A.N. Thanks to Muzzy-Olorea and chili-peppers for reviewing! I appreciate the encouragement.

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Danny reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cell, automatically noting the lack of new messages before answering. "Hey, Mac."

He paused and listened, watching as Hawkes circled the victim slowly, camera in hand. "Yeah, we're here, but we're still waiting on the ME. Uh-huh. How long?" he asked incredulously.

Hawkes looked up and blinked at Danny calmly before returning to his careful documenting. Danny rocked back on his heels restlessly. "Sure, sure. Yeah. We got it."

Ending the call, Danny spun his phone around his palm absently. "ME went to Stella's scene first. We're gonna have to process without disturbing the vic."

Hawkes nodded easily. "Fine then."

Pocketing the cell, Danny moved his shoulders around as if his clothes were too tight. "I'll take the kitchen," he muttered, leaning down to pick up his kit.

He felt Hawkes's eyes on his back as he strode jerkily away, following the blood trail to the back of the house.

He knew the look that would be on Hawkes's face if he turned. It was the same look of careful, sympathetic regard that Stella gave him every time he glanced at his phone—something he now meticulously avoided doing in her presence. He hated that look, and its appearance had been increasing in frequency over the past two weeks.

Setting his kit down on the floor just outside the kitchen, he eyed the bloody mess covering the walls with detachment. Leaning down, he opened the case and pulled out a pair of gloves. Snapping them into place, he tried to decide where to start. Both the floor and the walls were sporadically covered in a red runny mess.

Pulling out some swabs and his tester, he stepped carefully into the center of the room, avoiding the seemingly random drops and pools on the floor.

"Jesus."

Glancing part way over his shoulder, he nodded as Detective Angell came up beside him. "Yeah."

"All that come from our vic?" Angell asked incredulously, leaning over the threshold to glance around inside the room.

Danny shook his head and crouched to swab the floor. "No way. No one has this much blood in their body."

Uncapping the tester, he carefully dripped the clear liquid onto the cotton swab and raised an eyebrow as it turned the usual purple. Angell cleared her throat. "Doesn't that mean it's blood?"

"Yeah," Danny murmured, taking in the patterns along the floor and wall. "Your boys checked the place out. No other bodies?"

"Place was empty 'cept for our vic," Angell confirmed, checking her notepad. "Person who made the call doesn't live here."

"Then I hope this isn't all blood." Pulling out more swabs, Danny cautiously inched his way over to the next set of pools.

Angell frowned. "Why's that?"

Shaking his head, Danny crouched to test another pool. "Cuz then we'd have more bodies to find."

Danny worked in silence, moving around the room in a spiral pattern and testing any pools or drops that appeared disassociated with the pools. Half an hour later, Hawkes came down the hall and nodded politely to Angell. "Danny."

"Yo," he answered, not bothering to look up as he picked his way over to another area.

"ME's here."

"Bout damn time." Raising his head, he found Hawkes giving him that damn look while Angell stared between them curiously. "I'll stick with the kitchen. This is not looking good for us," he said, holding up another colorful swab.

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Danny stared through the blinds at the woman sitting nervously at the desk. As he watched, she reached up to smooth back a piece of hair that had escaped her tight bun only to ignore it when it fell back a few moments later. She looked to be about his age, a little younger maybe, and worn. It might have been the discovery of her neighbor's slaughtered remains, but the woman seemed prematurely aged, like her soul was somehow tired.

Glancing down at the DNA results, he sighed. She was basically their only hope of sorting out the mess.

Shaking his head, he pushed through the door into the noisy outer office. The woman's head jerked up at the sudden movement, and he smiled soothingly as he slid into the chair. "I'm Detective Messer. You must be Miss Hughes."

"Winnie." Her voice was almost a whisper, but she met his eyes directly.

His smile faded and he leaned forward. "Winnie, I know you've already spoken to the police about this—"

She shrugged, as if dismissing his apology as folly. "What do you need to know?"

"Everything you can remember. I know this must be difficult for you," he said, eyes locked on her.

Her mouth turned up at the corner, but it wasn't a smile. "Sure, but it doesn't matter. If I can help you find out who did this to Brenda…" She shook her head. "I'll tell you what I can."

