I didn't move, I waited with my shaking hands in my lap. Elliot and Olivia had left an hour ago, with the traffic over the Brooklyn Bridge they would be another hour. Cragan was in his office with his blinds closed. I tried to remain composed, I wanted to smash my own head against the wall, I wanted to smash Dorian's head, Quentin's head, Cherise's head against the wall with all my might, and just end the misery. He was my son, my DNA, I had taken him to school in the morning, tucked him in at night, read him stories and tried to do it right. Where had I gone wrong? Cragan came out of his office looking flighty and nervous as he approached me.

"I just got off the phone with Olivia, he was where you said he'd be, they are bringing him in." There was a sense of mistrust coming from his voice as if he didn't actually expect me to tell where he'd really be.

John quickly walked in and sat down heavily on his desk only about three feet from where Cragan and I were sitting.

"Spent the last hour in missing persons, nobody to her description showed up. However pulled a few strings got her DNA ran through the system and..."

"A match? She's ten years old?" I asked a little confused.

"Not her, her father. Ten year old Harmony Lincon is the daughter of Jonas Lincon, AKA Big Linc. The richest most influential, drug dealer in Brooklyn." Somewhere in the back of my mind I heard Cragan thanking John for his good work, but I was stuck somewhere else. No question I could no longer hide behind hope, Dorian had been involved, not only was it not a random pickup on the street, it was planned. It was first degree. The sad thing was I knew Jonas, I knew him better than I would ever tell anyone who wore a badge. We had grown up together, skipped school together, smoked weed together, sold drugs together. When we started out we were a team, he had been my best friend. Jonas had been the one who was shot the day Dorian was born, if it wasn't for him I might have never known Dorian who would have ended up in the foster system. But maybe that was better, because clearly I messed up big time. Ever when I turned into a snitch I never brought up Jonas' name, even when I worked in Narcotics I always turned a blind eye away from him. Unprofessional and illegal maybe, but he had saved my life one dark night and I always thought I'd pay back the favor. My son had murdered his little girl. I should have sent him to jail, he would have never had a daughter, but then it just would have been someone else's daughter.

"Fin?" I shook myself out of my stupor.

"Do you want to go with John and talk with Lincon?"

In a million ways I could see this not working. He would recognize me, my cover would be blown. But wasn't it already? I agreed I'm not sure why, but I did. Driving over the Brooklyn bridge John finally asked the question I had been expecting since the start.

"Why didn't you tell me about him?"

"About Dorian?" I knew who he meant but I wanted to stall, to think of lies.

He nodded.

"I don't know, he's been in trouble for a long time, I don't see him for months. I kicked him out when he was 17 but I knew he was using the day he started. I guess I was so good lying to myself that I just lied to other people too." A mishmash of answers that John didn't really understand.

Jonas lived in a large house on the good side of Brooklyn, he had quite a commute everyday to Colin Brown I couldn't help thinking. His house looked so upstanding, flower pots in the front, lace curtains in the window. The neighbors probably don't even know. It made me think for the slightest second that this was the house I could have had. I was ashamed of myself for the thought, it wasn't worth it. John knocked on the door, I tried to think if my appearance had changed since I saw him last and found myself praying that he wouldn't recognize me.

The door squeaked as it opened. Jonas looked just the same, broad-shouldered as a quarterback, with a shaved shiny head and huge ringed hands. His body framed the doorway.

"Jonas Lincon?" I saw him stare at me.

"Yeah." His voice was baritone.

John flashed his badge. "I'm a New York city detective. Do you mind if we come in and ask a few questions." I didn't say a word I half hid behind John. Recognition flashed in Jonas' eyes.

"yeah." He opened the door wide and started walking back into the house. It was sitting on the a small table in the front hall, a picture frame, two boys and a girl. My mind flashed to her body. She was smiling in that picture her arms draped around her younger brothers.

"Do you have a ten year old daughter Mr. Lincon?" John asked.

Fear.

"Yes."

"Do you know where she is?"

"She's visiting my sister, in the city."

John started going over the gruesome details. He shook his head, he wrung his hands, he muttered 'no' under his breath.

"My little girl?" He asked weakly, his eyes were watery.

He stood up abruptly, walked from side to side. "I-I-I have to call my wife. She's at work. My sons are at school." He shook his head, he walked his great body shaking into the kitchen, on his way, with all his might punching the wall so hard the plaster cracked and a frame photo fell of the wall and smashed. He picked up, the picture frame blood running down his hand. He sank down into the wall clutching the broken picture of his little girl and sobbed. He looked up at me.

"Fin?"

I nodded as John shot me a look full of warning.

"Why are you here?"

"I'm a detective."

"Can I see her?"

"Yes. We'd like you to come with us."

"I need to call my wife." Tears still running down his face, he shuffled into the kitchen, clutching the picture his bravado gone. This man had seen dozens of people die, and was probably behind some of them too. He'd sold drugs to kids as young as his daughter and watched them succumb to addiction and fall down bottomless holes. He'd made his fortune, selling death. I bet he had never considered this. He lived detached from the projects, his kids went to a private school (judging by the uniformed pictures). He never thought this could come to him, for a moment I hated him. It passed.

"Fin? How does he know you?" John asked urgently.

"We grew up together."

We drove in silently, just as John was leading him to the ME's. He grabbed my arm.

"You're gonna catch the bastard who did this? Right Fin?" He was looking to me for assurance just as he always had when we were younger. He was always bigger, always stronger. He had always looked to me, the scrawny kid for assurance, and just as I had 25 years ago I gave him what he wanted.

"Yeah."

I walked silently over to Cragan.

"You managed to get him to walk freely into a police station?"

"I don't think he even thought about it that way."

We walked into one of the interrogation rooms. Olivia and Elliot were waiting starring at Dorian through the glass. His body was hunched over the table, his eyes roaming the walls. He looked skinnier, unhealthy. He looked like a drug addict.

"Is that him?"

I nodded.

"He's been sitting there for about an hour now, when we picked him up he was pretty out of it. I think he's coming around." Elliot stated. Dr. Huang joined us as we starred at him.

"Fin, I'd like you to go in, talk to him." Cragan looked at me squarely.

"What?"

"Interacting with family members can tell us a lot about his personality, history." Dr. Huang said.

I took a deep breath, as I opened the door. He looked up at me.

"Hey Dad."