They climbed the three flights of stairs to Matthew Schroeder's apartment. Goren was furious when he found out that the first apartment they had been to belonged to a different Mathew Schroeder. The department would owe the man, who was a sixty-five year old retired teacher, a new front door and an apology. Maybe, if they had been given the correct information, they would not be dealing with the scene that now awaited them in this apartment.

The uniformed patrolman stepped away from the door to let them enter. The living room was a clutter of empty pizza boxes and Chinese take-out cartons, beer cans and magazines. Passing the kitchen, Eames took a reluctant look through the doorway. Dishes were piled in the sink and on the counter. The garbage can was full. She followed her partner down a narrow hallway, past the bathroom where a crime scene tech was sampling something from the floor, and into the bedroom. In the middle of the bed lay the body of Matthew Schroeder, naked except for his briefs. Beside him on the pillow was a bloody baseball bat. Whoever had killed him did a number on his head with it. "He pissed off someone," Eames noted wryly.

Goren was already busy examining the body, directing the CSU tech with the camera to take pictures from several different angles. He was nodding. "Whoever did this has a great deal of rage. They lost control of it and took it out on him. A jealous girlfriend, maybe?"

"What makes you say that?" He was never one to jump to conclusions.

With one hand, he picked up a pair of striped pajama bottoms from the floor. In the other hand, he held a red bra. Eames nodded. "She caught him in bed with someone else?"

Goren was now at the closet, head poking into the small space. He pulled out a well-used baseball glove. "Chances are the bat's his. There's a uniform in here, too. His team was sponsored by Vinnie's."

"A pizza joint?"

"That would be my guess."

"Shall we add Vinnie's to our list of places to go?"

He nodded. "We'll need a list of his teammates, friends, girlfriends, co-workers...and we still haven't found Gloria."

She followed him back into the living room, where he sifted through the papers scattered on a small desk. "He didn't pay his electric bill last month, but he seems up-to-date with his credit card and his cable."

"Can't go without that porn."

Goren raised an eyebrow and looked amused. "Porn?"

She nodded at the stack of Playboy magazines on the coffee table. "Don't tell me you didn't notice his choice of reading material."

She picked up the remote from the table and pressed the power button. She gave her partner a look of vindication as she turned the set off. He raised his hands in surrender, not about to argue, and returned to his examination of the contents of the desk, an amused smile softening his features. In the middle drawer, he found a slip of paper with a phone number and the notation GH. He handed it to Eames, who raised her eyebrows. "'GH.' Somehow I don't think it means Good Housekeeping. Gloria Harrison?"

He inclined his head in agreement, turning back to the drawer as she pulled out her phone and dialed. There was no answer, but she listened to the voicemail message. Then she slipped into her imitation of a flighty teen. "Hi, Gloria. This is Debbie. Call me back. 555-2826. Bye."

Goren gave her another amused smile. "We can pull her phone records." He closed the drawer and motioned to a nearby tech. "Box up the contents of the desk."

"Yes, sir."

He moved to Eames' side. "Anything else you want to see?"

"No. I've seen plenty, thanks. Calling this kid a pig is an insult to swine everywhere."

They headed out of the apartment and down the stairs. Once they got to the street, Eames asked, "Back to the squadroom?"

"Do you want to get breakfast first?"

"You don't have to ask me that twice."

"I didn't think I'd have to," he replied with a smile as he got into the car.

For the third time, Goren looked through the crime scene report on Matthew Schroeder's apartment. Something wasn't sitting right with him, but he couldn't put his finger on it. His driver's license photo closely matched the artist's sketch of the suspect Kelly provided them. But he was beginning to doubt that Schroeder was their perp. He sifted through the crime scene photos again. Slamming the folder closed, inadvertently making his partner jump, he muttered an apology and, taking the folder with him, he headed for the conference room where the contents of Schroeder's desk sat in a box on the table.

Eames followed him. When the door clicked shut behind her, she asked, "What's wrong?"

He waved a hand in a gesture of irritated impatience she knew well. He was adding things up, but the answer he was getting wasn't the one he expected, and that was nagging at him. "Something's wrong," he muttered as he began pulling papers from the box. "Look..." He slapped a paper down on the table. "He volunteered as a Big Brother...and here's a schedule for the community center in his neighborhood."

"He was looking for victims?"

He sifted through more papers. "How long does it take to find a victim?" He tossed more papers onto the desk. "There are schedules here going back three years."

"Why keep three-year-old schedules?"

"If you don't clean out your desk..." He shrugged and pulled out a manila folder, studying the contents with interest. "Pauly Fredericks. His little brother." He flipped over page after page of contact reports that Schroeder filed with the association. "He's been Pauly's big brother for...five years. That doesn't sound like someone who would beat the crap out of a little girl."

Eames watched as he went back to the crime scene photos. He skidded one across the table toward her. She looked at it, then gave him a puzzled look. "What am I supposed to be seeing?"

"Look at the framed photos on the dresser."

She studied the picture. "And?"

"Why would a young bachelor have framed photos of a little girl in his apartment?"

"A daughter?"

"I don't think so. There's no evidence he pays child support, and the resemblance isn't strong enough. I'm thinking little sister." He shook his head again. "I'm not getting a portrait of a violent man here, Eames. Nothing is leading in that direction. Remember we were going to talk to his teammates on his baseball team?" She nodded. "He didn't play on a team. He coached one. Little League." He tossed another paper from the desk onto the table. "Here's their spring schedule, team roster, and a thank you from the League for volunteering to coach."

