Natalie moaned as she was pulled from her sleep.

"Sweetheart, wake up." Adrian nudged her shoulder.

She cracked her eyelids, adjusting to the light creeping in through the cracked blinds. "What time is it?"

"It's 6:30. Time to get up."

She closed her eyes and rolled to her side. "I'm not going with you today, remember? Julie's going back to Berkeley, and we're going shopping …" She yawned. "And to lunch."

Adrian sat on the bed next to her and brushed a tendril from her face. "I remember, and if you really want to sleep okay, but …"

Natalie opened her eyes again. "But what?"

He bent to kiss her cheek. "I don't have to meet Randy until 10:00, so I thought if you get up now, we could go to breakfast before I have to leave."

She rolled onto her back. "Breakfast out? With the kids?"

"No, just us. I already asked Julie, and she's happy to watch her brother and sister since – you know. We didn't get our date last night."

"So, a breakfast date." Her lips curved into a smile as the cobwebs cleared. "That is a brilliant idea, my love." She pulled him toward her by the collar of his checkered dress shirt.

His eyes twinkled. "How brilliant?"

Her nose crinkled with her laugh as she pulled him closer. Then, she answered his question with a lingering kiss.

"Or we could just stay here." A roughish smile played on his lips.

"No." She gave him a gentle push and swung her feet to the floor. "I want this surprise date you have planned. Just let me get dressed and run a brush through my hair."

A satisfied smirk graced Adrian's face as he finished buttoning his shirt and ran a comb through his own raven curls.

Natalie peered out the passenger side window as they left their neighborhood. "So, where are you taking me?"

His expression was smug. "It's a surprise."

Natalie looked at him through lowered lashes. "If I didn't know better, I'd say you're enjoying this, but I thought you didn't like surprises."

Adrian turned the corner, and he could see the San Francisco Bay at the bottom of the hill, the water sparkling like sapphires in the morning sunshine. "No. No, you're wrong about that. I don't mind surprises at all—as long as I'm not the surprisee."

"Surprisee?" She laughed.

"You know, the one being surprised. The person doing the surprising would be the surpriser. The one being surprised is the surprisee."

"I see," she said as he found a metered parking space near the marina. "Here? What's open down here this time of morning?"

"It's open all the time," he said before stepping out of the car.

Natalie followed him to the trunk where he retrieved a picnic basket and a plaid blanket.

"A picnic? Here?" she asked, her tone incredulous.

He held out his free hand. "Yes. Shall we?"

She slipped her hand into his. "You are a pretty good supriser, you know."

They walked until they found "their bench", the slatted, wooden monument to so many of their special memories. Adrian took a seat and motioned for his wife to join him. Once she did, he spread the cozy blanket over their laps to protect them from the chill of the early morning breeze. Natalie reached her arm around his as they listened to the cries of the seagulls, the only sound on the air that early hour. A few boaters and business owners were out preparing for the day, but the tourists and sightseers were probably still asleep. The usually crowded bay was nearly empty and being a Saturday, even the Golden Gate Bridge was free of its usual morning traffic. For a short time, they simply sat and absorbed the serenity.

"This is lovely," Natalie said, breathing in the dewy air. "It's also quite private this time of day." She leaned over, kissing him just below the ear.

He could feel the heat rising to his cheeks at the same time a shiver went down his spine. "Natalie …" He cleared his throat and lowered his voice. "It's broad daylight."

"Barely," she said with a sigh. Then, she spotted the picnic basket at his feet. "You said this was a breakfast date. Did you bring breakfast?"

"Yes. Are you hungry?" He picked up the basket and Natalie scooted over so he could place it between them. He opened it and pulled out a thermos of coffee. He poured some of the velvety liquid into a mug and handed it to her. She lifted it to her nose and breathed in the rich, welcoming aroma before taking a sip. "Mmm. What else do we have?"

Adrian opened the basket fully so she could see.

"Where did you get all this?" Natalie asked, peering in.

"I went to the bakery this morning."

She looked up as her mouth dropped open. "So you got up early enough to shower, get dressed, go to the bakery, then come back and pack the basket and make coffee—all before 6:30?"

He shrugged. "It was the only way to have our date before Julie leaves."

"Adrian Monk, you are the sweetest man."

