Author's note – Sorry for the delay with this chapter, but I was getting my arm twisted up my back to update 'Chained to You' (which I have done at mediaminer and adultfanfiction). Anyway, kudos does indeed go to the one and only Zaria who spotted who Elena's horses were named after. Well done!

Thanks to everyone that reviewed here and mediaminer for the last chapter. Despite the absence of a lemon scene in this chapter, I hope it still pleases! - Swordy

Somewhere in Between

Chapter 20 – Under Suspicion

Fifteen minutes after Dee had left the Fourteenth Precinct, Mike Delaney had heard everything his partner had just learned from their surprise visitor. He listened intently while flicking a rubber band between his fingers, a habit that drove Mazowski crazy. Once the other man had finished, he ran over the main points to be certain he had everything straight in his head. This case was certainly proving to be interesting – it wasn't every day that a fellow detective walked into the precinct to announce he'd been with the victim barely an hour before she was almost battered to death.

"So we need to speak to this Tyler character?" Delaney said, flicking the offending elastic band at the trash can in the corner and rolling his eyes when it missed. He didn't go and pick it up despite his partner's glare of disapproval.

"Yeah. I've got an address. We could go after we've been back to talk to Kelly's roommate and her boyfriend."

"What did you think of him?"

"Who? Her roommate's boyfriend?"

"Yeah. No secret romance between him and Kelly?"

Mazowski raised an eyebrow. "You watch too many soap operas, Mike. But to answer your question, no, he seemed on the level. Besides, he was with Jenny all night and they were nowhere near the apartment."

"Okay… what about your newest witness?"

"McLain?"

"Yeah."

Mazowski chewed on his lip for a second before he shrugged. "Also seems straight up. I don't think we have any reason to suspect him."

"Great." Delaney rolled his eyes. "You can never find a criminal when you need one, huh?"

Dee paused at the door, contemplating his options. He had a key, obviously, but since he wasn't living there – hadn't been for a number of weeks – he didn't feel comfortable just letting himself in. He knew Ryo wasn't there but Tyler was, hence the reason for his visit. Detective Mazowski's comment about whether she could be responsible for what had happened to Kelly had continued to play on his mind long after he'd left the Fourteenth Precinct. He'd weighed up his options and decided that the best way to satisfy his curiosity about Tyler was to do what he did best: detective work.

Now he knew that there was reason for him to doubt her identity, he could look for signs of deception – the subtle clues that a person gave out unconsciously when lying. It was a natural part of his trade and one that he had an instinct for, although if Bicky was right and Tyler wasn't who she said she was he would berate himself for not spotting it sooner.

He decided to knock.

There was movement from inside the apartment, culminating in footsteps moving towards the door. It opened to reveal Laura's slightly startled face as she saw the identity of the caller.

"Oh hey, Dee. What are you doing here?"

"I live here, remember?" Despite his reservations about using his key he couldn't help but feel indignant that they were both on the wrong side of the door.

"Randy isn't here…" she started to say.

"I know. He's at Elena's. It's you I came to see."

"Oh… okay. Well come in."

"Thanks," he replied, wondering if it had sounded as sarcastic to her as it did to him.

He followed her into the apartment, studying her as she settled into the armchair, looking for all the world like a queen on her throne. As he sat down opposite, the first thing he noticed was that the framed photo of him and Ryo on the coffee table was missing. A quick glance around failed to locate it; indeed, he noticed that a couple of other pictures of himself had gone too.

"So why did you want to see me?" Laura asked, pulling him from his musings about the missing images.

She seemed awkward and Dee briefly toyed with the idea that she might know he was onto her, but concluded that she couldn't – Bicky had said he'd been careful not to arouse her suspicions. He figured her standoffish attitude was more likely because she was supposed to be his friend yet she'd never been to see him since before he was taken into hospital.

"I just wanted to talk to you about Ryo," he said in answer to her question, green eyes studying her reaction closely.

"Okay…. Shoot."

"I want him back."

Her expression was hard to gauge but he noticed the subtle tightening of her lips despite the fact that she was nodding.

"Thing is," Dee continued regardless, "you've been here with him all this time, so I'm sure you know what approach I should take to win him back. I miss him, you know? Whatever it takes…"

Laura looked away, unable to meet his gaze. "What if he doesn't want you back? Have you thought of that?"

Dee moulded his face into a grin, despite the anger he really felt. Kelly was right – she clearly did have designs on Ryo. He could feel it. "Failure isn't an option. I love my husband, Tyler, and I know he loves me…"

He knew he'd pushed her over the edge when her expression could no longer hide her irritation at his optimism. She stood quickly, her eyes darting everywhere but the man she was addressing.

