Disclaimer etc in Chapter 1

A/N: Again I didn't have the chance to have this proofread so proceed at your own risk. Another word of warning, I took a few creative liberties with regard to FBI procedures, New York City geography and the science of bomb making.

Streets of New York City

November 24, 10.30 a.m.

Danny's anger cooled down as soon as he stepped out of the building. The bustling city and the cold wind sweeping the streets seemed to have a strangely soothing effect. The conversation he had just had with Jack replayed in his mind as we walked down the street towards Central Park. Now as he heard himself say the words over again, he started to doubt that he had approached this the right way. He was still convinced that Jack was wrong and that someone had to tell him about it before it was to late. He only feared that the matter on which he had chosen to do so had not been effective. He had let his emotions get the better of him. He should have tried to make a cooler, well reasoned statement. What he had done had be wildly out of line. He winced as he thought about the possible professional repercussions. He wasn't ambitious. Climbing up the FBI career ladder was not a goal he had in mind for himself. He had long learned that the real accomplishments in life were of a different nature.

He pulled his jacket closer as an icy wind swept down the street. He couldn't just leave like that, storming out of the office. Jack would have no problem assigning someone else to fly out to North Carolina. Jack would go on with his risky gamble. Danny sighed. He had always thought of the team as a closely knit unit of professionals who were working well together. Everyone had their secrets, he was no exceptions, but they hadn't let them interfere with work, until now. Somehow the hostage situation in the bookstore had been a catalyst.

Brightwood Apartment Complex Office of the Building Manager, New York City

November 24, 2 p.m.

The drive downtown was surprisingly quick, the afternoon rush had not yet started as they drove to the apartment complex. After getting the key from the building manager they went up to the apartment. Pretty much as expected no one inside reacted to their repeated knocking on the thin wooden door. Both upholstered their weapons as Jack proceeded to unlock the door, unsure what they were going to encounter inside. What they found was certainly one of the last things they would have guessed to find. The apartment was empty. Not a piece of furniture, nothing, just dust and dirty. But the layer of dust was thin, the apartment could not have been vacated too long ago. Jack and Vivian split up to take a closer look at the different rooms. The apartment was in quite good condition. The paint on the walls looked like it had been renewed recently. However the paintjob could hardly have been done by an expert. Splatters of white paint were clearly visible on the hardwood floor. Homemade job. Someone who left an apartment in the middle of night as it appeared didn't go to all the trouble to repaint the walls unless they had good reason for it. For example to hide something on the wall, such as blood spatter.

Vivian joined him in the room.

"Jack, I found something in the bathroom. It looks like blood spatter. They did a good clean up job, but I think they missed a few spots."

"I was thinking the same thing. The walls weren't repainted to make them look better, someone was covering up something here."

Jack followed Vivian into the bathroom were she pointed out the tiny brownish dots under the sink. They looked like dried blood indeed.

"We have the get the CSI team over here." Jack said. "Now we know that Liam Kendall is into this somehow. His cottage is at the end of the road next to which Diane was dumped, his brother takes a shot at Samantha and Danny and in his townhouse we find blood. We need to talk to Mr. Kendall."

"I agree. Maybe the manager can tell us when was the last time he saw him."

Jack proceeded to call in the forensics team while they returned to the mangers office on the ground floor. Vivian rang the bell.

"What is it again?" the unnerved man asked them immediately after opening the door.

"There is no one living in the apartment. Can you tell us where we could find Mr. Kendall?" Vivian asked.

"I don't know where he lives and frankly I couldn't care less, as long as he keeps on paying the rent. That's more than a lot of people do around here." he replied, not very interested in the fact that one of his tenants had disappeared.

"When was the last time you saw Mr. Kendall?"

"Actually, just saw him yesterday. He asked me to drive a couple of boxes to storage for him. Said he was going away to Europe or Canada, can't remember. Gave me three hundred cash and the rent for the next six months. I didn't ask any questions, you understand?" he lit a cigarette.

