Detective Bill McCoy was in a deep sleep when his work mobile disturbed him. As he was on call hearing it ring wasn't unexpected, just unpleasant. With a grunt of displeasure, he fumbled to grasp the phone from his night stand and answer it.

"Detective McCoy," he murmured as he prepared to hear of a grim homicide.

"Bill," Frank Tripp's voice greeted, " it's Sergeant Tripp, can you come to the door please, I'm outside with Lieutenant Stetler and Lieutenant Caine."

"What?!" Bill snapped in confusion. He sat upright and rubbed at his thick crop of wavy, chestnut brown hair. "Why?"

"Please, just come to the door," Frank urged.

Bill frowned but he didn't argue, whatever the hell was going on he knew he'd rather get it over and done with.

"Okay."

Bill hung up the phone and swung his legs over the bed. He yawned and looked to the digital green numbers on his clock indicating the time, it was almost one in the morning. He had only been asleep for about an hour and a half. The deep sleeps were the worst, what most people craved at night Bill loathed, he found that heavy state of unconsciousness akin to drowning and when the alarm woke him it was a struggle to rouse himself and shrug off the heavy clutches of fatigue. Sometimes Bill actually appreciated the alarm, viewing it as his lifeline in the ocean of sleep, he knew it was disturbing that he had some irrational fear of death in his sleep but it was something he couldn't shake.

Bill hastened for the suit he had sitting ready and waiting on his chair in case he got a call. Choosing speed over pride, he didn't bother with the tie or jacket, settling for tugging on the freshly ironed white shirt and light grey trousers before shoving his bare feet into the polished black shoes, forgetting socks in his confused fatigue.

Bill grabbed his keys from the night stand and headed for the corridor, flipping down the switch to activate the spotlights in the ceiling of the hall. He considered his activities at work of late but nothing jumped out at him as suspicious or wrong. He had a few open cases on his desk but no more than the norm and he was unaware of any complaints against him. So why in the hell were two lieutenants and a sergeant at his door at this hour? Worse, why did one have to be Shitstain Stetler? He grimaced considering that Stetler was a Lieutenant in Homicide now, which meant his presence here tonight could not bode well.

Bill reached the front door, tugged off the chain and slid the key into the lock. He opened it to the three men clustered on his doorstep with perfectly neutral expressions. Bill read their purposely blank gazes and knew why they had come, it was a stare and stance he had mastered for many a doorstep, calm before the sympathy was wedged up, always sincere but often forced because if you tapped into that emotion too often it overrode you and then you couldn't focus properly on the case.

"Who's dead?" Bill queried bluntly as he stared at them.

Lieutenant Stetler stood in the centre of the three, the tallest of them and wearing a black suit he was like a modern portent of doom.

"Detective McCoy, we apologise for the late call," Rick remarked in a rigid calm, "but we have bad news. Your brother Officer Quentin McCoy has been murdered."

"How?" The question was automatic, out before the shock even hit him.

"He was attacked while attending a homicide call," Rick explained.

Bill's light brown eyes widened as he stumbled back from the door. "How..." He trailed off and shook his head before staring at Rick numbly. "What happened?"

"Let's discuss it inside," Rick retorted bluntly.

Frank gave a slight shake of his head before he could help it. He agreed with the suggestion just not the format, thinking Rick could have asked for an invitation in, it was Bill's house after all.

Bill rubbed at the back of his neck with his left hand, his right still lingering on the edge of the door. "Yeah, okay," he muttered before stepping back.

Bill turned away from them, walking up a dark hall wordlessly. He paused halfway as he wondered momentarily where he should go. He continued on, opening a door and flicking on a light to reveal a small kitchen with a breakfast bar and two stools. Bill stood in the centre of the room, arms folded as he faced the men with a wary expression.

"Okay we're inside, what happened?" Bill demanded as he fixed a hostile gaze on Rick.