"Look, Dee, it's great to see you but I was actually on my way out…"

Liar, he thought, able to smell the fresh cup of coffee she had made for herself from in the kitchen. "Oh sorry. I'll go. Bad timing, huh?"

She forced a smile. "Sorry. Look, I'll have a think about what you can do about Randy, okay?"

Dee let himself out. "I bet you will," he muttered to himself before he walked away, now more convinced than ever that Bicky was onto something.

As he rode the elevator down, he fished in his pocket for his wallet where he had carefully secreted the address Kelly had given him only the night before.

The mood between the detectives investigating Kelly Capland's attack changed considerably later on that day, with the news that a positive DNA match had been made with the cigarette stub found in the ashtray at her apartment. Mazowski, for one, had been genuinely surprised.

"So why'd you suppose he lied about being in the apartment?" Delaney asked as they drove back to the precinct, having re-interviewed Kelly's distraught roommate and unsuccessfully tried to locate Tyler Brown at the address Dee had given them.

"I wish I knew," Mazowski replied, his eyes fixed on the passing scenery. "It doesn't make any sense – I mean, why would you voluntarily come forward and then lie about what happened? And he agreed to give a DNA sample without hesitation. Surely you'd only do that if you had nothing to hide?"

"You'd think so. Maybe we should look a little more into his background. You said he was on long-term sick leave right?"

"Might be something to do with the medical condition he has."

Delaney frowned. "How'd you know he's got a medical condition?"

"He wears a medical alert bracelet."

"Sharp as a tack as always, Detective Mazowski."

Mazowski smiled. "Well that's just speculation. He never actually said why he was off work."

From his position in the driver's seat, Delaney looked across and gave his partner a wry grin. "You wouldn't if it was something up here," he said tapping his head.

Mazowski was about to say something before he stopped and changed his mind, realising his partner might have a point. "I don't know whether I hope you're right or not."

"I bet you ten bucks I'm right."

Mazowski was regretting making the bet since Delaney always made sure he collected his winnings with undisguised glee. Ten bucks worse off, he was sitting amongst a desk full of files, sifting through the wealth of information they had amassed since Dee McLain walked through their doors. He rubbed his eyes, feeling the beginnings of a headache behind them.

"Awww, is my poor baby sleepy?"

Mazowski gave Mike Delaney the best glare he could manage. "Screw you. Some of us have worked a double shift."

Delaney sat back in his chair and grinned, his fingers laced behind his head. "Oh stop it. You'll make me feel guilty about taking your money."

"Yeah well, what have you found?"

The younger man sat forward again and picked up the topmost file off his untidy desk. "Well there certainly seems to be more to Detective McLain than we first thought. You first, though."

Mazowski glanced down at his own notepad, now filled with his shorthand. "Official diagnosis of PTSD after being abducted last year…"

Delaney startled suddenly, as if he'd been electrocuted. "I knew I recognised him! The Goldsmith Trial, right?"

"Got it in one."

"Shit… so what happened after he was diagnosed?"

Mazowski tapped his pencil on the pad thoughtfully before he replied. "He was sent on a month-long intensive therapy program in England by the looks of things. He returned to work almost immediately after that. Nothing of note for some time, until now that is."

Delaney nodded, frowning when he realised that someone had eaten the last of the cookies he had brought in at the start of his shift. Double double chocolate chip.

"So what's his most recent hospitalisation about?"

Mazowski smiled. "Well I was half-right. He was admitted in a diabetic hyperglycaemic coma…"

"I'm keeping your ten bucks…"

"Wait – you haven't heard the rest of it yet. His physician thought it was self-inflicted so they committed him."

"Who? The physician?"

"Funny," Mazowski said, giving Delaney a scathing look. "Apparently he agreed to psychiatric assessment but basically it was that or they committed him involuntarily. He's still seeing his shrink once a week."

"We need to talk to that guy."

"Dr. Graham," Mazowski clarified.

Delaney rolled his eyes as he threw his pen down. "Let's just hope he doesn't pull all that patient confidentiality crap on us."

"He shouldn't. His client's a suspect in what most likely will turn out to be a murder investigation."

"So he's an official suspect now?"

Mazowski paused, contemplated, then nodded wearily, his headache now pounding away at his temporal lobes. "I don't think we have any other choice."

