Both Jane and Maura stood in front of the television behind Korsak's desk, glued to the news coverage of the trial.

"And in a twist that legal pundits will be talking about for years to come, the judge granted bail for the alleged head of the Southie crime family, Paddy Doyle," a reporter's standard American accent bled into the squad room, and Jane shook her head at the footage of Paddy walking out of the courtroom a (semi-) free man.

"You believe he got bail? After all he's been accused of?" she said.

Korsak was behind his desk, looking up at the TV. "King somehow finagled a 48-hour delay, but I don't know what kind of magic he's gonna conjure up. He certainly can't produce another Jackie Donovan. Not in two days," he said.

Paddy's lawyer waltzed up to the microphones at the courthouse, his client smug behind him. "The federal government has been skating on thin ice for a long time, and today they fell in," he said. "Clearly the prosecution wasn't ready to proceed."

After he finished his remarks, the news cameras panned to Paddy leaving the courthouse, shaking hands with dozens of people who had gathered to see him get released.

"Why are they doing that? Applauding him?" Maura asked with contempt.

"They're from Southie," Korsak answered truthfully. "If Paddy's out, you want to be on his good side."

"He can't get away with this," Maura stated, more as a wish to herself than a proclamation.

"I would've said that yesterday. I don't know about today." And with that, Korsak left his desk to attend to some loose ends.

Jane turned to Maura, squeezing the duffle bag in her hands. "I gotta change. I'll meet you downstairs?"

Maura nodded.


Jane entered the morgue almost an hour later, in a dark navy button-up shirt and gray slacks. Her boots hit the ground harder than her heels did; she sounded more like herself. "You get 'em to talk?" she said when she saw Maura, still in the day's court clothes, scanning the body of Jackie Donovan.

"Oh yeah," scoffed Maura. "Can't get him to stop. He said my father hired a couple of teamsters to run their truck into the Marshals' car. He said it was pretty quick, except for the one who bled out before the ambulance arrived."

Jane clicked her tongue. "Poor guys. Just doing their jobs."

"And how are we supposed to do ours? I mean, he's out, Jane. How did this happen?" Maura turned to face her then, taken by Jane's appearance. When Jane eclipsed her in pumps, she felt a feminine appreciation for Jane's beauty, her form. But when Jane eclipsed her like this, sleeves rolled up mid-forearm, belt outfitted with weaponry and the BPD shield, she felt desire.

It was a want that wrung her heart of blood and sent it speeding down her aorta, a highway to her hips. It doubled her heart rate and halved her inhibition.

Jane noticed because she always did. With a compliment, she told Maura she understood. "How? He's always eight chess moves ahead. Where do you think you got your IQ points?" She stepped forward and ran her index finger over the chain on Maura's neck, pulling it just centimeters away from skin. "He'll only be out for a couple of days, and they got him wearing an ankle bracelet. I'm sure the feds are watching his every move."

"I feel like I'm falling, Jane. Like I can't get a grip on anything. I haven't felt like this since you and I were fighting," Maura confessed. She sighed as she said it, closed her eyes to concentrate on the subtle tug at her neck as her chain rocked back and forth in Jane's grasp. Then it fell back to her clavicle, suddenly still.

"I know," said Jane, kindly. "You haven't really caught a break since Hope rolled into town. But one way or another, this will all be over soon."

"You're right, I-"

Before she could finish, Korsak and AUSA King burst into the suite. "We may have something," King said. He had the first smile on his face they had seen since before the trial began. He rummaged through a folder to pull out what exactly he had found.

"Well, that's good news. Shouldn't we go up to the squad room?" asked Jane.

"We can't, Jane," Korsak replied, shaking his head.

"Why not?"

"Cavanaugh can't know about this," he said.

"Calvin Ghetts investigated the fire that killed his family," said King.

Jane frowned. "What does Cal have to do with Paddy Doyle?"

King became solemn, quiet. "We were about to make a deal with Ghetts to testify against him."

"Cal was dirty? Christ," cursed Jane. Then her eyes widened. "Wait a minute. Did Paddy send someone to Atlantic City to take him out before he could talk?"

