Author's Note: This chapter, while far shorter, is also not beta-read.

Chapter XLIX

Who Called The Calvary?

She was wearing about two to three months salary, and that was being conservative. All her clothes, down to her socks and thank god fresh underwear, had been chosen and bought for her by Alex. Her ex-girlfriend had purchased top designers and had her personal assistant deliver them to her in a luxury suite. Both of the other women were currently sitting in County lock-up. It had been something she had let Alex do when they'd been together. The other woman had genuinely enjoyed dressing her. Truth be known she had probably enjoyed it as much as she had undressing her. Not that they had done anything, of course. No one would believe her if she said so and she had. She didn't blame them, it had looked bad. Bad? Who was she kidding, it had been awful, horrible, there were barely even words that fully described the jumbled turmoil of emotions rushing through her.

Sara eased the SUV to a stop at a red light and shook another unfiltered Camel out of the pack she had bought at the first place she'd seen after leaving the hotel. She had kicked her pack and a half a day habit when she'd come to Vegas and now that, too, was back with a vengeance. She'd only gone through half a dozen and her nerves had already settled down enough to make thinking tolerable. In the long run she knew she was going to have to quit again, but right now smoking was just about the only thing keeping her from driving off into the sunset.

She drove on auto-pilot and barely noticed anything outside of traffic that came close enough to be an immediate danger. She drove and smoked and tried to figure out how she was going to look Jim Brass in the eye. The drive was far too short to get enough thinking done and even if she had been able to come up with something it would have flown out of her head when she saw the mob of reporters. She desperately wanted to turn around and go home. Of course there were probably a few reporters there too. Thank God for tinted windows.

Much like she had the day before at the lab, she drove around to the back of the building. She thought it would be better behind the fence, behind the solid blue wall. She thought it would be better when she was surrounded by police personnel instead of the gaggle of reporters. The silence was just as bad as the questions, maybe worse. Everyone gave her a wide berth. It was junior high all over again except this time she was the woman who was sleeping with the murder suspect instead of the girl whose mother killed her father.

There was three feet of space all around her that no one would violate. She walked through the back rooms, through central booking and processing, and around the locker room without a single person meeting her eyes.

"Sidle."

She had made it halfway to Jim's office without anyone speaking to her. She was almost glad for the lack of conversation. She turned around anyway, because she knew exactly who was there. She also knew better then to hope that they would go away. She clasped behind her back to make sure she wouldn't throw any punches, "Tristan, Harv, and how are you doing this afternoon?" Alex's manager and lawyer were there for Alex, obviously. At the moment, though they were just two more problems for her to deal with. "Have you spoken to the DA yet?"

Andros straitened his jacket lapels, "Oh yes, we've had a few words. He was very helpful. So much so I had to clear my schedule for the next week and a half to stay here and straiten out this disaster."

Sara stiffened and tried to keep a firm grip on her temper, "Oh, I'm so sorry you had to do your job,"

Harvey, forever the peacemaker, cleared his throut, "Things could be going better, Sara. How are you holding up?"

She half smiled at Harvey and almost got a word out.

"She's obviously making the best out of a bad situation, Harv. You don't stay in the luxury suite and wear Oscar de la Renta, Valentino, Prada and Channel on a cop's salary."

She rolled her eyes, grit her teeth, and wished she had a cigarette, "Nice, Andros, any other cheap shots you'd like to get in before I go?"

The perfectly groomed man almost smiled, almost. "Oh, I don't know, do you have anything to say about tanking Alex's career or landing her and Jennica in lockup or should we just stick to you fucking everything that moves and practically selling the footage to Entertainment Tonight?"

Sara cocked a brow, "Really, that's all you can come up with? You're losing your touch." She wanted to do a DNA test, there was no way he wasn't somehow realated to Catheirne Willows.

"The only thing I'm losing is my patience."

Harvey stepped between them, "We don't have time for a pissing contest here. We need to figure out how we are going to extricate Alex and Jennica without getting Sara into further trouble."

"She is trouble." Andros was as close to growling as Sara had ever heard a person come, and that was saying something.

"I hate to breakup the love fest here."

Harvey turned, Andros pivoted on his low heel and Sara whipped around in the direction of the new voice.