Dee found the address Kelly had given him fairly easily. It was in a drab neighbourhood where one property looked much like another and the paving stones on the sidewalk were cracked and uneven. He ignored the small group of children who shouted rude comments as he wandered down the street trying to locate the right place, his search eventually ceasing when he found it. He jogged up the steps and studied the intercom, finding very few names listed next to their respective buzzers. Others had been crossed out and written over, leaving Dee none the wiser as to who actually lived there. In the end, he pushed the first buzzer, then the second when nothing happened after a minute had passed. Eventually, the intercom flared into life.

"Yeah? Who is it?"

"My name is Detective Dee McLain, NYPD. I'm looking for the landlord."

There was a pause, before the voice informed him that he'd hit the jackpot. "That's me. You'd better come in then."

A buzz signified the door's lock had disengaged and he pushed on into the lobby beyond, just as a tall, heavy-set man was making his way down the stairs towards him.

"Detective McLain?" the man asked, his voice crackling with years of cigarette smoke. The yellowing teeth that were revealed when he spoke also bore testimony to his habit. Dee made another mental note to try and quit.

"Yes." He pulled out the leather wallet containing his badge and flipped it open. "I'm sorry, I don't know your name."

"Leon Fletcher. What's this about?"

Dee detected a slightly hostile note to his voice, the typical response of a ex-small-time crook. "I want to speak to you about a former tenant. Her name is Laura Burns."

Fletcher rolled his eyes at the mention of the name. Dee clearly didn't need to ask if he remembered her. Obviously she hadn't been popular here either. "I was glad to see the back of her. Always complaining, you know? I told her: you pay peanuts, you get monkeys – or the monkey house in this case. What's she done anyway?"

Green eyes narrowed. "What makes you think she's done anything?"

Fletcher snorted as he ran a hand across his greasy grey hair. "She was goddamned strange. She thought she was better than everyone else that lived here. A short while before she left she suddenly dyed her hair and got it cut, started wearing different clothes, you know? Seemed weird because she'd started dressing like the people she looked down her nose at."

"Any idea what caused the change?"

"None. She kept herself to herself, you know? Not that anyone cared."

"So when did she move out?"

Fletcher made a face, his displeasure revealing his stained teeth again. "March. She just upped and left – no notice, nothing. I probably wouldn't have even known she was leaving if I hadn't seen her coming out with all her bags."

"Did she have unpaid rent?"

"No, but it's the principle, you know? Tenants are supposed to give a month's notice."

Dee thought about when he'd left his old apartment and mentally smirked at the memory. His expression, however, remained business-like. "Is there anyone in the apartment now?"

"No… it's been empty since she left. In fact, I think some of her crap is still up there."

"Can I take a look?"

"Sure. Knock yourself out."

Dee followed the older man up the stairs, averting his eyes from the large behind that was threatening to spill from the worn pair of corduroy pants with every movement. When they reached the third landing, Fletcher began to dig in his pockets, eventually pulling out a large set of keys. He found the one he wanted and inserted it into the lock, but it took several attempts whilst simultaneously barging the door with his shoulder before it opened.

"Lemme know when you're done," Fletcher said, allowing Dee past. "I got a game to watch."

"Sure," the detective replied, glad that the older man wasn't going to be looking over his shoulder as he searched the apartment. He waited until he'd gone, before he stepped inside and closed the door behind him.

The first thing that hit him was the mustiness of the main living area. The furniture, now coated in a veil of dust, was basic and so old it was possible that it was already there when the apartments were built and they just constructed the building around it. He moved around the room, assessing the scene, something his eyes now did instinctively. Aside from the furniture there was very little to see and he wandered through into the bedroom, flicking on the light as his eyes swept over his dismal surroundings. The bare floorboards creaked beneath his feet, and as he was about to take a step towards the closet in the corner of the room he noticed something sticking up between the boards. He knelt, ignoring the obviously dirty floor to retrieve what appeared to be some paper, which he removed carefully, not wanting to tear it.

He wasn't aware he was holding his breath when he found Ryo's face looking back at him. The article attached to the picture was about their marriage and read very similar to the one he'd seen when they'd been honeymooning in Las Vegas. His mind tried to tell him there was an innocent explanation, but from everything he was learning about the girl that was supposed to be his friend, he wasn't sure he would believe it even if he could come up with one. Carefully, he folded the paper and tucked it in his pocket before recommencing his search, but the room yielded no further information. The closet he'd been about to check when he'd seen the newspaper article on the floor was empty, save for a few empty shoeboxes and there was nothing under the bed or in the set of drawers beside it.

Feeling his optimism start to wane, he wandered back through into the living area to check there. Fifteen minutes later, aside from being slightly grimier than when he'd started, he had nothing new to either support or put to rest his suspicions about Tyler. He wasn't sure what he had expected to find – if she was really up to something, he was pretty certain she wouldn't have left clues lying around.