"911 received a call, a woman reporting a body in Peacock Park," Rick explained calmly. "Officer McCoy was nearby and he responded. Homicide followed about fifteen minutes after and found Officer McCoy deceased with the woman."

Bill shook his head and his angry hazel eyes darted over to Frank and Horatio. "What the hell do you mean by deceased?"

"We're waiting confirmation from the M.E for cause of death," Rick retorted vaguely.

Frank shook his head again. "Geez Stetler give him something," he grumbled.

Rick bristled at Frank's grumble and frowned. "The woman was potentially strangled and Officer McCoy was...beheaded," Rick concluded awkwardly.

Bill's eyes went wide as he his arms dropped by his sides and he staggered back from the men as if one of them had punched him. He turned his head from Rick to Frank and then to Horatio, searching their faces to spy out the lie or cruel joke.

"What?" he queried hoarsely. He raised his hands up into his scalp and took a tight grip of his hair. "What?" he snapped it louder this time. "What the hell do you mean by that?!" Now it was a roar as he tugged tightly as his messy waves.

Horatio stepped forward to the man, calm as he stood directly before him so that he could look only at Horatio and not be forced to try and pick one of the trio.

"Bill, I am sorry for your loss and I understand this is terrible news to take in but you have to be calm and consider who else is going to have to be told this," Horatio addressed him calmly. "He is in our hands now and we will take good care of him, I promise," he added seriously, "and we will find out who did this."

Bill shook his head before he bowed it into his right hand, squeezing his temples slightly with his fingertips.

"I can't even with this, he was only twenty-seven, not even thirty yet, shit." Bill continued to shake his head. "Barely stopped being a kid."

Bill dropped his hand by his side and looked at Horatio with angry, tear soaked eyes. "What the hell? How does this happen?" His voice broke slightly as grief crept into it.

Horatio looked back at him sympathetically. "We'll find out," he assured.

Rick was quick to deactivate the alarm at his front door before leading the way into his house. It was late. He didn't even know how late, they had spent half an hour at Bill McCoy's house before trusting that he was calm enough to be left alone. Rick headed up the hallway, grateful that Natalia had left the hall light on for him, or more properly them.

Horatio followed behind Rick, here to rouse and retrieve his girlfriend. No it was fiancée now. The thought of the terminology brought a small smile to the redhead's face as he followed after Rick.

They bypassed a set of stairs that led up to the bedrooms and headed through a door on the left into the living room. If Cassandra was on her own, Rick figured she'd be here. The kitchen and dining area were at the back of the house, exposed to a set of patio doors that led outside. They were secured of course but the patio doors that Rick and Cassandra had once been abducted through from Horatio's old beach house had been secure too. The living room had a single window that only opened at the top and even then it was restricted.

The living room was lit in a warm honey glow from a tall lamp standing in the back corner. On the three seater couch Cassandra was sprawled out, unconscious with a blanket half on the floor and half about her. On the two seater was Natalia, awake but tired eyed as she sipped calmly at a cup of coffee.

Natalia turned a small smile up to Rick and then Horatio.

"Hey Nat," Rick greeted quietly, "you didn't need to sit up for us."

"It's the cop in me," Natalia jested softly.

Natalia stood up with her coffee cup in hand and gave Horatio a smile. "Congratulations H, you did really good on the ring, she's thrilled," she praised him quietly.

Horatio gave a small smile in response. "Thank you Natalia."

Natalia glanced over to Rick. "You boys have had a long night so I'll resist the urge to pry until the morning. I'm going to go upstairs," she informed him, her voice still soft so she didn't disturb Cassandra. "I'll see you up there, okay?"

Rick nodded.

Natalia slipped out of the room quietly as Horatio stepped up to Cassandra.

The redhead crouched down beside her and stroked her blonde hair gently as he studied her face. He had learned to read the subtle nuances of Cassandra in sleep mode, the telltale signs of a budding nightmare or a peaceful dream. He saw that her brow was smooth of wrinkles, her knees were drawn but only for spacial reasons and her breaths were regular. Whatever she was dreaming it was pleasant.

