"We're up to bat," Hunter told McCall as he hung up the phone. "Woman shot to death in a field by a new housing development. Grab your purse."

When they arrived at the crime scene they immediately began assessing the area. High on a hill, it was somewhat remote, but another subdivision could be seen a couple of miles away. There wasn't much traffic on the road and they hadn't passed any cars in the last few miles of their drive out. Whoever killed her probably knew there would be no interruptions. Hunter went to take a look at the body while McCall talked to a uniformed officer.

"She was found here by a jogger around 9:30 a.m. The jogger's over there giving his statement. We're guessing that she was out jogging earlier in the morning when someone surprised her. She had a driver's license and a couple bucks in the pocket of her shorts. And what we're guessing is a house key. Her name is Samantha Harris.

We checked the address and she lives in one of those houses you can

see down there," the officer said, pointing. "No real signs of a struggle, although the grass around here is pretty trampled. Haven't found any footprints, but the guys are still looking."

"Thanks," McCall answered as she went to join her partner. He was standing over the victim's body listening to the coroner. The victim looked to be of average height and weight, with blond hair braided down the back. McCall guessed she was somewhere in her late 20s. She was wearing a white t-shirt and blue running shorts. A

Walkman lay beside her, the headphones twisted around her left hand. A large pool of blood was above her right eyebrow, indicating where the bullet had entered.

"Get me all the information as soon as you can," Hunter said to the coroner. Turning to McCall he said, "We've got a name and an address. Let's go by the house."

"I hate this part."

The man who answered the door turned out to be her brother. Her husband was out of town on business and would have to be notified by phone. Hunter was going to stay to ask questions of both of them, while McCall headed off to interview people Samantha

worked with.

"Let's try to meet back at the station when we're both finished," Hunter suggested. "Maybe there will be some preliminary lab results and we can figure out what we're dealing with. When it came time to compare notes, neither had anything

significant.

" Samantha worked as a secretary at a local junior high," McCall reported. "Everyone I talked to was upset by the whole thing. Couldn't imagine why it would happen. They all said pretty much the same thing. She was friendly, competent, seemed to get along well with everyone. No one had ever met her husband, but most believed they got along well. A couple did mention he traveled a lot with his

work, but nothing out of the ordinary."

"They're right about that," Hunter concurred. "He told me that he usually is gone once or twice a month, usually to the same cities, Chicago or Indianapolis. I checked with his secretary and she's going to send over a log of his travel for the past year. I also happened to pick up the extension when he was being told about his wife's death."

McCall rolled her eyes. "I don't know the man, but he seemed genuinely shocked. By the end of the conversation he was making arrangements to fly home."

"Well, we can talk to him on Monday, can we?" McCall asked, as she tossed the papers she was holding into a pile on her desk. I don't know about you, but I'm ready to get this week-end started." She stood up and began gathering her things together.

"Hot date?"

"No," McCall responded with a dry laugh. "Just a long week."

"I hear you. Enjoy it!" Hunter yelled after her as she walked out of the squadroom.

He could hardly hear the pounding on his front door over the thunder and wind. The storm, which had started 10 minutes ago, threw rain against the window and lit up the sky with lightning. Hunter was beginning to doze off and had someone not rung the

doorbell, might have been asleep.

"Who is it?" he bellowed outside.

"Open the door, Hunter," came the reply. "Hurry up!" It was the very angry voice of his partner. He unlocked and then opened the door. Standing on the other side was his partner, or at least a very wet version of her. She stood huddled under the slight overhang of the roof. Her clothes were soggy and clung to her body. Her hair was

soaked and hung limply around her face. She didn't seem to have an umbrella or jacket or any other type of protection against the weather.

"What the hell...?" Hunter managed, as she stepped into his house and out of the rain.

"I am not in the mood. Where's a towel? Get me something, would ya?" Hunter stepped over to a laundry basket that was sitting in a nearby hallway. He pulled out several towels and tossed them to her. She caught one, and began wiping her face. He brought over another and draped it over her head. "My car broke down. Just a

little over a mile. Something must have happened to the police radio

too, cause I couldn't raise anybody." She began to wrap her hair in the towel. "I figured I'd just walk on over here. It seemed like a good idea until about 10 minutes ago. What's with this storm, anyway?"

"You ever heard of the Weather Channel, McCall? They've been talking about this for days. And what even made you think I'd be home on a Friday night?" Hunter sounded a bit put out.

"The same reason I was picking up dry cleaning at 9:30 on a Friday night. What other pressing engagements do we have?" she shot back at him. "Look, I am drenched, I am freezing and I am not going anywhere else tonight. Be a gentleman here."