"Do you have the address of the storage?"

"Should have it around here somewhere, got a receipt." The landlord went back inside and they heard him rummage through drawers. After he few minutes he emerged, holding a crumpled piece of paper in his hand.

"Here, that's the receipt."

The storage facility wasn't far from the house. They got a key from the attendant and then proceeded to Mr. Kendall's vault.

He flipped through the manila folder. Tax returns from the last five years. Receipts for electronic appliances. A death certificate. Liam Kendall. Died February 14, 2000. Cause of death, heart attack. The storage unit had been rented in in March 2000. Only a last name had been on the lease form. An heir could have rented it. But that would contradict the fact that Liam was acting as guarding for his mentally handicapped brother.

"Look at that. " He showed Vivian the document.

Vivian scanned it, obviously thinking the same as he did.

"It looks authentic to the naked eye. But it has to be a forgery, otherwise his prints wouldn't be in Lydia's or Diane's apartment." She shook her head.

Jack thought about Markus Feldman, who seemed to be the same man as Liam Kendall. Feldman had ties to Europe, at least that was what his former mother in law had claimed. Had Feldman come back to the US and murdered his ex-wife? If so, he didn't see any motive. Maybe Diane had been an accident, Lydia had somehow learned about this and then Kendall or Feldman or whatever his real name was had killed her to silence her. But in that case, why had Diane been shot in the head after having been hit by the car and what had she been doing on her way to Kendall's cottage in the first place. Too many questions and too few answer. It seemed like this case was like a hydra, for every question they answered, three new ones popped up. And there was still the question of the threats he had been getting. He had to tell Vivian about the finger prints. He was starting to see that he had made a mistake in not being up front about everything with his team from the start. What had started as an effort to protect Samantha was turning into a disaster that might eventually cost him his job if this case ever went to trial. Because then everything he had done and not done would be public and the only thing people were going to see was that the FBI or rather he had screwed up.

"Anything else in here?" Jack asked, consciously putting a halt to the rotating thoughts.

"Just junk. I can't figure why anyone would pay to store it. Especially if Kendall,, or whoever the man the manager knows as Liam Kendall, was going to leave for good then it would be better for him to just get rid of everything that might give him away. " Vivian shook her head.

"I think we need to dig deeper, into Feldman. If he left the US for an extended period of time as Lydia's mother claims we might find something." Vivian said, ready to leave the cold storage vault.

He walked out into the parking lot, the cold air hitting him in face. His mind was still in the apartment, going over what they had learned. Technically, as far as they knew, a dead man had abducted Lydia and her daughter. Since that couldn't be, the only conclusions was that he wasn't dead. Witness protection maybe? But then there shouldn't have been a glitch in the system, they were far too through for that. It had to be something else. The whole case was like that, a puzzle, but with every new piece uncovered the final picture appeared to become only more obscure. They were flying blind in this investigation, It was as if they were trying to built a wall, but the bottom row of bricks was missing. Until those were there the wall would invariably collapse again. But he didn't even have an idea as to what the missing piece that connected the players in this case might be.

"Jack." Vivian's voice yanked him back to the parking lot.

"Sorry" he realized that she's waiting for him to unlock the car and get in. He got out his key chain and used the keyless remote to unlock the car doors.

Then his world was torn apart, top and bottom lost their meaning and merge into one as sound and light exploded into pain and blackness.

The air was on fire, every breath burnt in his lungs. He coughed, sending waves of pain down his back. He couldn't hear anything save for the ringing of a thousands bells in his head. His back, elbows and knee hurt. There was something sticky on his face. His hand found his face somehow and tried to wipe away the wetness, causing pain and a sharp burning sensation. He opened his eyes and looked at his hand. Blood was smeared on his fingers from where he had tried to wipe his face. There was something wrong. His mind couldn't keep up with it. Why was he on the ground? Where was he on the ground? What was going on here? The sounds of nearing sirens pierced through the ringing in his ears. He struggled to sit up, in spite of the painful protestations from his back.