Taking a deep breath, he flipped open the case file in front of him. "It says here that you found the body a little after eleven. Is that right?"

Winnie nodded. "Yes. I-I was coming over to return a book I'd borrowed from Brenda. It had to have been after eleven because I had a meeting early this morning, and I didn't get home until around then. I went over right after that."

"And there wasn't anybody else in the house?"

"Not that I could see, but I only went as far as the living room. Brenda was—" She cut herself off to take a deep breath. "Was…lying there. I…I called 911 on my cell and checked her pulse when they told me to."

"Did you stay in the house?"

Winnie nodded and smoothed the errant strand behind her ear again. "I waited with her until the paramedics got there."

"And in all that time, you didn't see anybody else?" Danny pressed, leaning his forearms on the table.

"No, no one."

"Did Brenda live with anybody?" he asked, looking up to meet her eyes again.

Winnie frowned and shook her head. "Only her daughter."

Danny froze. "Daughter?"

"Yes," Winnie said, swallowing hard as she accidentally caught a glimpse of the photos in the file. "She has a six year old. Had," she amended after a short pause.

"And you didn't mention this earlier because?" Danny snapped, flipping the file closed and pulling out his phone.

"But…I did," Winnie whispered, eyes wide as Danny exploded from his chair, already dialing Angell.

"To who?" he barked while the phone rang in his ear.

"The woman who questioned me earlier," Winnie insisted. Danny watched as she clenched her hands together to stop them from shaking. "The detective."

"Angell?" Danny asked incredulously right as she picked up on the other end.

"Jeez Messer, hello to you too."

Motioning for Winnie to stay put, Danny slammed his way back through the door he'd come through. "Brenda Mueller had a kid, Angell. Where is she?"

"I've got two uniforms headed over to the school right now. What's your damage?"

"There were three different blood samples in that kitchen. That means two more, very missing, bodies. Why didn't you tell me she had a kid?"

"It's in the file."

Hearing her irritated voice behind him, Danny whirled and found her striding down the hall towards him. "No it's not," he yelled both at her and into the phone.

Simultaneously, they slammed their phones shut and faced off, unaware of the wary glances they were getting from the other officers in the hallway. "It has to be. You must have missed it," she snapped, hands on her hips.

"Oh, I think I would have noticed something about a missing kid," he argued. "What the hell else is missing from the damn file?"

Angell glared at him, but appeared to be reining in her temper. "Look, Messer. I did my job. I put everything Winnie Hughes told me in the file I gave you. I don't know why you didn't know about the kid."

They both heard her phone buzz loudly. Danny ran a hand through his hair and shifted his weight from foot to foot as she pulled her cell out of the holster on her belt. "Angell. Yeah." Her eyes slowly slid closed. "Yeah. I'm on it."

Danny crossed her arms over his chest and waited as she started dialing again. Meeting his eyes, she calmly told him, "Kid was a no show at school today."

Wincing as Danny threw the file against the wall, Angell turned and began walking towards the door. "I need an Amber alert over the wire. Abby Mueller. Six years old. Don't have a description yet. Yeah. I'll get back to you in two."

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Danny set a cup of water down in front of Winnie. "Sorry that took so long. The more detailed the description of Abby, the better chance we have of finding her."

"I understand, Detective Messer," Winnie said with a wan smile, wrapping a hand around the cup, but not bringing it to her mouth. "It never occurred to me that Abby wouldn't be at school. Though I suppose that makes sense. Brenda was in her pajamas…"

Danny let his gaze slide away as her voice broke. A few seconds later, he heard her take a shaky breath, and he lifted his eyes back to hers. "Was Brenda seeing anyone?"

Winnie sniffled a little, her brow wrinkling. "No, I don't think so."

"You're sure?" Danny asked, handing her a tissue.

"Thank you. Brenda didn't date much," Winnie explained, patting at her nose. "And she never brought them home when she did. She didn't want them near Abby."

"Why not?" Danny asked, frowning.

Winnie shrugged. "We never really talked about it. She never went on more than a couple of dates with a guy before she called it off. Maybe she didn't want Abby getting used to one man if she was just going to break up with him a few weeks or months later."

