I am really not looking forward to this. I always hate having to tell parents that they've managed to outlive their kids. But this lady's already lost her husband and she can't walk and now I have to tell her that her son's gone, too. Life isn't fair sometimes.

I tap on the steering wheel. It's mainly anxiousness, just wanting to get this over and get back to the city, but another part is still the rush from this morning. Danny. And me. Shower. Can't get much clearer than that. It had taken us well over a half hour to get finished with our shower. Not that most of that time was spent with the actual act of showering.

Now, however, we're both trying to keep it business as usual, and while my fingers are itching to touch, twitching at the thought of running them through Danny's hair, I manage to keep myself in check (though, everytime Danny shifts, he winces slightly and it shoots a thrill through me knowing I did that).

The Jacobs residence is a nice little house just outside the city. It looks like all the other cookie cutter houses-- save for the ramp going up to the door in place of stairs. As I pull up to the curb and park, I can feel the knot in my stomach grow tighter. I've done this before, so I don't know why it bothers me so much today. Just another vic, another person dead, another life to destroy with the horrible aftermath.

I sigh before nodding to Danny and we get out of the car. I start to walk towards to house when I hear Danny clear his throat.

"Need my kit." He knows somethings wrong and he's gonna let me be. But his eyes tell it all. We'll talk about this later. I open the trunk and he grabs his kit, careful not to jostle it too much. We walk up the sidewalk and ramp to the door and did I mention how much I hate this part?

I knock on the door and wait and listen. Usually, I listen for the sound of footsteps, deep and foreboding, but this time I hear the soft sound of wheel turning on the floor. I shut my eyes briefly. This is going to be hard.

The door opens, as do my eyes and I find myself looking at a 40-something brunette sitting in a wheelchair. She's got a warm smile, but I can tell she's wary of what we're doing here. Before she can ask, the cop part of my brain kicks into gear.

"Ms. Jacobs?" The woman nods. "I'm Detective Don Flack and this is Detective Danny Messer. We're with the NYPD."

She looks bewildered for a moment, but passes quickly. "How can I help you, detectives?"

I glance at Danny. Shit, no one called her, Mac didn't phone ahead? It's kind of hard to tell something like this over the phone, I guess.

"Um, is it ok if we come in?" She nods and wheels backwards, moving away from the door so we can enter the house. She wheels towards what must be the living room.

She stops at the coffee table and turns towards the couch to which she nods. "Please, have a seat." I sit closer to Ms. Jacobs, and Danny sits beside me. Ms. Jacobs looks at him, then to me (and I think she might have glanced at my neck, too), and takes a breath. "May I ask what this is about?"

"Ms. Jacobs," I begin. "We here about your son, Kevin." Her eyes go wide and I can tell that this might go worse than I imagined. I pull out Kevin's photo from the pocket inside my jacket. I hand it to her. "I'm sorry, but we need a postive ID..." And before I can ask her if it is her son, she starts to sob. I close my eyes. I really wish someone had called from the office. I glance at Danny, but his eyes are intent on Ms. Jacobs. Stella said sensitivity, right? Better use some of that now.

"Ms. Jacobs." I reach out and touch her arm. She's still sobbing, her frame shaking with the force of them, tears streaming down her cheeks. I take her hand in mine, offering some comfort. She holds on tight, almost afraid to let go. "Ms. Jacobs." I say with a little more force. She looks at me, still visibly shaking. "I-- I'm sorry." Danny's still quiet beside me. "Ms. Jacobs, I'm sorry for your loss. But I need to ask you some questions. Is that alright?"

She's sobbing hard yet, but she nods (or I think she does). "Is it ok if Detective Messer looks around his room while I ask you some questions? Maybe he can find something to help us find out what happened to Kevin?" I'm doing what I always do and yet it seems so cold. She's just found out she's lost her son and I'm asking her to help in the investigation. She's barely had time to absorb the shock of it all, but time's wasting away and we need her help.

Again, a shaky nod. I think I hear her say a soft "yeah", but it's absorbed in another sob. I look at Danny and he nods, walking out of the living room. I turn back to Ms. Jacobs. She's still sobbing, but now her eyes are a bit more focused than before, like she's seeing that she needs to at least be coherent in order to help her son. I take a deep breath.

Danny comes back into the room, kit in hand. He looks at Ms. Jacobs. "Ms. Jacobs? Which room is his?" he asks softly. His eyes dart from Ms. Jacobs to me and back. She gives out directions ("Second floor, third door on the right. With the 'Deep Purple' poster on the door." The last part is said with a small smile.).

I give her a few more minutes. She's still latched onto my hand.