"God, I've got a headache," Barek moaned the next afternoon.

Eames arched an eyebrow and gave her an amused look. "I hear getting drunk will do that to you."

"Shut up, you. You should be hungover, too, and it's not fair that you're not!"

"I stopped at four," Alex pointed out. "And I actually slept last night," she added, glancing over her shoulder to where Logan sat, half-concealed by the pole in front of his desk. "Which I assume you didn't, judging by the look on his face."

Barek flushed bright red and glared at the other woman, who stared right back with a teasing smile on her face.

They were still in a staring contest when Logan strolled by and said, "You know, you keep looking at each other so much, you're going to make me and Goren jealous."

Alex moved her eyes first, turning to grin at him. "Isn't that part of the fun?"

He gave her a dirty look. "No, it's -"

"Quiet!" Barek ordered, gesturing toward the front of the room.

Logan and Eames obediently shut their mouths and turned to see what had caught Barek's attention. "She's here!" Alex exclaimed, glad that they could get started soon.

"Yeah," Logan snorted, "and she brought the ball and chain. Check it out."

Tony was walking a few steps behind Claire, eyeing suspiciously every human they passed on the way to Deakins's office in the back of the room.

"Bobby would be having a field day with this," Barek said as the three turned in unison and followed the two young people as they swept past.

"I'm sure he and Melinda are having plenty of fun in Interview 1," Alex said. "You know how he loves a good ruse."

"Hey, what happened to old-fashioned detective work," Logan pretended to carp, "where we just went ahead and lied to their face?"

"It got more sophisticated," Barek informed him. "But then, a fossil like you might have missed that decade."

Alex winced, expecting a replay of the other day's sniping. She was surprised and pleased to see that instead of snapping back a retort, Logan just bent over and murmured something to her too quietly for Alex to hear.

Barek grinned and punched him in the arm as he straightened up. "You are such a -"

"Detectives!" Deakins called from the doorway of his office. "Are you busy with your coffee klatch, or do you want to join the rest of us and do some work?"

All three nodded apologetically. "Coffee klatch?" Logan whispered as they walked toward Eames's desk, where she needed to retrieve Goren's portfolio and her own notes. "What the hell's that?"

"Guess they don't teach you Irish kids German, huh?" Barek asked, looking from him to Eames.

"Uh, generally not," Logan admitted. "You know German, too, Carolyn? Are there any languages left that you don't speak?"

"Yes, and no I don't actually speak much German. Goren would wipe the floor with me in a contest. But anyway, a coffee klatch is basically a bunch of people getting together to gossip and drink coffee."

"Sounds like a normal day in Major Case," Alex said with a grin.

Deakins re-appeared in his doorway and cleared his throat pointedly. Giving him sheepish smiles, the three detectives obeyed the summons and walked into his office.

Meanwhile, in Interview 1 . . .

"This is going to be interesting," Melinda said as she studied the forged ER records Goren and a documents technician had just finished creating for her. "I can't wait to see his face when he realizes that maybe beating up on his girlfriends - and killing their mothers - isn't such a good idea."

"It will be rather . . . satisfying, won't it?" Bobby agreed with a grin. "Now, do you remember the story about Eames?"

Melinda snickered, then contained herself and nodded. "Sorry for laughing. It's just . . . funny, thinking of you letting her lead you around by the nose."

He offered her a distracted smile. "Well that, she pretty much does do. But tell me the rest of it; Claire's smart enough to pick up on it if you say something that contradicts my story."

She sighed. "She's a cold-blooded bitch who pushes you around. Your friends hate her, and she hates your friends. She, uh, hits and scratches when she gets mad." She paused, then looked at him. "That good?"

Alex was going to just love listening to this interview, he thought. "Close enough, yes. Do you have any questions?"

"You're staying in here, right? Because eventually I'm going to mess up something and you're going to need to correct me."

He nodded. "It's your show, but I'll be here, and Barek and Eames - they're the two women you talked to last time - will be behind the mirror in case we need them."

"And . . ." She paused, looking anxious. "Tony's not allowed in here, right?"

He gave her a reassuring pat on the shoulder. "I promise you, Mel, we're not going to let him hurt you."

"Ok, then," Melinda replied gravely. "I'm ready when you are."