He was preparing to leave when his eyes lit on a small wicker basket, lying on one side that appeared to have been used for trash. He knelt beside it and carefully pulled out some screwed up newspaper, but it was what was beneath that caused a deep frown to appear on his handsome features. He reached in and pulled out the glossy paper, surprised to find Bicky and Cal smiling back at him. His eyes then returned to the basket, the bottom of which was covered with a light layer of confetti-like photographic paper. He tipped it out onto the floor, realising at once that he had a jigsaw on his hands.

"Dammit," he growled, frustrated by the lack of progress after a full five minutes had elapsed. He was determined to find out what the picture was even though it was unlikely to be the panacea he so badly wanted, and his determination won out in the end.

"What the…?" he muttered to himself as he stared at the sight before him, recognising it at once as the picture he had given Tyler not long after they had been reacquainted. On the floor, he had managed to piece together the image of Bicky and Cal with the shredded part of the same photograph. Despite the jagged edges and rips, his own face grinned back at him. After several more minutes of staring, he wasn't sure what disturbed him most – the fact that only he was completely obliterated or that Ryo wasn't there at all.

Ryo came down to breakfast with a smile on his face. Elena was quick to notice the change in his general disposition.

"Tea?" she said, deciding not to comment on it straight away.

"Thanks."

She moved about the kitchen with the grace of a dancer, her hips swaying in time to the tune on the radio. Ryo watched her, smiling. She carried no baggage of her own rough childhood, preferring to always look to new horizons. Every new day had endless possibilities and it was easy to subscribe to her philosophy with the sun streaming in through the kitchen windows and a new ray of hope in his heart.

"I think I'm going to go home tomorrow," he announced, causing her to stop dancing and turn to face him. She smiled.

"Any particular reason, other than the fact that it's your birthday?"

"You remembered," he said with a smile. "But it's nothing to do with that. I want to find Dee and have us sit down together so we can talk, properly this time. I need to stop thinking of me and my feelings and listen to him. I need him to see that I'm sorry."

"I'm sure he'll want to talk," she agreed.

"But as well as that, I want him back and I'm not taking no for an answer."

Elena chuckled as she grabbed two mugs from the nearest cupboard. "Listen to you. Anyone would think you were related to me!" She turned and winked, causing Ryo to laugh in response.

"You're a good teacher."

"Yeah well, only the best for my favourite nephew. And just so you know, I'm really, really pleased you've come to that decision. You and Dee are made for each other and I'm sure getting your relationship back on track would be the best birthday present you could wish for, right?"

She handed him his mug of tea, squeezing his shoulder supportively as she drew close. He looked up and smiled.

"I had a really good think last night – what you said yesterday really struck a chord."

"What did I say?"

"About me and Dee communicating through other people. We've always had such an honest and open relationship – I can't believe we've allowed ourselves to reach this point. I mean, I appreciate everyone's help – Tyler especially has been a great support, but we need to stop relying on other people and start talking for ourselves." He offered Elena a worried yet hopeful smile. "I just hope Dee agrees."

Enthusiasm radiated from her expression. "I'm certain he will."

"Yeah well, I'll let you know. Fingers crossed, huh?"

The blond woman frowned at his obvious uncertainty. "Hey, what happened to Mr. Confident? Why don't you occupy your mind with how you want to spend your last day here instead of worrying about what may or may not be?"

Ryo sipped his tea and then offered her a mock salute, his smile now back in place. "Sure thing, Captain."

From her seat across from him, Elena pretended to be annoyed. "Oy, are you implying I'm bossy?"

He laughed and an arched eyebrow preceded his reply. "Bossy? You? Never!"

Detective Steve Mazowski sat in his car drumming his fingers absent-mindedly on the steering wheel to a song he'd never heard before. Delaney had changed the channel while he'd been checking an address, to a station he didn't even know existed. The song sounded like something his daughter would listen to – Jenna loved the wailing cries of these troubled teenage musicians. His son Robert, ever the pragmatic one, would roll his eyes and declare everything that she enjoyed an 'angst-fest'. He sighed as the singer finished bemoaning her life. Kids today, Mazowski thought, they don't know how good they've got it.

Through the window of the convenience store he could see his partner paying the clerk. From what he could see, she was young, pretty and smiling coquettishly, leading Mazowski to the correct assumption that Delaney was playfully flirting with her. If his partner had ever missed an opportunity to hit on a pretty girl, Mazowski sure as hell didn't know about it.

"You're getting too old for that," the older man announced once his partner was back in the car and had handed over Mazowski's coffee and danish.

