A/N: Another random update. I'm totally rushing the plot, but if I don't rush it, it won't get done at all, so we'll all have to settle for the quick-and-dirty version. Sorry!
When a tense, sleep-deprived Bobby arrived at work the next morning, he found his partner already ensconced at her desk, looking none the worse for the previous evening's fight. In fact, she was too busy laughing up at the three men who surrounded her to notice his approach. He wondered which one had made her smile, then decided that in his current frame of mind, he'd prefer not to know.
Kratzer spotted him first and opened his mouth to call out a greeting, then closed it again when he realized that Goren hardly seemed to have registered his presence and, in fact, was directing all his attention at Eames. He subtly elbowed Straub and tipped his head toward the approaching man.
Straub, most of his attention still on the joke Eames had just told them, caught sight of Goren but completely missed the reason for Kratzer's drawing attention to him. "Morning, Bobby!" he called casually.
Eames stiffened. Without raising her head, she peeked up through her lashes, realized from the look on his face that he wasn't going to just ignore her, as she'd hoped, and then focused with renewed concentration on her desk.
Kratzer sighed.
D'Argenzio blinked and looked from one detective to the other, then wisely opted to keep his mouth shut for the time being.
"Good morning," Goren said quietly, setting his portfolio down on the corner of his desk, which Kratzer hastily vacated. "Good morning, Eames," he added when he got acknowledging nods from the three men but no response from her.
Eames nodded brusquely without looking up from the notes she suddenly found extraordinarily fascinating.
"Eames?" he tried again.
Sighing, she set down her pen and looked up at him. "I heard you the first two times, Bobby. Good morning."
"Sorry." He dropped into his chair, studied her face for a second, and then sighed. "Anyone got anything new on the case?"
"No."Eames's overly quick response earned her another series of strange looks from her companions. "I mean," she tried again, more moderately this time "no, not really. That is, nothing big." That just earned her more curious looks, and suddenly conscious that she was just digging her hole deeper, she closed her mouth and looked back down at her notes.
"Maybe not 'big,'" Straub told Goren when it became clear that she was resolved not to provide any more input on the topic, "but we we got the phone records on Daugherty. Eames has got 'em," he added, nodding toward her lowered head.
Grateful for the excuse to get close to her, Bobby scooted his chair around the corner of his desk so he could lean over his partner's shoulder, ostensibly to view the records she was making a show of studying. "Anything jump out?"
Alex started violently at the tickle of his breath on her ear as he spoke from less than an inch away. "No," she said tightly, inching her chair backward in what she hoped was an imperceptible manner. "It's clean for the period surrounding Zamora's time of death. He's zero-for-two on alibis."
"Hmm." Painfully aware of her retreat, he sighed and rolled himself back to his side of the desks. "We should -"
"I'm going to track down his wife," Alex interrupted, jumping to her feet before he could finish his suggestion. "Maybe she's a worse liar than he is and I'll pick up on something."
Bobby, paused, blinking, as she leaned down to pick up her bag, then put down the pen he'd just picked up and slowly stood. "Ok. That's not a bad idea. We'll leave the coffee for everyone else this morning."
She spared him a cool glance. "I meant that I would track her down. You don't need to come with me."
He blinked again and avoided looking at any of the other three men, all of whom were watching the exchange with interest. "I know I don't need to. I just figured -"
"No, it's ok -"
Evading her effort to herd him back into his chair, he just shook his head and said, "Let it go, Alex. I'll even let you drive."
What else was new? She rolled her eyes.
Krazter raised his hand as if he were a pupil asking a question, but didn't wait to be called on before he said, "I think I'm getting frostbite over here. What gives, Eames?"
"Nothing."
"Nothing," he repeated steadily, nodding but obviously skeptical.
"Yeah, nothing." Opting for the lesser of the two evils facing her, she turned to her partner, said, "Let's go," and strode away from her desk toward the elevators.
"Eames . . .!" When her only response to his call was to keep walking, Bobby sighed and, reluctantly meeting Kratzer's eyes, quickly murmured, "Check out the shrink's file. It's on her desk." Without waiting for an answer to that, he turned and jogged after his partner.
"Anyone heard from the gruesome twosome?" Straub asked Kratzer and D'Argenzio that evening.
"Not a peep," Kratzer replied without looking up from his computer search.
"Maybe they killed each other," D'Argenzio offered thoughtfully. "She looked pretty pissed when they left."
"Nah." Straub put down his pen and absently cracked his knuckles. "We'd have heard by now if someone had found his body."
Kratzer nodded. "There is that. What are you up to, Eddie?"
"Going over the phone records for the tenth time today," he grunted. "You?"
"I'm running out of ideas for Google searches."
Both men sighed.
There was silence for a moment, and then D'Argenzio cleared his throat loudly. "Uh, evening Detectives."
Kratzer and Straub both spun in their seats to see who he was talking to. "Alex," Straub said, blinking in surprise.
She gave him a slightly-too-tight smile and cocked her head to the side. "Yes?"
"You, uh . . ." Straub glanced at Kratzer, who offered no assistance. "You're back."
"Very good, Eddie." Not looking at her partner, who was trailing behind her, she gave Straub a patronizing smile and a pat on the shoulder. "Always knew there was a reason the feds kept you around."
D'Argenzio, who had been, as usual, observing the scene with mild astonishment, cleared his throat again. "Did you find the wife, Detective Eames?"