Sara wasn't sure what the other two expected, but she was frankly confused. The two women looked vaguely familiar but she didn't know either of them. She knew almost every cop, CSI, lawyer, and judge in Vegas at least by sight. Despite the comings and goings, rookies and retirees, a new face generally merited a second and third look. In the middle of a case like this new faces were never a good sign. She didn't need this now.

The woman on her left was dressed in a dove gray suit, not as expensive as what Alex had provided her with, but well cut to her form. She had long brown hair, sharp eyes and looked very familiar. For a minute, Sara had been fooled, but caught herself before uttering her name. The resemblance was uncanny, but Lindsey Boxer had never worn a suit and heels for more then half an hour without complaining. No, this woman wasn't a cop. A lawyer, maybe, but not a cop.

The other woman, the one who had spoke, was a blonde and she meant business. Sara didn't have to see the gun or badge to read her as a cop. She had the stance, the stony face and those damn aviator sun glasses that every cop seemed to have and only a few could wear without looking ridiculous.

"I'm Abbie Carmichael with the Department of Justice," the brunette had a familiar and unmistakable twangy accent. "And this," the brunette continued, "is Mary Shannon from the Marshall Service. We need to talk to someone about Alexandra Dupree."

To say the bottom of Sara's stomach dropped out was a gross understatement. This was quite possibly one of the worst things that could have happened. Then she turned her head and saw Conrad Ecklie, ADA Ritchen, and Under Sheriff Jeffery McKeen staring down the hall at them.

It was official, her day could not get any worse. It was scientifically impossible.

The following cacophony was a deafening mix voices, each trying to make their own point, loudly. Sara was caught in the middle of the spectacle, trying to hear everyone and failing all around. The Marshall and Federal Prosecutor were arguing jurisdiction with Ritchen, McKeen and Harvey Everett. Meanwhile both Ecklie and Andros were demanding explanations from her and each other. All the while the hallway filled with spectators who took it all in. The situation might have spun completely out of control but for Jim Brass. The Homicide Capitan waded in like a pro, bringing the rabble under control with only a few words and one shrill whistle.

"Hey! What's going on here?" Brass looked at each of them and Sara wanted to squirm under his scrutiny.

"Jim, I-"She had no explanation to offer, her words withered on her tongue and she found that she wasn't able to look directly at him.

That was okay because everyone else had plenty to say and her half sentence and all of Brass's attention was quickly overtaken by half a dozen other voices.

Obviously disgusted with the chaos, Jim held up both of his hands like a referee at a game. He caught everyone's attention and they gradually quieted down.

"Undersherrif?"

Jim was a stickler for procedure, and he looked towards the highest ranked officer in the room. In Sara's opinion, McKeen was feeding the fire more then he was trying to put it out.

McKeen postured for a moment, "Jim, let's take this to your office as it's closest."

Brass nodded, "And those two?"

McKeen rubbed the back of his neck in a rare display of discomfort, "Feds."

Brass turned without another word and headed towards his office, followed by McKeen, the two federal women and Ecklie. For the barest part of a second, Sara thought she might be off the hook. Then Ecklie, after a few words with the Undersherrif, turned back to her. She prepared herself for the worst, unemployment here she came.

"Let's take a walk, Sidle." She fell in step with her boss and waited for the pink slip to appear.

"Have you talked to your Union representative or a lawyer yet?"

She almost tripped over her own feet, "What?"

Ecklie sighed, "The PD could recommend an attorney, but I suggest you get your own."

She fell silent, too shocked to speak.

"It's going to take a miracle to sort everything out. You're really in for it this time; I won't be able to keep it in-house. Your job is on the line here. You should have come to me or Brass or anyone before calling in the Feds, Sara."

Sara stopped in her tracks and turned to look at Ecklie face-to-face. "But I didn't call the Feds, I thought the DA or Alex's people did. I just got here

"Right now," Ecklie sighed, "I highly recommend you should go along with whatever the Undersherriff wants you to do." He turned to head back to Jim's office and the pow-wow there, "And go see what, if anything you can do over in interrogation. We have three women over there and you know two of them."

Apparently, her day could get worse and it was only three o'clock in the afternoon.

"Wait, what, three people? We have three suspects?"

Ecklie threw his hands up and out in disgust as he walked away, "Three."

Disclaimer: Abbie Carmichael from Law and Order belongs to Dick Wolf and NBC. Mary Shannon from In Plain Sight belongs to it's creators and USA. Lindsey Boxer belongs to James Patterson and ABC. Please note I am none of the above and I do not make any money doing this.