A/N:  I didn't really take the time to proofread this, since my sister is still in town until Friday and I am pretty busy, so please forgive any editing mistakes.  I hope I didn't leave you guys hanging too long, and also hope you guys enjoy the new chapter.  Please R/R and let me know what you think.  I love hearing from all of you!

Sara took Ian's car over to the manor on Faust Street.  Ian had called ahead and informed Royce in no uncertain terms that Sara was to be given everything she asked for, and for Royce to provide her with her own set of keys and security codes.  Royce met her at the gate personally, and showed her up to the surveillance room after handing over her new set of keys.  He passed her the video tapes of the party and she selected the one where Irons got shot.  There were several different tapes because of several different security angles, but she figured she would have to go through all of them before she was done, but she figured she would try to work her way backwards, following the man from where he shot Irons backwards to where he came in from, and maybe figure out who he came with that way.

"I'll need a pad of paper and a pen," she told Royce.  "And the guest list from the party.  I also want a complete list of every employee on the premises yesterday, as well as a list of every delivery with times and so forth.  If the guards at the gate kept a log of who went in and out I want to see that too.  Basically, I want to know every single person who set foot on the premises yesterday, when they were here, and why.  When you have that in motion, then I'll need you to help me go through the tapes."

"There are others who can help with that," Royce began, but was cut off by Sara.

"We're going on the assumption that every single person on the premises yesterday has a chance of being involved in this," she told him.  "Ian is certain you couldn't have had a hand in this, so that's why you're helping me.  But everyone else is under suspicion, and the less others know about what we are doing or are involved in the investigation, the greater our chance of finding the real culprit or culprits."

"You think it could have been more than one," Royce asked, somewhat startled by her attitude, but being professional enough to understand her reasoning and agree with it.

"Do you think a single man with a death-wish could have gotten past all of your and Ian's security without help?" she challenged.  Royce thought about it for a moment then shook his head.

"No, you're right.  We were double-checking everyone and everything before the party," he said, grimacing.  "My best guess is he came with one of the guests."

"I agree," Sara said.  "But we can't rule out any other options just yet."

"Of course not," he said.  "I'll go gather those things you wanted.  It shouldn't take me more than a few minutes."

While Royce was gone Sara started fast-forwarding through the tape, trying to find the point where Irons was shot.  She finally found it, then put the tape into slow reverse, watching as the murderer walked backwards through the crowd to the hallway.  She noted the time-stamp on the recording, then started rooting through the stack of tapes, trying to find the one for the hall.  When she found that she wound forward and repeated the procedure again, following the killer backward up the hallway.  Eventually she traced him back to a small room where all the limo drivers were hanging out, waiting for their employers to need them again.

"Find anything," Royce asked as he came back with a stack of papers, notepad, pens, and a carafe of coffee and two cups.

"I traced the guy backwards from the hit to the limo driver's waiting room," she said, flashing him a grateful smile as he handed her a steaming cup.  "He entered, chatted with the rest of them, nothing suspicious about him, then walked down the hall, into the party after a chat with one of your guys at the door, and calmly walked over and shot Irons."

"I talked to my man at the door," Royce said.  "According to the killer he had been sent with an urgent message for his employer.  He had been rather insistent that it couldn't wait, something about her father being sick, and she needed to go see him in the hospital."

"Huh," Sara said.  "Complete lie, of course."  She thought for a minute, sipping her coffee.  "Alright, lets follow the tape back to where he entered, get the time, then start searching the arrivals, find out who he came with.  I also want a good clear shot of his face printed out.  Can you do that here?"

"Sure," Royce said.  He watched as Sara scrolled the tape backwards.  "There," he said, hitting the pause.  Frame by frame he scrolled forward again until he found the one perfect frame he was looking for, then sent the image to the printer.  Sara looked at the print-out, nodded.

"This is good," she said.  "I'm going to send this to a friend of mine in the F.B.I. and see what he can turn up."

"If you want to do that," Royce said, "then we'll just do a screen capture and e-mail it to him."

"Even better," Sara said.  While Royce was doing that she swung her chair over to the computer and composed a quick e-mail to Jake, had Royce attach the picture file, and sent it off.  She pulled out her celphone and called Jake, ending up leaving him a message when he didn't pick up.

