Shout-Outs: WeLoveNeville, SteelSimz, Cin04, glindalovesshoes, Marcia Santos, Nerwen Aldarion, and Lothlorien Aeterna

Disclaimer: I own NOTHING! Sorry to disappoint everybody.

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Chapter 5

"Mr. Jane, what are you doing here?" Bruce Bennett asked as he looked up from the garden bed he was weeding in surprise.

"I just came to look around a little bit," Patrick answered. "If that's okay with you, that is."

"Of course you can look around!" Bruce replied, rubbing his dirty hands on the front of his worn-out work shirt. "If you need anything, I'll be out here trying to finish getting the place ready before 'Cilla's funeral on Friday."

Patrick nodded and made his way up the steps to the front entrance. "I won't be long, the wife expects me home for dinner in less than an hour."

Bruce got to his knees again so he could finish his gardening. "Well, I'll leave you to it then. If anybody gives you any trouble at all, have them come and talk to me. Okay?"

"Thank you. Don't worry Mr. Bennett; I'm going to find out who killed your daughter. I promise," Patrick said, smiling encouragingly at the older man before slipping into the bed & breakfast.

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Patrick's search for Pricilla's missing engagement ring started in Edward's room, a thorough examination of the room and all he found was a half-a-dozen mixed CDs with sappy love songs scrawled on the plastic covers, a playbill for the musical Phantom of the Opera, a pile of dirty laundry, and a couple of books from a series that involved vampires and werewolves. The ring, as he had suspected, was nowhere to be found.

Shawn's room, although it was lot messier than Edward's with clothes, books, and CDs with the names of foreign bands strewn across the floor, supplied him with the same results. The engagement ring wasn't anywhere to be found in the whole entire room.

He tried to look in Pricilla's room next, but the door was shut and locked. Classical music was seeping from underneath it, mixing with the sounds of a woman's weeping. After a few minutes in front of the door thinking about his next move, Patrick resisted the temptation to pick the lock and decided to move on to the senior Bennett's bedroom.

Aside from the unmade bed, it was the cleanest room on the top floor allowing him to investigate it quickly. He didn't find the ring anywhere, but he did find a collection of Hermés scarves on Mildred Bennett's side of the walk-in closet.

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"Did you find what you were looking for?" Bruce asked as Patrick retreated from the bed & breakfast, hands in his pocket.

"Not really," Patrick replied. "Do you have a metal detector I could use? I'm hoping what I'm looking for on the beach."

"My b&b is located on the beach, Mr. Jane," Bruce answered. "I have several metal detectors; I rent them out to my guests who want to try their hand at beachcombing. Do you need to use one for something related to my daughter's murder investigation?"

"I do."

Bruce dropped the trowel he was holding and got to his feet. "Just give me a second and I'll run up to my office and get one for you."

"Thanks," Patrick said when Bruce had returned five minutes later with two top of the line metal detectors.

"No problem," he replied as he handed it over to him. "Do you think I could come and help you find whatever it is you're looking for? Pricilla's funeral is so close and I want the person who did this caught and behind bars before we lay her to rest."

Patrick hesitated for a second, before nodding as he started towards the beach. "If that's what you really want, then you're more than welcome to come with me."

Bruce fell into step with the younger man and offered him a smile. "Thank you."

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"The way you're handling your daughter's murder is admirable," Patrick commented as he waved the metal detector over the sand while they walked along the beach.

"Somebody has to handle it well," Bruce said. "If I allowed myself to break down, who would take care of the bed & breakfast or talk to the police? Who'd make the funeral plans or accept all the casseroles and flowers that started to pour in almost immediately after the news my daughter was murdered had become public knowledge? Believe me, Mr. Jane there's nothing more that I'd like to do then take on the role of the grieving father. But I can't. Not when there's so much to do and nobody here but me to do it. For a split second I did have Edward, but he couldn't really take it. I had to send him away too, I didn't want him breaking down on me."

Patrick was about to reply when his metal detector beeped. His face lit up and he handed the device over to Bruce before getting to his knees and started to dig around with his bare hands. After a few seconds, he pulled up a round metal object that turned out to be an old, rusty cap from a bottle of Coke.

"I'm guessing that wasn't what you were looking for," Bruce said when he noted the consultant's crestfallen face.

"No," Patrick answered as he stood up and dusted himself off. "Come on, we'll just have to keep looking."

After walking the whole length of the small beach and finding nothing except a cheap, dollar store necklace and a handful of worn pennies, Patrick finally admitted his defeat. He glanced at his watch and realized he was five minutes late for dinner, so he bid Bruce a hasty goodbye and started for home.

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"You're a little later than you promised," Teresa teased as he came into the house and threw his suit coat to the floor. "Don't worry though, dinner took a little longer to cook than I had initially estimated. . . is everything okay, Patrick? You almost look—"

"Don't worry darling, everything's fine," Patrick said, cutting quickly as he brushed past her and headed towards the living room.

"I don't believe you," Teresa said as she trailed after him, stopping only to scoop up his coat and drape it over the staircase. "What happened at the inn that got you so upset? Did Pricilla's ring turn up in Shawn's room or something?"

"No," Patrick answered. "Nope, it's still missing in action. Believe me, if the ring was anywhere on the premises of the bed & breakfast, then I would have found it."

Teresa frowned. "If you didn't find Pricilla's missing engagement ring in Shawn's room then what's bothering you?"

"Nothing's—"

"Do you remember how you promised on our first date that no matter how ugly or painful it was you wouldn't ever keep anything from me?" Teresa interjected.

Patrick sighed. "I think, no, I am almost one hundred percent certain that Mildred Bennett killed her daughter."

"Mildred Bennett?" She pushed one of her hands against his chest as he tried to escape her again. "That's a pretty big accusation to make. What makes you think she did it?"

"The scarves I found in the Bennett's closet," Patrick replied as he broke free from her grasp and started for the kitchen.

"Scarves?" Teresa repeated, chasing after him. "Tell me, when you worked for the CBI, were you always this sharing or did Hightower have to Heimlich information out of you?"

"They were from the same collection of scarves as the one that was used to strangle Pricilla," he answered as he poured two glasses of wine. "But you can't build a case around evidence like that because it's all circumstantial. There are probably a lot of women coming on and off the island who own a Hermés scarf, that doesn't make any of them guilty of murder."

"You still don't have any evidence that proves Shawn killed Pricilla," Teresa reminded him gently as she took the glass he offered her.

"I know," Patrick said, sighing heavily. "And that's just what's bothering me, Reece. I'm afraid that Pricilla's killer will never be caught because of the lack of substantial evidence. And if that happens, I fail. I'll fail Mr. Bennett and Pricilla; I'll fail Shawn and Edward. If I don't catch whoever killed Pricilla, I'll fail this whole town, and Cho. I'll fail even you, because you had the faith in my skills of observation—"

"Shhhh!" She soothed, coming over to him and smoothing his windblown hair away from his forehead before standing on her tip-toes and giving him a gentle kiss on the lips.

"You don't understand, I've never faced a case I couldn't solve—"

Teresa cut him off with another kiss, after a long moment she pulled away and looked at him encouragingly. "I know you can do it. You haven't failed me, not yet."

"Well, I do believe the little lady cares!" Patrick drawled, his smile was teasing and he looked a little bit better than he had when he'd gotten home.

Teresa rolled her eyes and pulled away from him, muttering something incoherent about him never taking anything seriously as she went to take their dinner out of the oven.

TBC. . .

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Author's Note:

Please, feel free to review or ask questions. I love hearing what you have to say.

Love,

Holly, 2/12/2013_