"Are you all right, Sir?" a voice asked him from behind. Not a familiar voice.

"Yeah." He pushed himself up to get into a standing position. Had it not been for a pair of hands steadying him, he would have fallen right back to the ground again. He started to take in his surroundings. The parking lot, he recalled having parked there on their way to the apartment. They had been chasing some sort of lead. He looked around. Smoke filled the air, the stench of burning plastic was everywhere. The concrete ground was littered with pieces of debris, glass, metal. The remains of their government issue Sedan were standing there, black and smouldering. The memories all came back, in a flood like rush. He spun around. To his great relief he saw Vivian sitting over by the ambulance with a paramedic. A group of onlookers had already gathered around the parking lot which had been taped off by the police.

"Come with me, we need to have a look at you." The reassuring voice of the EMT was back.

Slowly his head stopped spinning, gradually tuning back in with the rest of the world, as the EMT had a look at the cuts on his face.

"I don't think you're going to need stitches for any of those. They're not too deep. You got luck with all that glass flying around." She finished applying a butterfly bandage.

"Does anything else hurt, your head, your chest?"

"No, I'm fine." He reassured her. In fact he had a slight headache, but nothing too serious. He felt oddly well considering the circumstances. He could have been killed, had be been actually close to the car when it exploded. But by random chance, he had used the remote key chain. But even then, the explosion would have been more deadly. The most lethal things on explosion wasn't the fire, it was the shockwave with the potential to cause massive damage to internal organs. He had seen bomb victims with hardly a scratch on their skins, but bleed to death from internal injuries.

"Are you sure? It would be best to take you to the ER to get checked out."

Before he could reply, he spotted a familiar figure walking towards him and the ambulance. Van Doran was walking across the scene. The expression on her face was somewhere between anger and determination.

She showed her badge to the EMT and only acknowledged Jack with a nod.

"How are agents Malone and Johnson?" she addressed the EMT who was tending to Jack.

"Cuts, abrasions and bruises. I don't think they suffered any internal injuries but we'd have to run more test at the hospital to be absolutely sure." The EMT summarised.

"I'll just have to ask them a few questions, then you can take them to the hospital."

She tuned to hi for the first time.

"What happened?"

"A suspect in the kidnapping of Lydia Atkinson had stored property here. We went in, but all we found was indication that the suspect was already dead. We found his death certificate insight. His heirs probably stored his property. There was nothing of value there. Furniture, some books. When we came out of the building. I didn't notice anything suspicion. When I unlocked the car with the remote, the bomb, I assume, went off." Jack was trying to gather the facts together in spite of his brains resistance to revisit those memories. He shook his head.

"That's it?" she sounded accusatory.

"Yes."

"How long where you in the building?"

"Maybe thirty minutes. No longer than that."

"Anything else?"

"No, nothing that I can recall at the moment." His head had started spinning. He must have had hit his head harder then he thought, or those fumes most have gotten to him.

"Okay, that's it for now. I'm going to need your reports asap." She gave a fake smile.

He couldn't blame her for being curt. An attempt on the lives two FBI agents was serious, and it was political. The press was quick to call it terrorism, possible setting off an outbreak of civil panic. Every step of such an investigation was under scrutiny from both inside and outside. A mine field that was close to impossible to navigate

Roadside somewhere in rural North Carolina

November 24, 2 p.m.

The car came to a sharp halt when the dirt road suddenly ended.

"Where are we?" Samantha glanced around, seeing nothing bit foliage.

"I'm not exactly sure." Martin pulled out the map out of the glove compartment and unfolded it.

Samantha watched his efforts which were clearly not going anywhere any time soon.

Give me the map, she ordered, turning it around trying to located the starting point. "We left from here, about five hours ago." She pointed to the small town which looked far more impressive on the map than it had in actual reality.

