It was a week before Faith and Mom felt I could go farther than the kitchen on my own. The wait just about did me in.

Faith had gotten me an address, an apartment number and a name. Jennifer Lopez. She must have loved that. I wondered what bored paper-pusher had given himself a self-gratifying ego boost at her expense, sticking her with that name.

After a week, they were still hemming and hawing about 'letting' me go, and recommending I try calling her instead. I asked them if they could imagine Harry giving Sally a call on her cell phone instead of going to the New Year's Eve party. Or Captain Von Trapp handing Maria a note instead of following her to the gazebo. No, if Kate was going to tell me to go to hell, it was going to be to my face. Or what was left of it.

The first time they left me alone, I left them a note and took off.

I didn't like Boston. It didn't have enough attitude. And the streets! I would have gone insane attempting to drive in this town. No rhyme or reason. No gridlock. None of the comforts of home.

I didn't like where the cabbie left me. I didn't like the idea of Kate in a neighborhood like this. I guess when the US government subsidizes your life, this is what you get. Thank God she was on the third floor.

There was no answer at her apartment, which made sense in the middle of a work day. But I was still agitated. I slid down the wall and sat, knees up, wondering why I hadn't thought this through better. Now what?

My question was answered within minutes. A stoop shouldered old man came out of an apartment at the end of the hall and shuffled toward me. "Can I help you, young man?" From the looks of the building, this would have to be Security.

I stood, slowly and not without a groan and gritted teeth. I showed him my ID and badge and said Jennifer was my sister and I hadn't heard from her and was getting worried.

He introduced himself as the super, Tom, shook my hand and told me he hadn't seen or heard from her in a couple of weeks. With a sinking feeling, I asked if he could let me into her apartment to look around. Maybe she'd left a clue to her whereabouts.

He did, I thanked him and shut and locked the door behind me.

If my apartment was sparse, this was positively ascetic. The only thing on the walls were a clock and mirror that looked like they had been left by the previous tenant because they were not Kate's style, and the Shakespeare quote from her New York apartment.

There was a table in the corner of the tiny living room that obviously served as a desk. A laptop was on it, and there were newspaper articles scattered all over, and one pinned to the wall with my picture. Mom and Faith had never shown me these. I squinted at the article. It followed the timeline of the attacks, both at the funeral and the hospital with tact and compassion, then went on to exploit and sensationalize Mikey's history and the fact that I'd arrested him. Leave it to the New York press to kick a cop when he's down. Mom and Faith had probably burned all the papers.

Tiny little efficiency kitchen. Couple of dishes in the sink; not like her.

In the bedroom, bed unmade; not like her. One of her suitcases was open on the bed and there was, amazingly, bundles of cash in it.

Ah, she was gone. She'd been gone before I even left the hospital. But the fact that I couldn't do anything about it didn't make me feel any better.

I'd just stuck my head in the bathroom to look around when I heard the apartment door open. I assumed it was the super. I came out of the bedroom and there was Agent Garrity.

"Well, we were wondering when we'd see you." He said, like I was bacteria.

"The fact that you were expecting me tells me you have no faith in your ability as an FBI agent."

"US Marshalls. Hiding her is their job."

"All I see is you. Where is she?"

"We were hoping you could tell us."

"Sorry," I said, unapologetically. Like I'd tell him if I knew. "Again, aces," I gave him two thumbs –up, "on the FBI work." He ignored the comment.

"She was a spitfire, that one."

"Meaning?"

"She gave me a black eye."

"That tells me you deserved two." No way did I want to know what he'd done to earn that. I'd have to hurt him, and I was almost too fatigued to move at this point. I glanced at the clock. After six. The thought of a taxi to the airport, a flight home…it was too much. I had to ask this jackass for a favor.

"OK if I hang here tonight? I'll be out of here first thing in the morning." I promised, gesturing at the couch.

"What, do you think we missed something?"

"No. Just exhausted."

He stuck his finger in my face and I wanted to snap it off. "Don't take anything."

I nodded toward the desk. "I want to read the articles. I missed a few." Understatement.

He nodded. "Yeah, I lost fifty bucks on you. Thought you were as good as dead."

"I've been hoping the same about you. Can I stay or not?"
He shrugged. "Like I said, don't take anything. And if you find anything that could tell us where she is, let us know." He flicked a business card at me and I let it fall to the floor.

"Mm. You're the first person I'll call."

He gave me a warning look and left. I bolted the door behind him. I guess if Kate could stay here for a year with no gun, I could handle one night.

Her phone still worked so I called Mom and Faith and let them know I was fine, and that it had been for nothing. Faith promised to pick me up at the airport in the morning.

As tired as I was I went through every scrap of paper on that desk. A few phone numbers that looked like they were from work, a couple of takeout menus, but not much else. It was close to eight and I was about to collapse.

I looked at the couch.

Couch, hell.

I slept in her bed.