"I really don't think . . ." Claire was saying hesitantly a few minutes later. "I mean, are you sure he can't come with me? It's really . . ."

"Sorry," Eames said shortly, determinedly keeping the polite smile on her face. "Office policy - no one sitting in unless it's your lawyer."

"Go on, honey," Tony said, his voice sounding unctuous to Barek and Eames, who looked at each other and rolled their eyes. "You'll be fine, and remember you can stop talking to them any time you want. You got that?"

If he had been trying to hide the command in that comment, he'd failed miserably, Alex thought as Claire nodded meekly and kissed his cheek before allowing herself to be led into the interview room.

A split second before the door closed behind them, Tony saw Melinda sitting inside the room. "Her!" he said hotly, tearing away from Logan's restraining hand and pointing at the window. "What the hell is she doing here?"

"Buck up, Tony," Barek said cheerfully, giving him a pat on the shoulder that was more like an open-palmed punch. "Claire loves you, right? She's not going to listen to whatever stupid stories Melinda Parker tells her!"

"Yeah," Alex said, copying Barek's action with his other shoulder. She shook her head solemnly, looking concerned. "You, know they say lack of trust is one of the big relationship killers."

"Shut up," he sneered at her, leaning forward and trying to loom over her threateningly.

Ok, he was tall, she'd give him that, but other than that, his attempt made Eames want to laugh. "I may be short and blonde," she informed him, "but I don't like bullies, and I carry a gun. So if I were you, I'd stop trying to fuck with me. Got it?" she concluded with a bright smile.

Tony scowled, but pulled back and resumed standing normally.

"Good boy." The two women kept their hold on him and together, marched him back to Eames desk, where they deposited him none-too-gently, on a chair next to it. "Why don't you just have a seat here," Barek announced with a smirk a few seconds after they'd dumped him into the chair. "Don't worry, we'll keep you occupied until Claire and Melinda are done."

Logan, hanging back by the door of the interview room, couldn't suppress a grin at seeing the two small women easily dominate the piece of scum they were holding.

"Who are you?" Claire demanded as she sat down across from Melinda. This new girl obviously wasn't a cop - she was too young, too casually dressed, and too nervous-looking - but for the life of her, Claire couldn't figure out what she was.

Melinda smiled and offered her hand. "My name's Melinda Parker. Nice to meet you."

Claire automatically shook the girl's hand, then jerked her hand away as she placed the name. "Are you the Melinda who cheated on Tony?" she demanded, glaring.

Melinda burst out laughing. "I'm the Melinda who Tony may have claimed cheated on him, but I'm definitely not a Melinda who did cheat on him. You think I wanted to lose a few more teeth over something like that?"

"Why would he lie to me about his old girlfriend? It's not like I care; he's with me, not you."

Melinda glanced at Goren, who inclined his head in a slight nod, then turned back to Claire and leaned back in her chair, steepling her hands together under her chin. "Oh, I don't know. The whole part where he cheated on me might be pretty damaging. Then there's the one where he might not want you to know how many times I tried to get away from him. Or maybe because he knew if you talked to me, I'd be happy to tell you about all the times he beat me up?" She shrugged. "Just a few possibilities."

"He beat you up?" Claire snorted, looking skeptical. "That's ridiculous. He's never laid a hand on me!"

Goren coughed pointedly. "Claire, that's not what you told me yesterday."

Claire, who hadn't even noticed Goren standing in the corner, jumped and looked up. "Detective Goren, that was . . . I was just, you know, commiserating with you, and . . ."

"You showed me the bruises," he reminded her. "You might as well come clean, at least about that."

Giving him a wounded look, she sighed. "Fine, so he grabbed my arm too hard and left a bruise. So what? It's not like that's abuse."

Undaunted, Melinda just nodded politely and asked, "Has he ever backed you up against a wall when you fight? And put his hands around your neck, but not quite touched the skin?"

Claire blanched. "What? He . . . no! No, that's stupid, why would anyone let a guy do that?"

"In my case?" Melinda said. "Because I figured it was just him being angry, and he hadn't hurt me too bad, so why make a fuss when he was going to be back to normal in a few minutes?" She paused to watch Claire's reaction. "Any of that starting to sound familiar?"

"No," Claire replied, not looking too convinced of her own denial. "I wouldn't . . . I'm not the type of person who would stay with an abusive guy."