"Cassie," Horatio addressed her gently as his hand slipped down to squeeze her shoulder, "wake up honey."

"I usually just pinch Natalia or shake the alarm clock at her," Rick murmured. He was standing with his arms raised to hips, an expression of impatience clear on his face.

"I intend to ask her one day what exactly the attraction to you is," Horatio retorted dryly. He gave Cassandra's shoulder another squeeze.

The blonde's dark eyes fluttered open and she gave a weary groan. "Horatio?" she queried sleepily.

"Yes Cassie."

"Hmm give me five minutes to wake up 'kay," she murmured, "then I'll reward you for my ring, I'll even use my tongue."

"Oh dear God!" Rick exclaimed loudly.

Horatio's ears turned crimson as he pulled back from Cassandra who had bolted to life at Rick's yelling.

"Rick?!" the blonde shrieked as she sat upright and looked about in surprise.

"Yes Cassie you're in my house," he retorted hotly. "You fell asleep on the couch and now I've something new to complain about at therapy."

Cassandra blushed slightly as she pushed back her hair and fumbled for her discarded bag on the floor. "I was still half asleep, sorry. What time is it?"

"Time for me to take you two home," Rick grumbled.

"We can walk," Horatio offered.

"No doubt and after that image I'd prefer it," Rick snapped at him, "but it's dark and late so I'm driving you otherwise Natalia will yell at me."

"Not for safety then?" Cassandra quipped sarcastically as she stood up.

"It's one block over and Horatio has a gun so no," Rick retorted with equal sarcasm to his voice.

"Two good reasons why we should walk Rick," Horatio said gently.

Rick shook his head. "No, Nat will call me a bad brother. Let's just go."

Rick led the way out of the house, pausing to set the alarm code and secure the door before heading for his car.

Horatio and Cassandra sat in the back seat in a cosy embrace and smiling at each other like teenagers whilst Rick scowled at them several times in his rearview mirror. Rick was glad the drive was brief.

Once Rick had left the pair off without trouble and waited dutifully until they were safely in the house, he returned to his own home.

Doors locked and alarms set for the final time of the evening, Rick headed upstairs. He followed his usual regime of checking on the girls first. Their rooms were beside each other, both with an ajar door to let the hall light pool in, and Annabelle's with a night light as well.

It wasn't uncommon for Rick to find at least one of them still awake and troubled in the night, sometimes even both. Marissa and Annabelle had both come from traumatic, violent backgrounds and seen the worst of humanity in a few short years of life. Expecting them to grow out of it or get over it was impossible, all Rick could hope for was that they let it fade a little and developed more happy memories than bad so they could summon them when their worst memories tried to take over.

Rick had never intended on being a family man, he was put off having children by his own experiences as a child in the Garrett House. After losing his potential first born to a miscarriage he had been convinced parenting wasn't on cards for him but now here he was, a shared guardian of his niece, and foster father to a girl he had rescued from criminals.

Rick stopped outside Annabelle's room. So she was the one awake then. He had no doubt if Natalia had found her in this manner she had gone in to soothe her back to sleep but Annabelle had a tendency to wake more than once if something was troubling her.

Rick stepped into the young girl's bedroom to investigate. "Annabelle it's late," he addressed her gently, "what's wrong?"

Annabelle was sitting upright in her bed quivering, her long, blonde hair an uneven mess about her. "I keep seeing bad men in my sleep," she admitted tearfully.

Rick gazed at her sympathetically as he approached her and took a seat on the edge of her bed. "I know bad dreams can be tough, Aunt Cassie is prone to them, but they are just dreams."

"They weren't," she protested.

Rick nodded. "I know that too but those men are gone and you are safe here with me and Natalia and Marissa. None of us will let anything bad happen to you. Now, I was just downstairs, the house is secure."