"I know it's not the date you wanted. I know Antonio's would have been …"

She placed a finger on his lips. "It's perfect. I knew what I was signing up for when I married you, and interrupted dates are just part of the package. Now, what did you get from the bakery?"

Muffins and Danishes."

"I'll take a muffin. Did you get lemon poppyseed?"

He pulled one out and smiled, knowing it was her favorite. He handed her the muffin and a napkin. "We also have some yogurt and fruit." He tucked a napkin into his collar. He spread more napkins across both his legs, then he unbuttoned his jacket and tucked another napkin under his belt to bridge the gap between the one covering his chest and the ones on his legs.

Natalie glanced at him and giggled.

"I'm going to work after this. You can't really expect me to show up at the precinct covered in crumbs, now can you?"

She brushed crumbs from her jeans. "Oh, no, we wouldn't want that. So, tell me, did you ever go on a picnic as a child?"

He swallowed a bite of Danish then wiped his mouth with yet another napkin. "No, we didn't do that."

"Never?"

"No. Mother wouldn't allow it."

Natalie reached into the basket for a yogurt and fruit cup. "She never let you get dirty at all, did she?"

He shook his head. "Not really. My dad took us to the beach where we got sandy, but Mother didn't come, and she would make him spray us down with the garden hose before we could go back inside the house."

Natalie frowned. "That's sad. Never letting a kid get dirty. It takes all the fun out of life." She paused then turned to look at him. "I'm glad you let our kids get dirty."

Adrian adjusted his neck but nodded. "It's what I told the couple who adopted Tommy Granger. Let him get dirty. I don't want any child to grow up to be like me."

Natalie smiled as she watched her husband neatly fold the napkins he had used to protect his clothing. "Well, maybe not just like you, but you're a good man, Adrian. We all know you're smart, but you're also kind, compassionate, honorable, brave ..." She stopped when she saw the blush forming on his cheeks. "I could go on, but I'll just say it would make me very proud if our kids grew up to be like you."

Adrian looked at his wife with a vulnerability that made her reach for his hand. "I love you, Natalie … and that is why I want to give you this." He pulled a small, wrapped box from the pocket of his brown tweed jacket. "I wanted to give this to you last night, and I wanted to give it to you here. I know it's not the moonlit walk we'd hoped for, but at least we're here."

Natalie looked at the box, then back at her husband. "You didn't need to get me anything else for my birthday. You got me that very nice blender even though you don't like blenders."

"Blenders are fine as long as you don't put bees in them."

"Bees?"

"Never mind." He handed her the box. "I really wanted to give this to you for Mother's Day, but it wasn't ready in time, so … so it's for both I guess."

Natalie released his hand to untie the ribbon. When she opened the box, her smile broadened. "A charm bracelet. You remembered that I've been wanting one." She lifted it from the box's satin lining and her eyes began to glisten. The charms consisted of alternating letters and jewels. There was a gold letter A, then an N. Following those were the first initials of each of their children, and in between the letters were each of their birthstones. Coming full circle, between the Garnet signifying Timothy's birth and the letter A for Adrian was a larger letter M with the date of their wedding engraved on the back.

Adrian frowned when he saw Natalie wiping away tears. "Do … Don't you like it?"

"Like it?" She dabbed her eyes with a clean napkin. "Babe, I love it. I think it's the most thoughtful thing anyone has ever given me. You know how much I love you and our family. I just don't know what to say."

"Here," he said, reaching across the basket, "Let me help you put it on." Adrian fastened the bracelet to Natalie's wrist, then he took her hand in his. "It looks nice on you."

"Adrian, it's amazing."

"Sweetheart," he said, stroking her hand with his thumb. "That bracelet represents us. It represents our family, but without you, I wouldn't have a family" He motioned to the bracelet. "This family, this life, none of it would be possible without you. I would still be back in my apartment alone. I wanted to give it to you here because this is where it all began. This is where, by some miracle, you agreed to date me. This is where I first told you I loved you. It's where I found out you loved me too, and here we are two years later, still in love." He stopped and took a deep breath. "I guess I'm just trying to say thank you. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for loving our children. Thank you for all you do for us."

