"Okay, I'm lookin'," Hanson said. "What am I lookin' at?"

"The girl right there," Jo said, pointing to her on the TV screen where they were viewing a surveillance tape of Scanlon's murder in one of the conference rooms. "She's facing the street and must have had a clear view of the shooter when he rolled up. Wish she had been there when we first arrived on the scene. I'll bet she saw something that could help us."

Hanson popped the VHS tape out of the TV. "You're probably right. I'll hand this back to the Techies so they can run her through FRS."

vvvv

Det. Mike Hanson handed the VHS tape to the Techie named Lacey. She was their trusted go-to in the Tech Lab. But she never got the chance to once again prove her mettle because the young woman in question walked into the precinct right at that same moment.

"Hey, Mike," fellow detective, Deacon Barr, called to get his attention from the middle of the bullpen. Hands shoved down into his pants pockets, he turned around to acknowledge Barr. "This young lady says she has some information on a case you and Martinez are tracking."

Standing next to Barr was a young woman, who appeared to be the autograph seeker Jo had pointed out on the tape. Hanson slowly took his hands out of his pockets and stared at her. Lacey, seeing his reaction, asked if he still wanted her to do the run. "Uh, yeah, yeah," he told her. "Let's see what comes up." He walked over and introduced himself to the young woman. He could tell that she'd been crying and from the dark circles under her eyes, she had been robbed of sleep.

"Have a seat," he told her, motioning to his desk and the chair beside it. The young woman sat down in the chair and he walked over to the coffee pot behind Barr's desk. He soon returned to her and placed a paper cupful of coffee with a wooden stirrer in it along with two sugar packets and one creamer packet on his desk beside her. He figured if she didn't use it, he would later. She managed a smile of thanks and ignoring the packets, took the cup and sipped from it. He sat down in his chair, grabbed a pencil from the pencil holder, and pulled a legal pad close to him. "Now," he said. "I'm Det. Mike Hanson. And you are ... ?"

"Zoe," she replied.

"Got a last name to go with that?" he asked, tilting his head to the side.

"Um, sorry. Tulane. Zoe Tulane."

He pulled a file over to him and placed it on top of the legal pad and opened it. "Okay," he began, "what information did you want to share about, I assume, the Scanlon case?" He poised the pencil over the pad, ready to write down what she said.

"I saw him shoot that man," she said, a haunted look in her eyes. "He shot him and then, he just drove away," she said, chuckling nervously and flopping a hand up then down. "Never saw anyone get killed before. I mean, in the movies, on the news, and stuff but ... right in front of me?" She shuddered again, frowning in disgust.

"And you're sure it was a man?" She nodded and mentioned that even though he had a long ponytail, she was sure. "Would you recognize the shooter if you saw him again?" he asked. It was hard enough getting information out of a witness. They were usually very traumatized by what they'd seen.

"Sure," she said. "He was looking right at me. No expression on his face. Didn't know that anyone could look so ... so uncaring about ending someone else's life. Old guy, too!" she added, indignant.

"You've been a big help," he told her. "We'll notify you once we round up some suspects for the line up." Then he thought to ask her if she'd noticed what kind of car the shooter had been driving.

"A black Ford Explorer. Could have been a Sport. My brother has one but doesn't drive it anymore. You guys keep pulling him over and ticketing him because there are no license plates on it. They were stolen last month when it was parked at the airport."

No license plates, he mulled. "Uh, for the record, what's your brother's name?"

"Harrison," Zoe replied. "Harrison Arthur Ford," she said with squared shoulders and jutted jaw, then relaxed into a mirthful chuckle. "He's actually my half-brother. Mom was so into that actor that she thought if she named him after him, he would grow up to be somebody important, too."

He had to know. "Did it work?"

She chuckled louder. "He works at one of those big box stores. In shipping and receiving. I guess it's important that he takes large items to customers' cars for them," she wryly noted. "Important to them."

He nodded and tore the page off of the pad, turned it around and handed her the pencil. "Write down anything else you can think of and, uh, where your brother works. We might wanna talk to him, too." He then picked up the receiver on his desk phone and speed-dialed Jo's cell phone. He filled her in and she told him that she was on her way back up from the morgue. He ended the call and walked over to pour himself a big cup of coffee.

vvvv

Jo had reviewed both Hanson's and Zoe's handwritten notes that possibly implicated Frank Heffington as the murderer of Durwood Scanlon. She shared with him about the long, white hairs found on both Delbert's clothing and on Abe's hospital bed covers after Frank had visited him. They were now on their way to question and possibly arrest Frank at his home in a residential, working-class, low-to-middle income area not far from St. Johns University. Once there, they parked in front of the home and couldn't help noticing the for sale sign posted in the middle of the front lawn.

"The guy was workin' security for Maureen all those years," Hanson said just before they rolled up to Frank's home.

"Abe did say that he's been demoted to being more like a gopher. Big drop in pay," Jo said.

"Ouch! Nice home to have to lose if that's the reason," Hanson remarked as he parked and glanced over the home and neighborhood.

"Possibly adds to motive?" Jo speculated.