"Clare checked the doors and windows before they came," Annabelle whimpered.

Rick frowned. He knew who Clare was, the late Clare Hampton who had been minding Annabelle and died for it when two corrupt cops had come to kidnap Annabelle to use as leverage against her father Jason.

"I was very thorough," Rick said sternly before his gaze softened, "but if you want, I can sit here for a while with you, do you want that?"

Annabelle nodded.

"Alright, you lie back down then, who've you got with you tonight?"

Annabelle tugged up a cream coloured teddy bear with a wonky purple bowtie. "Cuddles."

Rick smiled at the bear's name. "Aright, you and Cuddles get cuddled up under the duvet then."

Annabelle obeyed and allowed Rick to fix the duvet cover up around her.

"Did you have a good time tonight?" Rick queried.

"Yes, I liked drawing."

Rick's smile widened as he thought of the picture now folded up in his back trouser pocket, Annabelle's drawing of he and her. "You made a lovely drawing for me."

Annabelle gave a pleased smile at this. "I want to make more."

"You will but now it's time to sleep. Close your eyes, I'll stay here."

Annabelle obeyed.

With Marissa, Rick was required to read fairytales to soothe her back to sleep but with Annabelle he simply had to stay in the room.

In the dark of the night a lost soul was finally laid to rest as a computer, incapable of tiring unlike its human users who had retired hours ago, finally spat out a positive result on a DNA match from a blood sample. The human lab worker who would receive these results in the morning, with much excitement and disbelief would delay them being passed on at first. With scepticism she would argue with a weary IT expert that the infallible computer was wrong.

Forced to wait for a more senior worker to check the results and confirm any bugs, the results would remain as they were until just after ten in the morning. At this point the lab worker would start the chain of human passage, which could often result in the aptly termed 'human error' but in this case would mercifully succeed, of getting these results back to the CSIs who had requested them.

At this point a seemingly ordinary case of murder, if such a terminology could ever applied to something so sinister, which was already destined for hitting front pages because of the family ties of the victim and the brutal slaughter of the second victim, would catapult into a media frenzy as two murders suddenly became three despite the absence of a third body.

Natalia awoke just before five in the morning. It was still dark but she could feel the edges of morning light start to creep slowly across the black sky and dye it blue. She had awoken or already been awake for so many dawns that sensing sunrise without seeing it was instinctive.

For a moment she wondered what had awoken her. When once it might have been fear from a violent husband returned drunk, or the ache in an uneasy slumber caused by a bruise or breakage he had left her with, now it was something else.

In her new home Natalia Boa Vista had three mentally scarred residents to live with. Given she had her own share of personal woes and understood all too well what it was like to live in fear and pain, she had only empathy for her newly acquired family. When the girls had nightmares Rick, who seemed to have a sixth sense for these things, was already out of bed and halfway down the corridor to them before Natalia was even woken by the first whimper or wail. Mercifully, Marissa had almost outgrown her nightly terrors but Annabelle was still unsettled and frightened, always wary of another change or a new danger.

When Rick had a nightmare it was different.

Natalia realised quickly as she felt the disturbed thrashing beside her that it was Rick who had disturbed her peace this time. She sat up and stretched over for the lamp beside the bed.

Rick would never admit it or even hint at it but Natalia knew the presence of the light helped him chase away his subconscious torments. She knew also that this was because most of his nightmares took place in the dark, conjured or twisted memories of a night in the rain getting shot at, or being blindfolded and beaten in a house of horrors, or a moment of childhood spent imprisoned in a light starved closet, bound to a wall yelling himself hoarse.
With the light on and adding a gentle glow to the room, Natalia readied herself to awaken her partner.

Rick was vocal this time. Sometimes there was an uneasy silence with him as he twitched and shook in his sleep, other times he screamed but sometimes he spoke and that was usually worse. His voice was broken, frightened and confused as he yelled at someone.

