When Eames left for the day Friday afternoon, Goren remained behind, camped out in the conference room with the accumulated evidence from Nancy Vogler's murder. Pinned to the corkboard hanging on the wall, the autopsy photos were lined up beside the in situ crime scene photos of the body. His elbow resting on the table, forefinger against his mouth, Goren sat studying the pictures.

He didn't react when the door opened, or when someone sat down at the table until he heard a soft intake of breath and a quietly muttered, "Holy shit...she looks like..."

"She is."

"How the hell did she end up on Rodgers' slab?"

"I...I don't know."

"When was she killed?"

"Monday morning."

"And you...?"

He turned to look at Logan with tired eyes. "She was alive when I left her, Mike. That much I know for certain." He shifted in the chair. "After I got dressed, she woke up...said good bye. I didn't kill her."

"But you were the last person to see her alive."

"No, I wasn't. Whoever killed her was."

Logan ran his hand over his hair. "What did Eames say about it?"

"About what?"

Logan stared at him. "You didn't tell her? You were with a friggin' murder victim a couple of hours before she died, and you didn't tell your partner?" He scrubbed his face with both hands. "What does the trace show?"

"Not much. Uh, DNA isn't back yet."

Logan shuffled through the papers and pulled out the victim's autopsy. "Aw, fuck. Tell me this is the killer's...It's not, is it?"

"Th-there were no signs she was raped."

"The sample's degraded. You think they'll be able to extract anything?"

Goren shrugged. "I don't know."

"So tell me exactly how you plan to keep this from her."

"It's my investigation."

Again Logan stared at him. "Please don't tell me you're thinking of withholding or misrepresenting evidence to your damn partner. Have you lost your mind?"

"I-I haven't decided what to do."

Logan smacked his shoulder. "You tell her, idiot. You can't keep this from her. You know that. Please don't go stupid on me." He knew from the slump of Goren's shoulders that he realized there was no getting around it. "She can't expect you to be celibate, you know."

"No...it's not that."

"No, of course not. This is about your reckless behavior. You're afraid she's going to find out what you've been doing."

Goren frowned. "I'm not ashamed of anything."

"What then? You think she'll be disappointed that you aren't pining away for her?"

"Why would she think that? She...look, I seriously doubt she has any interest in what I do during my off time. Eames has never been interested in my social life."

Logan gave him a look that said he believed otherwise, if only because Eames was concerned about his happiness. That, though, was a complex issue that made Logan's head hurt, so he moved the conversation away from the topic. "Tell me: just when did your brain go away on vacation?"

Finally, Goren looked at him. "What are you talking about?"

Logan considered his answer carefully. "When she got married, you retreated someplace where no one could reach you, because she hurt you, even though it was something she never meant to do. But...you are still her best friend, and she's worked hard to remind you of that. I think she finally got through to you when she joined us to play pool on your birthday. She showed you that you were still important to her. Now...well, now you have to show her that you trust her. You gotta tell her about this, Bobby, before she finds it in the evidence. And she will find it."

"Suppose there's nothing to find?"

"You're just kidding yourself, man. Unless you can tell me how you pulled off going home with this woman, spending the night and sleeping with her, and not leaving any trace that's going to come back to you. You know you have to tell her. If you don't, when she finds out she's going to kill you. Or worse."

"Worse? What's worse than what I've been going through?"

"First of all, what you've been going through you've been doing to yourself and you know it. Second of all, you keep evidence from her and you are going to destroy her trust in you, and with that goes your partnership. Deakins sticks you with me, and I think we'd kill him."

"My partnership... Th-that's all I have left."

"Then don't throw it away by being stupid. You have to tell her, man...before it bites you in the ass, 'cause then it'll be too late."

Goren looked back at the photos on the wall. Logan was right. He had stepped into this on his own and now he had to stand accountable. "I-uh, I'll see you later, Mike."

"Nine o'clock?"

"Yeah."

"Bobby?" Goren stopped at the door but did not turn. Logan went on. "She doesn't have to find out about Sunday nights. All she has to know is that you were with this one woman. You don't have to tell her that you don't really know her. If that makes it any easier..."

"It doesn't." He opened the door to step through, then turned to look at Logan. "Thanks, Mike."

He left the conference room, and Logan shifted his gaze to the wall. Sunday night, they'd met at a little mid-town bar, like they had done every week since Eames came back from Bermuda. And just like he did almost every week, Goren left with a woman, too drunk to be picky and too hurt to care. Logan hated Sunday nights. Sure, he often went home with someone as well, but for him, it was just a good time. Goren wasn't looking for a good time. He just wanted the pain to go away for a little while. Logan wondered if it worked for him, but he never asked. Some questions were better left unanswered.

