AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thank you to all of you who are reading and following this story. Your interest and support are what keeps me writing! A special thanks goes out to those of you who have taken the extra time to review my chapters. I would love to hear from more of you! Please let me know what you think.

The next morning, while Natalie finished getting ready for the day, Adrian sat on the living room floor with Sophia while she pulled out her wooden blocks to build a tower. As she spread them on the floor, he noticed the different colors painted on their sides. Sophia began to stack them on top of each other in a haphazard fashion, but Adrian held his hands up to stop her.

"Sophia, here's the thing. This can be done the right way, or it can be done the wrong way. Let me show you how to do it the right way." He picked up a block and pointed to it. "This block has a green side."

"een," she said, touching the emerald paint.

"Yes, green," he said, emphasizing the 'gr' sound. "Now, let's put all the green blocks in three, nice, neat rows. That will be the base of our tower." He directed her to hand him all of the green blocks and helped her arrange them just so. After that, came the red blocks, stacked in two rows on top of the green ones, then two, shorter rows of yellow, and finally, a short row of blue to top it off.

"Boo!" Sophia shouted. She jumped up and twirled around, clapping as she went.

Adrian leaned back and smiled, proud that his daughter understood his organizational concepts, but then she stopped and looked at the tower. With a giggle, she ran straight into it, knocking the blocks in every direction, many of them rolling off the area rug and clattering across the wood floor.

"Sophia Faith! Why did you go and do that? Now, there's a mess instead of an orderly tower."

She looked at him with a twinkle in her green eyes before she fell into his lap, giggling and showering him with kisses.

Adrian's cheeks dimpled as he ruffled her dark curls. "Taking cues from your mother, I see."

A moment later, they heard footsteps and looked up to see Natalie come down the stairs. "Mama!" Sophia shouted, running to her, arms stretched high.

"Hi sweetie," said Natalie, picking her up. "Were you and daddy playing with your blocks?"

She nodded and pointed in Adrian's direction. "Dada," she said.

Natalie sat on the couch while Adrian picked up the scattered blocks, returning them to their storage bin.

Sophia leaned against Natalie, but feeling her growing bump, reached down and patted it. "Baby?" she asked.

Natalie nodded. "Yes, the baby is getting bigger and bigger. When he's big enough, he'll come out and we'll be able to see him."

Sophia tilted her head and touched Natalie's belly again. This time, she pulled her hand back and giggled. Then, she did it again.

"What is it?" asked Natalie. "Do you feel the baby?"

"Baby," she said, pointing.

Natalie placed her own hand on her stomach, and after a moment, a smile spread across her face. "Adrian, come here! We can feel the baby kicking!"

He dashed to her side, and she guided his hand to the spot where she and Sophia had felt the movement. After a moment, he too felt the soft flutter-kick of his unborn child. He looked at Natalie with wide eyes. Then, he touched Sophia's cheek and smiled. They remained that way, absorbed in the wonder of new life until it was time to leave.

Adrian and Natalie arrived at the San Francisco police station, still bubbling with the excitement of feeling their baby move, the first time they were both able to experience it. They walked hand-in-hand towards the captain's office, but it took some time to get there.

"Why do I feel like the center of attention lately?" asked Natalie, once past the well-meaning police officers and employees. "I can't walk through here anymore without at least three people stopping me to ask about the baby."

"I think babies bring hope and joy to people," said Adrian.

"Well, I'm glad we can do that."

"It also might be because they still haven't gotten over the shock."

"Shock? Of what?"

"Of me…like this…with a wife, and well, children."

She squeezed his hand. "That's because they don't know the real Adrian Monk like I do."

He flashed her a boyish grin before they knocked on Captain Stottlemeyer's office door. They found the captain at his desk with Lieutenant Washington sitting on the corner of it.

After the usual greetings, Dwayne lifted a Tupperware container in their direction. "Pumpkin muffin?" he asked. "Nicole baked them fresh this morning."

"Yes please," said Natalie, lifting a muffin from the container. "Forget eating for two. I feel like I'm eating for an army."

"Are you sure there's only one in there?" asked Leland, chuckling.

Adrian grabbed the arm of one of the chairs in front of the captain's desk and sat down. Leland noticed the color drain from his face and quickly reassured him. "I'm just kidding, Monk."