"I know where we started, the question is where are we now."

"We passed a river about an hour ago. It might be this one here." She traced the blue line on the map. It was far off from where they had intended to go.

"Fantastic, we took a wrong turn four hours ago."

"It wasn't my idea." he retorted.

Indeed it had not been. With the map not being of much use the had stopped at a gas station, not only for a refill but also to ask direction. Although the attendant had clearly been drinking and didn't seem to awake, he had provided them with instructions on how to get to Markus Feldman's property. Confidently they had sat out to the estate of their suspect. Now half a day later, they were in the middle of nowhere.

"I told you that the directions sounded wrong to me."

"You said, that there might be a more direct route. That is something entirely different. But the guy was so far above the legal limit we would have found it quicker with the map."

Tempers were running high, not only was the lull in the investigation unsatisfying and frustrating, but only meant a loss of value able time. They were in a gambling with the lives of a mother and her daughter. By taking on their job they imposed this responsibility on themselves, to do all they could to find the victims before the were killed. They didn't always stand a chance in this race. Sometimes, they were dead before they were reported missing, But fortunately that was the minority of their cases. Usually there was something they could do to find the person alive. Neither of them needed to say it, they both knew it and it was irate them.

"This is going to go down as the least productive day in FBI history." Samantha commented grimly. "The daily report should turn out interesting."

"It's going to be a late dinner. I'm going to drive back." Martin said, ignoring her remark.

"Okay. But only because I'm tired." Samantha conceded and moved over to the passenger seat. She was tired, hardly any day had seemed so long.

They made a U turn and headed back.

Not having to focus on driving anymore Samantha run the scene at the gas station through her head again. They had gotten a refill, then had gone inside to pay and Martin had picked up a sandwich and a can of soda. The attendant had seemed a bit odd. And not just odd, as in a drunk. No, they would he had reacted to them, as if he had known they were coming. He had been afraid. But then again, the shaking hands could just be a symptom of long term alcohol abuse. But he had been very firm in the directions. Much more coherent than in anything else he had said. Sand it had taken him several tries to punch in the prices of their purchases into the cash register. All those little bits combined like mosaic stones into a picture. She didn't quite know what that pictures was, there were too many piece missing, but it instilled a feeling of uneasiness. She couldn't quite shake the impression that something was wrong. But just a feeling wasn't enough in her profession. Intuition went a long way and was crucial to her work, without it she wouldn't be able to do it. Often the first impression made them look deeper. But truth was too that intuition alone was good for nothing, least of all for a warrant. Besides her suspicion was not even related to the case. The lead was pretty vague as it was and the gas station attendant had no motive to lie to them, plus he had been drunk and probably was an alcoholic. She, she must be going paranoid after all, she decided. Paranoid of not, the though would not leave her alone.

"Martin, did the attendant seem odd to you? As if he knew he was lying to us about the direction?" She felt silly the moment she had asked the question, even though it was valid to explore all possible avenues in an investigation.

"I don't know. He did seem very sure about what he was saying. But I didn't really see a motive, but someone could have told him to lie. Would probably not be too hard to convince him. But if it was our guy then how would he know that we are on to him? It's a long way from the city to here. We can ask him again tomorrow." Martin shrugged, tired and hungry as well.

Richter and Associates Law Firm, New York City

November 24, 5.45 p.m.

Maria heard the knock at the door, but had no time to react to it because the door was opened immediately. Her assistant stood in the door frame, her face flushed.

"Maria, I think there is something on TV that you should see." Janet seemed positively alarmed and upset. Uneasy, Maria followed her out into the break room were the TV was set to a newscast.

Earlier this afternoon, about two hours ago, a bomb explosion shocked the city. The car of two FBI Agents reportedly investigating a local missing persons case exploded while in a parking lot. It is unclear whether anyone was injured in the explosion or what might have been the cause.

