The shrill of the small bell above the door of Abe's Antiques rang out and Abe looked up to see his next customer. Instead, he saw someone he hadn't expected to see.

"Henry!" he exclaimed, remembering to address his father by his given name while in public. "Why didn't you tell me that you were coming back today? I could have picked you up from the airport." He quickly walked around the retail counter to meet him.

"It wasn't necessary, Abraham," he replied. He set his luggage down and patted his son on the arm, fighting the urge to embrace him. Onlookers like the three customers in the shop may not understand. "I decided to skip the dinner party after the symposium's formalities and took an earlier flight back."

Abe eyed him for a second and asked if he was headed into work. "Tomorrow", is all Henry replied. He then grabbed one piece of luggage while Abe grabbed the other, and they went upstairs and into Henry's bedroom. "Do you think it wise to leave your customers alone down there?" he asked his son.

"Awww, if they were gonna buy anything, they would have done it by now," Abe replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Now, any bright ideas yet on this, uh, situation?" Abe asked him.

Henry sat down on the edge of the bed and said, "No. I'm just going to have to wing it, as they say."

"Dad, you have to have a plan," he urged him.

"There is no plan, Abraham, other than keeping them from finding out the truth about Adam. He will eventually die and be free of his waking coma and he'll be out for revenge against me. If they find out about him, he'll hurt them, as well. He said he'd never harm you; and we both know that he can't do me any real harm." Henry had jumped up off of the bed and now paced back and forth in front of Abe. "The plan is to somehow prevent him from harming them or anyone else."

"And just how do you plan to do that?" Abe pressed.

"There has to be a way," his father replied, his true frustration level manifesting itself. "I just have to … stay one step ahead of them. Throw them off track."

"You mean like you threw them off the track of that pugio but Jo did a switchback on you and wound up with it anyway?" Abe cynically reminded him.

"That was … unfortunate," he conceded. "I'll be more careful this time."

"And you won't have Lucas to help you this time, either," Abe cautioned him.

"Why? What do you mean?"

"He's laid out with the flu," Abe explained. "Sounded terrible when I spoke with him this morning."

"Perhaps I'd better look in on him," Henry proposed.

"Not before you shower and get a good, home-cooked meal under your belt," Abe told him. "While you get cleaned up, I'll take care of these straggling customers and close up the shop. Then, I'll start dinner."

Henry smiled and didn't put up much of a fight. Hotel food could only go so far to satisfy his appetite. It would be great, he told himself, to enjoy one of his son's hearty, delicious meals again.

vvvv

Once back inside Jo's assigned vehicle, Hanson advised her to "hang a left" at an intersection she would normally have crossed. She did so but asked where they were going.

"The Lab at the precinct takes two weeks or more," he replied. "The chem teacher at the high school down the street is in my bowling league. He'll be tickled pink to help out the NYPD on a murder case," he said with a chuckle. "We'll get the results in no time, if I'm right."

"That's not an authorized lab, Mike," Jo cautioned him.

"Authorized, schmauthorized," he replied. "We're breakin' all the rules on this case, anyway. Besides, the school gets state and federal funds to stay in operation. So, if the school's chem lab is good enough for the Governor and Uncle Sam, it's good enough for me."

Jo shook her head disapprovingly but drove to the school and opted to wait in the car while he "did his thing".

Upstairs in the school's second-floor chemistry lab, Hanson greeted his geeky-teacher-bowling-friend, Stan Worth, and explained the situation to him. Despite the fact that Hanson felt Stan had a tendency to romanticize his job as a homicide detective, he was thankful that it wasn't on the level of Lucas' hero worship for Henry. Plus, he was a genius and the detective was sure he could come up with the results faster than the precinct's lab.

"So, is this blood from a real homicide?" Stan asked as he made preparations to begin the testing. He took the plastic bag with the blood-stained cotton swab stuck to the bandaid from Hanson and then opened the bag and removed the items. After he snipped a tiny, bloodied piece from the cotton swab, he placed it back into the bag and gave it back to Hanson.

"Exactly what do you need?" Stan asked him. Hanson replied that he needed to find out what antibodies were in the blood. Stan filled his cheeks with air and blew it out. "Okay, but it'll take a couple of days for the results."

Hanson thought for a moment, then shrugged and reluctantly agreed. What other choice did he have? It was better than waiting weeks for their lab to do it. He told him that he'd check back in a couple of days, then. They shook hands and he left. As he approached the car, he saw Jo pecking onto her phone and using her fingers to count, as well. He got into the car and buckled up.

"Cell phones have calculators, ya know," he joked.

"And I'm using that too," she replied, "to tally up how many laws we're breaking and how much time we can expect to do behind bars if we're caught."

"Oh, c'mon, Jo. I'll bet this isn't the first time you've covered for the Doc," he speculated in a joking manner. When he saw her cringe and grow silent, he apologized and said, "Look. Everything's gonna be all right. Once this is all over, we'll probably even get promoted," he said in an effort to lift her spirits.

"Yeah," she replied, skeptical. "In an alternate universe."

VVVVVVVV

Notes:

Sorry for this chapter being so short. I'll try to make up on the next one. Hope you enjoy it anyway.