Natalia avoided a violent jerk of his right arm as she reached over to place her right hand gently onto his shoulder and squeezed it.

"Rick honey, you need to wake up," she addressed him kindly but firmly. "It's a nightmare Rick." She gave the shoulder another squeeze and leaned back swiftly as his dark eyes opened wide and alarmed.

Rick sat upright suddenly, his breaths coming out as frantic pants as a fresh coat of sweat soaked his bare torso.

Natalia sat beside him, calm and patient, knowing he needed a few seconds to reassure himself of his surroundings.

Rick's nightmares were rare but always terrible. His sister Cassandra had always been the one prone to nightly subconscious torments and she was much more animated than him, occasionally getting up to walk about in a manner Natalia would have described as zombie like if Cassandra didn't seem so animated and, at times, fast about it.

Natalia had only witnessed Cassandra's night time wanderings twice and had found it so disturbing she hadn't wanted to experience it again. She admired Rick for dealing with it for so long and always handling it in his usual practical manner and she had a new admiration for her boss Horatio for taking it on, seeing it as just another part of Cassandra. Horatio didn't even regard it as a necessary burden to be with the one he loved, the redhead was too attached to the blonde to be negative about it. When Natalia had asked him how he dealt with it, he had just given her a small smile and said quietly, 'I just do' like it was the easiest thing in the world.

Natalia was not as skilled or tolerant as Rick or Horatio in this manner. Agreeing to live with one child and Rick had been a difficult decision, welcoming another had been even harder and at times Natalia lingered in their bedroom, afraid to help the girls with their fear, afraid of being afraid of their nightmares and afraid of failing them.

Natalia had wondered about motherhood when she had had a pregnancy scare with Eric and when that had proved false she had moved on from the issue and never considered kids for herself. Now here she was thrust into parenthood without having born any children. It was terrifying and yet Rick steered her through it.

Rick's confidence and the rewarding feeling that came with Annabelle getting through her first night without awakening everyone with screams and seeing Marissa present a report card with top marks made it all worthwhile for Natalia. It was unexpected but entirely welcome to find that she embraced the girls coming to her for assistance with school projects and looked forward to a weekend when she could take them shopping for clothes or to the park with Rick.

Since Rick took on the harder duties of parenting two traumatised girls, and he always showed a patience with Natalia having to play catch up to it, she was thus determined that she not shy away when he was the one yelling in the night, no matter how disturbing it might be for her.

Rick flinched when Natalia's left hand slipped up into his dark hair but he did not shake it off. Another harsh breath of air escaped him and he remained tense as she started to stroke his greying crop of deep brown waves.

"Rick what happened?" she queried softly.

Rick glanced at Natalia out of the corner of his eye, guilty for awakening her and embarrassed for showing such vulnerability before her.

No matter how often Natalia told Rick that being vulnerable was to be human he still didn't like to show any weakness before her. Rick was always meant to be the protector, it was something ingrained in him since he had found himself from the age of ten trying to fend an abusive stepfather from his four-year-old sister. Rick considered himself a failure in that regard but Cassandra had an opposing viewpoint, telling Rick and Horatio that she believed the deceased Garrett's abuse of her would have been much, much worse if not for Rick always putting himself in the middle of it.

With his younger half-sibling Gillian, Rick had felt the same protective nature. For a while it had been easier with Gillian, she was Balthasar Garrett's daughter and he had only desired to spoil her. Rick's role as her protective older brother was more stereotyped, fending off amorous would be boyfriends and scolding her for underage drinking and warning her of the dangers of unsupervised parties. Still he felt he had failed. Gillian had gotten pregnant in a one night stand with a man who had eventually murdered her.

Then there was Marissa, Gillian's daughter. Rick couldn't save her from the horrors of hearing her mother and grandparents die and he couldn't spare her from witnessing the violent demise of a social worker. He was determined that she see no more violence and that she lived and grew up happy.

