Hey, thanks for coming back. Thanks to Lily, for reminding me that while I might be British -Mac and Stella certainly aren't. Please review if you enjoyed it, and you are welcome to follow/favourite to stay up to date. If you want to that is ;) Enjoy.

Chapter Eight

He had always taken his wife, Claire's opinion seriously. Decisions as tedious as what tie he should wear to work on that day, or on matters closer to his heart, such as whether or not they should try for children now or wait another year until they had settled better into New York – she was given his equal and undivided attention. Like himself, she looked over most situations with an air of objectivity, but perhaps where they differed was her tendency to insist he considered how he felt in his heart about the decision he was going to make. Whether that was a clothing decision or a life decision – you can't ignore your heart.

Back in 1995, a transfer from the Narcotics Unit became the subject of a decision he couldn't make alone. A Stella Bonasera, he would come to know as his best friend. She was tough, incredibly hardworking and graduated at the top of her class at university and the police academy – he had noted from the file he had been given, impressed. The first time he met her, however, a side of the woman (now his partner) came to light that he hadn't known.

She was a complete pain in the ass.

She was smug. She was sarcastic. She was aggressive in the way she carried out her work.

And he couldn't stand her.

When he'd finally finished ranting to Claire over dinner, she smiled and leaned back in her seat, "Invite her over for dinner." To which she had earned an eye roll nearly as famous as his wife's smile. But he had done it, and the following evening, his new partner had arrived at his door offering out a bottle of wine nervously to the woman standing at his side.

But it was that night, he saw a side of his partner he hadn't managed to catch a glimpse of at work. She was beautiful. Not the same type of beautiful as Claire, he had to add; but she was beautiful. The way her golden curls swayed with the turn of her head, or the way her lips parted when she threw her head back in laughter. She held her wine glass in slim fingers, swirling it when a silence fell over the room or when she was listening intently to conversation. She was far from simple to understand, but elegant and kind, and a part of him had struggled to believe this was the same woman who had wielded a glock day-in, day-out. He struggled to believe that Claire had been able to spot, quicker than he, all the wonderful things his partner had to offer him.

"She's insecure, alright," she had nodded. "But fiercely loyal, and well… fierce."

He had laughed it off then, but over the 10 years of their partnership, he had become aware just how fierce Stella Bonasera could be. Sometimes he loved it, but that was seldom when he was on the receiving end of it. They had engaged in enough arguments over the years for him to know when another was brewing.

But, if he was totally honest with himself, he couldn't have seen two fights occurring in one day. That, was unusual.

A part of him expected this after finding out Jennifer had been murdered. She loved the young woman like she was a sister, and in return, she was given the girl's unconditional admiration, and pride, as well as her enthusiasm and passion for justice. He knew she would miss her, would be driven to solve her murder.

Another part of him had feared she might go to that same place he had went after Claire died. That place where it seemed to him as though the only way to get through your pain was to ignore it until it finally suffocated you, and pulled you further into that place you had been avoiding in the first place. It had been a tough year, and it was anyone's guess how she had lasted this long. But Stella was stronger than that. If anyone could keep her head above surface, Stella could.

So then why the arguments? Why was she shutting him out? Why was he shutting her out?

Groaning, he slid himself away from the desk and forced himself over to the whiteboard where multiple questions taunted him, unanswered. Why would anyone want to kill Jennifer Highsmith; human rights advocate, political activist, student, friend? Who would want to kill Jennifer Highsmith? Who would have the means to kill Jennifer Highsmith? Hopefully Stella's investigation of the young girl's laptop would bring something to light in the investigation, otherwise his bosses would be on a manhunt for his badge. But what was he expecting to find on her laptop? Emails? Coursework? It was unlikely it would wield any results, but he knew it was worth a shot.

Checking his watch, he saw that he had once more managed to work through the night. 8am, he should have been for a jog already – more importantly, he was long overdue a cup of coffee. His eyes were beginning to weigh heavily, and he admitted reluctantly to himself that it was time for some much-needed sleep. With this case, however, he knew that it would be more convenient for the time being to rely more heavily on caffeine than on the hope of getting home for some rest. The closest thing he could afford were power-naps on the sofa in his office, which even then, was becoming difficult to slot in to his schedule.

He could almost hear Stella nag, "Sleep comes first, Mac."