Natalie sat beside her husband. "Don't worry. After all my doctor visits and ultrasounds, I'm sure we'd know if there was more than one baby. We just have a hungry one."

Dwayne placed a second muffin on the napkin in front of her. "Sounds like my kind of kid," he said, grinning.

Leland's mustache wiggled on top of his smile as he pulled out a file and laid it on his desk. "Okay, let's talk about the homicide yesterday. The coroner confirmed that Derek Sanders died of blood loss, which was pretty obvious, but there was more. You were right as usual, Monk. He had a benzodiazepine in his system. That was also the residue you noticed in the wine glass."

"A benzodiazepine?" asked Natalie. "Isn't that prescribed for anxiety?"

"Yes," said Stottlemeyer, "but when mixed with alcohol, it causes the victim to feel more relaxed and have fewer inhibitions, sometimes even making them fall asleep. Once Rohpynol became illegal, we started seeing it used in date rape cases because of its easy accessibility."

"By the condition of the house, I wonder if the perp was trying to put the victim to sleep so the house could be searched," said Washington.

"That's quite possible, or the idea was to lull him into a condition where he could be convinced to do something he wouldn't normally do. Either way, my guess is Sanders fought back unexpectedly, so the perp killed him."

"This was definitely someone Sanders knew," said Monk, "someone he was comfortable enough with to sit and share a glass of champagne."

"We also looked at those tire tracks like you suggested," said the captain, "and I don't have to tell you, you were right again. Those tracks came from tires too big to fit on an average car. They had to have come from a larger vehicle, such as a truck or SUV, most likely one that is four-wheel drive." He pulled out a photo of the track in the street and a photo of the casting from the mud.

Monk pulled the two photos in front of himself and compared them, looking from one to the other, then back again. After a moment, he put his finger on one, then moved it to the other photo.

Natalie recognized the look on his face. "What have you got?" she asked.

He tapped the photo of the casting. "There, in the tread. Do you see it?"

"No," said Natalie, looking more closely. Stottlemeyer and Washington also leaned closer to examine the photo.

"There's a gap in the tread," said Monk.

"A gap?" asked Washington. "Do you mean part of the tread is missing?"

"No," said Monk. "I don't think the tread is missing. I think something is blocking the tread, like a small rock or something. That discrepancy is matching in both photos, proving the same tire made both sets of tracks."

"Great," said Stottlemeyer, making a note in the file. "That narrows our search even more. We talked to neighbors up and down the street after we left the house yesterday. No one saw anyone coming or going out of the house, but the neighbor across the street…Bentley something." He snapped his fingers, trying to remember."

"Eric Bentley," said Washington, looking at his notepad.

"Yes, Eric Bentley. He's only lived there for about a month, but he said he noticed a white, four-door, Jeep Wrangler parked outside of Sanders' house around 8:00 pm. Then, at approximately 9:00 pm, he saw the white jeep pull out. To quote him, 'It flew out of there like a bat out of Hell'."

"And what was the time of death?" Monk asked.

Stottlemeyer pulled out the coroner's report. "It was approximately 8:30 p.m."

"So, she spent some time looking around before leaving," said Monk. "That would explain the overturned boxes."

"Yes, it appears so," said Stottlemeyer. "Did you get anything new from Ambrose or your father after we left?"

"No, Ambrose just confirmed what we already know. He was in bed early and Dad was watching TV, so neither saw nor heard anything unusual."

"We need to start interviewing people who knew the victim," said the captain. "Marie Sanders, his widow is expecting us today. Are you guys free to come with us?"

"Yes," said Monk. "We can do that."

"Do they have children?" asked Natalie.

"Yes," said Washington. "Two young ones."

Only Adrian noticed the slight furrow of her brow as they stood to go.

As had become customary, Adrian and Natalie rode in the back of Stottlemeyer's police cruiser, Adrian having given up shotgun since his romantic relationship with Natalie began. As they rode, Natalie's hand held on to Adrian's a little tighter than usual. She was also quite pensive as she looked out the window.

"Are you okay?" he whispered in her ear.

Natalie turned and nodded, giving him a slight smile.

Adrian brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. He understood what she was feeling. It had been thirteen years since she lost Mitch, but as it was for him with Trudy, there were moments, events, even a sound or a smell that could trigger a memory. Thinking of what Marie Sanders must be experiencing would certainly trigger the memory of Mitch's tragic death and the young child she was left to raise alone. He also understood that grief comes in waves. When you are first faced with it, you feel as if you are drowning. The waves hit so hard and so rapidly, you can barely catch your breath. As time passes, the waves are smaller and come less frequently, but occasionally, a big one will come crashing down when you least expect it.

