Goren pulled his keys from his pocket, finding the key to her door. He tore the crime scene tape from its place across the doorway and slid the key into its lock.

"You have a key to her apartment," Logan remarked, not especially surprised.

"And she has one to mine."

"That could prove embarrassing."

"Shut the hell up, Logan." Logan liked to mess with him, but he wasn't in the mood for it. He opened the door and stopped. He would never classify Eames' apartment as meticulous, but…

There was black fingerprint powder everywhere, and prints or smudges on every surface. On the coffee table, a candle has burned itself out, spilling wax onto the tabletop. A table had been upended from its place near the recliner across the room, scattering magazines across the floor. He squatted beside a picture of her nephew, its frame broken and its glass shattered. That's exactly how he felt. Shattered.

Logan watched him wander around the room, slipping his hands automatically into latex gloves. He would not even try to hazard a guess as to what was going through that mind of his. Eames could read the man like a book, and she was in tune with his thinking. Logan didn't know him that well, and he wasn't sure he wanted to. He pulled a pair of latex gloves from his pocket and slipped them on.

Goren went down the hall to the bedroom. Logan noticed there was no hesitation, no indication of unfamiliarity, and he wondered about that, but only for a moment, until Goren opened the door. The bedroom was in shambles. He noticed how Goren stiffened when he walked into the room, like he knew this was not its normal state. Now he himself couldn't even guess at how his partner kept her bedroom, though he'd been to her place a number of times. The bedroom was the inner sanctum of a person's home, a private place few were privileged to enter. And again he wondered about just how much privilege Goren had been entitled to in Eames' life, and vice versa.

Logan stood in the doorway as Goren wandered about the room. More smashed frames littered the floor amid broken glass. Her desk had been cleared, paper and pens, books, paper clips…all were scattered about the floor. Finally he stopped by the bed. The top sheet and blanket were thrown to the side…he leaned closer, reaching out to touch something…

Finally he looked at Logan. "Blood," he said, an odd timbre to his voice.

His eyes continued to wander about the room, catching a mark on the wall near the ceiling. He pointed. Logan came into the room, following his finger. "Bullet," Goren said softly.

Turning to the bedside table, he slid the drawer open. "Her gun is gone."

Logan just watched him, wondering again about how much Goren knew about his partner and how little he knew about his in comparison. Granted, Goren and Eames had been partners for a long time, but still…there was a level of familiarity between them he had always noticed and never understood. Goren stood there for a minute, looking thoughtful, then he dropped to a knee and looked under the bed. Pulling a penlight from his pocket, he shined its light under the bed. "There it is."

Logan bent over and looked under the bed. Sure enough, there was Eames' gun, resting against the wall far under the bed. "Watch out," Goren warned.

He slid the bed away from the wall and picked up the gun by its trigger guard. He studied it, holding it closer to his face so he could smell the barrel. "It's been fired," he said uneasily. He dropped it into an evidence bag, slipping it into his pocket. He moved the bed back to its original place.

The chair that belonged at her desk was on its back in the middle of the room. Goren set it upright against the wall as he pulled his switchblade from his pocket. He pried the bullet from its resting place into his hand, dropped it into an evidence bag and put it in his pocket. "Looks like it's from her gun."

He closed the knife and stepped off the chair. "Unless Wallace has a similar gun," Logan pointed out.

He considered that. "I've never known her to carry one."

"That doesn't mean she hasn't started."

Goren shrugged. "I guess."

He walked to the bed, opening his knife again. "She's going to kill me for this," he muttered. He deftly cut the blood spot, about the size of a dinner plate, from the sheet and put it into an evidence bag.

Logan followed him back to the living room and watched as he crossed the breakfast nook into the kitchen. He came right back out. "No one was in there but CSU."

"So, other than CSU doing a crappy job, what went down?"

Goren pulled out a chair from the small dining table in the nook and sat down. He ran a hand over his face and looked at Logan. He shook his head. "CSU would never have missed what we found. She's been back here."

"Ok, that just creeps me out. How'd she get in?"

"She must have Eames' keys."

Logan frowned. "And that means she has the keys to your place, too."

Goren swore, bolting out of the chair so fast it went flying into the wall. Logan was right behind him.