Melinda smiled with sad understanding. "And you would know if you were with one . . . because abusive guys are all rough-edged and bad-tempered and drink a lot and go around getting in bar fights and stuff?"

"Well, that's kind of an exaggeration, but I'm telling you, Tony can control his temper just fine -"

"- when he wants to," Melinda filled in before Claire could finish the sentence. "And sometimes he gets bored and doesn't want to. Are you recognizing any of this, Claire?" she demanded, leaning forward with fire in her eyes. "He's been telling you he's sorry, right? It's just that he got a little angry and lost control?"

"Yes." Claire's voice sounded small all of a sudden.

"That's how it started with me," Melinda went on, more gently now. "And then maybe he'd step on my foot or give my a playful punch on the arm that had nothing to do with play. Then, the pretending to put his hands around my neck turned into actually putting his hands around my neck, and squeezing. And then . . . this." She slid the folder with the ER records across the table to the other girl and waited while Claire perused it.

Bobby mentally reviewed the contents of the fake file. It contained forged documentation of a real event, one that Melinda had been too frightened to seek emergency treatment for at the time. Concussion, broken cheekbone, cracked ribs, broken right arm. Caused by a 'fall down stairs,' Next to that part, he'd jotted what he thought was a fairly believable 'Note by attending physician': Head wound not accompanied by external trauma - not consistent with fall. Shaken? Thrown against something? Cracked ribs unlikely given the mechanics of the incident as described by pt. Then, in block letters and underlined: ASSAULT. Boyfriend?

Claire scanned the pages, growing paler with each one. "This . . . this . . ." she stammered, looking up at Melinda with poorly-disguised fear in her eyes. Then, seeming to steel herself, she blurted quickly, "I'm sorry this happened to you but it has nothing to do with me and even if it did how would I know that Tony had anything to do with it?"

"Claire, would you just listen to me? You have a horrible poker face, ok? Almost everything I've mentioned him doing to me, your face told me he did it to you."

"No, but -"

"I stayed around," Melinda continued, ignoring Claire's protests, "because I thought he was the only one who loved me. Because it was too hard to stay away from him when I tried. And for that, I got knocked around mentally for a year, then physically for the next three."

"Well, why would you stay with him if -"

"Claire!" Melinda said sharply, reaching across the table and grabbing Claire's hands. "You have to listen to me. He's going to hurt you, and when he does, it's going to be that much harder to get away from him. You need to do something about this before he gets the chance."

A single tear slipped down Claire's cheek as she stared at the newly exposed scars on Melinda's arms, but she still clamped her lips shut and refused to speak.

"You looking at these?" Melinda asked casually, using the finger of one hand to trace the lines on the other arm. "Some of them are his, some of 'em are mine. The last few years, I figured, you know . . . if he was going to hurt me anyway, I might as well go ahead and do it myself."

Claire suddenly took her hands back from Melinda and dropped her head forward into them. Another tear trekked down her forearm as she moaned, "Why are you doing this to me? Why are you trying to hurt Tony?"

"Me?" Melinda asked. "I'm doing it because I want to see him get his just desserts for what he's done to me, and you, and probably other girls as well. As for Detective Goren, I get the impression he's doing it because Tony killed your mother."

"I don't like people who kill people," Bobby informed her from the corner. "And I especially don't like people who kill people, then use someone innocent as a human shield."

"What? I'm not a shield! What, are you trying to shoot him or something?"

Melinda slammed the flat of her hand down on the table, startling all three of them. "You are a fucking shield, Claire. Tell me, do you really think he'd stay here with with you if they arrested you? What about speaking up in your defense? He won't do it and you damn well know it. You're expendable, Claire! It's past time for you to realize that's not right!" Drained by her outburst, she slumped down in her chair and shook her head. "He's like a . . . a wild dog. No matter how many treats you give him, he'll still bite you and run."

"No!" Claire yelled, baring her teeth at the other woman.

Goren, deciding it was time to up the ante, stepped forward. "Claire, we know you know details about your mother's murder that you aren't giving us. You know where Tony was that night, or at least that amount of time he was gone. I'm sorry," he went on, slowly drawing a set of handcuffs from his belt, "but I'm going to have to take you into custody as a material witness until you agree to give us that information."