Hunter sighed, relenting. "You know where the bathroom is," he said, gesturing down the hall. Put all your wet stuff in the sink. I'll go find something for you to wear. Don't expect much, this ain't Bloomingdales." Upstairs in his bedroom he found an old sweatshirt, socks, and after more searching discovered a pair of knit-type leggings she

must have left at his house at some point. Taking them and a few more towels back down, he knocked on the bathroom door. She opened it a crack and he could tell she had started undressing. He handed the pile to her.

"You could take a shower if you want."

"Thanks, but the idea of more water is not appealing right now. I'll just dry off and put these on." She closed the door quickly and he could hear her wring out some article of clothing into the sink.

"I'll be watching the weather channel." He could hear her huff.

"I can give you the forecast."

Ten minutes later he was in the kitchen when she emerged from

the bathroom. Her hair was still damp, but no longer dripping. The socks engulfed her feet and ankles, and the sweatshirt came down to almost her knees. He couldn't remember ever seeing her look cuter.

"I left my things in the sink, but I can put them in the dryer if you want," she offered.

"No, no, sit down,"he said motioning to the couch. "As you already pointed out, the most pressing engagement I have this evening is laundry. I'll throw them in with the next load. It should be just about ready. He walked toward the bathroom, then stopped and

turned around. "I've got milk on the stove for hot chocolate. Make sure it doesn't scorch."

Scorch? she wondered to herself. Who ever says scorch these days? But instead of sitting down she walked over to the stove, picked up a wooden spoon and gently stirred the warm milk for several minutes. She saw the two big mugs he must have gotten out, and a container of cocoa. A smile played on her lips. If he made hot

chocolate at all, she would have assumed it would be hot water in the microwave and an instant mix. Her partner could surprise her every now and then.

"That should be long enough," he said from behind her. She hadn't heard him return. "Go on and sit down," he told her. "I'll bring this in." McCall went into the living room and picked up a dark colored quilt laying over the back of the couch. She wrapped it around herself before sinking into the cushions. Even though she was now dry, she was still cold from the rain. A chill ran through her small frame.

"This will warm you up,"said Hunter, noticing her shiver. He carefully sat down next to her on the couch and handed her a mug full of steaming cocoa, which she gratefully wrapped her hands around. She could feel the steam rising from it and blew slightly to cool the dark liquid. "Of course, if you really want to heat things up…" he smiled suggestively.

She gave him a dirty look and drank the cocoa. "Where' d you learn to make this?"

"My mother. We had it every Christmas Eve growing up. A couple of other times each winter, too, I guess. Of course, it never got truly cold, but if I begged her enough, she'd usually give in. I loved it."

" I can see why. It's delicious. And warm. Two very good things right now." She took another drink and relaxed a bit more.

"This is what happens when a cold front moves through the area," Hunter began in his best weatherman voice. "Temperatures dropping into the forties with gusting winds of 15 to 20 miles an hour. Rain falling at the rate of an inch an hour. Local flash flooding is possible. Update at 11." Hunter looked at the clock. "Which is just

about now," he said, reaching for the remote. "What happened to your car, anyway?

"I'm not a mechanic," she replied tiredly, as she gulped herdrink in an attempt to get warm. "It made a noise, I pulled over, the noise got louder, the noise and the engine stopped."

"And this is when you began your trek through the typhoon?"

"It wasn't a typhoon when I started, but yes." She drained her cup and set it on the coffee table, and yawned. "Look, can we figure all this out tomorrow?" She shivered again and leaned back next to him.

Hunter glanced down at his partner. She had walked through the storm for only a short time, but it was one heck of a storm. Not fit for man, nor beast, and certainly not for her. Safe and dry, and as bundled up as she was, she was still shivering slightly, and was obviously exhausted. He covered one of her hands, which was like

ice, with his own large one.

"Sure. We'll take care of everything tomorrow." He felt her lean her head against his shoulder. Just let me watch the news and then I'll go to bed and let you sleep." She nodded slightly. He put his arm around her and she snuggled into

him.

"You're warm," she said, relaxing against him and giving up any pretense of attempting to stay awake. In a few minutes her even breathing told him she was asleep.

After the sports segment ended, Hunter carefully eased himself off of the couch and gently laid McCall's head against a pillow. She hardly stirred as he transferred her to a more comfortable position. He walked to the hall closet and got out another blanket, walked back to the couch and covered her with it.

"There you go," he whispered. "Sweet dreams, Dee Dee."