Disclaimer: I don't own Law & Order: CI and I'm not making money off this.

Author's Note: I just want to send out a heartfelt thanks to all my reviewers. You guys rock and make writing worthwhile. I hope I continue to entertain. I'm sorry for the delay for Thanksgiving was really busy and I was out of town for five days. Anyway, hope you enjoy this chapter!

Sins of the Father

Chapter Nine: Hell Hath No Fury

Grace knew she was semi-conscious, caught in that place between dreams and life. She treasured those moments. Drugs, violence, and death couldn't touch her there. She could bend the laws of nature to fit her needs. The world around her gave her want she wanted, needed.

Her mother was still alive, always at home, waiting for her with a hug.

Her father worked a steady job and was home every night for dinner.

Her sister looked up and respected her. They went shopping together, stayed up late for movies and girl talk with popcorn and chocolate.

Then there was another person who made his way into her pseudo-dreams. Bobby was there, his fingers interlocked with hers. There was such a sense of safety in that touch.

"Grace?"

Her name was whispered, trying to coax her out of her dreams. She turned her head, trying to get away from the voice.

"Grace."

She tried to hold tight to Bobby but his fingers became unloosed from hers.

"Grace!"

Her eyes snapped open and the dream was shattered. The real world greeted her eyes. She was lying on a couch, staring up at a white ceiling. The room was warm and bright. The walls were painted and had a floral boarder across the top part of the walls that combined the colors of maroon, crème, mauve and green. It looked like a hotel room. Had she passed out? If so, why was she in a hotel room? The last thing she remembered was going into that warehouse to pick up a body.

"Good, you're awake," an accented feminine voice said from her left. Sitting up, Grace looked around the room and found her fellow occupant sitting at a small table. She looked a few years older than Grace herself, with brown-blonde hair and a round, open face. But her brown eyes told a different story. There was a cunning gleam, like a cat that had just cornered a mouse. She loved the confusion that Grace was feeling.

Grace squared her shoulders and pushed the confusion and fear to the back of her mind. Getting up from the couch, she walked over to the table and sat down across from the other woman, making sure she showed confidence with every movement. If she wanted to play mind games, Grace was more than up to the challenge.

"Nicole Wallace, I presume."

A slow smile crept across her face. "You've done your research. Bobby would be so proud. So," she reached for a cup of tea that was in front of her, "what do you know?"

Grace kept her back straight and folded her hands on the tabletop. "I know you served time in Thailand for murdering nine people with your French boyfriend. You murdered your own daughter when she was three and claimed she was swept out to sea."

"Ah," Nicole interrupted, "that's where you're wrong. She was swept out to sea."

Grace allowed herself a smug smile. "Nicole, I'm a ME. I know what a snapped neck and broken arm look like. This was no 'drowning.'"

"Not everything is what it seems, though."

"You, more than anyone else, should know that. I wouldn't look at you twice on the street but staring at you now, seeing your eyes, I see what you are."

Nicole laughed. "Even Robert Goren couldn't see what I am. He still doesn't."

"Then what am I doing here?"

She gave Grace that Cheshire Cat grin. "To show Robert Goren what I am."

"Ah," Grace nodded. "I see. You want to show him that you are not only a murderess but also a kidnapper now. That's sure to impress him."

"If he can't find you, it will impress him. He loved nothing more than a battle of wits."

"And I'm the prize in this little 'battle?'"

"Now you're catching on. Smart girl, I knew you would."

Grace looked out the window but found that there was nothing to look at. Just boarded up buildings and a narrow alley. There was no way to tell if she was still in New York. Now that Nicole was quiet, Grace had time to realize that her head hurt incredibly. She reached up and touched her scalp only to have spots of light momentarily blind her.

"Oh, yes," Nicole said, "I'm sorry about that nasty bump. It'll go away soon, I'm sure."

"So I have you to thank for the prank call to the morgue?"

Nicole just laughed but neither confirmed nor denied the accusation.

Grace opened her hands and laid them palm down on the table. "Do you want me to finish telling you what I know about you?"

"I don't think so. What you've said shows that Bobby kept you well informed about me."

Grace felt her mouth quirk. She was beginning to catch a glimpse into what exactly makes Nicole tick. It was interesting that it seemed to center around Bobby Goren. Whether it was a romantic obsession, psychological warfare or just "the one who got away" she couldn't tell yet. Perhaps it was a mix of all three.

"Perhaps," Nicole drawled, "you would like to know what I know about you."