Delaney looked wounded. "Ooh, cheap shot, Steve. Way to hit a guy where it hurts."

Mazowski sunk his teeth into the pastry, looking not the least bit guilty. "I'm doing you a favour, trust me. It's better than being rejected by them because they don't want to deal with your false teeth and colostomy bag."

Delaney laughed. "Tell me, Steve, do you automatically get bitter when you get old?"

The older man smiled as he screwed up the empty paper bag and shifted the car into drive. "I dunno. I'll tell you when I get there."

They drove to the address they had obtained from the Twenty-Seventh Precinct, Delaney singing tunelessly much to Mazowski's weary annoyance. Despite their usual wisecracking, they both felt uncomfortable with what they were about to do. The word 'arrest' had never come up but both knew they had some serious questions that needed answering and if an arrest was necessary, then so be it.

The sound of footsteps could be heard soon after Delaney had rung the doorbell. Dee answered the door, his changing expression reflecting his surprise at seeing them on his doorstep, especially when he hadn't given them Drake's address.

"Detective Mazowski," he said in greeting, his eyes then straying to the other man whom he didn't know.

"This is Detective Mike Delaney, my partner," Mazowski announced, pausing briefly while the other men nodded brief greetings to each other. "Is it okay if we speak to you for a few minutes?"

It was a polite request, but Dee knew they wouldn't be there unless something had happened. "Sure, come on in."

Bright watched the two newcomers carefully as they came into the apartment and sat down where Dee directed them.

"Great dog," Delaney commented as he studied the obedient canine waiting patiently for his next instruction.

"He is," Dee replied. "Bright, heel."

The sleek white Boxer was at his side in an instant. Dee patted his head affectionately before he turned his attention to his visitors. "So what is it you want to talk to me about?"

He noticed the non-verbal interplay between the two men and instantly thought of himself and Ryo – how they always seemed to know what the other was thinking to the benefit of their personal and professional relationship. Delaney was obviously delegating responsibility to Mazowski with the look he had given him.

"We just wanted to go over the time you spent with Kelly Capland again."

Dee knew there was more to it than that – the way Mazowski's fingers were interlaced a little too tightly on his lap gave him all the clues he needed. "I gave you an accurate account at the station."

No point bullshitting, Mazowski thought. "Well, there are a couple of points we need to clarify, given that we have some new information."

Dee nodded, his expression giving nothing away. "Okay, I'll certainly try. What exactly needs clarifying?"

"Tell us again what happened when you reached Kelly's apartment."

Dee knew Mazowski had ignored his own question for a reason, but he had told the truth the first time and could only do the same again. "I walked her home from the bar. We had a conversation out front of her apartment complex and then I left. She was going inside the last time I saw her."

"What did you talk about?"

"She agreed to call if she found out any more about the situation with my friend Tyler, and I said the same. That was it."

"Did you see anyone?"

Dee met Mazowski's gaze and held it firmly. "You mean did anyone see me."

The older detective didn't flinch – he'd expected Dee to see right through him. "That too."

Dee took a moment to think back before he answered. "No, I didn't see anyone so I guess that means no one saw me to verify that I did what I said I did."

Mazowski nodded. "So you didn't go inside her apartment at all?"

"No. No I didn't."

He wasn't surprised to see the two detective steal a glance at each other – he'd had a feeling that this was what their visit was about - but it was somewhat unnerving when he had told them nothing but the truth.

"Detective McLain, would it be possible for you to come to the precinct to make a formal statement?"

"Now? Are you arresting me?"

He could sense their awkwardness at having to have this dialogue with a fellow cop but he didn't care for their feelings. Right now he was obviously a suspect and other than circumstantial evidence of admittedly being the last person to see Kelly before she got attacked, he was concerned about why they were taking such an interest in him.

"No, we're not arresting you."

"So why do I sense there's something you're not telling me?"

"If we could just go to the precinct…"

Mentally Dee sighed. He wasn't going to get anything else out of them here but to refuse to go would surely seal his fate as the guilty party in their eyes. "Okay, okay," he replied, holding his hands up in defeat, before he turned to the dog at his feet. "Bright, bed."

The lithe young Boxer trotted obediently to his basket and got in as Dee collected his keys, cigarettes and jacket and joined the two men now standing at the door.

"Okay, I'm ready," he announced, mirroring their grim expressions as they filed out of the apartment together in silence. He tried to reassure himself that Detectives Mazowski and Delaney just liked to be really thorough in their investigations, but he couldn't help the nagging suspicion that there was something else – some kind of ace card that they were waiting until they got to the precinct to play…

TBC…