"We think so," replied King.

"The FBI thinks Paddy paid Ghetts to burn down buildings in the nineties, falsify arson reports - all so Paddy could buy condemned property for a song," said Korsak. "But they could never prove it."

"Not until Calvin Ghetts told me in a phone call before he died that he had saved evidence that could prove Paddy was behind that fire," King said.

"Cal set the fire and you were granting him immunity in exchange for the evidence in his testimony," Jane reasoned.

"Right," said King.

As they talked, Maura fumed. The AUSA's discussion of the facts of murder sounded cavalier to her, and his intended actions with Cal Ghetts sounded even worse. She looked at Jane, so strong and so independent, and imagined her broken by her death, at the hands of a colleague. If Maura died, if she were killed, Jane would cave into herself. Jane would become isolated, broken, unfixable. And they weren't acknowledging that it happened to their lieutenant. They weren't considering his pain. "You were going to make a deal with a man who killed a detective's wife and baby?"

Unexpectedly, it was Jane who stepped in. "Maura, sometimes you gotta dance with the devil to get a conviction, a'right? Especially for two capital murders."

"So you're going to seek the death penalty," Maura said to King.

He nodded. "If you're conflicted, Doctor, I won't ask you to help investigate this."

"I'm a physician, Mr. King. I don't wish death on anyone. But that doesn't mean I won't help you."

Jane narrowed her gaze. "Wait a minute. Help you with what? You don't have a case without Cal Ghetts. He's dead."

"I don't have any more time. I need you to find Cal's evidence," King begged.

"What are we looking for?" Jane asked.

"I don't know, alright? All we have are Cal's arson files. Maybe there's something there."

"Yeah, but what? You had twenty years and your own task force to make an arson connection between them. Now you want us to find something in 36 hours?" Jane grew more irate by the second.

"I'm not gonna lie to you. It's a Hail Mary, detective," King said. He exhaled slowly.

"Do I look like Randy Moss to you? You're gonna have to give me more than that."

"I don't have anything more. Just please do what you can."


"Thanks for going with Frost to Mrs. Ghetts' place while me and Korsak finished going through those files. Can't believe we got nothin'," Jane said to Maura as she pulled the Prius into a street spot a few doors down from The Dirty Robber.

Maura acknowledged her with a half-smile. "We didn't find much either, but at least we can take that car apart tomorrow. There might be something in it. Mrs. Ghetts' said that Cal called it their 'nest egg.'"

"Man. I can't imagine making it thirty years with the department and then dying a month after your retirement. I guess I also can't imagine what it must be like to lose your spouse after that long together." Jane tapped the middle console with her fingertips as she turned the car off. She sat for a while, not saying anything, just gathered herself.

"It must be awful," Maura said simply. She picked up Jane's hand with her own and kissed the back of it.

Jane, whose head had been resting against her seat, lolled it toward Maura and smiled tiredly. "I should be back at the station. I feel guilty."

"You have to eat, my love. We'll get it to go. Come on," Maura said, waiting for Jane to gather the resolve and the physical momentum to swing out of her seat. Finally, it happened, and it wasn't long before Jane opened her door, too, and offered a hand to help her out. Maura took it and then held onto Jane's bicep as they walked.

"You think we'll find anything?" Jane asked quietly as they approached The Robber.

"I don't know," Maura answered honestly. "But we can at least start with the car," she said. "When Hope came by this morning, she asked me about you."

"Oh yeah? What did she wanna know?" Jane looked at Maura, intrigued.

"How we met," Maura said, "I gave her the quick version. She thinks you're attractive."

Jane blushed. And stuttered.

"I don't know why you insist on being so modest," Maura said. "Most people think so. I definitely think so."

"Well thanks," said Jane. "You're not so bad yourself. Especially in that getup."

Maura chuckled and looked down at herself as Jane opened the door for them. "Which part?"

"All the parts," Jane said. "I know you dress like that for confidence. And because you like it. But I like it, too."

