Angela stared at the small body lying lifelessly on the ground, one of her hands raised to her lips, another wrapped around her middle protectively. The third one in a week, the press was going to town with it, nausea ran threw her veins suddenly, this Benny guy was sick, he had to be stopped, fast.

"Woody, when is Jordan going to get here?" she asked persistently, kicking him lightly as he sat stooped over the body.

"How the hell should I know, I'm not her keeper." He bit back, she knew he wasn't furious with her, he was frustrated, he wanted to catch the bastard who did this. They all did.

"Everything okay between you and her?" a voice startled them from behind, Devan.

"Uh, yah Dev, things are fine. Devan, this is Angela, Angela this is Devan." Angela nodded politely, but didn't really care for the firey blonde. Something about her she just didn't trust.

"So," Angela said nervously to Woody, twisting a piece of strawberry hair in her fingers. "You excited about Cals wedding?" she asked offhandedly, Woody's head shot up.

"His... what?" he hissed in a dangerously low tone. His eyebrows wagging in surprise, she backed up quickly.

"Uh, did I say wedding?" she whispered, backing up a foot more.

"yes, Ang, yah did." He retorted, staring at her, waiting for an explanation.

"Well the thing is, he called me three weeks ago and told me his was getting married here in Boston, I just assumed you knew." It was a logical answer, right?

"Excuse me, but I have absolutely no idea what you guys are talking about." Devan said to no one in particular. No one heard her. "what am I invisible?"

"Who is he getting married to?" he demanded indignantly. Angela shoveled her toe into the gravel of the driveway.

"Shelby Nixon." She whispered, closing her eyes tight and wincing, waiting.

"That hooker from Milwaukee?" he asked astonished.

"She's not a hooker Woody, she's an exotic dancer." She countered firmly.

"Whatever." He rubbed his hand threw his hair. "Devan, what are you doing here?"

"I was wondering the same thing... Jordan went out on a call, pile up on the expressway... something like eight fatalities.... What do we got?"

"Katrina Norman, eight, mother prostitute for none other than Benny the voice Perez... only her mother wasn't killed, her mother reported her missing four days ago, in New York." Woody shook his head sadly, quickly silencing himself. "I have to figure out what we are going to do with Mackenzie, she's out of the hospital tomorrow." Devan looked down at him sadly.

"You really like her huh?"

"She's a good kid." He stated, she smiled, brushing a hand threw his hair.

"You're cute Hoyt." She chuckled to herself. "all fatherly." He smacked her lightheartedly on the shoulder as he stood. Only then did he realize how close they stood together, shoulder touching shoulder, she looked down sheepishly.

Suddenly someone pushed their way between them joltingly.

"What do we have?" Jordan asked with mock offhandedness as she stood inbetween them, out of breath. Woody had to stifle a laugh.

"Katrina Norman, her mom was a prostitute for psycho Benny Perez." She nodded her head gravely.

"Dear god... okay, I'll have more to tell you when we get back the morgue." Devan and Woody shared a derisive look and made there way back to the car.

"So, uh, Wood." Jordan yelled, catching up to Woody.

"Yeah Jo?"

"What are you doing tonight?"

"Trying to figure out what to do with Mac." He stated leaning against his car. "I don't know where she's going to stay."

"Have her stay with you." Jordan suggested as her cell phone went off.

"Cavanaugh." Jordan said into the sleek silver phone laced between her gloved hands.

"Yeah, love just got out of trace with that filmy substance on Cory Taylor's feet, its cement, finely powdered cement. ; like what you'd find at a construction sight, I ran it threw the computer and the closest construction sight to where the body was found is an abandoned hotel being renovated... on Church and Neal." Nigel said happily.

"Nigel you rock!" Jordan laughed as she hung up. When she turned around Woody and his car was gone. She looked up at the sky, how grey and barren it looked. She blew a stray strand of hair out of her eyes. Some part of her missed Woody, and the innocents he used to carry around with him like a pocket watch, always there in his back pocket when he needed it.

The sun was obscured by the stark, gun barrel grey sky, the cold always made her miserable. It reminded her of her mother... and her murder, yet it was a bittersweet emotion it made her remember the good as well. The smell of chocolate chip cookies on a cold day, the way they used to walk in the mornings, together, just them. Before her father awoke, They used to talk about things that were important, sometimes they'd talk about nothing at all. Her mother would bundle her up in her fall coat and mittens. And they'd drink hot cocoa with marshmallows and cinnamon sticks. They'd sit on benches in the park down the street and feed the squirrels. Her mother would tell her stories of when she was a little girl. They may not have been important memories then, now, she was so glad to have them stored away.

The wind blew by, bringing the faint smell of salt and sea. She smiled to herself and climbed up into her truck.

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When Woody reached his apartment he felt a rush of exhaustion run threw his veins. He couldn't wait to collapse on the couch and go to sleep before picking up Mackenzie, still not sure if he should take her in or not, after all he wasn't her father, but still, she had no where to go. In the end he didn't have to make a decicion, Mackenzie made if for him.

A knock jolted the door, not five mintues after he had fallen asleep. It was riveting, with a groan he stood and drowsily made his way to the front door.

"Yes." He said irritably as he opened the door. He was met by Mackenzie's happy face.

"Hi Woody." She scrambled past him, her face still had the remnants of black and blue bruising on her glowing face.

"Mac?"

"Yes!" she gushed as she flopped down on the couch.

"What are you doing here and second, how did you get here?"

"My grandma brought me here." She said a little sadly, "When she heard I was in the hospital she was going to pick me up and take me to social services, but I asked her to bring me to your address." She kicked her feet, she was soaked from the snow, in her thin clothes, her hair was soggy, which made it look even more massive than it was.

"Okay," he said slowly "do you have any clothes? Have you eaten?" she shook her head both times. He thought carefully. This girl's family refused to take her, When Lily had talked to them they denied they even had a daughter, let alone a granddaughter. But I guess that even the most ashamed of grandmothers had to feel a tad bit of guilt. This girl was completely alone, only seven years old without family, friends... only a detective that had only a working knowledge of kids. He sighed, with a little bit of help from Angie, and the rest of the gang, maybe he could make it work.

"You like McDonalds?" he asked, she nodded with a wide smile. "Okay, first we'll stop by Mervyn's get you a jacket, some clothes... your going to freeze to death." She stood as he opened the door.

"Woody?" she asked as they walked out of his apartment.

"Yes Mac?"

"Can I play with your badge?" she asked sweetly.

"Knock yourself out." He said, handing her his wallet.

"Can I play with your gun?" she asked in the same solicitous voice.

"Oh, Sure Mac." He said in sarcastic voice

"Really!"

"No, nice try though!"