And he knew that she was right, but right now, he didn't have the luxury of time on his hands – or as he threw in her face yesterday, the luxury of the prospect of job promotions.

A knock on his door brought his attention away from his thoughts, and into the strained face of Don Flack. Handing the older man a file, he paused a moment before explaining, "The students Stella and I took for further questioning yesterday. Some of those students, Mac… they're right pieces of work."

"I'll have a look," he sighed. "Thanks, Don."

"Yeah, don't sweat it. I'm gonna go see Stel, see if I can't get her to eat something before the day's in full swing."

Mac sighed once more. He had tried that already, and she had thrown it away. He almost felt like telling him not to waste his time on trying to help her before he gave himself a mental slap. Stella didn't deserve that one and he knew it. Instead, he nodded with the request that he let him know how he got on. After all, he would have to fulfil his duties as a friend to Stella if this continued. He couldn't let her reach that place.

-/-

Reaching behind his glasses in the hope of refreshing himself for the day ahead, Danny rubbed his eyes and followed many anonymous figures on the surveillance tapes with frustration. Mac could empathise with the younger man, as only yesterday, he had sat in that exact chair with the same tired eyes and growing frustration. Leaning back in the chair, releasing a tired sigh, he caught sight of Mac watching him at the door with a start.

"Jesus, Mac! What's up?"

"Have you been home yet?"

"Have you or Stella?" he retorted. Catching Mac's now embarrassed expression, he added, "That's what I thought."

"Stella and I are your bosses, Danny. We're supposed to pull all-nighters," he explained. "You, however, are not and as such, I am asking you to go get freshened up, at least."

Standing up, Mac could see the younger man had been relieved of the order from his boss, but knew better than to ask for it.

"I owe you one, Mac," Danny smiled as he left the room. Knowing he was being hypocritical, he decided he too would have to go home for a change of clothes at some point. However, he sat himself down on the recently vacated chair to glance over the footage for the second time, starting at 1 am. He didn't know what he had expected to find, but as he felt somewhat more refreshed than he had yesterday, he thought a fresh pair of eyes might finally reap results. Usually he would have asked Stella to be his fresh pair of eyes over a piece of evidence, but alas – he would have to make do with his own. Besides, given the state of their partnership at the moment and the fact she was now having to analyse Jennifer's computer on top of everything else, he didn't feel like he wanted to trouble her with this. Although, she would probably kill him if she heard him say that aloud.

When 0130 hours displayed on the computer, a blonde woman on a small frame entered the building and spoke to the security guard before being granted access. Slightly tipsy, but nevertheless, carrying an air of arrogance, Mac felt slight familiarity towards the young woman. Where had he seen her before?

Then it hit him.

Opening one of the files Don had given him and reading Stella's notes only cemented what he was thinking. Finally, a motive.

Pulling out his phone, he dialled a number that he could faintly remember from memory. On the second ring, the woman picked up.

"Angell, it's Mac."

"What's up?"

Glancing down onto the screen, he felt a small sense of victory wash over him, "I'm going to follow a lead, can I pick you up on the way?"

"On the Highsmith case? I'll see you in ten minutes."

-/-

Knocking on the door of the 3-storey townhouse, Angell announced their presence and stood back to join Mac. Opening the door only moments later, the two detectives were met by the same blonde, with kind green eyes as Stella had written off in her notes as "Jealous, spoiled and extremely petty". Not exactly her most professional move, Jessica had noted with a smirk as she had flipped through the young girl's file on the journey over. Mac hadn't laughed when he seen his partner's assessment of the young woman, whose opinion she had probably based solely on hearsay from Jennifer. It was so unlike Stella.

"Andrea Alex?" he asked, taking a step closer. When she nodded, he added, "Can we come in, please?"

Opening the door, she allowed the detectives full entry into her home. Far from modest, he took a moment to admire her home. Victorian in design and bearing resemblance to his childhood home in Chicago, he might have expressed his admiration for it had he not been in the home of a potential suspect of a homicide investigation.

The detectives followed her through the hallway into a library, where each wall was lovingly adorned with books ranging from the history of fingerprinting, to various crime fiction novels. Andrea was more than passionate about forensics; it was her life.

