A/N: Sorry about the shortness of this chapter. This is all I've managed to get written, and I didn't want to keep you guys waiting much longer without an update, so I posted it as is. I'm waiting for the muse to strike again, which will hopefully be soon, because I know where I'm going but not how to get there. Hence the problem.

And thanks mucho much for the continued reviews. You all deserve cookies. :)

30 Hours Missing

Danny had no idea how long he and Molly sat on that pew, but if the cramping in his back was any indication, it had been a while. He wanted to tell her that they should go – it was getting late – but he didn't want to move her. She had finally stopped crying, and if he didn't know any better, he could have sworn that she had fallen asleep. It felt good, her being in his arms. It felt right – like she was meant to be there. And he wanted to stay there, exactly like that, because he couldn't think of anywhere that they could go. Her apartment would be crawling with cops, and Jack probably would've had the foresight to send cops to Danny's apartment, too, so they couldn't go there. But as much as he wanted to stay there, with her forever in his arms, he knew that they couldn't.

Plus, there was a thin, balding priest who kept giving them the evil eye.

Molly shifted, turning her head to look up at him. "I don't think Father Matthews likes you very much," she said, grinning. "I'm surprised he hasn't wandered over here to lecture us about the evils of temptation, or something."

He smiled back. "I thought you were asleep."

She shook her head, using her hands to push herself into a seated position. "Nah. You make a nice pillow, but this pew's as hard as a rock. One reason I don't like coming to mass." She paused, cocking an eyebrow. "Well, that and I don't like Catholicism." She glanced down at her wrist, but she wasn't wearing a watch. "What time is it?"

He looked at his watch. "A little after 11:00."

She sighed. "Well, I can't go back to my place. Agent Malone is probably lying in wait, just itching to slap some cuffs on me and haul me in for questioning. And I don't think I'd luck out and get Agent Fitzgerald to interrogate me this time."

He bit his lip, thinking it over. He had to take her somewhere. She was exhausted. She'd most likely only gotten four hours of sleep the previous night, and she'd been running around all day, back and forth to the interrogation room, and after everything, she would need a decent night's sleep. And he wanted to give it to her, but he couldn't. "I could take you to my place," he said, knowing as soon as he suggested it that, even if Jack didn't have guys watching his apartment, it wasn't a good idea to take Molly there.

She just looked at him. "You're sweet, but I'm sure Agent Malone's already thought of that."

"I've got to take you somewhere," he said, absentmindedly combing his fingers through her hair. He withdrew his hand the moment she tilted into his touch. "You're dead on your feet."

She smiled. "I'm not on my feet."

He rolled his eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "You know what I mean."

"I'm not tired," she said, the last word drawn out as she yawned. "Okay, fine. I'm tired. What do you suggest? My apartment's a no, your place is a definite no…" She trailed off, but then suddenly turned to look at him, grinning mischievously.

"What?" he asked, afraid she was going to suggest they skip town.

She widened her smile. "Ever been to the Waldorf-Astoria?"

"Check this out," Martin said, walking over to Sam and holding a bank statement printout in front of her face. "Someone just made a withdrawal out of Kate Davidson's bank account."

They were alone in the office. Jack and Vivian had left them to go look for Danny and Molly, with Jack insisting that they continue to go over the records on the off chance that they missed something crucial, or to be at a centralized location in case Danny called to check in. But Sam was having no luck with those phone records that Martin and Viv had so painstakingly gone through earlier that day, and until Martin had rushed over with the bank statement, neither of them had even said a word since Jack and Vivian left.

"How long ago?" Sam asked, unable to focus. She told herself it was because she was tired, and not because Martin was so close. She'd never had problems focusing before.

Okay. That wasn't entirely true. But it had been a while since she'd been unable to concentrate just because of his proximity, and she had actually held out hope that it wasn't going to be a problem again. It was really only problematic after they fought. But she wouldn't let herself believe it was because she missed him.

"About six hours," Martin said, pointing to the timestamp, which was incredibly obvious and she should have noticed. He didn't seem to notice that she hadn't seen it, however, and continued. "And the weird thing is, Kate's got over a thousand dollars in her bank account, and whoever made this withdrawal only took out forty."

Sam raised her eyebrows. "If they knew her pin, they could easily check her balance and clean her out. Why only take forty?"

Martin sat down in a nearby chair and scooted it across the floor so that he was right beside her. "You want to hear my theory?"

She nodded, surprised and pleased that he was being so civil after the argument they'd had after Steve's interrogation. "Always," she said, and he grinned.

"Whoever made this withdrawal painted that message on Molly's wall. She found that, what, around 7:00. The money was taken out of Kate's account two hours before that. Plenty of time to go to the nearest butcher shop and buy a pint of whatever animal's blood was used to paint those words."

"But we still don't know who did that," Sam said. "We still don't have any leads."

Martin shrugged. "How many people do you know who walk into a butcher shop and buy blood? We'll just ask around – places near Molly's apartment. The ATM where the withdrawal was made was only two blocks away."

Sam nodded, chewing on her bottom lip. She glanced up at Martin and saw that his eyes were glued to her lips, but when he saw her looking, he quickly glanced away. She couldn't help but smile. "What about surveillance on that ATM?"

He shook his head. "No good. Whoever made the withdrawal was careful not to look at the camera and was wearing a hooded sweatshirt with the hood up so we can't see his face. Or even tell if it was a man. It could have been a woman." He looked up at her expectantly. "So what do you say? This could be our first major break, you know. Nothing else has panned out."

Sam took a deep breath, glancing around the empty office. "Jack told us to stay here."

"Right," Martin said, to his credit not looking supremely pissed off that she'd mentioned Jack's name, "so that we could find something. Well, we found something."

She glanced down at her hands, playing with her fingers. She wanted to figure out this case, if it was the last thing she ever did, she was going to find out why there were so many dead ends. And she wanted to work with Martin. It seemed like it had been forever since the two of them were together.

She nodded once. "Okay. Let's go."