With reluctance, she pulled herself from the warmth of his bed. She looked at the clock. Eight am. She didn't usually sleep this late, but she felt better rested than she had in a long time. Was it because of the bed, or because, being nearby, she didn't worry about him as much? She wasn't surprised that she worried about him, but she was surprised by how much she worried, especially now. He was teetering on the edge, and she was his only anchor.

She walked down the hall, pleased to see he had gone back to sleep on the couch. Mentally, she chastised herself for the disappointment that cropped up when she found herself wishing he had joined her in the bed. 'Forget it. He's your friggin' partner.'

She made fresh coffee and opened the refrigerator. Wow…calling this slim pickings would be generous. An open quart of milk, two eggs, half a package of ground beef and two beers… They weren't going to be having breakfast here. She got down two coffee cups and filled them when the coffee was ready. Adding milk to his and sugar to hers, she went back to the living room. She set both cups on the coffee table amid the files and papers and gently sat beside him, her hip and side coming to rest against his stomach. As much trouble as he'd had sleeping lately, she hated to wake him…but they had work to do. "Bobby?"

He stirred, opening his eyes wearily. "Eames? Is something wrong?"

"No, it's just time to get up."

Get up? He had fallen asleep? He sat up as she moved over and he rubbed his eyes. She smiled. Some men never lost that air of little boyishness when they woke up. She slid the coffee cup into his hands. He took a drink, looking at the scattered papers that littered the table in front of him… "Eames, I got it! Last night, after you went to bed…" He was shuffling through the papers, pulling his notepad from under several of them. "Look…it's the Ten Commandments. Every victim he chose had violated one of the Ten Commandments, at least in his mind. We have some more checking to do, but look…"

She took the paper from him. This certainly did tie everything together, made sense of it all. She looked at him. "But don't these acts of murder themselves violate the commandment not to kill?"

"Not in his mind. He sees himself as an avenging angel, a messenger from God."

She smiled to herself. He was in. It had taken longer than usual, but he had gotten there, and he was excited, animated. She felt a huge weight lift from her heart. "You think this is what Father Sean was hoping you would find?"

"It has to be." He jumped up. "We need to go over to St. Cecelia's."

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Mrs. Eloise Dunbarton looked up from her desk when the detectives came in. She was a pleasant older woman, with graying hair and a kind face. "Good morning, detectives. How may I help you today?"

Goren eased into a chair in front of her and leaned forward toward the desk. "How well do you know the parishioners who were killed?"

"Some well, some not. Why?"

"We need some more personal information about four of them."

"I'll tell you what I know."

"Marcus Baker. Did he have any kind of trouble with his parents?"

"He had a falling out with them a couple of years ago. I don't know the details of it, but Father Sean was trying to convince him to at least let them see his children. You'll have to talk to his wife if you want more details. I gave you her address yesterday."

He nodded. "What about Herbert Mason? What do you know about him?"

"His wife is a lovely person, and his sons are adorable. We haven't seen Herb though in a couple of years."

"So he wasn't a regular at Mass?"

"Not in at least four or five years."

He made a notation next to Mason's name in his portfolio. "And Fred Riker?"

She hesitated. "Anything I say about Fred is based on rumor, not on first-hand knowledge."

"That's all right. What have you heard?" When she hesitated again, he asked, "It wouldn't have to do with infidelity, would it?"

"Fred has a reputation as a player, Detective Goren. His wife has talked with Father Sean, but I don't know the details. Like I said, I have no personal knowledge of that."

"It's fine. The last person is William Ullster."

She looked sad. "William was a troubled soul. He spent a lot of time talking to Father Sean, helping out around here. He was in a lot of trouble, but he managed never to get involved with the police, mainly because of Father Sean. His work around here was partial reparation for what he'd done."

"What did he do?"

"He was involved with a burglary ring that hit several of the churches around Manhattan a couple of years ago. He came to Father Sean two years ago, about seven months before the ring got busted. Father got him out of it, helped him make reparation to some of the parishes for his part in the crimes. Will was still working off his penance, still making amends."

Goren finished writing and looked up at the parish secretary. "Does Father Sean make a…habit of keeping penitents from the law?"

She drew a deep breath. Eames wondered if she was gathering patience. She certainly knew how that felt when dealing with her partner. "No, Detective, he doesn't. But he has helped a few lost souls find their way, without involving the law. Does it matter how a person pays for their sins, as long as they pay? If Will had been prosecuted he may have done time for what he did, or maybe not. Father Sean's penance for him was much greater than any he would have been given by the criminal justice system. And he was replacing what was stolen. Criminal courts make few allowances for that."

Goren was quiet. He was studying the paper in front of him. "Has there been anyone hanging around here over the past few months?"

"No. Not that I noticed."

He handed the paper to the secretary. "Mrs. Dunbarton, how many of the men on that paper has Father Sean counseled in the last year or so?"

She looked at the list, frowning. "All of them. Except Herb and Fred, but their wives were in."

He took the paper back and placed it in his portfolio. "Thank you, Mrs. Dunbarton. We have what we needed to know. Is Father Sean around?"

"Not at the moment. He had to make a sick call."

"Please have him call me when he comes in."

"I will."

Out on the steps of the rectory, Eames looked at her partner. "What are you thinking, Bobby?"

"I don't know what to think, Eames."

"He counseled every one of our victims. That could very well implicate him…"

"Don't jump the gun. I don't think he's involved in the murders, at least not that he knows."

She looked at him as they crossed the street. "Please, Bobby…I don't want to get into a sparring match with Deakins. Priests can be killers, too, you know. They're only human."

"What? No. He…doesn't fit the profile. It's not him."

"Is that your investigative mind talking or a soft spot in your heart?"

He stopped suddenly and looked at her. She grabbed his arm and pulled him out of the street. "He doesn't fit the profile, Eames. No, he knows who the killer is, but it's not him. Trust me on this."

"Ok, I'll trust you. What do you think about his method of justice?"

"Mrs. Dunbarton is right about Ullster's penance. Father Sean demanded a greater price from Ullster than the courts would have made him pay."

"Mopping a church hall is greater penance than fifteen to twenty at Riker's?"

"Think about it, Eames. Prison can turn basically good men into criminals. How many times have we seen that? It breeds anger, resentment and vengeance. Ullster was a non-violent offender. Not only was he working around here, he had to repay the other churches for what was stolen. It's brilliant, and there are no losers."

"And what about our perp?"

"Father Seantried. I think he realizes this one is beyond his reach. Remember? He told us to find him and bring him to justice."

"Even if justice means the death penalty?"

Goren shrugged. "I guess so. We need to get him off the streets, and Father Sean realizes that. He's done all he can; now it's up to us."

They got into the car and she started the engine. She looked at her partner before putting the car in gear. "So where did your inspiration come from? How did you connect the dots and find the Ten Commandments?"

He smiled. "I didn't create the picture, Eames."

She was thrilled to see his easy smile; she'd missed it. "But the Ten Commandments? You weren't looking for that, were you?"

"No, not in particular. But that's what's there."

"Now what?" she asked.

"Let's run it by the boss."