Natalie's tears were flowing now, so Adrian removed the picnic basket from between them and pulled her to his side. She laid her head on his shoulder and neither noticed the growing number of people now walking past them.

After a little while, Adrian removed the blanket from their laps, then stood with the picnic basket in his hands.

"Is it time to go?" Natalie asked.

He nodded. "I'm sorry, but I told Randy …"

"It's okay." She stood and helped him fold the blanket. "You need to take me home anyway."

"Now you want to leave? I thought you were enjoying yourself."

"I am. Immensely." She took his arm. "But if I can't kiss you here, you need to take me home so I can thank you properly.

After leaving Natalie to enjoy her day with Julie and the younger children, Monk drove the thirty minutes to the San Mateo police precinct as he had promised Randy he would. After such a beautiful morning, it had been hard to leave his family, but he was doing so with a smile that wouldn't leave his face. He was quite proud of being able to surprise his bride, who with her intuitive mind, didn't make it easy to do so. She had also loved the gift he had selected to not just be a beautiful piece of jewelry, but meaningful as well. As he drove, Monk reflected on how good his life had become. He was quite certain nothing could bring him down, and it was with that thought he strode toward Disher's office, confident and happy. Yes, he thought. Adrian Monk is genuinely happy.

"Come in," came Randy's reply when Monk rapped on his office door.

Monk closed the door behind himself. "Here as requested."

"I really appreciate …" Randy stopped when he noticed the grin on Monk's face. "You look awfully happy this morning."

Monk plopped into one of the chairs in front of Randy's desk, stretched out his legs, and put his hands behind his head. "I am happy. It's been a good morning."

Randy took a seat on the corner of his desk. "So what's so good … oh, I get it. Someone got lucky this morning."

"It wasn't luck," Monk said. "It was all carefully planned."

Randy stood and patted his shoulder. "Whatever works for you guys." He moved to take a seat behind his desk. "Now, do you think you can wipe that smile off your face long enough to get some work done?"

Monk sat up straight and tugged his jacket. "I can always work. What do we have this morning?"

Randy lifted a file folder off the top of a tall stack of other folders and opened it. "I'm going to get Luke's official statement today, but what did you find out last night?"

Monk leaned forward as Randy spread the photos of last night's crime scene across his desk, the memory of his conversation with Luke and Molly suddenly fresh again. He shifted his jaw as he remembered Luke's confession. An addict is never really cured. He had pushed it to the back of his mind, but the words resurfaced, refusing to stay down.

"Monk?" came Randy's voice. "Did you talk to Luke?"

He jerked his head up and saw Randy's confused expression. His concerns would have to wait. "Yes. Yes, we talked to him."

"So, what's his connection to the victim?"

"Luke met Gomez while he was incarcerated at Lancaster. Luke led a Bible study in the prison which Gomez attended. After his release, Gomez moved up here, and they got back in touch. Luke had been helping him with some college classes. That's why he was there last night."

Randy tapped the eraser end of a pencil against his notepad, "So, these two other people coming in for interviews—what's the connection?"

Monk swallowed. He wished he didn't have to tell him. It felt so personal. "They are all part of an addiction recovery group. Luke … Luke leads it."

"Addiction recovery? Is Luke a recovering addict?"

Monk held his friend's gaze for a moment before answering with an almost imperceptible nod. "He got addicted to pain meds after having surgery for a shoulder injury he sustained playing baseball."

"I wondered why he didn't play anymore. But, he's okay now, right?"

Monk shifted in his seat. "Molly thinks so. Natalie thinks so."

"You're not so sure?"

Monk looked at Randy without answering. He was struck by how much his young friend had matured and how far their relationship had come since those early days when his wife, Sharona, was Monk's assistant. "I hope he's really better—for Molly's sake."

"He seems to be working hard and he's got good support. I wouldn't worry too much, Monk."

Monk leaned back and felt the smile from earlier tug at his lips again. "Natalie says I worry too much."

Randy chuckled. "You do. Now, Gomez, if he was part of this group, I assume he was a recovering addict as well. Is that what he went to prison for?"

"Yes," Monk said, lacing his fingers in front of himself. "He was in for drug possession, dealing, and grand theft auto. He had evidently grown up in the gangs of East L.A., moved up here afterward to get away from them."

"Any chance his murder was drug-related?"