"Here's the tape of the arrivals," Royce said, sliding it into another vcr and bringing it up on a second monitor.  Royce scrolled forward through all of the arrivals up to the point in time where he was recorded entering the waiting room with the other drivers, but didn't locate him.  "That's strange," he murmured.

"What's strange," Sara asked, still scrolling backwards through the tape of the hallway to the waiting room, trying to find when the killer arrived there.

"He didn't come with any of the limos," he said.  "At least not as far as I could see."

"Hm," she said.  "Ah, there." She had found the spot where the man entered the room from the hallway and followed it backwards.  Three tapes later they had discovered he had not entered the grounds as a limo driver, but a caterer.  He had come with the truck that had delivered the fresh meats and seafood, one of four guys, but had not left with them.  He had managed to slip into a small room in the servant's wing where there was no cameras, but when he came out he had changed his clothes and now looked like the limo driver they had been tracking.

"Someone had to have helped him," Sara said.  "Or he's been on the grounds before.  He knew right where to go, and the clothes were there waiting for him.  He didn't carry anything in with him.  So either he hid them there at some earlier point in time, or someone else hid them for him."

"That's a linen room," Royce told her.  "There are plenty of places to hide a set of clothes, and since there are several rows of shelves there's places to hide yourself too."

"Whoever is responsible for this, they set this up well in advance," Sara said, thinking.  "It's possible this guy acted alone, but it's more likely he worked with someone who knew the manor."

A shrill mechanical sound cut through the relative quiet of the room, causing Sara to jump and Royce to flinch.  She cursed and pulled out her celphone.

"Pezzini, go," she said, her usual greeting.

"Hey, Sara, it's Jake," the young F.B.I agent said on the other end.  "Got your e-mail and your message.  I ran your guy through our database, and he comes up as one Henry Taylor, a homicide detective out of the 8th Precinct that got fired with prejudice a few years ago because he was dirty.  I also called Vicky and she confirms his identity as being the guy that shot Irons.  According to my data he hasn't held another job until recently, when he got hired on at a specialty meat company about a month ago."

"Let me guess," Sara said.  "All City Meats."

"Bingo," Jake confirmed. "Sara, this guy had a family.  It had to have been one hell of a reason for him to do something like this.  No way he would have expected to get out alive."

"Then there's probably a money trail," Sara guessed.  "Anything else?"

"Not at the moment," he said.  "If something turns up I'll let you know."

"Thanks, Jake."

"Any time, Sara.  Just keep your old partner in the loop, okay?"

"Sure Jake," she agreed.  "I owe you a beer and a game of pool for this."

"I'll hold you to it," he said, and she could hear the eager smile in his voice.  Grinning, she hung up.

"Your friend in the F.B.I. was helpful," Royce guessed.

"Somewhat," she said.  "I could have found all this out myself, but it would have taken longer and raised a few questions.  I'm still technically on vacation, and this isn't my case.  Which means I have to let my new Captain know what we've found."

"But we already told him we didn't have surveillance tapes," Royce said.  "How are you going to explain how we figured all this out, or how we got the screen shot of the killer?"

"Did you tell him you didn't have any tapes at all, or just that you didn't have a tape of the murder," Sara asked.

"Come to think of it, I told him we didn't have a tape of the murder.  I didn't say anything about the rest of the house, and we can always say the surveillance was turned off for the party to assure the guests their privacy."

"Great," Sara said.  "I'm going to take these in to Captain Carter, explain what we found.  Lets go down to the linen room and see if there's anything this Henry Taylor left behind.  If he left his work clothes there, as I suspect, we'll need to bag them and take them in.  The scene isn't so critical anymore because they already know who the guy is, so gathering up the uniform should be enough."

They did what Sara outlined, finding the uniform from the meat company under a pile of towels in the back corner of the room.  She stuffed them into a plastic bag and headed out to the 11th Precinct to talk with her Captain. 