He sifted through the crime scene reports and the autopsy results. The coincidence between this woman's death and her premortem activity made him uneasy. The skeptical side of him would not accept that it was coincidence and he knew Goren would agree with him, if he just thought about it. What the connection was, though, he had no idea.

Goren...He sighed as he thought of his friend. God, he was a lot of work. The easiest thing for Logan to do would be to walk away and forget it, let Goren self-destruct and be done with it. But he couldn't do that. It was too late. At the wedding, he'd felt sorry for the man; he'd been so miserable. He wasn't sure exactly what had happened, or when, but he really cared about him now, and he couldn't just leave him to the sharks. Friends didn't do that, and there was no turning back now. Goren was his friend.

He heard the doorbell sound inside the house and he waited. The door opened and Waters glared at him. "What do you want, Goren?"

"I need to talk to my partner."

"Maybe she doesn't want to talk to you."

"It's about a case, Waters."

Waters looked at him for a minute, then pushed the door open further and let Goren in. "Alex," he called. "It's for you."

Eames came down the stairs and Goren caught his breath. She had changed into a loose white shirt and a pair of jeans, and she looked stunning. Well, he was stunned, anyway. But he shook it off before Waters noticed. Eames frowned. "What's wrong, Bobby?"

"I have to talk to you about the Vogler case."

She motioned to the doorway off to his left. "Let's go into the living room."

He stepped aside and followed her through the doorway, sitting uneasily on the couch. He set his portfolio on the coffee table. His unrest made Eames nervous. "Do you want something to drink?"

He shook his head. "No, thanks."

"So what did you find?"

"Uh, I didn't find anything. But there's something...something you need to know."

Waters came into the room and conversation ceased. Eames looked at him. "Is something wrong, Ricky?"

His eyes darted from his wife to her partner and back. "You know what's wrong," he complained.

Goren wasn't stupid. He grabbed his portfolio and stood. "Look, Eames, I don't want to cause any problems. I do have something I need to tell you, but if it has to wait, that's fine. It can wait. Just remember that I was here."

"Sit down, Bobby." She ushered her husband out of the room and angrily hissed, "Grow the hell up, Ricky. He's not going to attack me on the living room couch. He has never attacked me anywhere. Now go upstairs and find something to do. Let me talk to Bobby and then he'll be on his way. This is work, Ricky. Now quit being an ass and let me talk to my partner."

Waters studied her face and, without a word, turned and went upstairs. Eames returned to the living room. "Sorry about that."

"Don't be. I'm the one who should apologize. I should have called and met you somewhere." He studied his hands. "I-I don't know why I just came out. That was wrong."

She sat beside him on the couch and gave him a playful nudge. "Cut it out. If it's important, you did the right thing."

"I don't know how important it is. It's just...pertinent."

"Well? Let's hear it."

"I...uh, the victim...I, uh, I know her." Eames said nothing so he went on, uncertain. "I...um...I was with her Sunday night." He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. "Sh-she was alive when I left her...but...I guess you, uh, you need to know that if they can get any...any DNA from that sample...well, it's likely to, uh, be mine."

Eames just looked at him in silence. He once again shifted uncomfortably, studying his hands as he refused to look at her. He did not want to see what was in her eyes.

"Why didn't you tell me yesterday?"

"I didn't want to tell you now, but I knew I had to. That's why I'm here." He raised his eyes toward her without moving his head. "I had no idea she was going to be murdered, Eames."

"Of course you didn't. But you'll have to submit DNA for exclusionary purposes."

He nodded. "I know."

"And you are going to answer to Deakins for why you didn't say anything sooner."

Again he nodded. He reached for his portfolio from the couch beside him and drew it onto his lap. "I-I'm sorry. I know I should have said something."

"Why didn't you?"

"I...I didn't know how to."

She was quiet for a long moment before sliding her hand onto his where it fidgeted with the edge of the portfolio. "Okay. We'll deal with it. Take it easy this weekend and we'll work on it Monday."

He stood up almost too quickly. "S-sorry to have bothered you at home, Eames. I...have a good weekend."

He turned abruptly and headed for the door as quickly as he could without overtly appearing to rush. By the time she got to the front door, he was already nearly to his car. She watched him leave and sighed softly. Bobby always made things more difficult than they had to be. With a sad shake of her head, she closed the front door.