Catherine rolled down the window over on the passenger side; I think it was an attempt to relieve some of the tension in the cabin of the Tahoe by letting in some of the Vegas night air. It didn't work. I was still pissed she tried to take me off the case, and her disappointment in my unprofessional behavior radiated off of her and through her eyes as she stared out the window, watching the lights of Las Vegas morph into neon streaks as I drove through traffic.

"Damn it Nick!" She shrieked as I hit the breaks for a stoplight and she bounced against her seatbelt and braced her hand against the dash. I watched her out of the corner of my eye as she flipped her head around, eyes boring into me. "Neither of us can solve the case if we're in traction from a car accident."

"Sorry." I did mean it, but it didn't sound like I did, even to me.

She settled back into the seat with a quiet huff and raked her fingers though her hair. The song from the radio in the car next to us drifted in through Catherine's open window, I looked over glaring at the inconsiderate driver, a teenage girl attempting to put lip gloss on her mouth while she laughed out loud at the antics of her friend in the back seat. Laughter and chatter from a group of tourists on the sidewalk caught my attention. Six men in business suits stood outside one of the cities classier strip joints, and seemed a little to… cheerful. What happens in Vegas may stay in Vegas, but not if your traveling with co-workers. One of the men punched another good-naturedly in the shoulder and the group erupted with laughter. It reminded me of us, the 'original' night shift, the way we used to be before Ecklie busted us up. My stomach turned with the memory, and I was suddenly fully aware of the annoyance floating off Catherine in waves.

A car behind us honked its horn, the light turned green again and I stepped on the gas pedal softly, coaxing the truck forward with the flow of traffic. A few blocks later, I couldn't stand the silence anymore; I wanted to make peace. "What, ah… what are you looking for back at the scene?" I asked it quietly, gently, making sure my tone was as far from defensive as possible.

She turned her head and stared at me a moment, I could tell she was considering everything about me, my voice, the expression on my face, my body language. I glanced over at her as traffic ahead of us slowed, and grinned at her, the best 'forgive me' grin I could muster. She rolled her eyes and turned her head back to watch the traffic before she spoke, using the same controlled tone that I had assumed. "I don't know Nicky." Tossing her hands in the air, she looked over at me again. "Look, don't get pissed off again, but you are to close to this…" she paused, weighing my reaction, I tightened my grip on the wheel, but tried to keep everything else neutral looking. "It's in your voice" she said simply.

I digested that as I slowed the Tahoe and stopped for another red light. "What is?"

She sighed heavily, there was a need for forgiveness in the movement of her shoulders. "I think" she was choosing her words carefully and she spoke slowly. "I think that you may care a little to much about the victim"

"Kelly." I corrected her.

"There. That. Just that." She swiveled in the seat and pointed a finger at me. "You care to much about this particular victim." She released her folded fingers, and laid her hand on my arm. I could hear it in her voice that she was debating saying more. "She's dead Nicky. You can't save her." For some reason, my heart was beating hard. I wanted to throw up. The light changed, and I swallowed my protest as I stepped on the gas and flipped the turn signal, glancing quickly and changed lanes. I didn't want her to take me off the case, and I sure as hell didn't want to quit. We were silent the rest of the ride to Kelly's house.


I took my Swiss Army knife out of the breast pocket of my jacket, flipped open the blade and sliced though the crime scene tape plastered on the front door. The hinges creaked and the top of the door scraped roughly against the frame. Need to fix that flashed though my mind as I glanced up and pushed harder on the door feeling it give way beneath my hands. I stepped back, letting Catherine pass by me and enter first. She stopped about three feet inside, setting her field kit down at her feet. I followed her in, closing the door behind me, and waited while she looked around, getting her bearings. The house was cool, and I could smell the stale pepperoni from the pizza I'd found, mixed in with White Diamonds and something dark and fruity that I could only attribute to Kelly's own personal smell, an unique combination of shampoo, soap and sweat. There was something comforting in the blend.

Catherine focused on the shelves and crossed the few feet to them with just a few steps. I was suddenly anxious about something I couldn't put my finger on, like she shouldn't be here. I put my hands on my waist, pushing my jacket back and watched as she picked up the ceramic frog that I had imagined when I read that story in one of the books I bought, A Prince of a Frog. She ran her thumb over it absent mindedly as she stretched her neck looking at the rest of the collection displayed on the shelves. I fought the urge to admonish her for holding it so loosely.

"Wow." She muttered under her breath. She turned to me and I saw something like new understanding in her eyes. "Hell of a lot of frogs."

"Yeah." I stepped up next to her and casually held out my hand, instinctively she handed me the frog. My fingers wound tightly around it as I pointed with my free hand and said, "The body was back here."

