They headed out to the nurses' station. The unit secretary looked up and Eames said, "We are looking for Gloria Harrison."

"Room 841."

"We were just there. She's not there." She could sense Goren's restlessness as he shifted behind her.

The secretary looked over her shoulder. "Janice, is Gloria Harrison down in x-ray or something?"

"No. She's in her room."

"These detectives were just there. They say she's not."

Janice came around the desk and walked past the two detectives back toward Gloria's room. "That's ridiculous. I was just in there."

"So were we," Eames replied.

It was beginning to look like Gloria was the key to this investigation and Goren did not like the way this was shaping up. They followed the nurse into the empty hospital room and watched her search the room. When she looked under the bed, Goren left the room. Eames shook her head and asked the nurse, "Any idea where she is?"

She already knew the answer before Janice shook her head. "No. Maybe she went down to the cafeteria."

Eames handed her a card. "Call us when she turns up. We need to speak to her."

The nurse looked at the card. "I will, detective."

Eames left the room in search of her partner. She found him pacing in front of the elevators, waiting for her. As soon as she came into sight, he stabbed the down button with his finger and continued pacing. He kept eyeing the stairwell until Eames said, "Don't even think about it. I am not chasing you down eight flights of stairs."

"We should check the cafeteria and the gift shop."

"Don't you think she would have told her nurse if she was leaving the floor?"

"Not necessarily. I didn't always."

"You are the exception, Bobby. Not the rule."

That coaxed a smile from him, and he pushed the button again. Finally the door opened and they got onto the elevator. She watched him shift impatiently and said, "Settle down, Goren. Bouncing like that won't make the elevator run any faster but you are going to annoy me, so hold still."

He stopped moving, and now looked like he was going to explode. She shook her head. "Go ahead and bounce."

He tilted his head and smiled. As soon as the door opened, he was off, heading for the cafeteria. She trotted after him, catching him at the doors that entered the food service area. She grabbed his arm. "You want me to chase you through the hospital?"

He huffed impatiently. "I'm sorry, Eames. I--If she's here, we need to find her."

"And if she's not?"

"We still need to find her."

She followed him through the grill area and past the cashiers, into the cafeteria proper. Gloria was nowhere to be seen. They spent another half hour searching the common areas of the hospital before she finally convinced him to give it up. They had a witness waiting for them back at the squad room and Deakins had already called her twice. She sighed. It was going to be a long day.

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Her instinct had been spot on; it had been a very long day. Goren was itching to head out and try to find Gloria, even though Deakins had put a couple of other detectives on it. He resented being stuck in the squad all day long interviewing witnesses who hadn't seen a thing when there were more important things that needed to be done. Eames had been hard pressed to keep him even marginally settled. It had not helped when Cressmoor had called and Goren had answered the phone. The major accused them of chasing Gloria off. He didn't want to hear that they had not seen her. Then he had called the captain, complaining that the two detectives had talked to his daughter without his consent and then traumatized the nanny to the point that she had run away from the hospital. Eames sent Goren out for coffee so he could burn off some of that energy he seemed to have in endless supply, and she set the captain straight about the morning's events. Deakins had called the major back, but Eames left the office. That was one conversation she did not want to hear.

Goren had finally convinced his partner to go home just before ten. Now, nearing midnight, he closed the last file and dropped it onto the stack to his left. Well, at least she wouldn't come in tomorrow to a mound of paperwork, as she had been dreading when she left. It was just a small thing for him to do, but she would appreciate it. Leaning back, he scrubbed his hands over his face and sighed wearily. He hadn't left the squadroom until nearly two last night, and he was in by six...but he wasn't about to tell that to her. God, he was tired...but the image of that sweet little girl, laying in that hospital bed bruised and beaten, haunted him, and he was determined to find justice for her.

He and Eames agreed that they needed to interview Jeffrey and his friends as soon as possible, so he'd called the principal at the school to set it up. After assuring her none of the boys were suspects in anything and this was not an interrogation, she reluctantly agreed to a Friday morning meeting, as long as she could be present. He agreed to that. He had wanted to talk to the boys that afternoon, but the entire school was participating in testing and the principal said they could not talk to them until Friday, unless they wanted to do it outside of school. The last thing they needed was to try and get consent to interview Jeffrey from his father...at least not before it was necessary. Goren was fairly well convinced Jeffrey was not involved; Kelly would have recognized her brother. But he was hoping that Jeffrey might be able to clue them in on Gloria's whereabouts or, at the very least, identify some of her friends. He was tired of running in circles and not getting anywhere.