Maura was about to respond when she saw none other than her father, Paddy Doyle, enjoying a burger and fries at one of the tables. Seven or so men sat around him, and they were in the middle of a toast. "To Paddy!" One shouted loudly, and the rest echoed, "Paddy!"

Glasses clinked and drinks disappeared down gullets. Maura was disgusted. "Look at him," she whispered to Jane. "He thinks he's already gotten away with it. He's killed four people in the last two days."

Jane bristled at the danger Paddy brought with him every time he was in a room. She catalogued all the exits and counted the heads inside. "Let's go Maura. This is not helping anything." She tugged at Maura's arm, turning back to the door, but Paddy saw them.

"Maura!" he called out, and then left his table to stand in front of her. He smiled at her, warm and gentle.

She shook with anger. "Three more men are lying on my autopsy tables because of you."

He frowned. "Maura, I had nothing to do with that crash."

She envied that he was so good at lying when she struggled with it. She envied that he could be here, celebrating, while she and Jane worked late into the night to bring him to justice because he got to break the rules. She looked into his eyes and scowled. Then she stepped closer to him and pushed a finger into his chest. "I wish Jane had killed you."


When Jane opened her front door, still in the day's work clothes, she saw Hope on the other side.

"Hi. How is she?" asked Hope, seeing the tiredness in Jane's eyes. She stepped in when Jane stepped aside.

"Not good," said Jane, closing the door softly.

"Does she know I'm here?"

"She asked me to call you." Jane said. Hope felt Jane's hand on her back as they walked toward the stairs. It was fleeting and it was high up on her shoulder, but it was warm and wide and firm. The weight of it was comforting, and Hope thought that she understood how someone could fall in love with a feeling like that. It was the way Paddy had touched her so many years before. "Hey, babe?" Jane called into the master bedroom, walking in just behind Hope.

"Mmhmm?" She heard from the walk-in closet, and pointed Hope in that direction.

"Hope's here," she said as the two of them stood in the walkway.

Maura ran a lint roller furiously over the shoulder of one of her sweaters. She didn't look at either of them. "Just in the middle of getting the pills out of my cashmere blends," she said distractedly.

Hope stepped into the closet and walked toward her daughter. "Maura…" was all that she said, cooing as she got closer.

Maura sobbed. "I told him I wished he was dead," she lamented. The vulnerability in it spurred Hope into action and she moved to hug Maura, but Maura recoiled. "No. I… I don't really like to be hugged when I'm very upset."

Hope looked at Jane as if to ask if that were true. Jane pulled her lips into a thin, straight line as if to say jury's out.

Maura just bent down to pick up several garments off the floor. "I've got to get these sheath dresses off the floor before they wrinkle," she said to excuse them. Jane nodded toward the bedroom when she met Hope's gaze, willing to give Maura the alone time she needed.

Hope followed Jane wordlessly down the stairs, and when they made it to the kitchen, she saw just how lost Jane looked. She patted her cheek in sympathy. "What do you say we have some tea? You look like you've had a long day."

"Alright," Jane said. She showed Hope where the kettle and the cups were, and then the older woman got to work. "Thank you for doing this. For being here for her. She'll come around in a bit, I promise."

Hope smirked at Jane as the water heated. "You don't have to speak like that around me, you know. I grew up in Boston. I know how North End Italians sound."

Jane smiled back, closed-lipped and a little dark. "Yes I do. You're my girlfriend's mother."

Hope laughed softly. "I suppose you have a good point. But you impress me without all of that. I'm glad she has someone like you. And even though we didn't start out how I might have chosen, I am glad to be getting to know you."

"Thank you. Is it weird getting to know her? You know, since the last time you saw her is when she was born?" Jane asked. The water whistled, and then Hope poured her a cup first. Jane took it and dunked her teabag several times.

"Yes, it is strange getting to know her as an adult," Hope said.

"I can't even imagine."

"Every year on her birthday, I would come back to Boston, and I'd visit her grave. And I would add up the years, and I would think about how old she'd be and wonder what she'd turn out to be."

