilderment turned to amusement. Angrily, Turner shifted her attention back to him. "You're dismissed, detective."

He raised his hands in concession and rose. Stopping at the door, he turned. "So I'm in the clear?"

She studied him carefully. "You always were, detective," she said at last.

He left the room and walked down to the elevator, where he waited. Twenty minutes later, Gordon came out of the room, slamming the door. He stopped when he saw Goren waiting for him. With a heavy sigh, he continued toward him. "I'm sorry, Bobby."

"For what?"

"For getting you involved in that. I should have figured another way."

"I'm confused, Gordy."

Gordon hit the down button. "Not now, pal. Um, I'll fill you in Thursday...not here."

As they got on the elevator, Goren asked, "How-how did you know...to come in now?"

The FBI agent suppressed a smile. "A little bird told me."

Goren leaned his head back against the back of the elevator. He needed to have a talk with that little bird, and he smiled.