Annabelle was a similar case, daughter of a woman no one knew and a deceased narcotics detective Rick had never known on a personal level. Rick had rescued her from corrupt cops but he had almost been too late, he had saved from death but she had seen it before that. She was the witness to her guardian Clare Hampton's murder and to the vile sexual and violent acts carried out upon women she was held hostage with. She had seen things no child ever should.

Knowing all this, Rick couldn't forgo his role as the protector for even a minute and to him, admitting vulnerability was forgoing that role.

He trusted Natalia completely, she was no wallflower, she was tough, trained to shoot and skilled in self-defence and more than that. After living with an abusive husband, Natalia had determined never to be pushed around again. She could hold her own and often did time and time again and Rick had perfect faith in her ability to protect herself and anyone else in her life but still he couldn't surrender to her and let her be the sole protector for a moment.

"Rick come on," she urged, "you need to talk about it."

He nodded sombrely even as the memory of the nightmare began to fade. He felt the warm sheets beneath him, the damp traces of his own sweat already beginning to evaporate. It banished the terrible cold that had smothered him in the darkness of his dream.

"I was on that wall," he spat out hatefully.

Natalia continued to stroke his hair, running circles through his scalp as she listened. She knew what he meant.

After being kidnapped by his family's murderers, in a sick sense of irony, they had brought Rick and Cassandra back to Garrett House. There they had mounted Rick to the living room wall, binding him there with metal cuffs and beating him before leaving him with an elaborate booby trap that his rescuers were meant to unwittingly activate and murder Rick with. Mercifully, Horatio had sensed the trap and, with help, saved Rick from it. Rick had been brutalised that day, accepting whatever they offered because he was promised that Cassandra would suffer more if he didn't.

Natalia understood that the memory of being mounted on a wall was one of the worst for Rick not because of the pain he had endured but because of how vulnerable and helpless it had made him.

"I was on that God damn wall," he repeated vehemently. "I couldn't move, I couldn't see, it was dark and cold and I couldn't do anything except listen."

"Listen to what?" Natalia pried.

She had an urge to pull Rick into her and tug him down into an embrace but she knew he would resist.

"His voice, Garrett's, he just kept saying Ricky over and over, there was no end to it."

Natalia was puzzled as she wondered what had brought this dream on. "Were you thinking about him?" she pried. "Was it the case you caught last night, did it prompt some memory?"

"No," Rick said bluntly. He sighed and shrugged off Natalia's hand at last only to bury both his own in his hair.

Natalia watched until he gave a loud groan and used an unnecessary force to dig his nails in. She leaned across and reached both her hands out to his, pressing her own upon them and taking a tender grip.

"Rick let go," she ordered, still gentle but firm.

Rick gave in and let Natalia guide his hands back down by his side. She released one but kept contact with the other.

When Rick got anxious or uneasy he fidgeted, it was a nervous habit he couldn't dispel. If he had a tie on, Natalia knew he would be tugging it down his chest until the knot was ruined and it was two slack strands.

"Keep talking honey," Natalia urged.

At work Rick had a designated therapist- a bland, unimposing man who was impersonal and clinical. He was a standard therapist for people within the police department, heavily experienced and skilled. He was discreet and trustworthy and, mainly because it was recommended and he had little choice in the matter, Rick saw him once a month.

At home Rick had Natalia- his partner, lover, and girlfriend. She gave him love, advice, companionship, friendship, and she gave him someone who could listen and understand him on a personal level. His therapist, despite all his qualifications, didn't really know Rick and never would but Natalia knew him because he couldn't hold back from her even when he wanted to.

Natalia had seen Rick at his best and at his worst. She had met him on poor terms and he had even had to interview her over the murder of her ex-husband. It was a memory so distant for them now that sometimes Rick considered it was a memory that belonged to a different person. Given that she was still with him and still in love with him despite all he had put her through, Rick knew he could always open up to her and trust her and he knew she understood him when he was vague about Garrett House because she had been there when he had been forced to reveal his history there and she had stood beside him and held his hand when the building had fallen and he had finally been freed of it.

