Jo drives the short distance from the antique shop to her place. Once there, she makes quick business of gathering toiletries and a change of clothes for her overnight stay at Henry and Abe's. Just for the night, she reminds herself, nothing more. 'Not gonna mess this up.' She'd been half asleep - well, he had been, too - when he'd shared his long story with her the other night. Even if she had been bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, there were still a thousand million questions she had for him. As she moves about, the ring on the chain around her neck sways gently back and forth and softly grazes against her skin. Sean's ring. She stands in front of her mirror and clutches the ring tenderly in her fist. Sean will always have his place in her heart, she knows. Always. He was a good man and they'd shared a deep, true love for an all too brief period of time. He was never coming back, though. She'd finally reconciled herself to that fact. And now it was time for her to move on. She carefully removes the chain from around her neck and gazes at the ring as she holds it in her hand. She kisses it and closes her fingers around it one last time. Her eyes now smarting with unshed tears, she chokes out, "Good-bye, Sean." A sob breaks through along with the tears. "I'll never forget you, sweetheart." She puts the chain and ring in a small keepsake box and lovingly places it and his photo into the footlocker in the back of the closet. She braces herself for the usual wave of pain and longing to hit her...but it doesn't. 'That's strange. I'm usually a sack of tears at the mere mention of his name.' She's grateful but then the pang of guilt hits her instead. Henry had mentioned that once when he'd shared about the loss of his wife, Abigail, and his emotional journey afterwards. The pain of loss and then the eventual guilt as the pain lessened over time.
'Time.' she shakes her head. 'He's got nothing but time. Time means nothing to him.' But it means everything to her. And whatever little time she has left on this earth, she's determined to find out if they can spend it together.
Jo exits her car and walks up to the door of the antique shop. She unknowingly startles a hooded figure across the street, who jumps into a darkened alley. Henry waves to her as he descends the stairs and quickly makes his way through the shop to let her in. She blushingly returns his wave, her heart flutters a bit. 'Get a grip, girl.' She tells herself. Her giddiness embarrasses her.
The hooded figure watches from the alley as Henry opens the door and welcomes Jo inside. "Looks like you've got some pretty nice company, Doctor." He whispers to himself. "Wouldn't want to spoil your evening." He plucks his cell phone from his pocket and dials a number. The call is not answered and goes to voicemail. "Yeah, I'm outside that shop where you said he lives with Abe. You said it was important that I contact him, so why am I leaving a voicemail?" He sighs. "I can't bother him tonight, though. Tomorrow morning. Will explain later. And PICK UP next time I call you!" He ends the call, shoves the phone back into his pocket and walks away in the direction he'd come from.
"LU-cy? I'm HO-ome." Mike Hanson laughingly announces his arrival to his wife, Karen, with his best Ricky Ricardo imitation.
"Oh, stop it." She laughs and meets him with a kiss. "Dinner's ready." She holds the edges of her apron and curtsies. Her long, red tresses fall forward over her shoulders as she playfully dips her head to the side.
He mockingly bows from the waist, then sniffs and smiles broadly. "Meatloaf! My favorite!" He hugs her and kisses her on the forehead. He stealthily surveys the landscape. "Where are the monsters?"
"I told you not to refer to my darling little angels that way." Her long lashes flutter quickly over her blue-ish green eyes as she feigns hurt.
"Sorry. Where are the darling little angels, then?" Before she can repond, however, sounds of a scuffle and argument sail down the stairs and reach them in the dining room. The two parents exchange knowing looks and Mike calls up the stairs, "Okay, you guys, don't make me come up there!" (silence) A loud thump is heard upstairs and then a wail from Mikey, the younger of their two sons. He shakes his head and takes the stairs two at a time. As he yanks open the door to the boys' bedroom, he finds the older boy, Donnie, rubbing Mikey's arm, who winces under the uneven pressure.