"Luke says he'd been clean since going to prison. He's stayed clear of both drugs and gangs up here. That's why he chose the neighborhood he did. He didn't want to be anywhere near any of that."

"That's a quiet neighborhood. No one here can remember investigating a murder over there before, but I'm going to order a tox report. Just to make sure Gomez wasn't slipping into old habits."

Monk leaned forward again to look at the crime scene photos. "What did you find out from the neighbors?"

Randy came back around to the front of his desk. "Only one was home." He placed a foot on the empty chair next to Monk. "The ones with the dog—you were on to something there." He smiled as he pointed his pencil at his colleague. "The dog did start barking around the time of the murder. Probably heard the gunshot. He wouldn't stop barking, so his owners came over to Gomez's house and knocked on the door. Of course, there was no answer. They didn't see anything suspicious, so they didn't go in. They figured their dog must have just seen a cat or something."

Monk's eyes widened. "That's why the perp left in a hurry and didn't wreck the master bedroom. Did they hear anything at least?"

Randy nodded. "They thought they heard footsteps on the back patio, but by the time the husband got to the gate leading to the back yard, there was nothing. He also said he thought he heard a rustling in those trees behind their houses. Unfortunately, he shrugged it off. He just thought it was some kids who take shortcuts through their back yards to get to the street on the other side."

"Do you think the neighbors are telling the truth?"

"We're running all the fingerprints through the system, but so far, the only ones on the door handle belonged to Gomez and Luke. As far as I can tell, they knocked but didn't go in."

Monk rubbed his forehead. "So, if the noise they heard in the back was the perp, he did go through the fence, which he had probably cut beforehand. No doubt it was premeditated, but why and who?"

"Those are the million-dollar questions." Randy took a seat on his desk. "My detectives are back out there trying to talk to the other neighbors today. You got any leads you want to follow?"

"Natalie and I talked to the owners of a small Italian deli a few blocks north. They knew Gomez well and spoke highly of his character. They also insisted there were no problems in that neighborhood to speak of. They did, however, talk to Gomez the morning before his murder. He had a photo shoot in San Francisco and was going to try and visit his cousin. He was worried his cousin had gotten mixed up with the wrong crowd—gangs, drugs, the life Gomez had before his arrest. I was thinking I should talk to this cousin."

"Do you have a name?"

"Yes, Jorge Gomez. He's the son of Ana and Carlos Gomez, the aunt and uncle our victim used to live with."

Randy stood. "All right, Monk. I'm not letting you go talk to some gang members by yourself. Natalie would never forgive me. Hang around a little longer, and I'll go with you. Hey, why don't you sit in on these interviews with me? The first one should be here any minute."

As predicted, a knock was heard on his office door not more than ten minutes later. A uniformed officer poked her head in. "Ryan Hayes is waiting for you in room two, Captain."

Monk followed Randy into the small interview room with its almost bare table and metal chairs. When they entered, a tall, young man in his late twenties stood to greet them. Monk was struck by his ramrod straight posture and military-like bearing.

He stretched out his hand. "Ryan Hayes, sir."

"I'm Captain Randy Disher," he said, shaking the man's hand, "and this is Adrian Monk. Please have a seat."

When Hayes continued to stand with his hand outstretched, Monk reluctantly shook it. That satisfied the man and he turned to take his seat. While Monk pulled out a wipe, he observed that, although Hayes carried himself like a military officer, he walked with a distinct limp.

"Mr. Hayes," Randy began once they were all seated. "Do you know why we called you in?"

Hayes kept his alert military bearing as he met his eyes. " Yes sir. Your officer told me that I was being called in for questioning in regards to a homicide case involving Eddie Gomez."

Randy nodded. "That's right. We believe Mr. Gomez was murdered the night of June 14th."

Hayes blinked once and swallowed. "I … I'm sorry to hear that. How can I be of help?"

"We understand you were friends with Mr. Gomez," Randy said. "How long had you known him?"

"Yes, sir. We met last fall, at college. We were in a math class together."

Monk leaned forward. "Mr. Hayes, did you spend time together anywhere outside of college?"

The young man swallowed again but retained eye contact with the detectives. "We didn't hang out outside of the college campus until the last few months."