They exited the car and once at the door, knocked and loudly announced themselves. "Frank? This is Det. Martinez, NYPD." After a pause and second loud announcement, they drew their weapons. "We are coming in, Frank!" Jo called loudly. "You smell smoke?" she rhetorically asked her partner, who quickly responded "Yeah!" before he kicked in the door. Once inside, they stealthily made their way past the small entry way. Jo took the downstairs area and Hanson took the stairs to the second level to clear it. "Clear" rang out from upstairs and Hanson ran down the stairs to rejoin his partner. It worried him that he hadn't heard her yell out her own "Clear!"

He found her in the kitchen with her gun pointed at Frank, who stood with one hand on the back door as if poised to run out of it. He raised his gun in support of her and slowly moved up alongside of her. "Hands where I can see them!" Jo ordered him. Frank hesitated as if still deciding to sprint out of the house. "Hands where I can see them!" she repeated.

Finally, Frank released the door knob and straightened up with both hands in the air. Hanson quickly moved in on him and cuffed him. He turned him around and led him out of the house amidst Jo reading his rights to him while he slowly shook his head and repeated to them that they were making a big mistake. Hanson nodded in supposed agreement and began to warn him.

"Sure, sure. Listen to your rights being read to ya. Maybe wanna take advantage of that 'right to remain silent' one," he wryly advised him.

vvvv

"Number 1, step forward," a uni, in a corner of the lineup room out of view of the one-way mirror, instructed him. One by one, each man was called to step forward, hold their arm straight out and grip an imaginery handgun, then stand facing right, then step back in line.

The suspect, Frank Heffington, was the fourth of five men standing side-by-side. The other four were "fillers" or "foils" - people of similar height, build, and complexion who were probably prisoners, actors, police officers, or volunteers. The wall behind each of the five men in the lineup included markings to aid identifying their heights. The room on the other side of the one-way mirror allowed the witness, Zoe Tulane, to remain anonymous.

For evidence from a lineup to be admissible in court, the lineup itself must be conducted fairly. Both Jo and Hanson knew that they could not say or do anything that might persuade the witness to identify the suspect that they preferred. This included loading the lineup with people who looked very dissimilar to the suspect, Frank.

Zoe shook her head, frowning at the first three men, then her demeanor changed when Frank stepped forward. He stared straight ahead as if seeing her but, of course, he couldn't. She stepped back from the viewing window and said, "That's him." When Hanson asked if she was sure, she nodded quickly, closing her eyes, and said, "Yes. I'm sure."

The uni in the viewing room contacted the one inside the lineup room via two-way radio clipped to the left side of their uniforms and instructed him to dismiss the other four men. After they left, a very worried-looking Frank was led out of the lineup room and taken to an Interview Room.

vvvv

Shortly after Henry and Jo had left, Abe was finishing up his tasty breakfast and received another visitor in his hospital room. A woman very special to him - with flaming red hair.

"Fawn!" Abe greeted her with a broad smile. "You got my message."

"Yes," she replied. "What on earth happened to you?" she asked as she moved closer to him and planted a kiss on his forehead in the same spot that Jo had. She was definitely a keeper, too, he thought.

"Some ... idiot took a shot at me," he told her, lightly touching his right hand to the bandage on his forehead. "They were either a lousy shot or my noggin is harder than I thought it was," he wisecracked.

"Abe, this is nothing to joke about," she told him. "You could have been killed!"

"Well, I wasn't, okay? And looks like I'll be going home tomorrow or the day after," he told her in an effort to quell her anxiety.

"All that your roommate, Henry, told me was that you had had an accident and had been taken to St. Vincent's," she said. "I wish he'd been more specific."

"Hey, don't blame him," Abe told her. "He said just what I told him to say. I'll be fine," he assured her.

"Abraham Morgan, the next time you get hurt, don't hide the truth from me," she educated him.

"Even if it's just a hang nail?" he deadpanned.

"You know what I mean," she admonished him. She pulled up a chair and sat down with her arms crossed over her chest. "Now. Tell me exactly what happened to you." He saw no way to get out of it so he proceeded to tell her about the events of the previous evening that had caused him to wind up in the hospital with his head wound.

"My Lord, Abe," she whispered and grabbed his hand, rubbing it. "I'm so glad you weren't hurt any worse than you were. But why would someone want to take a shot at you?"

"Ehhh, Henry and the police think there might be a connection to the murder of a guy named Durwood Scanlon," he replied.

"Oh, I heard about that in the news," she said. "Poor man. He was romantically linked to Maureen Delacroix, your ex-wife, right?"

"Yeah, that's what I hear," he replied. "You know, when she first called me, I thought for a while that ... "

"That she had shot him like she had once shot you?" Fawn finished for him.

He twisted his mouth over to the side and nodded. "Thought that she might go down, you know, like ... like someone else I'd heard about." Fawn nodded, understanding that the 'someone else' he referred to was Nora, his father's first wife.