Pictures of a smoke filled parking lot, bustling with law enforcement and rescue personnel flashed across the screen.

So far no arrests have been made and the FBI has not yet given any official statement as to what happened. Speculations are that this may an act of terrorism. An official statement is expected later tonight. This was Kylie Jones with BTV.

Two hours ago. Why had no one from the FBI called her so far? Did that mean that Jack was all right? But then why had he not called her? He must know that a car bomb targeting two FBI agents would be all over the news. Hopefully the girls hadn't seen this. Briefly, her fear for Jack mixed with anger towards him, But she had to know, she needed to find out what had happened, no matter how painful the news was going to be. For a moment, when she was preparing to take the receiver and dial, all the adversity, the hurt feelings and the discord between her and jack were forgotten, the miserable years, the suspicions and the hurt feelings momentarily erased. Jack was once again the man she had married, the man she loved and couldn't stand to loose. She raced over to the phone her hands shaking his she dialled the number of Jack's cell phone. An eternity passed before it was picked up on the third ring.

"Jack?" she asked even though she recognized the voice.

"Yes, what's going on Maria?" he sounded tired.

A pause, an sharp exhale.

"I saw it on the news, about the car bomb. I had no idea what had happened. Whether you were okay-"

"I'm okay. No one was seriously hurt luckily. I'm sorry, I didn't think it would be on the news." The extend of what Maria had told him was just sinking in. He couldn't image her reaction to having seen the news reports, not knowing that nobody had been hurt.

"A car bomb blowing up the car of two FBI agents, it's on the news all over the country. What were you thinking?"

"I'm really sorry. I hope the kids didn't see anything about. But a lot is going on here, I didn't have "

"I'm glad that you're okay. " Maria interrupted him, her voice hurt. "I'll be picking the girls up." She hung up.

It was the same as always. It hadn't even entered into jack's mind that his family might be worried about him when the heard the news reports. She closed the file on the table. It was late and there was no way she could concentrate on her work now. She decided to leave for the day and take her work home with her in the hopes of getting some more done that evening. Chances were that Jack wouldn't come home for a while and the inevitable argument would take place either after midnight or not at all. In which case both would just swallow up their hurt feelings. It was an inescapable cycle in which they both had been trapped for years, as she had lately come to realize.

Jack stared at the phone. It had never occurred to him to call Maria. He could go easy on himself, attribute it to the shock and the blow to the head he had suffered in the explosion. Maybe that was even true or at least a mitigating factor, But at the heart of the matter, it was a question of his priorities. In a moment of conscious choice he would have called Maria, but his instinctive reaction had been different. He knew that part of what she had said, had been out of the emotional tension that accompanied worry.

Maria was right, the report could wait until tomorrow. There was nothing to do for him at work, that wouldn't still be there tomorrow. The forensic reports on the bombing wouldn't be in for at least twelve more hours. He closed the file, just as his cell phone rang again.

"Malone."

"It's Sam. I saw about the explosion in the news. Are you and Viv all right?" she sounded out of breath, her voice a little bit shaky.

"A bit bruised, but we got lucky. The experts suspect that the detonator might have malfunctioned. Otherwise we wouldn't have stood a chance." his answer had an undercurrent of terror.

"Thank God, you're okay." She breathed a sigh of relief. What is van Doran going to do?"

"For the moment, we stay on the case. So far there has been no confession to the attempt, It might not even be connected to the case, terrorism, someone who has a problem with the FBI. The list of suspects is pretty long. We have to wait for the report. How are things going?"

"They're going no where so far. Apparently Feldman's estate is very remote. We didn't manage to find it yet, it's not on the maps of the area. We're going to talk to the nearest local FBI office tomorrow. But they haven't taken a look, figured I'd better not to draw any attention to us."

"Good work. Keep me updated."

"We will. Jack, I'm really glad that you're okay. Bye."

"Bye."

Unlike the earlier conversation, he had a smile on his face when he hung up.

