Chapter 4

"Don." Followed by that ceaseless rapping. "Don, if you don't answer me, I'm coming in there!"

Don closed his eyes and let his forehead rock against the cool tile of the restroom wall. He took a deep breath. "Megan, you know and I know that you've got big brass ones, but this is still the men's room and I don't think the other guys would understand." His voice came out sounding better than he'd feared.

There was a pause. "I was afraid you'd passed out in there or something."

Almost. Not quite.

"Are you okay?"

Okay was such a relative term. "Yeah. Just - give me a minute." He hooked a hand over the sink and used that and the wall to get himself back on his feet.

Well. He hadn't done that since he was a trainee. He turned on the faucet both to let the water run cold and to wash away any remaining evidence of the awkward incident. He caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror and winced. If his dad had thought he'd looked like the walking dead last night, then it was just as well he couldn't see him now. He splashed cold water over his face to bring back some color and rinsed out his mouth, trying to get rid of the sour taste that lingered there.

"Don?"

"Yeah. Right there." He tore off a length of paper towel and blotted at his face. Man. A little embarrassed, he cautiously pushed open the men's room door.

Megan was standing on the other side; she handed him a paper cup of water and a breath mint.

"Thanks." He rinsed out his mouth one more time and, suddenly parched, refilled the cup from the water fountain and drank thirstily.

"Take it a little slow with that," Megan suggested. She tilted her head at him. "You okay? How do you feel?"

Hesitantly, Don took stock. "Better," he said at last, a little surprised. "Maybe I just needed to get it out of my system."

Megan smiled. "Sometimes that's what it takes." She handed him a damp handkerchief and he stared at it blankly. "The back of your neck. It helps."

"Oh, yeah. My mom used to do that - I forgot." He folded back his collar and draped the handkerchief around his neck. It felt wonderful and he sighed, then frowned, brushing at his shirt front. "I didn't get anything on the shirt, did I? It's my dad's."

Megan studied him. "Nothing. So. What do you think? Need to join Colby on the sick list?"

A fair question. Don considered it carefully, then shook his head. Except for a lingering ache in his side that was probably just the after-effects of throwing up so violently, he really did feel better. "I think I'm okay. Not ready for any fist fights, maybe, but okay."

Megan looked a little skeptical and he shook his finger at her. "Watch it. That look is exactly like my father's."

"Mm. Wonder how he comes by it. Tell you what - I'll make a deal with you. When we get back to the Bureau, you drink the peppermint tea like a good boy and settle your stomach and I promise that I won't tell Colby that you gave him some pretty stiff competition."

Don frowned. "You tell David and you might as well be telling Colby."

"No David either. Girl Scout's honor."

Don shook his head in disgust. Charlie was right - blackmail was a cheap shot. Charlie. He remembered his brother's crack earlier that morning and groaned aloud. "Or my brother. I'll drink the tea, but Megan, if this gets back to my brother, I have ways of making your life a living hell."

Megan hooked her arm through his with a chuckle. "Don't worry. Some things are sacred between partners."

000

"So, how's the tea?"

Don didn't look up from paging through the messages on his cell. "Great. Tastes just like warm - "

"All right. I get it. What are you looking for?"

"Um - " this time Don did look up from the small phone. "What happened to Wainwright. He was supposed to be meeting us there."

Megan raised her brows. "Well, we did cut our visit a little short…"

"Careful…" Don warned, then, "Got it." He hit a button and pressed the phone to his ear.

Megan waited until he lowered the phone and eyed it thoughtfully. "Well?"

"He's still questioning Mrs. McGuire. We should probably join him." So, Mrs. McGuire, when you came home and found your daughter…God. He massaged his forehead with the heel of his hand. Come on, come on, Don - you can do this. For God's sake, it's what you do!

"Maybe you should think about sitting this one out. Being physically under the weather makes all the emotional stuff a little harder to deal with too."

Megan's words were such a clear reflection of his own thoughts that he had to take a second to double check that she had actually said them. He looked back at the phone, his mind sliding to the image of the small, brutalized body on the morgue slab. His resolved hardened. "I don't have emotional stuff," he answered flatly. "It's against FBI policy."