"Well, is she anything like you imagined?" Jane asked, sipping, testing the water with her tongue.

"She's better," Hope said through a sigh and a grin, elated to have a chance to admit it. "She's so much better than I imagined. And I have a good imagination."

"She's… better than I could have dreamed up for myself, too," Jane agreed. She winked at Hope when they both heard cautious footsteps coming down to the first level.

Maura appeared, still in her tight red dress, but also with one of Jane's zip up hoodies on. She fiddled with the drawstrings on it as she took a seat at the island. "I'm sorry," she said as she watched Hope pour herself a cup of tea, "I should have offered you some."

"And girl scout cookies," Jane said.

Maura looked at her guiltily. "I ate them all."

"Even the thin mints?" Jane asked in mock-horror.

"I ate those first," Maura confirmed.

"Damn," Jane said quietly, unable to keep up the ruse. Maura was sadder than she thought.

"I know this is your house, but could I make you some tea?" Hope smiled at their banter, so easy and comfortable.

"I would like that," Maura said.

"Sometimes, the only way for me to turn off the panicky thoughts in my head at night is the thought of espresso in the morning," Hope said, pouring a third cup.

"Me too," said Maura. "Would you like some?"

"Oh no, that'll keep me up all night," Hope chuckled. She walked the tea across the island and set it in front of Maura. "What can I do?"

Maura shrugged. "Go back 37 years and sleep with a different man?"

Hope and Jane shared a glance. Jane pouted. "Well can we give you a hug now?"

"It won't help," Maura said, and that stung.

Hope intervened, seeing Jane's disappointment. "Can we try?"

Maura nodded, and each of the women in her kitchen picked a side of her. First Hope clung to her right, leaning her head against Maura's. Jane appeared on her left side, the side that Jane always chose, her dominant side, and put her hand on Maura's arm. Then she kissed the side of Maura's head, long and soft.


"How's Maura doing?" Asked Frost as Jane plopped down at her desk the next morning. Maura had walked in with her, but veered left to make herself some tea.

"She's ok. She'd be a lot better if we could find something in Cal's Granada, though," she said. "Any news?"

"CSRU took apart the doors, the engine, the dashboard. Nothing so far."

"Where else would Cal hide that file?"

Korsak walked over to them holding a fresh cup of coffee. "If Cal set the fire, Paddy would've paid him to do it," he said.

"Which means Paddy would have kept a record of it in his little book," said Jane. "Yeah, here. Here, everybody take a section."

Maura walked over and set a mug in front of Jane, and was rewarded with a stack of photocopied pages from her father's ledger. "Paddy wrote everything in code," she said, taking the seat next to Jane's desk.

"Yeah, what does this mean? 'Big head rent lo broad'?" Frost looked at his portion of the book, turning it upside down as if that would help.

"Big head meant Michael Wynne," said Korsak. "Rent meant shaking down store owners on 'lo broad', which is the lower end of West Broadway."

Maura sipped on her drink. "How do I explain my presence if Lieutenant Cavanaugh comes in?" she asked Jane.

"Tell him you have menstrual cramps," said Jane, patting Maura's knee before going back to her pages.

"That doesn't make any sense," said Maura.

Korsak laughed. "Oh yes it does. He won't ask any questions once he hears those words," he said.

Maura rolled her eyes. "Men are strange."

Jane chuckled lowly. "Men are cowards," she said. After aghast looks from Korsak and Frost, she smiled at them.

"Shirley Ghetts just called. Someone want to tell me why we have Cal's car in the evidence garage?" As if summoned by Maura, Lieutenant Cavanaugh did indeed enter the squad room from across the hall. He glared at Korsak as he asked his question.

"Oh boy," said Frost under his breath.

"See you in my office, Vince?" Cavanaugh ordered, and Korsak followed.

They worked for about twenty minutes, with Frost writing lists of figures on their white board while Jane and Maura read them off to him. "He's been in there a long time," he said nervously.

Jane waved him off. "Just try not to think about it. We gotta find a connection between Paddy and Cal."