It was different, he reminded himself. His responsibility towards Samantha was different. He was under no obligation to call her. But still there had been something different. Maria had lashed out at him in anger. Anger that was fuelled by concern, but still.

It was uncanny how the two conversation had been so similar and yet so different.

White Pines Motel, North Carolina

November 24, 6 p.m.

Samantha put down the receiver, feeling more relived than ever,. No that wasn't true. When she had first seen Jack after the Barry Mashburn incident, and had realized that he was all right, the relief have been even greater. Still, she suddenly felt almost giddy, The rush of emotion paired with the sudden shock when the images of the explosion and the burning car had filled the television screen and that terrible second when she had realized whose car had been blown up, had left her oddly drained and restless at the same time. She took a hot, long shower, and then sat down at the desk spreading out the case materials in front of her. She had planned on taking her mind of Jack by going over the facts of the case again. But the endeavour was doomed. She couldn't focus, the lines danced in front of her eyes and the images from TV intruded on her mind with persistence. hearing Jack's voice on the phone had been reassurance that he was all right, but at the same time it had made her realize just how attached she still was to him and what an impact losing him would have on her, even though she knew that she could never be with him. She shut the file on her table and went over to the bed. The though of sleep seemed impossible right now. She had far too much nervous energy for that right now. Although she was already in her nightgown after having taken a shower, she got dressed again. She needed fresh air and she needed to walk. She tucked her gun into the holster and out it on. Even though she wasn't on duty, it had become a habit for her not to leave the house unarmed. She used to feel empowered in a way carrying her gun. That feeling had worn off considerably ever since she had been shot with that very gun when she had been a hostage in the bookstore.

Vivian Johnson's apartment, New York City

November 24, 6.30 p.m.

Melvin Johnson was in the kitchen, cooking dinner for himself and his son Reggie. Since Vivian wasn't working regular hours, it was him who normally took care of household tasks during the week. When the door rang, he supposed that Vivian had simply forgotten her key. he was already glad that she was coming home early for a chance after a series of late nights at the office. When he looked through the door, he saw an unfamiliar man, who proceeded to show him a badge identifying him as an FBI agent. A cold wave of fear ran down his spine. Had something happened to Vivian? Why were they sending an agent? He opened the door.

"Mr. Johnson? I'm Agent Taylor, I work with your wife."

"Is Vivian all right?"

"Yes. I wanted to talk to you in person before you saw it on the news." Danny couldn't think of one way to say this without alarming Vivian's husband more than necessary.

"Why what's going on?" Melvin was panicking now, but still trying to keep his voice down to avoid alerting Reggie.

"Calm down, Sir. Vivian is okay. There was an explosion this afternoon. We're not sure what happened yet. It might have been a bomb. But Vivian is all right. She wasn't injured. They are merely taking her to the hospital to make sure that she's really okay."

"Oh my God. Is there any way I can contact her?"

"Nor for the moment, I'm afraid. But she should be over here pretty soon. I also need to talk to her briefly, regarding the investigation into the explosion." Danny fabricated a half-lie, feeling bad about it.

"Come in. Thank you for telling me in person." He let Danny in and seated him at the kitchen table before tending to his cooking which was sending alarming clouds of smoke into the air, filling the room with the stench of burnt food. Danny opened the window to let in some fresh air while Melvin doused the pan with water.

"Man that smells. What are you doing there, Dad?" Reggie had come into the kitchen.

"Something burned. We'll just have sandwiches for dinner." his father replied absentmindedly, obviously still processing the news he had just received.

"Reggie, go back to you room and finish your homework, okay? I'll call you when dinner is ready." Melvin addressed Reggie.

Making a face, Reggie went back into his room.

Melvin was vigorously scraping the burnt pan, trying to get out the remnants of the burnt meat and vegetables.

"I'm sorry that this is such a mess. I simply forgot about the pan on the stove."