"It was the engagement," Rick admitted bluntly. "No, before," he corrected moodily with a frown. His free hand was up again, half hanging in the air as if he couldn't decide what to do with it.

Natalia gave his other hand a squeeze.

Rick rubbed his free hand through his hair again. He was still sweating and his hair was already messy with the humidity from his own body, now his hands had mussed it into an eccentric style.

"Horatio asked me to be his best man even though I would probably be giving Cassie away."

Natalia felt Rick tense up again and watched as he bowed his head as anger and sorrow flickered across his face.

"It made you think about your father," Natalia guessed.

Rick had divulged to her that the reason Ricky was a trigger point for him was because his stepfather had called him it in a perverse variation of his father's tender saying of it. Garrett could not have known that Rick's father called him Ricky, it was an easy guess and when Rick had reacted to it Garrett had said it more, always with a sneer, sounding it out almost a whine to mock the boy's whines at him.

Rick nodded.

"You never talk much about him," Natalia murmured.

"No, well he never showed up, never asked about us that I know of," Rick grumbled.

Natalia knew Rick wasn't going to open up about his father now. It was too touchy a subject. "Alright Rick," she soothed. "Do you want to give Cassie away?"

"To Horatio? Not really," he retorted in a bitter show of humour. He swallowed and the seriousness returned. "If it's what she wants but I know it won't be, she's asked about him before but she always dropped it. I think she'll persist now."

Natalia couldn't say much to that. She suspected Rick was right about that and given that Cassandra was as stubborn as he was, she knew he was right to think the blonde wouldn't let the matter go unless she wanted to.

Rick turned to Natalia with a tired expression. "Can we let it go, for now?" he queried.

Natalia gave him a small smile which exposed her two front teeth slightly. Rick endearingly termed it her 'bunny grin'.

"Sure Rick." She leaned forward and gave him a light kiss on the mouth.

Rick responded with a deeper one.

It happened fast. Suddenly his arms were up and about her, pulling her close as his confidence returned and he turned his mind to other things.

Natalia let out a low, welcoming moan when one of his hands moved lower.

They were awake now anyway, she supposed they may as well make the most of it.

Eric Delko got the news first. Lab technician Valeria delivered it to him shortly after ten o'clock in the morning. When she handed it over with the blunt words of, "I already checked with IT, there's no mistake" and an expression of unease, Eric knew it was serious. Just like Valeria who had received it and questioned the computer's competency, Eric wondered if there was an error, something as mundane as a typo but he knew from Valeria's words that she would have checked it several times over before handing it to him, a mistake was impossible.

Eric headed through the lab to Ryan Wolfe's working station with it.

"Morning Eric," Ryan greeted politely as he glanced up from the oily substance he had been testing. It had come from Kara Watkins' body and was actually oil. Ryan was now trying to see if he could narrow that down to a brand or type.

"Morning Wolfe," Eric retorted. His tone was serious, it was time for business and the business was more than the usual case of murder.

Ryan picked up on the tone and gave Eric his full attention, his hazel eyes locking with Eric's brown ones. "What's up?" he quipped.

Eric held out the sheet of paper he clutched in his hand. "The tests on the blood samples came back," he said, his voice almost hollow now.

Ryan looked at Eric's extended hand and the sheet in confusion. He accepted it and studied it. It had the expected boxes of similarities and differences, enough ticked off to confirm a match. Ryan glanced down to where it should say Kara Watkins, although he'd heard no word of wounds other than her ruined eyes yet or a confirmed cause of death.

Ryan paled slightly and looked back up to Eric in surprise.

"It's not a mistake," Eric said coolly. "Valera checked."

Ryan's gaze dropped back down to the sheet. "Benjamin Bracker," he voiced the name numbly, "but that's impossible. I mean, he's been dead for five years."