Disclaimer - I don't own these characters, including Tim Speedle (sigh), but hey, a girl can dream, can't she?

Pairings - Tim/OC, Eric/Valera, Horatio/Calleigh

Rating - To be determined

Summary - Sequel to Three Hundred Sixty Five Days and Love Lost Returned. A Miami cop is killed by a kidnapper wanted by the FBI in Washington D.C., bringing Leanna's fiancé Jonathan to Miami while she and Tim await the birth of their child.

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"So, Peter," Speed began his questioning, "where's Angela?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," the diplomat answered in a thick Russian accent. "Angela who?"

Tim sighed, laying a set of photographs in front of the suspect. "Angela Harmon, age 7, you know, your daughter?"

"I don't have a daughter," he answered quickly, pushing the photographs away. "You can't arrest me, I have diplomatic immunity."

"Murdering a police officer and kidnapping a federal judge's daughter are some pretty serious offenses, Peter, and I hear your government isn't too happy with you right now. Do they still have gulags in Russia? 'Cause I can guarantee you'll be spending time there."

"You mock my government?" Peter asked.

"Nope," Speed shrugged, "just stating facts. Our government talked to your government and you'll be doing time, whether it's here or Russia."

"You could make it a lot easier by just telling us where Angela is," Eric chimed in.

"I told you, I don't know what you're talking about." Peter crossed his arms over his chest and reclined back in his chair.

Speed clenched his jaw tightly. "Okay, let's try this again, Peter. Why were you buying all those clothes and toys?"

"For my nieces," the diplomat answered with a sickening grin, "I was going to send them back to Russia. It's hard for the girls to get Malibu Barbie there."

"And these nieces just happen to wear the same size clothing as Angela Harmon?" Eric asked.

"They're about the same age, so I guess it's possible," Peter answered.

"Okay," Tim rolled his eyes. "Try this one on for size. We found the gun you used to kill Officer Rodriguez in your car. Our ballistics expert is testing it right now."

"So? I have immunity. You want me to spell it for you? I-M-M....."

Jonathan burst through the door of the interrogation room, lifting Peter up by the throat, knocking over his chair and pinning him to the wall. Speed and Eric rose in shock, trying desperately to pull Jonathan off the diplomat, whose face was quickly turning blue. "Tell me where she is, Peter," Jonathan snarled, "Tell me where she is or I might get a cramp in my hand and squeeze your rotten little neck harder."

"She's with her father," he answered breathlessly.

"You're her father," Jonathan shot back, slamming Peter deeper into the wall.

"Biologically, yes, but Michael's her real father."

Jonathan released Peter from the wall. The diplomat gasped for air. "Did you see that?" he asked Tim and Eric. "Police brutality. I'm reporting you."

"He's an FBI agent," Tim reported smugly, "so report him all you want."

"She's with Dr. Harmon?" Jonathan asked, grabbing Peter by the shoulder and shoving him back into the chair.

"Coercion!" the diplomat screamed. "I want a lawyer, I'm pressing charges!" he continued to holler as the three men stepped out of the room.

"What the hell was that?" Speed asked angrily once the door was shut. "You can't just barge in and beat the shit out of my suspect."

"Need I remind you this is a federal case, Detective?"

"Need I remind you that I'm investigating the murder of one of our officers, Agent?" Tim shot back.

"Need I remind both of you that you are standing in the middle of the hallway?" Eric asked gently, taking both men by the arm and leading them into one of the labs. "Now, please, proceed to beat the snot out of each other, I'm going to sell tickets."

"What the hell is your problem?" Speed asked once Eric was gone.

"MY problem?" Jonathan answered, "I'm in charge of this case and you seem to conveniently forget that."

"I haven't forgotten anything, Jonathan. If you've got a problem with me, you need to step up and say it."

"The only problem I have is that you keep getting in the way of my investigation," he spat out.

Tim shook his head. "Well, last time I checked, it was OUR patrol officers who picked up Milkonovich, not your glorious federal agents. So maybe, just maybe, if you take your head out of your ass for a few minutes, we might get somewhere."

"And maybe if you take your head out of Leanna's ass, we'd get somewhere faster."

Tim fought back an insane and overwhelming desire to beat the hell out of Parks. Instead, he just smiled. "You'd like that, wouldn't you? If I'd deck you like you deserve. But you know what? You aren't worth losing my badge over."

Tim stepped over to the door and held it open. "I'm going to continue interrogating my suspect. If you'd like to come along..." He waved his hand dramatically in front of the open door.

"I'm running this interrogation, Detective," Jonathan said, stepping through the doorway, "But if you'd like to come along..."

"I wouldn't miss it for the world," Tim answered, following the agent back into the interrogation room.

"Where's my lawyer?" Milkonovich asked.

"Don't know, didn't call him," Jonathan stated plainly, taking a seat opposite the diplomat. "We've got you for murder and kidnapping, Peter, which one do you want to fess up to first?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," he shrugged.

"Jesus, this crap again?" Tim asked. He had been leaning against the glass wall, but stepped away to toss the pictures in front of Peter again. "That's you," he pointed to one of the pictures, "that's Angela," he pointed again, "and this is you shooting Mike Rodriguez."

"Who?" the diplomat dismissed Tim with a wave.

Tim resisted the urge to slap Milkonovich across the back of the head. Luckily, Jonathan didn't and delivered a blow to the back of the diplomat's slightly graying head.

"Our patrol officer," Tim sighed. "You shot and killed our patrol officer when he pulled you over for not having a license plate. You could have just shown him your proof of ownership. You didn't have to kill him."

"I didn't kill anybody," he answered smugly, "and even if I did, I have immunity."

"I wouldn't bet the farm on the one, Peter." Jonathan produced a letter from his jacket pocket and slid it in front of Peter. "This is written authorization from the Russian ambassador giving us permission to arrest and charge you with murder and kidnapping."

The diplomat stared blankly at the letter in front of him; then scoffed. "It's fake. Dimitri would never do that to me."

Jonathan smiled at the diplomat, pushing a button on a phone located on the table to get a free line. He dialed a long distance number and waited for a reply. "Russian Embassy," a voice answered over the speakerphone, first in English, then Russian. "How may I help you?"

"Ambassador Kiev, please, this is Special Agent Jonathan Parks with the FBI."

"Yes, Agent Parks, the ambassador is expecting your call. I will put you through immediately."

"Parks, have you got the little slimeball yet?" Kiev asked when he answered the line.

"Yes, Ambassador, he's right here listening to our conversation."

"Peter, you moron. How dare you disgrace us in this manner?" the ambassador asked angrily.

"Dimitri, I can explain...."

The ambassador cut him off. "Tell Agent Parks, not me. You are an embarrassment. First, you're caught with the judge. Now you run off with her child and murder a police officer? What am I to do with you?"

Peter hung his head low. "I will cooperate, Dimitri, if it's what you want."

"What I want, Peter, is for this to disappear. But since that is impossible, I will settle for you to disappear," the ambassador threatened. "If you fully cooperate with Agent Parks, I might be persuaded to go easier on you."

TBC...