"Who was the last man she dated?"

"I don't know," Winnie said, shaking her head. "It was months ago and I was in and out of town on business."

"She never said anything to you about him? Anything at all," he added when she started to shake her head again.

Biting her lip, Winnie stared down at her hands for a few long moments. When she raised her head, she looked apologetic. "I think she said that she'd met him through work, but that doesn't really make sense."

"Why's that?" Danny asked.

"Brenda works at a hospice. And the director hires an all female staff."

Despite his efforts to remain neutral, Danny felt his eyebrows shoot up his forehead.

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Stepping off the elevator on the 35th floor, Danny found Hawkes waiting for him. He barely glanced at the other man before taking off down the hallway, his nose buried in the Mueller file.

Hawkes calmly fell into step next to him. "Any leads on our mystery man?"

"Nope. Winnie claims that Brenda didn't bring dates home. Didn't want strange men near her daughter."

"Sounds plausible," Hawkes said. "So why the face?"

Danny glanced up from the file. "None of this adds up. One body. One blood trail leading to that body. Yet we have a house full of blood from three different victims. How did the killer get the other two vics out of the house?"

"Could the other two victims have bled out in the kitchen?" Danny shrugged as they pushed the door to the lab open and stepped over to the table Hawkes had covered in crime scene photos. "Then the killer could have carried them out without much mess."

"But there would still have been drops of blood leading out of the house. Wounds don't magically clean themselves."

"Maybe he wrapped the bodies in something. Like…a bedsheet or a shower curtain."

Danny shook his head. "No disturbance of the blood pools."

"Maybe he put the sheets in the hall; carried the bodies to them. With all the spatter, you wouldn't be able to pick up a dripped trail."

Nodding, Danny studied the pictures of the scene. "Makes sense. But why take two of the bodies and leave one behind?"

Hawkes shook his head. "Plus, all that blood, the killer had to have stepped in it at some point. But there are no foot prints anywhere in the house," Hawkes murmured, moving his finger over the undisturbed blood patterns on the floor.

Danny blew out a breath. "Like I said, it don't make sense."

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When Flack knocked on the glass wall next him, Danny nearly jumped out of his skin. Glancing over, he nodded and pointed to the break room where Hawkes was enjoying a well-deserved break.

Straightening, Danny looked over all the evidence they'd collected. The trace on Brenda Mueller's clothes had added more questions than answers to the case. Nicotine, though Winnie insisted Brenda didn't smoke and hated anyone who did; jasmine pollen, despite a distinct lack of flowers, which Winnie claimed Abby was allergic to; and a couple splinters of aged, long-dead wood, though none of the wood furniture matched the sample.

All Danny knew was that the killer smoked, had touched a jasmine plant and had been near dead wood in the last 24 hours. He was a real Sherlock Holmes.

Seven hours and Abby Mueller was still missing while Danny was no closer to finding her.

Time of death had come back as being around seven that morning, which meant that the killer had to have carried two bodies away in the full light of day. The neighborhood their vic had lived in was an upper-middle class suburb. Morning was its busiest time. Yet not a single neighbor had seen or heard a damn thing.

"Danny."

Looking up, Danny found Mac standing in the doorway. "What's up?" he asked, gathering some of the pictures together.

"Go home."

Surprised, Danny nearly dropped the stack of papers in his hand. "What? Mac, I'm no where near done."

"You're useless to me when you're this tired. Go home, get some sleep. Come back in the morning."

Mac's face was bland, and Danny sighed, knowing it was a waste of time to argue. "Yeah, all right." He dumped the photos back into the evidence box and began picking up the rest of the bags.

"Get some dinner while you're at it," Mac added, rapping his knuckles on the glass as he walked away.

Danny glanced back over at the break room and saw Flack leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets as Hawkes quietly spoke to him. He caught their attention by waving his hand and picked up the box to let them know he needed to put it away. They both jerked their heads in response and turned back to their conversation.

Moving across the hall, he unlocked the evidence closet and slid the box into place. For a moment, he stood there, eyeing the box, doubting he could solve this one.

Then he shook himself. Never out of evidence.