Donnie takes his hand away, looks sorrowfully at his father and pleads innocence. "I didn't do anything, Dad. He just snatched the game controller from me and his arm bumped against the bed. Honest!" He glares at his brother. "And it wasn't your turn, it was still mine!"
"Was not!" Mikey yells as he rubs his arm. "You cheated!"
"Did not!"
"You always cheat!" Mikey looks up at his father. "And he pushed me."
"Oooo, you lie." Donnie jumps up. "I didn't push him, Dad, he bumped his own stupid arm."
"Whoa, whoa, whoa." Mike interrupts and tries to defuse the situation. After determining there are no broken bones, a tug of war of words extracts the truth. The two rambunctious brothers agree to a shaky truce and the three of them invade the dining room and enjoy a hearty meal.
A couple of hours later, Mike and Karen bask in some quiet time, the delicious dinner now a wonderful memory and their "darling little angels" fast asleep. Mike doesn't know quite how to broach the subject; something that's weighed on his mind ever since resolution of the Valerie Nelson case. Gretchen, the baby girl she had carried and delivered for the Layne couple. He's seen the child as Child Protective Services had carted her away. The Layne couple no longer wanted the child. Mr. Layne had abandoned her and his wife, and Mrs. Layne had tried to kill her. None of the other relatives had come forward to claim the child.
The cop in him had wanted to protect her. The father in him wanted to do the same. He loved both of his sons dearly and was prouder of them than anyone could ever know. No, they weren't angels, neither were they monsters. But he and Karen had discussed how many children they'd wanted before marriage: three. And they'd definitely wanted a daughter. However, things hadn't quite worked out that way. But he'd explained the situation a bit to his wife and he feels that she might be open to - adooption. He feels he needs to give it a try and share more of his feelings about his desire to adopt the little baby girl. They talk possibilities into the wee hours of the morning after she enthusiastically agrees with him.
"You'd better get some sleep, honey." Karen looks at the clockradio on the nightstand. "Are you off tomorrow?"
"Yeah, as a matter of fact, I am." But even though it's been an emotional rollercoaster of a day (some details of which he cannot share with his wife - or with anyone) he's almost too excited to sleep. He lies down and stares at the ceiling as he maps out his next step in pursuit of the adoption. He turns to Karen who's already drifting off to sleep. "I'll call Lieu in the morning. She should be able to help." He caresses Karen's hair, kisses her on the forehead and nestles in closer to her. 'Gretchen Hanson.' He smiles. 'Boy, is Jo gonna be surprised when I tell her.'
In a stark white and stainless steel laboratory, a white-haired man in his mid 60's, perches on a stool and studies a slide under a high-powered microscope. He marks some notes on a pad and straightens up as he rubs his eyes. He yawns just as the ringing of a cell phone catches his attention. He stands up and pats his pockets. No phone. 'Oh, good grief, where is the darn phone?' He looks around the lab but doesn't see it. He throws up his hands in frustration. Then he sees it on top of his briefcase near the lab's entrance. He lunges for it but, too late. The ringing stops. A sigh of exasperation escapes his lips. "Great. Just great." He complains to the empty room. The phone in his hand buzzes and the screen displays a voicemail notification. He works the phone and retrieves the voicemail.
(Yeah, I'm outside that shop where you said he lives with Abe. You said it was important that I contact him, so why am I leaving a voicemail? - a deep sigh - "I can't bother him tonight, though. Tomorrow morning. Will explain later. And PICK UP next time I call you!)
He ponders the voicemail as he pockets the phone. 'Keep the phone near from now on. We're right on track.' As he removes his white lab coat and puts on his trench coat, he looks over at the microscope and smiles. 'Yes, sir. We're close to one of the biggest discoveries in medical science. All thanks to you, Henry. Doctor Henry Morgan.' Briefcase and keys in hand, he turns off the lights and exits the lab. He walks the long corridor to the lobby and waves to the night guard. "Good night, Bob."
"Night, Dr. Barnes."