Grace shook her head. "What you know about me doesn't matter. I could care less if you read all my medical files."

"Oh, but I have." Nicole gave her a triumphant grin. "Tell me, do you still keep in touch with Bobby's mother?"

The comment startled her. Despite her effort to hide it, she couldn't. And Nicole had caught it.

"Bobby doesn't know about your little stint in Carmel Ridge, does he? I'm wondering what his response would be if he happened to find out?"

Grace was going to call her bluff. "Why don't you call him and tell him then?"

Nicole just smiled sweetly and stood up, taking her teacup with her. "I think that's enough for today. You probably need your rest after such an unfortunate accident. Kidnapping can be very traumatic. I'll see you tomorrow then."

Grace watched Nicole walk out of the room. She heard at least six locks snap into place. Slowly, she stood up, still nursing a very bad headache. The room was set up much like a hotel room. There was a small dining area, where the table was, along with a sitting area. There was bedroom off to the right that had a bathroom connected to it. All the windows faced the boarded up buildings and narrow alleyway. Grace held a hand up to the windows but before her hand touched the glass she could feel the energy of an electric current running over the windows. The door had the same current around it with the six locks on the outside of the door.

There was nothing to be done at the moment. Nicole said she wouldn't be back till tomorrow. Her headache was preventing her from thinking clearly at the moment so devising an escape plan was out of the question for now. Sighing in frustration, she headed towards the bathroom to get a good look at her head wound.

It wasn't nearly as bad as it felt but she did have dried blood in her hair and down the side of her face. With some soap and water it was quickly taken care of but it did nothing to ease the pain. She headed towards the bed and crawled on top of the comforter. Pulling one of the pillows towards her, Grace rested her head on the softness and closed her eyes.

She wondered if Bobby would realize she was missing. She wondered if Rogers would realize she was missing. Over half the morgue didn't even know she existed and those who did usually chose to ignore her. She tried to return to that place between sleep and wakefulness, back to her family and Bobby, but they all remained out of reach. She wondered if anyone would take notice of her absence.

Bobby had tried to ignore the concerned looks of his partner all day. He knew she meant well; Alex had always meant well when it came to him. He had tried to reassure her that he was fine and that the important thing was finding Grace alive and whole. But she didn't believe him any more than he believed himself.

He looked over at his clock on the nightstand. Obnoxious red numbers told him it was 4:36 a.m. He still had four and half hours before he had to be back in the bullpen. He had gone over all the files he had for Nicole Wallace and found nothing that could be a possible lead as to why Grace was taken. The only lead he could come up with was that this was personal. His own words came back to haunt him.

It has to be tit-for-tat then, Nicole.

And she was taking it to heart now. He took away her chance at being happy. She was taking away his chance at being happy. He didn't even know if his feelings went that deep for Grace. He had only known her, really known her, for three days. Granted, they had survived through similar events and nursed some of the same wounds. True, he had given her a solace for her pain but if he was honest with himself, she gave him the same solace as well. His cell phone rang, startling him out of his thoughts. Getting up from his bed, he picked it up from off the dresser. The number was blocked. One guess who this was.

"Goren."

"Hello, Bobby."

"Nicole, where's Grace?"

She sighed into the phone. "I've already told you, she's here with me. We had a nice little chat today, Bobby."

He sat back down on the bed. He knew better than to trace the call so he did the next best thing: he recorded it with a hand held recorder he had brought from work.

"So, what did you talk about with Grace?"

"She told me what she knew about me but denied that you told her anything."

"I didn't tell her anything. What's this have to do with her? Can I talk to her?"

"Of course not. We also talked about her though. I found out something very interesting that I think you should know."

Bobby bit back a sigh of frustration. "What exactly do I need to know?"

"Tell me something, Bobby, did your mother, in any of her delusions, speak of a redheaded angel that came to visit her?"

He almost dropped the phone. How did Nicole know about that? His mother had done nothing but talk about this "angel" that came to visit her every day for two months. That had to be at least eight years ago.

"Bobby?"

"Uh, yes, she uh, she did."

"Well, let me tell you who that 'angel' was."

"Grace?"

"Very good, Bobby. Grace was a resident at Carmel Ridge for two months, eight years ago."

"She was most likely a resident nurse, Nicole."

"No, Bobby, she was a patient. Go check the records at Carmel Ridge."

"Where is she, Nicole? Is she alive?"

"Go check the records, Bobby. Find out what kind of damaged goods you've placed your affection on."