When Korsak finally emerged, he jumped right in with them. "What'd he say?" Frost asked him.

"It's too bad Cal's dead, because he'd like to wrap his hands around his throat," Korsak said seriously. They all knew Cavanaugh's temper, especially when it came to people he cared about. To be confronted with the reality that his trusted colleague had apparently set the fire that killed his wife and son must have made him erupt. "What are you guys doing?"

"Trying to break Paddy's codes," Frost answered. "He's got these charts starting in 1992."

"Show me where that is," Korsak said, looking at the board, seeing the word oso written about twenty times next to either the numbers 200, 100, or zero.

"Right here, page 38," Frost said, handing it to him.

Korsak saw it, and then had to lean on his own desk for support. His hand went to his mouth in shock. "Oh my god," he said.

"What's wrong?" Jane pressed.

"How could we not know? Paddy and Oso, that's it," Korsak thought it was obvious.

Frost didn't. "Who's Oso?"

"Oso Garcia. He was a Colombian drug dealer that Cavanaugh shut down in '92, when Paddy was Cavanaugh's CI."

Jane's eyes flew open. "Paddy was Cavanaugh's CI?!"

"Oh yeah," said Korsak. "They worked together for over a year. He gave Sean some spiel about wanting the drugs off Southie streets just as bad as the cops, but now it's clear that that was a lie."

"That doesn't make any sense," Maura said.

"Yeah why would Paddy buy cocaine off Oso, then turn around and help Cavanaugh bust him?" Frost asked.

"Oh god. It was a setup from beginning to end," Korsak said, eyes wide.

"Damn. All Paddy wanted was cheaper cocaine, and he fed Cavanaugh information knowing that it would chase the Colombians out of Southie." Jane slumped in her chair and stared straight ahead.

"Paddy ran Southie. Eventually, the Colombians would have to go to him for help. They didn't know that Paddy was the informant," Korsak said.

"I'm not following this." Frost crossed his arms.

"Paddy helped the drug unit bring heat onto Oso from August '92 to March of '93, so see those six zeroes next to Oso's name? I guarantee you those were six months where Paddy couldn't buy coke because Cavanaugh was putting pressure on the Colombians," Jane said.

"Right, but in April of '93, Paddy started buying cocaine again, but for half the price," Korsak pointed out. Sure enough, Paddy started buying cocaine for 200k, but after his six month hiatus, it went down to 100 in his book.

Frost studied the numbers. "So what changed in March of '93?"

Maura tapped her lips with her fingers. "His family died. Linda and Christopher Cavanaugh died in the fire at the end of March."

"That's it. Paddy did the Colombians a favor and they paid him back. My guess is Paddy's plan was to kill Cavanaugh, but it worked out the same when Cal set that fire. Cavanaugh fell apart."

"Yeah, he never ran another drug case," said Korsak.

"Poor guy," Frost said sadly.

Jane looked at him in worry. "Shit. Does Cavanaugh still have a copy of Paddy's book?"

"I just saw him leave." Frost was already grabbing his blazer and keys.

"Oh fuck. We gotta find him. He's gonna kill Paddy," Jane said, following after her partner.


Cavanaugh went where he thought Paddy might be first - a bar. An Irish bar. It just so happened that the last Irish bar he frequented was The Dirty Robber, and so he tried it. It also just so happened that Paddy was there. He shared a drink with two of the men that Maura and Jane had seen with him the day before, two men that Cavanaugh now recognized as Irish mob.

Paddy smiled at him from his perch on the barstool. "Hey, can I buy you a drink, Sean?" he asked, throwing back the rest of his own shot.

"Yeah," Cavanaugh whispered just before he punched Paddy hard enough to send him staggering backwards. Doyle blood splattered across the bar and into the beers of his two men, and then there was a melee. Cavanaugh got in a few more good shots before a Doyle soldier broke his nose with a fist.