"And how else were you involved with him these last few months?" Monk asked. He and Randy already knew the answer to the question, but this would test the man's inclination to either lie or tell the truth. Monk knew addiction was intensely personal, and the temptation to hide it would be strong, especially if there was any current use of illegal substances.

The young man's eyes darted between the two detectives on the other side of the table. "Eddie invited me to join his addiction recovery group, Mr. Monk." He looked down and rubbed his hands on his pants. He looked back up and made eye contact. "I've been clean for about three months, but I was struggling with addiction when Eddie and I met. He was instrumental in helping me recover."

Monk and Randy exchanged a glance before Monk continued. "Mr. Hayes, could you tell us briefly what led to your addiction and recovery?"

"Sir, if I may ask, what does that have to do with Eddie Gomez?"

"We know Gomez had a background involving drugs and was also a recovering addict. We would simply like to establish your background with him and any mutual acquaintances which might help us solve his murder."

"I'm … I'm not a suspect am I?" Hayes asked, his brow wrinkling.

Randy leaned across the table. "No, you're not, but your cooperation will help us track down who is. At ease, Mr. Hayes."

Hayes visibly relaxed, the military command triggering a memorized response. He leaned back in his chair, getting more comfortable. "I was in the Army for ten years, Captain. I served as a combat medic in the sandbox for most of that time. One year ago on June 10th, my jeep was hit with an IED." He paused to look down at his hands before continuing. "I was the only survivor on my team that day, but I was hurt … badly. I was discharged to Walter Reed where I needed eight surgeries on my right hip and leg. After six months, when I was stable enough to travel, I came home to San Francisco, but I was addicted to the painkillers my doctor had prescribed. I found, as a military vet, it was pretty easy to play the doctor game and keep up my supply. Fortunately, Eddie recognized the signs and convinced me to go into rehab before it was too late. That was three months ago, and after rehab, I joined the addiction recovery group he had been attending." Hayes leaned forward. "Look, I'm still struggling with PTSD, but I'm clean, I swear, and so was Eddie. I'll take a drug test if you'd like."

Monk placed his hands on the table. "That won't be necessary, Mr. Hayes. Are you still attending college?"

"Yes sir," he said, relaxing again. "I got my bachelor's degree before joining the Army, but I'm taking some refresher courses now before getting a master's in physical therapy."

"Did Mr. Gomez ever mention any problems he had with anyone on campus or off?"

"No, sir. Nothing of significance."

"Do you live near here?" Monk asked. " Are you familiar with Mr. Gomez's neighbors?"

"I rent an apartment a couple of miles from Eddie, over by the college, but I got to know some of his neighbors."

Monk rubbed his eyebrow. "Did you ever notice any conflict between them or between one of them and Mr. Gomez?"

Hayes shook his head. "No, sir. They seemed like really nice people. They look out for each other."

"What about his photography clients or anyone from his past in L.A.?" Randy asked, jumping in. "Did he ever seem concerned about any of them? Did you know of any trouble he may have been having?"

Hayes was quiet for a moment. "I can't think of anything he ever said negative about his photography clients. He rarely talked about his past. I'm sure he wasn't in contact with anyone from L.A. except his family. The only person he seemed to have any concern over was his cousin, Jorge. He mentioned that he was worried about him. Jorge is a few years younger than me, and Eddie was worried he might be hanging out with the wrong crowd up in San Francisco. I know he tried to talk to him on a couple of occasions."

Randy glanced at Monk who then leaned forward. "Is there anything else you can tell us about Mr. Gomez? Who else did he associate with?"

Hayes shrugged. "Eddie was a pretty private guy. I think he had a couple of friends at his church. Other than that, I think he spent his time with his aunt and uncle and me and Luke Christensen."

"Who else did he know from the recovery group?" Randy asked.

"Other than Luke and me, there's just a couple of ladies who we only saw at meetings or group activities …" After a pause, he continued. "There was another guy. I only met him once, but I think he's a cop up in San Francisco. He was having problems with gambling or something, but he left just after I joined."

Randy's eyes widened. "A cop? With the SFPD? Do you know his name?"

"No, sir. I'm sorry. I only met him once, but Luke should know."

"We'll ask him," Randy said. "Do you know if Mr. Gomez was dating anyone or had been previously married?"