Leland looked in the rearview mirror. He had noticed the unusual quiet. When he saw Natalie looking out the window and Adrian gently stroking her hand with his thumb, understanding began to unfold. "I'm glad you're with us today, Natalie," he said. "I think it will be a comfort for Mrs. Sanders to have you there."

"I'm glad I can do it," she said softly.

"Are you sure you're okay?" Adrian asked. "We can take you back if this is too much?"

"Babe, this isn't the first time we've had to go talk to a widow. It's not even the first time we've had to go talk to a widow with young children."

"I know, but you weren't…." Adrian waved his hand over her belly.

"Pregnant?"

"Yes"

"What does that have to do with talking to a woman about her husband's murder?"

Adrian cleared his throat. "Here's the thing, sweetheart, you weren't as…as…you know…."

"Hormonal?"

Adrian adjusted his neck and lowered his voice. "Yes. Did you have to say it out loud?"

"They're both married and they've both had pregnant wives," Natalie said, gesturing to the captain and lieutenant in the front of the car. "They understand."

"But Natalie…."

"Don't Natalie me, Adrian. I'm fine. I swear your worrying is going to cause me more problems than this baby or this case."

Leland and Dwayne exchanged a glance with raised eyebrows, but they didn't say a word.

It didn't take long for the team to reach the Sanders' gated community, with its large, new homes and golf-course views. The Sanders' home fit the neighborhood stereotype with a well-manicured lawn and an impressive entryway.

After a couple of knocks, the front door was opened by a woman in her early thirties. She wore sweats; her dark eyes were puffy and red. She held a young boy of no more than three or four on her hip, and a young girl with red hair like her father's stood at her mother's side. Captain Stottlemeyer introduced himself and the rest of the team.

"I spoke with you on the phone," he said, "about your husband's death."

She simply nodded and showed them in.

Once inside, Natalie approached her. "I'm so sorry, Mrs. Sanders. I lost my first husband thirteen years ago. How old are your children?"

Marie Sanders blinked as if coming out of a daze. "Emmy is six." She placed her hand on her daughter's head. "Brett is three."

"My daughter was also six," Natalie said, looking into the woman's eyes. She looked at the children, then back to their mother. "May I take them and play with them while you talk?"

Marie nodded. "Their playroom is down the hall on the right", she said pointing.

Natalie took the little boy from his mother's arms and held out her hand for the girl to take. "Do you have some books we could read?"

Marie led the detectives into her stylish living room and offered them seats. "Can…can I get you, gentlemen anything to drink?"

"No ma'am, we're fine," said Stottlemeyer. "Please sit down."

Monk took his seat along with the other detectives, noting that other than one askew pillow on the beige, leather loveseat, not a single thing seemed out of place, a fact that pleased but also surprised him.

Marie joined them and pulled a tissue from a box sitting on the end table. "Thank you for looking into my husband's murder," she said quietly. "I want whoever did this to be caught."

"We will do our best, " said Washington, in a voice betraying his imposing size. "You can be sure of that."

"Mrs. Sanders," Stottlemeyer began. "Are you aware of any personal issues or legal problems, anything of that nature that your husband was involved with?"

"Other than inheriting a 160-year-old house, no."

"Yes ma'am," said Stottlemeyer, "we know he was spending a good bit of time working on the house he inherited from his father. When was the last time you saw him?"

"Yesterday morning. Before he left for work. He went straight to his father's house afterward."

"So, you did not spend time with him at the house last night?" asked Monk.

"No," said Marie, dabbing her eyes. "I had my Monday night class last night. I couldn't go."

"Your class?"

"Yes, I am taking continuing education courses online. Every Monday night, I take my children to my sister's house, then I go to this little coffee shop nearby and log into my class. Without Derek home to watch the kids, it's the only way I can concentrate."

Monk clasped his hands and leaned forward. "What time is your class, Mrs. Sanders?"

"My class is at 7:30 every Monday night. I usually drop my kids off at 7:00, then I get to the coffee shop at about 7:15, order my coffee and log in."

"And what time does your class end?"