"Hey! Boston Police! Knock it off!" Jane's booming voice cut through the violence enough for the brawlers to at least glance in her direction. She had stormed through the front door; Frost came in behind her, followed by Maura and Korsak, but she was already right up in the chaos. "Hey, stop it! Come on, back off. Back off!" she pushed some of the men away, and grabbed Cavanaugh by the collar, sending him over to Frost with a shove.

One of the others, though, saw her turned back as an opportunity for action, and swiped at Cavanaugh, who bumped Frost, who in turn knocked into Maura.

Jane raged.

The man who initiated the movement was short enough and bent over enough that she could swing her left elbow up and into his face, sending even more blood flying. Doyle men took it as a sign to attack. A few blows even landed, mostly to her body. She swung at each tough guy she could then, breaking a couple noses, and they fought until Frost drew his weapon.

"Do not fucking move!" He shouted, his stance firm and his weapon trained. Korsak drew his, too, and then all hands went up.

Maura tended to Cavanaugh all the while, her hand on his shoulder. "Try not to move, Lieutenant," she cautioned him. Then she pointed at Paddy. "How could you?" she seethed.

"He came at me! I was minding my own business," Paddy said, his pride hurt more than any of his person.

"Oh shut up!" Jane barked at him, wiping her nose with the back of her hand. She walked towards Maura and her colleagues. "C'mon, let's get him up and get him outta here."

Korsak nodded to her and took Cavanaugh gently outside. "Come on, Sean. Let me… let me take you. We'll go in my car."

"He killed my family," Cavanaugh whimpered, blood running down his lip and the side of his face. "He killed my family."

"I can follow you to Mass General, Sergeant," Maura called behind Korsak and Frost, who each had an arm around Cavanaugh. The night sky was murky and the air was humid enough that it felt like trying to talk in a body of water.

They both froze. "He can't go to a hospital," Jane said. "We can't risk people knowing that he got into it with Paddy and his guys. That could mess things up."

At first, Maura ignored her. "Alright, then. At least bring him to our house. I can monitor him there." When they waved their agreement and got into the unmarked, Maura glared at Jane over the roof of her car as the taller woman walked to the driver's side. "He got into it with Paddy and his guys?! Just him?"

Jane cocked her head in what looked like confusion, but Maura knew as annoyance. "Yeah, he got into it. I was breaking it up."

"Until you started punching, Jane!" Maura settled into the passenger side that had been opened for her, and then she slammed the door. The car wobbled. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"Because somebody decided to try and take you out, Maura!" Jane shouted back, shoving her seatbelt on and jerking the car from the curb to the road. "You want me to just sit around and watch my partner and my… my semi-fiancee get knocked around by thugs?"

"That's ridiculous. Even if there were a threat to my safety, why wouldn't you pull your firearm? Detective Frost did." Maura argued.

Jane huffed. "Why the hell are we arguin' about this? Everything's fine!"

"Everything is not fine," Maura said through gritted teeth. She flicked her hand out in anger, her palm splayed between them, her fingers spread in a truly Italian gesture. Jane snarled at it, her anger rising again. "You're going to wake up sore and you're lucky you're going to wake up at all," Maura continued, and Jane went to respond, but she barreled over her. Jane glared. "You put yourself in extreme danger - when you could have put an end to everything! One of those men could have decided to risk it all and blow you away right there, in the middle of The Robber. What were you thinking?"

Jane had reached a boiling point. "I saw red, a'right?!" she roared. "I saw you get pushed and I blew my fucking top. I wasn't thinking, not rationally. All I could think about was that day in the warehouse and how I made the wrong fucking choice. I'm not making the wrong fucking choice again, Maura. I'm not putting you in danger anymore. I would have boxed Paddy himself if I had to - and maybe it's barbaric to you but I'd do it if that's what it took to get the message across."

Maura slumped back into her seat. "Oh." Boston street lights flashed over her face like strobes as she listened to Jane yell.

Jane sighed. "Look, I'm sorry. Clearly I'm still a little hot. I shouldn't have shouted."

"You need to be smarter about how you protect me," Maura said quietly. "You got hurt."

"Yeah, I know," Jane said. She kept her eyes on the road and the police vehicle carrying Cavanaugh in front of them.