Leaning back in his chair, he rubbed his temples, running over the days events in his mind. He had enjoyed talking to Kelly. She was smart, sweet and very cute. He appreciated Mrs. Cressmoor and her understanding. Running into the major had only served to annoy him, but when Eames had attempted to shut him up by pressing her hand into his thigh...God...his damn brain shut off and he didn't quite know what to make of that. Then, when they found Gloria missing, well, that set the tone for the rest of the day and now he was exausted. His phone rang and he pulled it out of his pocket, flipping it open. "Goren."

Hey, came his partner's soft voice. When did you finally cut out?

He looked around the room. "Uh, well..."

Bobby, don't tell me you're still at work.

"Okay, I won't."

What are you doing there so late?

"Paperwork."

Paperwork? It's after midnight.

"Is it? Well, we're all caught up now anyway."

Why did you do that?

He could hear the tone in her voice that mingled disbelief and gratitude. It was a tone he often heard from her, and one he liked. It meant he had done something right. He leaned back in his chair and looked at the distant ceiling. "I stick you with the paperwork often enough, Eames. It's not a big deal." He sighed wearily and changed the subject. "What are you doing? You usually call earlier."

I lost track of the time. A glass or two of wine and a nice, hot bath can do that to you.

He groaned to himself at the image her words conjured, and his mind swore at his body, which had its own ideas about things, after reprimanding his mouth for asking her what she was doing, which started the whole thing...

Bobby? Are you still there?

"Yeah. I'm still here," he answered as his exhausted mind conjured unwanted images of her, wet and naked...oh, hell...

Go home, Goren, she said gently. You're exhausted and even you need some sleep. I'll bring breakfast in the morning.

"Sounds like a plan. I'll buy lunch."

Great. I'll make it a light breakfast. He laughed softly. Her voice remained gentle as she said, Good night, Bobby.

"Good night, Eames."

He closed the phone and tossed it onto the desk. He tried to remember how long ago his body had developed its own agenda where Eames was concerned, finally ignoring his mind's repeated admonitions that she was his partner and he was not going to screw that up. Of course, that led him down a slippery slope lined with guilt as he wondered how many times he'd called Denise or one of his other casual dates, using them to satisfy his body's response to a passion inspired by another. When had this overwhelming preoccupation with her taken over his body and his mind? What could he do? Screwing his partner wasn't an option, although just the thought of it was enough to send a jolt like an electric charge through his body. Ultimately, he was left with few options. He'd call Denise tomorrow and see if she was busy this weekend. He wondered if she was beginning to suspect the depth of his attachment to Eames. But...what was there to suspect? He wasn't even sure just how he felt about her, and that drove him nearly as nuts as his body's rebellion did. He slowly sat up. Great...now he had a headache, too...He leaned forward and rested his head on folded arms on his desk, just for a few minutes. Damn...

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He opened his locker and pulled out the clean suit he kept in there, dressing quickly. That's what he got for putting his head down for five minutes. Five minutes became five hours and before he knew it, Sanchez was waking him up from a disturbing dream and now his back was in knots. He'd come down to the locker room to shower and change. By the time he got back up to the squadroom, Eames was there. A brown paper bag and cup of coffee were on his desk and she was grinning in triumph. "Beat you," she said, certain she'd arrived at the squadroom before him.

He was content to let it slide so she could have what she viewed as a victory, but Sanchez heard her and laughed. "Not even, Eames. He was sleeping at his desk when I came in at six."

Goren shot an annoyed glare at him. Sanchez grinned and turned back to his desk. With an aggravated shake of his head, Goren turned around to face his partner. She was giving him her what did you do now look. "I thought you were going home."

He shrugged. "I fell asleep. It happens."

She studied him. "Do I have to take you home myself to make sure you go?"

He laughed softly. "Stop worrying, Eames. Other than a sore back, I'm fine. I probably got more sleep than I would have at home, anyway."

There was no probably about it. If he'd gone home, by the time he got there, he would have been wide awake. It would have taken another hour or two for him to wind down and finally sleep...or a couple of beers and he would have crashed on the couch in front of the television.

He pulled out a list from his binder and said, "We've got eight witnesses scheduled for today..."

She sighed and took the paper he held out to her. He could be so frustrating sometimes...