"Ah, denial. Very emotionally healthy response."

"Thought we'd agreed you were going to put that psychology thing on hold for the day."

"I don't remember actually agreeing to that."

"Don - " David stuck his head around the cubicle wall.

"Saved by the bell," Don murmured. "What's up, David?"

"Those DNA results you've been waiting for - they were just delivered."

Don jumped to his feet and took the envelope from David's hand. "Now, that is my idea of a morning greeting. How you feeling, by the way?"

David looked over Don's shoulder as he slid the papers out of the envelope. "Not a hundred percent, but okay. I should be all right for field duty, even."

Don lined the pages up on his work surface side by side, tracking meticulously through them. He smiled slowly. "That's good. Because it looks like we're going to be making an arrest."

000

"We've got four matches. If the DNA on Karen McGuire's skirt is a match, that's five - but we won't know about that right away. Still plenty to authorize a warrant. How did we lose him last night, anyway?" Don tried to keep his tone non-judgmental. He knew how easily things could go south.

Nonetheless, Wainwright's face went grey. He shook his head. "Had him one second, not the next. Picked him back up at his place a few hours later, but by then…"

"Yeah." Don blew his breath out. "He know we're onto him, you think?"

Wainwright shook his head. "Naw. Address was an opportunity attack, not planned."

"You sound pretty sure."

"I am sure. I know this guy better than my own mother by now. Besides, there's the note." He handed Don a clear plastic evidence bag and Don studied it. "If he thought we were onto him, he'd be playing it up. Taunting us. It's all just a big game to him."

Don glanced at Megan.

She shrugged. "He shows classic symptoms of megalomania and poor empathy. Probably does see his victims as game chips and not actual people."

Don figured his stomach wasn't quite up to thinking about that one too hard yet, so he just nodded, his eyes on the note.

Well, I warned you and you still can't keep up. Maybe you'll have better luck next time. No hints now, since that doesn't seem to help - I'll just surprise you.

Next time. Don grimaced. "I'm guessing he wasn't stupid enough to leave prints on this?"

"Hell, no."

"Figures. All right - you want to make the call? I think you've earned it."

Wainwright looked pained. "After last night, I'm not so sure. But let's do it. I'll give her a head's up that we're on our way."

"Great. Um - " Don glanced at his cell. "I have a call of my own I want to make - then I'm ready whenever you are."

Don took a step to the side to afford himself a little privacy and hit a speed dial button. By the third ring, he was pretty sure he was going to be talking to voice mail. Oh, well - it was a stupid idea anyway. He was just about to hit the button to disconnect when someone picked up.

"Hello?"

"Hey, Charlie." Feeling a little silly, Don shifted on his feet. "You asked me to call, if - well, we haven't arrested him yet, but the DNA came through. We're on our way to submit the evidence for the warrants." Dumb. Charlie had asked him to call if the deed was done. Even he wasn't sure why he was calling now - maybe he had just wanted to tell somebody the news.

"Hey, that's great, bro." Charlie's pleased voice dispelled some of his discomfort. "That mean you'll be free tonight?"

"What? Oh - no, probably not. We've got to work out an arrest strategy, and then there'll be interrogations - that could run twelve hours easy. Tomorrow night at the earliest. No guarantees, though."

"Yeah, okay - how's the stomach?"

"Fine now, great - no big deal - " Don noticed Wainwright giving him a thumb's up and then pointing to his watch. He nodded and then turned back to his phone. "Hey, Charlie, I gotta go - DA's office is expecting us."

"Yeah, well, I wouldn't want to stand between you and a date with the Prosecutor - "

Don ducked his head to hide a grin. "Will you shut up?" He heard Charlie snicker on the other end, glanced at his watch and realized it was later than he'd hoped. "Look, will you tell Dad, too? I meant to call him, but - "

"Yeah, sure. I'll talk to you later?"

"Later. Bye." Don broke the connection. He saw Megan and Wainwright watching him expectantly and dropped the phone in his pocket. "Let's roll."

TBC