"Of course." She dropped her purse on the floor next to her desk and shrugged out of her suit jacket, revealing the silk shell she wore underneath. "But Bobby's going to have to tell you about all that. I've got to get going soon."
Straub and Goren both reflexively checked their watches. "It's past seven," Bobby muttered to himself, wondering where the time had gone. "Alex, are you sure you don't want to -"
"Don't finish that sentence," she interrupted, sounding cheerful but looking dangerous. "We've already had this conversation, and besides, it's too late now." She nodded over his shoulder, where Chris Hammond could be seen strolling toward them from the elevators, a cup of coffee in one hand. Alex had been hoping he'd have taken the hint this time and not come into the building, but at the moment, she was more than pleased to use him as an excuse. Leaning over to pick up the purse she'd just put down, she smiled at the FBI agents. "See you in the morning, boys."
"Who's that?" D'Argenzio asked under his breath, pointedly not looking at newcomer.
"The reason I need to get going," Eames said shortly. "Chris, I told you you didn't need to -"
Hammond just shrugged, drained the rest of his coffee, and set the cup down on the corner of her desk. "I wanted to make sure you didn't slip away again."
Alex, not appreciating his making it sound like she was trying to avoid him, scowled slightly. "I told you I'd be here."
"And you are," he agreed with an amicable nod. "For a change. You ready?"
She sighed and nodded. "Yeah, I'm ready. Let's go." Shouldering her purse, she grabbed her jacket off the back of her chair and slung it over her other shoulder. Being careful not to meet Goren's eyes, she smiled at the group of men clustered around her desk. "Good night, guys. Let's go, Chris."
And with that, she was gone, the psychiatrist with her.
"What the hell?" Krazter managed, staring at her retreating back. "Goren?"
"What?"
The flat tone of the Goren's reply discouraged any and all further questioning, but Kratzer pressed on: "What's with her?"
Instead of answering the question, Goren dropped into his chair and began to massage the back of his neck. "Did you look at the shrink?"
"The wh - oh, the Hammond guy? Yeah." Kratzer looked at Straub, who slid the file in question into the middle of the desks. "He looks clean."
"Smells dirty, though," Straub added. "I get the impression you're not his biggest fan, Goren."
Goren shook his head and looked over his shoulder, even though Eames was by now long gone. "I think he's our guy."
"Got any evidence?"
He shook his head again. "I was hoping you would have tracked something down. Really hoping."
"Why 'really'?" Straub asked.
"Because." He ran a distracted hand through his hair. "He's the reason Eames had to 'get going,' he's also the guy you just met, and frankly, I don't think he just wants to enjoy her company."
"What?" Straub stared at him. "And you let her go?"
"Did it look like I had a choice?" Bobby shot back.
"Good point." Straub thought about it for a few seconds, then slowly said, "So . . . what're we going to do?"
"You really didn't find anything in the file that might incriminate him?" Goren asked.
"Did you?"
"No. But I was hoping three sets of eyes would be better than one."
Straub shrugged. "Sorry."
Silence fell over the men again, and then, abruptly, Kratzer and Goren both reached for the empty coffee cup Hammond had left on Eames's desk. "How fast can you -" Kratzer began.
"An hour, if I put the screws to the M.E." Snatching up the cup, Goren jumped to his feet, followed a second later by the older man. "Come on."
"Whoa!" Straub made a belated grab for the cup, found it was no longer there, and stuck out a foot to block Goren's path. "Wait up, I'm coming wi-"
Kratrzer waved him back to his chair. "No, you stay here. You too, Tony," he added when D'Argenzio started to stand.
Goren nodded. "See if you can find out his home address and any other place he might take her. We'll call when we get to the morgue."
Disappointed but aware that the task needed to be done, Straub nodded briskly. "Yeah, ok. Let's hope we're wrong on this, huh?"
"Amen," Kratzer said distractedly, already turning toward the stairs. "Come on, Goren."
"Chris," Alex sighed, shifting her weight in the car seat, "would you please just tell me where we're going? I'm a cop; I don't like being taken by surprise."
Grinning, Hammond kept his eyes on the road and shook his head. "Too bad. It's still a surprise."
"I thought we were meeting because you had a lead, not because you wanted to surprise me," she snapped, remembering now why she had been avoiding the guy's calls. Had he always been this annoying? "I'm not interested in being taken out to dinner or anything. Can we just get on with it?"
He glanced over at her, his smile wavering slightly. "Since when aren't you interested in dinner?"
Uncomfortable under his scrutiny, she nervously scratched the exposed skin of one shoulder. "I tried to tell you on the phone last night. I'm seeing somebody, and -"
"I see." His eyes flicked to her hand, then down her legs. "In that case, why don't we skip dinner and just take a walk?" he suggested, nodding out the window to Central Park.
She wasn't so distracted that the idea of walking in the park that she'd seen so many bodies in recently didn't send a shiver through her. "We can walk on the street," she countered. "I don't really feel like going into the Park."
"Hmm." Hammond slipped the car into a spot along the side of 94th street and shrugged. "Whatever you prefer, Alex."
"Thank you." She waited until he'd cut the engine, then reached down to unbuckle her seatbelt. "Look, I'm sorry about this. I didn't want to make things weird." When he didn't respond, he bent over to retrieve her purse from the floor near her feet and added, "So, what is it you think you know about the -"
His fist slammed into her temple before she could finish the sentence and she slumped into darkness.
