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I hear an almost frantic knocking on my door.

I go to answer, and I see Elliot disheveled, much worse than how I saw him last time.

He starts, "Liv, I hope this isn't a bad time. I need to talk to someone. I need to talk to you."

I reply, "Noah is sleeping over at a friend's house. I guess it's only fair since I've showed up at your place. Come inside, El."

He was distracted, lost in thought, and tense standing in my doorway. But I seem to get his attention when I surprise us both by using my old nickname for him. He walks into my apartment.

"Tell me. What happened?"

"Liv, I found her…"

"Her? Who did you find Elliot?"

"Kathy's killer."

I'm shocked and pleased for him, "Who? What? How did you …"

I stumble over my words because I have so may questions.

He understands somehow, "Liv, I can't tell you all the details about the investigation. But it was Angela Wheatley."

I recognize the name from the little he has told me, "Richard Wheatley's ex-wife? Why would she kill Kathy?"

"That's what I asked her when I interviewed her when we brought her in."

"Well…" I urge him on impatient for his answer.

"She told me I knew why. I thought it over, my investigation in Rome along with the task force in New York, it was all leading back to Rafiq's operation, Rafi the poet on the streets. I even found my I.D. at his place. He was Angela Wheatley's son."

"Was?"

"Yeah, he was taken out months ago."

"Liv, it's my fault Kathy's gone. Angela said hell hath no fury like a grieving mother. She said that she wanted me to suffer like she suffered. She didn't go after me, that's a man's way. She's a woman, she wanted me to live. She wanted to take away someone dear to me. So, she put out the hit on Kathy."

Elliot scoffs and continues, "She said that she forgives me because we are 'even' now. She wants me to forgive her. She didn't know she would grow to like me."

I touch his hand trying to comfort him.

He muses, "I can't believe I ever kissed that woman. You got any bleach I can wash my mouth out with here?"

I move my hand away from his. Out of everything he just dumped on me, one tidbit sticks out the most. Confusing me, making me feel other things I'm better off not naming.

"You… you kissed Angela Wheatley?"

Maybe it's my eyes that betray the inexplicable sting of hurt I feel or that stupid connection of ours we somehow still seem to have that doesn't need words.

It dawns on him… maybe he said something he didn't mean to as he looks at me.

"Liv…" he says my name softly.

I can only think to ask one thing, "Why her?"

It takes a second for him to formulate his thoughts into words. But he answers earnestly, simply, almost as a matter of fact…

"Because I don't love her."