Disclaimer: Due South and all its characters belong to Alliance. The story andoriginal content, however, is mine.

A/N: So, do you think Fraser is going to listen to Ray? Is he going to give up trying to find Meg? I wonder...

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The first speaker had been very good. She was involved with many schemes around the city that mainly worked on giving youths someplace to go when they were not in school. They were working towards increasing the equipment for sports and other activities, through fundraising and grants, and wished to increase the number of centres in and around the city.

As Fraser made his way back to his room, he skimmed through the notes he had diligently been writing throughout the lecture. There were many good ideas here that could be easily transferred to a Chicago setting. Entering his room, he was so caught up in the details of the schemes that he did not notice the man sitting in the chair by the window until he spoke.

"Constable Fraser." It was more of a statement than a question. Fraser looked up, his eyes taking in a well dressed man in his late forties, whose eyes were friendly but rimmed with lines of worry.

"Please forgive the intrusion, but I needed to speak with you privately."

"I'm sorry sir, speak with me? Why?" Fraser was confused.

"Let me introduce myself." The older man stood up and proffered his hand, which Fraser took somewhat warily. "My name's Michael Williams, I work for the RCMP in Ottawa. I've recently become aware of a situation that has required me to act somewhat clandestinely. I hope you'll forgive me for dragging you up here, but I had to meet with you without causing any awkward questions."

"Awkward questions, sir?"

"Yes, please take a seat, this may take a while." Williams re-seated himself in the chair and Fraser followed suit, seating himself opposite the older man.

"Um, Mr. Williams…" began Fraser, but he was quickly interrupted.

"Please, call me Mike."

"Mike, um, I'm afraid I do not understand, a situation involving me?"

"Yes, Constable. You and a certain other person, to whom it remains imperative that her," he paused, searching for the right words, "'situation', shall we say, remains confidential.

"I've been keeping an eye on you lately, and I am concerned that you may be digging too deeply into the circumstances surrounding the death of one Jenna Richards. This is not something that is in the best interests of yourself or…" He trailed off there, but Fraser had understood. He had placed the name 'Mike' as soon as the gentleman had began talking about the case.

"Meg." Fraser looked down. He had not expected to hear about her from someone else, especially not on this trip. "Have you spoken to her? Is she alright?" A million questions formed instantly in his head. Please God, let her be alright.

"As far as I'm aware, she's fine. But that doesn't mean we want anyone digging around in the past, bringing up things that are best left alone, if you understand my meaning."

"I do, sir, but I believe I have a lead, something that may solve this entire case." And let her come home, he added silently. "A developers named Maxwell have many Government officials on their board. They did some work for the Government around the time of Jenna's death, and though they were paid, as far as I can tell, the actual construction was never completed. The money for the project would have gone straight back to the politicians."

"Constable, I appreciate that you are trying to help, but all this stuff about Maxwell, don't you think if there was evidence we would have found it? Didn't it occur to you that we've gone through the records, there's just no evidence to link Richards to Maxwell. The fact of the matter is, there is no evidence great enough that we are going to get a conviction for a Government official. I'm sorry, but that's just the way it is."

"But, sir, if I could just…"

"No, Constable." Mike's voice was firm. "Drop the case, forget about it and move on."

Fraser was silent, a thousand protests forming in his brain. The older man looked down at the Constable, knowing exactly what the determined look that was forming in his eyes meant, having seen it enough times in a certain other Mountie he knew. Sighing, he sat down again.

"Look, Constable, I really am sorry, but you were never meant to find her in the cabin. It was my stupid idea to send her up there. I knew your father had a cabin in the Yukon and I just thought, if we could hide her for a bit before getting her out of the country, then it would be a great deal safer for her and for everyone else, yourself included. You were never meant to know she was even alive."

"I just want to help."

"I know you do Constable, but in this, I'm afraid the best thing to do is just let it be. I can't afford to have her worrying about you, if it causes her to slip up. Right now, the most important thing is that she worries about herself, no-one else."

"I understand."

"Good. Now," Mike got to his feet, turning to shake the hand of the younger man, "Enjoy the rest of the conference, you really are doing good work down there in Chicago."

"Thank you, sir." Fraser watched as his visitor left the room, slipping quickly from view, before sinking back down onto the bed. The despair settled over him like a heavy cloud. He had been so sure that he was close to solving this, to bringing her home. But all his hopes had been shattered with that one short visit. The emptiness he had felt in that exact moment she had walked out of the cabin now resurfaced, haunting him. Up until this point he had managed to stave off the feelings, burying himself in his work and the quest to solve the case, but now nothing could hold them back. Closing his eyes, he let the feelings of despair wash over him like a cold shower.

"Oh God," he whispered suddenly, his eyes flying open. Sitting bolt upright on the bed, Fraser heard Mike's words echoing in his head.

There's just no evidence to link Richards to Maxwell.

Link Richards to Maxwell. He hadn't concentrated enough on Richards. Fraser shook his head. Why hadn't he concentrated on Richards? He'd let himself be blinded by the fact that it had been his daughter that had died, but what if that was simply an unfortunate side effect in a deal that was going to make him millions? Fraser didn't want to believe what he was thinking. Surely a man wouldn't sacrifice his own daughter for money? But everything was starting to make sense. Richards' name wasn't on the list of board members, but he was the one who set up the meetings, set up the deal between Maxwell and the Government. A million dollar contract that never got built and all those in the Government who may have been in a position to question it suddenly ended up on the board of directors. If they were not in on it, they could easily have been blackmailed into keeping quiet, simply by the threat of incriminating themselves in the process of turning in others.

Everything had suddenly slipped into place in Fraser's mind. Meg had said Jenna was working for her father when she discovered the evidence, but no-one knew where she had hidden the evidence. Fraser wondered if there had even been any in the first place. Would she have kept evidence on her father, even if she knew he was doing something wrong? Fraser remembered the feeling he had had when Gerrard had given him the account book, detailing his father's supposed wrong-doings, the feeling of wanting to burn it, burn anything that might damage his memories of his father. But would Jenna have acted the same? Would she have known her father would sacrifice her for the money? Surely no-one could think that of their own parents. But if she had, maybe Meg was right and there was evidence somewhere. But the question remained as to where?

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