It felt odd, walking back into the precinct as if she'd never been gone.  Her life had been turned upside-down in the last few days, and she hadn't had the chance to absorb it yet.  This had always been her home, more than her apartment ever could be.  She had been a homicide detective for a majority of her life, and she was good at it.  She was proud of what she did, knowing her work made a difference to the people she helped.  There were people here she worked with, socialized with, and called friend.  Most of them called out greetings or waved as she went past.  What would she do if she never came back here, if she left the job?  Who would she be?

She shook those unsettling thoughts out of her head and knocked on the Captain's door.  Noone else was in the room with him, but he was on the phone.  He saw her and waved her in, cutting his phone call short, looking at the bag in her hand pointedly before greeting her.

"Detective Pezzini," he said.  "Is that for me?"

"Yes, sir," she said, handing over the bag.  "There's the uniform Kenneth Irons' killer wore to get onto the grounds, and the surveillance tapes of the night of the party."  Carter raised his eyebrows.

"The security guy at Irons' estate told me there weren't any tapes," he said.

"There weren't any tapes of the murder," she clarified.  "They had been turned off in the entry and the room the party was in for the privacy of the guests, but they were still on in other parts of the house.  The man you talked to was very shaken up, considering his employer had just been murdered, and he was only thinking about the actual murder and completely overlooked the fact the rest of the tapes might be useful."

"I see," Carter said.  "Well, I'll let that slide, since he obviously realized his error and corrected it by giving the tapes to you to bring in.  What's on them."

"Henry Taylor was working for All City Meats, and he helped with the delivery for the party, but he neglected to leave with the rest of the crew.  He obviously planned this in advance, because he knew exactly where to go.  He hid in a small room where linens are stored, waiting until guests started arriving.  He changed into a limo driver's uniform, then strolled as casual as you please to join them where they all waited for their employers.  From there he invented some story about an urgent phone call to his supposed employer about a sick father, got admitted to the party, and shot Irons."

"Hm," Carter thought for a minute, likely drawing the same conclusions she herself had drawn earlier.  "Thank you, Detective.  I'll let Peterson know what you've told me."

"Peterson's got the case?"  Sara grinned.  "He's a good man."

"Detective," Carter said, and she could feel a shift in his mood.  "I know you have three more days left of your leave-time.  If you want to come back early, we could use you.  I know you understand I can't assign you to the Irons case when you come back, because of your personal connection to it.  I also know you are a very good detective and won't be able to resist looking into this on your own time.  I won't object as long as you continue to share your findings with me."

"That's…very understanding of you, Captain," she said, taken aback.  She was really beginning to like Carter.  At every turn he demonstrated an understanding of his people and a compassion so often lacking in the job.  "I think I'm going to take advantage of my remaining leave to figure some things out," she said.  "Everything has happened so fast recently, and I'm still trying to get my head on straight."

"If you find you need more time, come discuss it with me," he said.  "I don't want you out in the field if you can't focus.  It could get someone killed."

"Yes, sir," she nodded.  "Thanks."

She left his office feeling a lot better about coming back to work, if that's what she chose to do.  She decided to head down to the morgue and see Vicky.  Passing through the empty halls, Danny stepped out from a side corridor, causing her to jump.  She took a moment to catch her breath.

"Jesus, Danny," she swore, the beginnings of a smile hovering around her lips.  "Do you have to scare me like that?"

"Sorry," he said.

"And what bit of wisdom do you have for me today, Partner," she asked.

"Your Captain is a good man," Danny observed.  "Wish I could have known him."

"Yeah, well, I still prefer Joe," she said, a suspicion of tears making her eyes bright.

"So did I," he replied softly.  "Sara, your greatest challenges still lie before you.  Remember that you have a destiny, and noone else can fulfill it."

"I know, Danny," she said, frustration roughening her voice.  "But I still haven't figured out how I'm supposed to bring sanity back to the human race.  I mean, where do I start?  How do I start?"

"Sara," Danny said, recapturing her attention.  "You take it one battle at a time.  The Witchblade will show you, and Ian will help you.  You aren't alone in this."

"Thanks, Danny," she said, smiling up at him, somewhat relieved by his advice.

"Any time, Partner."  He smiled at her, then vanished when she glanced away at a sound down the corridor.  She just shook her head and continued to the morgue to see Vicky.