The office seemed different without Joe. Catherine had opened the blinders to let the sun in, but it still felt chilly, desolate. One by one she went through the case files which were piled up on Joe's desk. Her neatly manicured fingernail meticulously followed the testimonies. One name kept popping up.

Mike Michaelson.

He was an old player in the local criminal environment. There were several arrests for aggravated assault, incitement to prostitution and use of illegal weapons. It seemed Joe was trying to tie him to an organized criminal network. There were testimonies which lead to believe that Mike was involved in the brutal murder of a police inspector just over a month ago. The man had been severely beaten and stabbed before he was finally killed with a single bullet to the head. Unfortunately, there was no solid evidence, and all the witness testimonies were circumstantial.

"Miss Chandler?"

The sudden sound of a loud, dominant voice startled her. When she looked up, she saw two suits standing in the doorway. One was holding out a police batch.

"My name is inspector Miller. This is my colleague, Blimes. We are investigating the attack on assistant D.A. Joe Maxwell."

Her muscles relaxed somewhat, but her heart was still racing.

"I'm Catherine Chandler," she confirmed.

"Good."

The men closed the door behind them. She instantly felt trapped.

"We've talked to most of the people who were at the party last night," Miller said. "I believe you organized it?"

"I did."

"Can you tell me about it?"

Catherine realized her hands were still clasped around the desk. Slowly she straightened her back and sighed.

"It was a birthday party."

Miller's eyes pierced her.

"We're missing the contact details of your date."

Her heart stopped.

"My date?"

Blimes stepped in: "You were with a man. Tall, broad-shouldered. He was wearing a lion-mask. You introduced him as you boyfriend. His name was Vincent?"

Her hands started to tremble, so she folded them.

"Yes."

"This man followed you outside. Did he witness the attack?"

"No, he arrived afterwards. He took Joe to the hospital."

"Do you know where he was during the attack?"

"Trying to find me."

"What's his last name?"

Catherine tried to remain calm.

"Wells," she said. "Vincent Wells."

"Address?"

"He doesn't have one."

Miller's eyebrow popped up. He sounded skeptical:

"He's homeless?"

Catherine didn't answer, so he asked another question:

"Witnesses say he's some sort of social worker. Where is that exactly?"

"Vincent helps people," she said. "He doesn't have a fixed employment address."

Blimes closed his notebook and sighed.

"So, you're telling us we can't trace this guy?"

She took a deep breath. Her voice sounded remarkably calm and soft:

"He had nothing to do with the attack on Joe. He witnessed nothing. There is no need for you to trace him."

Miller shook his head.

"I'm afraid I disagree, miss Chandler. He was near the scene of the crime and no one can confirm his whereabouts at the time of the assault. I'd say right now he's our best suspect."

"That's ridiculous!" Catherine called out. "He helped Joe!"

Miller was unimpressed.

"Let us know if he pops us, miss Chandler," he instructed her, before marching out of the room.