"Just ... felt so sorry for her. Still do, as a matter of fact," he added. "Now, she's alone again. And even though she and I had two marriages," he paused to squeeze her hand. "She never made me feel the way that you do and we're not even married yet. Oh, it was exciting with her and she does have a big, loving heart but ... life doesn't have to be sounded out at decibel levels. You miss so much along the way and you wind up trampling the roses instead of smelling them." He squeezed her hand again and breathed deeply in and out. "Got kinda tired of not smelling the roses."

Fawn stood up and kissed him on the lips and then on the forehead again. She sat back down and they smiled at each other while they held each other's hand tightly. While they did that, Abe's next visitor stood just inside the doorway hidden from them by the curtain surrounding his bed. The visitor couldn't take a step further when she'd heard their conversation. At first enthusiastic and looking very much forward to seeing her old flame - husband #2 and #3 - she'd shifted the large bouquet of red roses and heart-shaped box of chocolates from one arm to the other and smoothed a hand down her white sleeveless dress with a wide blue sash. Red, white, and blue. Those were the colors she'd wanted to present to him. It had been nearly a year since they'd last seen each other but she had been sure that he would be just as excited to see her as she was to see him. But hearing him speak to another woman this way about her ... about pitying her ... had taken the wind out of her sails. The love in his voice and in the voice of his female visitor was unmistakable. It was the same way that they used to speak to each other. At least, that's what she liked to think. She'd never heard him say such heartfelt, philosophical words before, though. Words that spelled a death knell for any new relationship with him.

Maureen quietly turned around and left Abe's hospital room. She walked up to the nurse's station displaying her best brave smile and laid the gifts on the counter, making sure to pluck the personalized card from the roses. "A small thanks for you and your dedicated staff," she perkily said to the surprised and grateful Head Nurse. She then walked into an already open elevator. As the doors were closing, she realized that a chapter in her life was also closing - on the love of her life. The one who'd gotten away. Twice.

vvvv

Back at the 11th Precinct ...

Frank Heffington sat in the Interview Room with his hands cuffed and chained to the other side of the table. Jo sat across from him with an open file folder in front of her. Hanson sat next to her and stared intently at their suspect, who gazed in dismayed disbelief at his cuffs. Reece stood and watched on the other side of the one-way mirror, her hands clasped behind her back. Henry, taking a break from his lab coat and scalpel, stood next to her with his hands clasped in front of him.

"You've been very quiet, Doctor," Reece said, not taking her eyes off of the suspect and her two detectives. "Do you believe his proclamation of innocence?"

Henry heaved a breath in and out before replying. "Granted, our evidence is circumstantial, as he says. The handgun registered to him was actually reported stolen prior to being used to kill both Scanlon and Delbert."

"Delbert's fingerprints were found on the weapon," Reece quietly reminded him. "Not our suspect's."

Henry nodded and continued in his train of thought. "The hairs, likewise, are circumstantial since, on average, humans shed approximately 100 head hairs per day. And he knew and worked with Delbert in Maureen's employ. It would not be unusual to find his hairs on Delbert's clothing or on Abe's bed covers like we did." He paused, frowning.

"I hear a 'but'," Reece said with a slight smile.

Henry smiled softly and looked down at his feet then back up. "He still had both opportunity and motive. Putting aside the murders of both Scanlon and Delbert, Abe was shot with a totally different weapon by someone with less than stellar sharpshooter skills." He looked at Reece and continued. "When Abraham introduced us to him, he excitedly called Heffington a crack shot. What had thrown his aim off when it came to Abe?"

"Look at him," Reece replied, unclasping her hands to motion toward him and then reclasp them. "He's in his 60s. Eyesight beginning to suffer, grip beginning to weaken. Speaking of which, have you and Jo had a chance to search the apartment in that abandoned building across from your rooftop terrace yet?"

Henry pondered briefly why Reece had omitted Hanson from their would-be search team. He cleared his throat when she looked at him with an arched eyebrow. "Ah, no, not yet. The three of us," he said, dipping his head toward Jo and Hanson, "are waiting for a go-ahead call from the city's Building Inspector."

They both unclasped their hands when their attention was riveted back to what was happening on the other side of the glass. An agitated Frank attempted to stand up but his cuffs prevented him from doing so. Hanson quickly left his seat and walked around the table, pushing Frank back down into his seat by the shoulder.

"Sit back down!" Hanson ordered Frank as he pushed him down. He sat back down and leaned forward on his elbows.

"You can't make me for this!" he hissed at them. "All your evidence is flimsy, to say the least. And I reported that handgun missing more than two weeks before either of jerks were killed."

"Well, you were picked out of a lineup by an eyewitness to Scanlon's murder," Jo said.

"She's a lyin' freak!" Frank yelled.

"How'd you know the witness is a 'she'?" Jo asked, a sly smile playing at her lips.

Frank's mouth opened and closed a couple of times before looking imploringly at Hanson. "Well ... you - " Hanson slowly shook his head while silently mouthing 'No'. Frank then clamped his mouth shut and sat back hard in his chair. "I want my lawyer."

"First smart thing you've said today," Jo said. She closed the file and stood up along with Hanson, who instructed the uni on the other side of the door to take Frank down to Holding.

Notes:

Information on police lineup procedures found at

wiki/Police_lineup

Information on hair shedding found at

.