When Mac was studying for his degree, he took advantage of the 50-book limit of the college library. On the desk of his less than spacious dorm, at least 50 books were piled on various spots, constantly rotating. Like Mac once had, Andrea had stacks of notebooks and papers on the floor and a mug of freshly made black coffee to hand.

Then he realised that Stella had misread Andrea's jealousy for something completely different. Yes, Andrea was certainly more privileged than Jennifer, but Jennifer was by no means denied anything in her life. It seemed that Stella simply couldn't tolerate rich children, particularly teenagers, and her bias of Jennifer automatically raised her suspicions of the girl. Andrea worked extremely hard in a subject she was extremely passionate about, and no matter how hard she tried, Jennifer always came out on top. He understood that now. He understood how her parents would have constantly been at her throat to do better than before. And that was the reality of being "spoiled", as Stella had so branded her.

But there was still the unanswered question of what she was doing at her apartment so early in the morning. He agreed with his partner in that she probably hadn't killed Jennifer, but something in his notes caused an internal conflict that he couldn't quite shake;

"Am I sorry she's dead? Not particularly… she was a stuck-up bitch."

"Sorry for interrupting you, Miss Alex," Jessica apologised breaking him from his thoughts. "I know that Detectives Bonasera and Flack have both already spoken to you regarding the case. But we need to ask you a few further questions."

She nodded, "Anything."

"When Detective Bonasera questioned you yesterday, you told her that the last time you seen Jennifer Highsmith was Friday during your lectures. Correct?"

"Yes, a pathologist from Jersey came to do an introductory lecture on the role of pathology in criminal convictions," she spoke enthusiastically. "Jennifer was sat in the front row, and spoke to her afterwards."

Mac handed her a file, "So this isn't you?"

Opening the file, she sighed, "Yeah, okay. I lied; it's not exactly a secret that we don't get on. I didn't care much for her, but I didn't and couldn't kill her. You've got to believe me."

With a glance at Angell, he sighed, "Why were you there? Tell us the truth and we can eliminate you as a suspect."

She sat on the chair closest to the door, "That Friday, we got feedback from group projects back from the Professor. She had this great idea that pairing Jennifer and I together might make us appreciate the finer qualities in one another. It was on a case where the forensics played an important role, we split the project and handed it in at the start of last week."

"Okay," Angell replied. "So that still doesn't explain why you were in her apartment building on Sunday morning."

"We failed the group project on Friday on account of her half of the project. I went out with some friends on Saturday, for drinks," she said shakily. "I mean, we were going to have to make those points up elsewhere, otherwise we were risking our places next year. So I was pretty wasted, and decided to confront her about it. I mean, why should I fail my degree because she couldn't pull her weight?"

While Angell nodded, Mac noted how contrasting this view of Jennifer was to that of the adults in her life. James and Veronica did nothing but sing her praises. Stella saw parts of herself in Jennifer; hard-working, stubborn, determined. But Andrea saw the opposite, and not knowing the girl well enough, he didn't know who to believe.

"So, what went down?" he urged.

"Well, I went over there and asked her what the hell happened. But she didn't care; she said she had more important things to deal with before she worried about some stupid group project."

She shifted in her chair, before glancing down at her hands, "I told her she better come up with some way to make up the credits, and she said we could worry about it after exams. I- I grabbed her and she shoved me, and we fought. But I didn't kill her, I really couldn't have."

"Is that why you told Detective Bonasera you weren't sorry she had died?" he asked, more gently than she had probably deserved in that moment. But he truly believed she regretted her spiteful attitude towards her classmate. If saying things in the heat of the moment was a crime, he would surely be guilty. After all, he said a lot of things to Stella in the heat of an argument only yesterday that he more than regretted.

"Yeah. I left her apartment around 5 to 2, I think, and went home. My parents could confirm that – I mean they're at work, but I'm sure they'd be happy to take your call."

"I'll take their numbers, if you don't mind," Jessica sighed. "Can we test you for GSR before we go, please?"

And with her parents' cell phone numbers and a negative GSR result, Mac and Jessica returned to the car, back at square one. Sitting in the passenger seat, Jessica tuned into her police radio, while Mac started the engine. He was about to pull away when a familiar voice over the radio caught his attention.

"Please… I need a bus on Broadway and West 95th. Officer down. I repeat, Officer down!"