I felt like a trainee again as I set my case down at the bedroom threshold, and watched Catherine take a preliminary walk around. My hands virtually twitched for something to do, so I shoved them in my pants pockets to still them. Finally sick of me just standing there, she sent me into the bathroom to dust for prints as she re-examined the crime scene. I gained new respect for Greg, and vowed not to dump the crap jobs on him again. At least not all of them anyway.

Dipping the brush into the black finger print powder, I ran the bristles over the handles of the bathroom sink, flicking my wrist in light back and forth motions, not really believing I'd find anything but Kelly's prints. There's no blood in strangulation, her killer would have had no reason to stick around and wash his hands.

The smell that had hit me at the front door was stronger in the bathroom, minus the pepperoni. My hand stopped it's rhythmic movement, the brush hung motionless in the air. Glancing up into the mirror, I saw her. Kelly. Standing behind me, she piled her hair up on her head, and held it there with one hand. I watched her watch herself as she turned from side to side, evaluating herself for a moment. She struck several model like poses before she stopped and stuck her tongue out at her reflection. She giggled at herself, her eyes shining. Her laughter was contagious and I laughed out loud. Catherine's face appeared in the mirror over and somehow though Kelly's for a brief moment, then Kelly was gone. "What's funny?" Catherine asked, her eyes narrowing.

"Ah, I was just thinking about Greg, and how if he were here, he'd be doing this rookie stuff." It wasn't exactly a lie. I set my wrist and brush back into motion.

I watched her reflected face relax back into its natural state. "Oh. Ok." She lifted her chin just a little, "You find anything?"

I nodded as a partial print emerged under the black powder. I pressed a tape lift against the half moon shape lifting the print. "Yeah, a partial. I'll check it against Kel…the victims." I avoided her eyes by I slipping the print into an envelope and then into my kit. "Did you find anything?"

She nodded once. "Yeah. I did." She held up a clear plastic bag, the word 'evidence' was written across a red band in bold black letters. Nestled in the bottom corner of the bag was something tiny, white and almost square shaped. "A tooth. Behind the bedroom door; almost worked itself underneath the edge of the carpet." I kept my head hung, feigning interest in the organization of my field kit. "I wouldn't have even looked there, expect I knew that I had to look twice as hard to find anything you might have missed." Her voice was confident, normal. She wasn't pacifying me.

I nodded still looking at my kit. When I did look up and met her eyes a moment later, she had a small smile plastered on her face. "Thanks Catherine."

The ride back was quiet again, but there was no tension in the air. I felt my body sink into the passenger seat, Catherine had been adamant about driving, and I hadn't put up much of a protest. I attributed her silence to the same exhaustion that I was feeling myself. My legs and arms were heavier than I'd ever remembered them being, I thought back in my head, trying to remember the last decent sleep I'd gotten. I grunted as I realized that I didn't know when that had been. I don't think I'd gone this long without sleeping since Nigel. I shook my head, clearing his image out of my brain. Don't go down that road right now Nicky-boy. I took a deep, cleansing breath, and let my eyes slowly close, and as I did, I saw Catherine steal a worried glance over at me. The vibration of the truck was lulling, the air from the heater surrounded me, wrapping me in a cocoon of warmth. My body relaxed even more. I knew I was falling asleep, and there wasn't anything I could do about it.

I felt her arm snake around my chest, the weight of her head on my shoulder lifting at the same time. I opened my eyes to find her grinning at me; the smile grew wider as my eyes opened. "Good morning."

I ran my tongue over my teeth. "Morning Sleeping Beauty." My throat was dry, my voice coming out scoured.

"Me?" She pulled herself on top of me, straddling my waist. "I've been awake for almost an hour, while you," she poked a finger at me "have been the Sleeping Beauty."

"Can't help it." I ran my fingers down her thighs. "You've got a comfortable bed. I'm very relaxed."

She cocked an eyebrow at me, the corners of her mouth twitched. "Relaxed?" She sniggered and wiggled her hips a little. "Relaxed is not exactly the word I would use."

"Really?" I reached up to her shoulders and pulled her down to me. "What word would you use?"

Catherine's hand was on my shoulder. I opened my eyes, Kelly's giggles still in my ears. "Hey" Catherine said quietly. I blinked, confused by darkness surrounding the truck. The lab's parking lot was engulfed in streetlights that flooded the pavement with illumination. The lack of light made it difficult to see where we were. I looked through the windshield, a familiarity coming over me, but the darkness, my lack of alertness, and the suddenness of being ripped from a dream, kept me from digesting the information I could gather. "I brought you home." Catherine said quietly. I looked at her dumbfounded. "You're in no condition to work right now, you obviously need sleep."

"But…" I started to protest. She stopped me by raising her hand.

"No. No arguments. Go to bed." I'd already sympathized with Greg earlier, and now I knew how Lindsay felt. It had been an enlightening night. "Go. Sleep." She made a shooing motion with her hands, and I reluctantly gave in and pushed the door open.