"Not a problem. Just soak it in water and it'll be easier to clean later." Danny suggested.

"Of course you're right. I wasn't thinking." Melvin out down the pan and joined Danny at the table. In that moment, they heard a key being turned in the door look. The door was pushed open and Vivian entered. She didn't look very well, scrapes on her face and her suit was dusty and torn in places, but there was no sign of serious injury. Her eyes wandered from Melvin to Danny, then back again.

"Vivian, are you all right?"

"Yes."

"Thank God." Melvin hugged his wife. "I'm so glad that you're fine.

"Me too."

Danny felt ill at ease and out of place. Maybe coming here had not been such a good idea. The Johnson's probably had other concerns right now.

Vivian hung what was left of her coat over a chair, sat down and poured herself a glass of water. She looked questioningly over at Danny, as if she had only now fully taken in his presence in her living room.

"Your colleague was informing me about what happened." Melvin explained in his place.

"Yeah, there is also something I need to talk to you about. But it can wait until tomorrow." he hastily added. Truth was that it was already too late, he should have spoken up much sooner, but he didn't want to put pressure on Vivian tonight after what she had just been trough. he couldn't even image what she must be feeling. He himself could still feel the chill that had followed the shoot out at the cottage and this event had not even come close to what had happened now.

"No, it's okay. Melvin, maybe you and Reggie can go out an get dinner. It's probably better if you talk to him first."

"Sure, I'll see you later."

After Melvin and Reggie had left, Vivian turned to Danny.

"Are you on the case? I thought you'd gone home ill."

"No. But there is something I need to talk to you about. I know it's a good time, but I don't think it can wait."

Jack Malone's apartment, New York City

November 24, 11.45 p.m.

Maria was just looking at him. Her eyes were red, she had been crying. He hadn't seen her cry in a long time, the last time when her mother had died a few years ago. The kids? Horrifying images generated by his imagination started racing through his mind. No, she would have called him if anything had happened to them. He tried to calm down his racing thoughts.

"Maria?" He asked, setting down his briefcase and walking over to the table.

"Why didn't you tell me that you've been threatened?" Maria asked him her voice shaking. "Two FBI investigators were here this evening, they are investigating the bombing. They told me that you've been receiving threatening notes at work, they wanted to know whether I'd received some as well. I had no idea what was going on. How could you not tell me about this? I need to know things like that."

He sat down, suddenly feeling his headache return.

Maria took another sip of tea, her hands trembling slightly.

"Then today, you nearly got killed and don't even bother to tell me that you're all right. I didn't even know you were still alive. You can shut me out all you want. But when the girls are affected then I need to know about this. I can't believe it." She shook her head, rising her cup again to take another sip.

"Maria", he put his hand on her arm.

"I'm sorry, with all that commotion after the car bomb." he swallowed hard. "The threats were unspecific, I had them given the notes to forensics. I didn't think it was a good idea to worry you or the girls with this."

He got up and got himself an aspirin from the medicine cabinet, the pounding in his head seemed to get worse by the minute. When he come back into the kitchen, Maria was turned towards him.

"Jack, I can't do this anymore. I simply can't. I think we need to rethink what we are doing. Look the facts in the eye. Maybe you have been to wrapped up in work to notice, but we are falling apart." She sat down her cup and walked out of the room past him.

He just sat there, watching the aspirin dissolve in the glass of water. The entire scene was surreal, he was merely a spectator to this drama and yet at the same time he was cast for one of the main parts. The entire day seemed to have taken week. When he had gotten up this morning the world had looked so different than it had now. It seemed improbably that only eighteen hours had passed and yet so much had happened. He wasn't sure he could keep it all together. This case, his marriage, his team. It was all falling apart, Truth was it had been for a while, only this case had been a catalyst in a way. It brought out the worst in them. Emotions were mixing with the work because of the horrors they were confronted with and because they were personally a target in this case. That much had become clear when the bomb exploded It hadn't just been empty threats.