"He was never married," Hayes said. "I think he had a pretty serious girlfriend, but they broke up before I met him."

"When was the last time you saw or spoke with Mr. Gomez?"

"It was this last Tuesday, Captain. We passed each other on campus between classes."

"Did he say anything to cause you any concern?" Monk asked.

Hayes rubbed his hands as he thought. "No, sir. He was … just Eddie … happy, upbeat, his usual self."

"Okay, Mr. Hayes, this is just standard procedure," said Randy. I have to ask you. Where were you the night of June 14th?"

Hayes sighed. "I understand. I was with my family – my mother, father, and sister – up in San Francisco. Is there anything else?"

Randy leaned back and looked at Monk who shook his head. "I think we're done for today. Thank you for your time. We'll be in touch if we need anything further."

The next interview started almost immediately after the first with a middle-aged woman by the name of Linda Myers. It turned out she was a recovering alcoholic who had only been a member of Luke's group for about a month. She barely knew Eddie Gomez, only meeting him once. The fifth member of the group, another woman, slightly younger, was away on a business trip. Randy would have to conduct a phone interview with her at a later time.

Monk found his way to the bullpen while he waited for Randy to finish a few details before they left to find Eddie Gomez's cousin. He threaded his way through the desks and officers, stopping to speak to those who had come to know him through his relationship with their captain. Once back to Randy's office, Monk found Molly sitting just outside his door talking to Ryan Hayes, the young Army vet they had interviewed. She seemed to be trying to comfort him as they waited on Luke who had gone in to talk to Randy.

"Adrian," said Molly as he approached. "I didn't know we'd see you here today."

Monk nodded as he took a seat on her other side. "Helping out with the case, as a favor."

Molly smiled. "Well, I know Randy appreciates it, and so do Luke and I."

Hayes looked back and forth between the two, his expression reflecting his surprise. "You know each other?"

Molly turned to him. "Yes, this is my stepfather, Adrian Monk."

"Your stepfather?"

"It's a long story," Molly said. She turned back to Monk. "Have you met Ryan?"

"Yes," Monk said.

Ryan nodded but before he could speak, a cell phone rang. Molly dug through her purse to retrieve hers and held up her forefinger as she answered it. She stood to take the call outside. When she returned, she sent a text, then set the phone on the chair between herself and Hayes.

Ryan glanced at the phone, which had not gone black yet. He tilted his head and his eyes widened. "Is that your wedding photo?"

"Yes," said Molly, picking up the phone. "This is Luke and me with my family." She pointed. "These are my parents, Andy and Beth. This is my second family as I call them—Adrian, Natalie, Julie, and Sophia. Natalie was still pregnant with their son, Timothy."

Ryan stared at the picture without saying anything but kept tilting his head back and forth.

"Is everything okay?" Molly asked.

He looked at Monk. "The little girl … how old is she?"

"She's two-and-a-half," Monk said.

"Adrian and Natalie adopted her as a baby right after they got married," Molly added.

Monk wasn't sure Ryan had even heard what Molly said as he continued to stare at the picture, but then he lifted his head. "You said Sophia is adopted?"

"Yes," Molly said. "Why?"

"Do … do you know her birth mother?"

Molly looked at Adrian whose expression was as incredulous as her own. "I did know her," she said.

Ryan ran his hand through his dark hair. "What's her name?"

"Hannah," Molly said. "Hannah Brooks. She was murdered when Sophia was just five months old. Natalie took her in after I found her mother dead."

Ryan's face turned ashen. "She … she's dead?"

"Yes," Molly said, again looking to her stepfather.

"Did you know her?" Monk asked.

"Yes," he said, wiping his brow. We … met once. What about the baby's father? Why didn't he take her?"

"He was killed in a drug bust before Sophia was born," Monk said. "Did you know him too?"

Ryan Hayes rubbed his hands on his pant legs as he shook his head. Then, without warning, he stood and pulled his car keys out of his pocket with a shaky hand. "I … I've got to go. Please say goodbye to Luke for me."

"He knew Hannah?" Monk asked his stepdaughter as he watched Ryan leave, his limp more noticeable with the large strides he took towards the door.

"I guess so," Molly said, "and the news of her death seems to have really upset him."