They sat in silence for the following seven or eight minutes, listening only to the gravelly whir of tires on the road. Jane's legs were wide open, left knee up against the driver side door, left hand tugging gently at the steering wheel's bottom, maneuvering them through back streets towards Beacon Hill. Maura caught sight of it, licking her lips as she watched the long digits strum the vinyl of the wheel between Jane's legs. Her eyes traveled to Jane's wide open hips, stopping there to admire the twitches of movement as Jane alternated between gas and brake. Finally, she saw Jane's idle right hand, noting the bruises across its knuckles for the first time.

Her breath hitched. "You punched a man. For me," she finally breathed out, with an exhilarated little laugh.

"A few men," Jane corrected, chuckling to herself, too. "I know I can be a meathead sometimes, Maura. I'm tryin' to work on it."

"Don't," Maura said before she could stop herself.

"Don't what?" Jane turned to her and asked.

"Don't try too hard. I've decided I like when you do things like that, if I don't think too hard about the stupidity of it all. That moment was just especially stupid. God, why does being angry with you make me feel like this?" Maura sighed and knocked her head back against the headrest.

Jane's brow came forward. "Like what?" Maura only grabbed Jane's free hand and squeezed, placing it against her own chest. "Oh. Oh."

They pulled onto Maura's street before the conversation could deepen. Korsak and Frost were already waiting at the door for them. Maura took Jane's hand out of the car, making sure to rub her thumb over swollen knuckles as they met. She looked at the three men severely as she unlocked the front door. "I still think we need to get him to a hospital. He needs stitches and his nose reset."

"No hospital," Cavanaugh whined, and this was a tragic mockery of the last time he had insisted on it in Maura's living room.

"I agree," said Korsak, leading him to the couch. "Let's not make this worse with a paper trail."

Jane pulled Maura to the side. "You reset my nose. You can do that. Can you stitch him up, too?"

"Alright, get me some towels and my medical bag," Maura nodded. Jane did as told. "Let's put him on the couch."

"I don't want to get any blood on it," Cavanaugh said. His voice was hoarse.

"No, no, it's ok," said Maura.

"Thanks, Dr. Isles. As soon as we can move him, I'll take him to my place," said Korsak.

"No, I'm fine," Cavanaugh tried to argue, but Korsak waved him off.

"No, you're not. And if you think I'm gonna let you try and kill Paddy again, think again."

Cavanaugh exploded again. "He's a dead man!"

Jane put her hand on his chest and pushed him toward the couch. Frost helped him sit. "Lieutenant, if anyone deserves to kill him, it's you. But you can't," he said.

Jane agreed. "Think about what you had to go through to survive Linda and Christopher's death. Every day that you force yourself to go on living is a tribute to those two people that loved you."

Cavanaugh hung his head in his hands. "I blamed myself. All this time, I thought that fire was an accident. And I was right to blame myself. It's my fault they died! Paddy wanted me!"

"Don't say that," Korsak pleaded.

"Linda and the baby weren't supposed to be there, Vince! He wanted me but I was working, I was always working! So instead, he killed them. Get outta my way!" Cavanaugh pushed his way off the couch and approached Korsak like a linebacker.

"Hell no," Korsak said.

"He's not spending another day on Earth!" Cavanaugh was hysterical now, actively pushing.

Jane stepped forward. "Lieutenant, there's another way. We keep digging, we prove that Paddy paid Ghetts to set the fire, Paddy gets charged with arson and he gets the death penalty."

Cavanaugh ignored her. "You gonna move?!" he screamed at Korsak again.

"No!" Korsak matched his volume.

"Well what are you gonna do, Vince? Huh? Shoot me? 'Cause that's what it's gonna take!" When the lieutenant reached his crescendo, Maura stuck a syringe in his arm and depressed the plunger. "Oh, what the hell?" He groaned, and then fell back onto the couch, unconscious.

When the three detectives gaped and her, she shrugged her shoulders. "I heard you say there was another way. It's all I could think of."