"It ends at 9:30, then I pick up my kids, and I'm home by 10:00."

Monk continued. "Mrs. Sanders, do you know of anyone else your husband was planning to meet there last night or anyone else who might have had reason to meet him there?"

Marie Sanders looked at the floor as she twisted the tissue in her hands. "It…it was her," she finally said. "When he didn't come home, I figured he was with her."

"Who?" asked Monk, turning to face her.

She slipped the tissue into the pocket of her sweatpants and folded her arms. "My husband was having an affair, Mr. Monk."

She wiped her nose on her sleeve which made Monk cringe. He reached for the tissue box and held it out to her. Marie looked at him, puzzled, then took one.

"Do you have proof of your husband's sex affair?" he asked.

She blew her nose. "If you mean something like pictures or the word of someone who saw them together, then no, I don't have proof."

"Then, what makes you think he was having an affair?" asked Stottlemeyer.

"He has been seeing a woman for the past few weeks for 'business'," she said, using air quotes, "but in all the years we've been together, I have never seen him conduct business in that way. He would see her in the evenings or on the weekend. She had his private cell number, and he would drop everything he was doing to go meet her."

"What kind of business was your husband in?" asked Washington.

"He was a dentist. He swore she was just a patient who he couldn't see during normal business hours, but have you ever heard of a dentist doing house calls?"

"You mean he didn't see her at his office?" asked Stottlemeyer.

"No, I'm not sure where he met her, but it wasn't in his office."

"How do you know?" asked Monk.

"I called the security company. I used to be Derek's partner in the practice, so I still have clearance with them. They have no records of anyone coming or going during the times he said he was seeing her."

"Do you know her name?" asked Monk.

Marie dabbed her eyes again. "No. I never asked…I guess I didn't want to know."

"Mrs. Sanders," Monk said. "If you never saw the client or knew the client's name, how do you know it was a woman your husband was meeting?"

"I answered his phone the first time she called, then after a couple more calls, I checked his phone, and the numbers matched."

"Do you know the last time she called him?" asked Stottlemeyer.

Marie twisted her hands. "The morning before Derek was killed. That's why I thought he was with her that night. I overheard him say he'd be at his father's house after work."

"Do you know why she would have wanted to kill your husband?"

She shook her head, her dark hair falling in front of her face before she pushed it away. "No. I have no idea."

"Is there anything else you can tell us about this woman?" asked Monk. "Do you know what kind of vehicle she drives?"

A puzzled look crossed Marie's face. "Why would I know that?"

"Just something we observed at the crime scene," said Monk.

"What do you know about Brian Hamilton?" asked Stottlemeyer. "I understand he was in touch with your husband after your father-in-law passed on?"

"The real estate investor?" Marie asked.

Monk nodded. "Yes, we understand he offered to buy the house?"

She sniffed. "Yes, he did. I tried to talk Derek into selling, but he was as stubborn as his father. He said he wanted to raise his children there."

"Do you still plan to keep it, or will you sell now?"

"If his offer's still good, I will sell it. It just needs too much work for me to do on my own. Plus, I don't really want to move."

As the detectives stood to leave, Natalie approached Marie with the children. "I'm sorry, but they say they're hungry."

Marie looked at the clock. "Oh yes, we usually eat lunch a little early.

A cell phone rang, and the captain pulled his out of his pocket. He looked at the caller ID. "I'm sorry. I have to take this."

"Do you have family or someone coming to help you?" Natalie asked, following Marie into her pristine kitchen.

"Yes, my sister came and stayed with me all day yesterday, and my parents are coming in this afternoon." She lifted her left foot, which was encased in an orthopedic boot. "It's been hard enough keeping up with the kids with this."

"Did you break your foot?" asked Natalie.

"Yes," said Marie, "I went running after my father-in-law's dog after Derek brought her home. Anyway, I tripped and broke it. I'll be in this thing for at least another month."

Natalie handed Brett back to his mother while Emmy climbed onto a stool at the kitchen island. Monk, who hadn't been far behind the women, walked to the sink. There, he picked up an almost empty prescription bottle of pills."

"Can I help you, Mr. Monk?" asked Marie, noticing her prescription bottle in his hand.

"Have you been taking these for long?" he asked in return.

"Oh, that," she said, turning away to lift her son onto his own stool. "That's a pain reliever. It was prescribed to me when I broke my foot."