She sat down, looking through the photos and digesting everything he'd told her. "So this puts us back at square one."

"Not necessarily. We, uh, we need to see Kelly again. Come on."

She pulled into an empty space in the hospital parking garage and he was out of the car before she turned off the engine. Great. He was onto something and it was going to be impossible to slow him down.

She locked the car and hurried after him, finding him waiting impatiently at the elevators. As the doors slid closed, she said, "You wouldn't have to wait for me if you'd slow down a little."

"I...uh, sorry," he muttered, distracted.

She rolled her eyes. Then she stepped into him, leaned up to kiss him and stepped away, almost in the same movement. The doors slid open as she moved away from him, and she exited the elevator and headed across the lobby a full twenty seconds before he got off the elevator. He caught up to her as she pushed a button on another set of elevators. "What was that for?" he whispered into her ear as he stepped up behind her.

"I just wanted to get your attention, and nothing else was working."

She stepped onto the elevator, feeling him directly behind her. She turned to face the doors and all she saw was his shirt and tie. She looked up into his face, but he stepped to the side. He didn't let his eyes stray from hers, however, until the elevator doors opened. She noticed that he didn't launch himself from the elevator, and she smiled. Point made and taken. One learned quickly to go with what worked, especially where he was concerned.

He paused outside the door of Kelly's room and knocked. "Come in," Patrice called from the room beyond.

When Kelly saw him, her face lit up and she bounced in the bed. "Bobby!" she squealed.

As Eames stepped over to Patrice and spoke softly to her, he smiled and sat lightly on the edge of the bed. "Hello, Kelly."

She moved closer to him. "Did you come to play?"

"Not today. I need to ask you a few more questions."

"Watch me," she insisted. Pulling out the little hacky-sacks he had given her the day before, she tossed one in the air, then another, and she dove to catch the first one. He easily caught the hacky-sack in one hand and the little girl in the other. "I'd feel better if you didn't practice on the bed," he commented, glancing toward Patrice, who had obviously been frightened by her daughter's headlong dive after the little ball. She smiled weakly at him. He gave her a reassuring smile, glanced at his partner, then returned his attention to Kelly.

Setting her lightly in front of her pillow, he said, "Kelly, you told us that the boy at the park hurt Gloria and then he hurt you. Do you remember that?"

She shook her head. "No."

"No what, Kelly?"

She studied her hands while Eames studied Goren, intently watching the child. She could almost hear the wheels in his mind turning and clicking as things began to fall into place for him. Kelly shifted in her bed. "Just no."

"Do you know the boy who stopped to play with you and Gloria?" She nodded. "What's his name?"

"Matt," she answered softly. "He didn't pay attention to Gloria. He wanted to play with me."

"Why did your ball go into the bushes?"

"Because..." she hesitated. "Because Gloria kicked it there."

"Was she mad?"

Kelly nodded. "She got mad because Matt wanted to play ball with me."

"So what happened when you went into the bushes?"

She shifted uncomfortably again. "Daddy will get mad, and his face will get purple and he'll yell."

"Did you do something wrong?"

She shook her head. "He won't yell at me. He'll yell at Gloria. I don't want her to get in trouble."

Goren rubbed his forehead, thinking of the best way to approach this. "Kelly, I don't think Gloria is going to be your nanny anymore, so Daddy won't be yelling at her when you're around."

"Daddy will send her away?"

"Yes, because she hurt you."

Tears began to fall over her cheeks. "I got my ball, and she told me I was bad, that I took Matt away from her, and she hit me. Matt tried to stop her, but she kept hitting me. He had to start hitting her to make her stop hitting me. She hurt me. I told her to stop, but she didn't listen."

She started to cry and she fell forward into his arms. He lifted her onto his shoulder and held her, looking at Patrice, whose hands were covering her mouth in shock. He shifted his eyes to his partner. He recognized the hard look on her face. Murmuring softly to the crying child, he gently moved and set her in her mother's lap. She buried her face in Patrice's shirt and cried harder. Patrice kissed her and rocked her, looking at the two detectives. "What now?" she asked.

"Now we find Gloria," Goren answered, as if it were a simple matter. He touched Kelly's head and leaned over. "We have to leave now, Kelly. Be a good girl."

She sat up and, still sobbing, looked at him. Reaching out a hand, she touched his cheek. When he smiled at her, she managed a smile in return. He touched her nose and her smile widened. Still sobbing, she nestled into her mother's arms and waved to the two detectives.

Goren turned at the door and said, "Don't leave her alone, Mrs. Cressmoor."

"I won't," she promised. "Do you think there is any threat, detective?"

"I don't know. It's better not to take chances."

He winked at the little girl and they left the room. Eames looked at him as they walked toward the elevators. "Just find her, eh? That simple?"

He nodded and gave her a sideways glance. "That simple."

"I don't even want to know your concept of difficult, Goren."

He smiled as the elevator doors opened. "You probably don't, Eames."

"What made you think it was Gloria who hurt Kelly?"

"Matt didn't fit the profile."

"And Gloria does?"

"Maybe. I don't know enough about her yet."

"So we're going to go and look through her drawers now?"

He smiled and that was all the answer she needed.