"And you take it regularly?"

"I don't need them anymore. I don't know why I still have the bottle up there."

Monk set the bottle back on the counter and turned to face Marie. "Do you or your husband take a benzodiazepine, like Xanax or something similar?"

She left the children to walk towards the row of cabinets across the kitchen. "No, neither of us really take much of anything other than vitamin supplements. That prescription you were looking at is the first one I've had in years."

"We won't take any more of your time, Mrs. Sanders," said Stottlemeyer, as he and Washington came in from the living room. We'll be in touch if we have any more questions."

Marie looked his way after retrieving a jar of peanut butter from the cabinet. "Just please catch who did this, captain. Even if my husband was having an affair, I still loved him. I…I just don't know what we'll do…."

She began to cry and Natalie bent to hug her. Once she was feeling in control again, Marie took a deep breath and stepped away. "Thank you for everything."

Natalie put her hand on her shoulder. "It will get better, a little bit every day. I promise."

That evening, Adrian could tell Natalie wasn't feeling well, so he set her up with pillows and blankets on the couch, along with a choice of her favorite movies to watch. He made a light supper of chicken noodle soup and put Sophia to bed. Once the last dish was washed, and the kitchen had been thoroughly sanitized, he joined Natalie, inviting her to lay her head on his lap. He ran his fingers through her hair while she finished her movie. When it was over, Adrian started to get up and change the DVD so she could watch another, but she reached for the remote and turned off the TV instead.

"Are you ready for bed?" he asked.

"Not yet."

"How are you feeling? Headache gone?"

"Better. The soup was very good." She sat up and laid her head against his shoulder. He wrapped his arm around her and kissed her forehead. She snuggled closer and allowed herself to absorb the comfort of his touch.

After some moments of quiet, Adrian heard a sniffle. "Are you sure you're okay, sweetheart? You have been getting a lot of headaches lately."

"It's just the pregnancy," she said with a wave of her hand. "I got them all the time with Julie too."

After a minute, Adrian heard another sniffle. "Natalie?" He turned her head so he could look at her, and when he did, he saw the tears in her eyes. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I know today wasn't easy for you."

She pulled away and crossed her arms. "No, it wasn't and not just because I'm hormonal."

Adrian blushed as he looked at the floor. "I'm sorry about that."

"It brought back a lot of memories, not good ones."

"Mitch?"

Natalie turned her head. "Yes."

He put his arm around her. "Do you remember a few weeks ago after Molly's engagement, I was remembering Trudy?"

She nodded.

"When I asked you if it bothered you, what did you say?"

"I said I understood."

"I understand why you are thinking about Mitch today. It's only natural that you would. Now, I'm here to listen if you want to talk, but I'll leave you alone if you want me to."

"Don't leave me!" The tears began to spill out of Natalie's green eyes, slow at first, but then the dam broke. Adrian pulled her into his lap and allowed her to cry into his chest. He stiffened at the feeling of his shirt being wetted through, but he resisted the desire to push her away. He knew she needed him. He wouldn't allow the compulsion to take control, not this time. When she could cry no more, he pulled a clean handkerchief out of his trouser pocket and dried her cheeks.

"Will it ever not hurt anymore?" Natalie asked, sniffling. "Will there ever be a time when I can remember his death and not cry?"

"Maybe," said Adrian, wiping the last of her tears, "but then what?"

"Then maybe I can be over it."

"Dr. Kroger once told me that you can move on from a loss, but you will never be over it, and that's okay. In fact, grief is a healthy thing. It reminds us that the relationship we had with the person we are missing was valuable and important. Mitch was important to you, so it's only right you remember him and grieve when you need to."

She laid her head back on his shoulder. "How did you get to be so wise?"

"Oh sweetheart," he said, stroking her cheek. "You were so busy taking care of Julie, you never took care of yourself. I was just lucky enough to have a very good doctor. I don't know how I would have gotten through those first few years without him."

"Do you still miss him?"

"I do. Don't get me wrong. Dr. Bell is great, but Dr. Kroger got me through some really tough times." He paused. "I couldn't always say this, but it is good to remember those who have passed on."

She lifted her head and looked into his dark eyes. "Thank you for understanding, my love. I suppose the grief will always be there to some degree, but with you, I have a whole new life to live and look forward to."

"So many good things to come," he said as she snuggled into the crook of his neck, "so many good things."