Pulling out his phone, he flipped it open and was greeted with a blank screen. No new messages. No missed calls. He was used to the disappointment, though, and it barely registered as he quickly scrolled down to Angell's number in his contacts.

"This better be good, Messer."

"I'm going back to the scene. You should probably come." He pushed open the door to the locker room and crossed to his locker, thumping the sweet spot to make it pop open. Quickly grabbing his jacket and messenger bag, he was halfway out the door by the time his locker slammed behind him.

"Now?"

He barely refrained from rolling his eyes. "Tomorrow morning. Meet me in front of the station house at nine."

"Thank God," he heard her mutter before the click signaled the end of the conversation.

Shaking his head, he stepped up next to Hawkes and Flack. They both turned to him and glanced at his phone in question.

"Angell. We're heading back over to the house at nine."

"Do you need me to meet you?" Hawkes asked as the three men moved towards the elevators.

"Nah. I think we got it. I just wanna go over the house again, see if we missed anything." Clapping his hands once loudly, he licked his lips and rubbed his palms together. "I'm starving."

"When aren't you starving? You're like a bottomless pit," Flack said as they stepped into the elevator.

Danny brushed the teasing off good-naturedly as the elevator sank down towards the lobby. "Yeah, yeah. You should see this guy when my mother makes cannoli," he muttered to Hawkes. "Must have a hollow leg."

"What's cannoli?" Hawkes innocently glanced from one shocked face to another then frowned. "What?"

Flack blinked at him for a moment, but managed to recover his voice before Danny. "You ain't never had cannoli?"

"No," Hawkes answered hesitantly.

"You ain't lived, doc."

Danny laughed at Flack's reverent tones, following a beat behind as the men stepped off the elevator. He nodded good night to the cops he recognized and shoved his hands in his pockets.

A sudden thought made his feet stumble a little.

Flack turned back as he and Hawkes pushed open the front doors to the precinct. "You okay, Messer?"

"Yeah," Danny muttered, still frowning at the floor. When he looked up, he found his friends staring at him with confusion. "Sorry, I was just—Nevermind. Sullivan's?"

"Where else?" Flack asked as Danny breezed by and out the door.

Determined not to give them anything to worry about or, God forbid, ask him about, Danny joked and laughed the night away at Sullivan's. He flirted with the waitress when she gave him the opportunity. He needled Flack about a girl the detective had picked up the week before.

He ordered three beers before he decided enough time had passed that he could slip away without seeming off somehow. And, finally, he found himself on the subway in a miraculously empty compartment, considering the revelation he'd had hours earlier.

He knew everyone in the lab, knew most of the precinct by last name, if not first. He was sure that if he suddenly disappeared in the middle of the day and never came back, everyone would notice. Yet, not one person had inquired after Lindsay in the entire two weeks she'd been gone.

Could that be right? Could Lindsay really have kept herself isolated from an entire precinct full of people? Did she have a single friend outside of their tight—perhaps abnormally so—team?

They had hung out a few times, a couple trips to Sullivan's, a game or two watched on his big screen. The only real clue he had to her life outside of work was the time she'd shown up in opera attire. So he knew she'd had one date in almost two years, liked football, and ate almost as much as he did. But really, what were those but minor details on her life?

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Lindsay rubbed the back of her neck tiredly, trying to ease the crick that had been there practically since her arrival in Montana nearly two weeks before. She stifled a groan and shifted uncomfortably in the chair in front of the district attorney's desk. She felt bone weary and emotionally beaten, but she wasn't giving up.

Not that anyone would let her.

Suddenly, a steaming mug appeared in front of her face. "Here."

"Thanks," Lindsay said with a grateful smile. Taking a deep gulp of the hot coffee, she watched Greg move around to the other side of the desk. "What next?"

"We need to go over your testimony a couple more times." She nodded tightly, and Greg winced. "Lindsay, I'm sorry. We just have to make sure that it's airtight."

"I understand."

Greg was still eyeing her worriedly with the same look she'd been getting from everyone in Bozeman since she got back. Her mother was arguably the worst, but she felt the stares on her back as she walked through the police station or even down the street. There was pity in it, which didn't sit well with her, but there was also fear. As if everyone thought she would fall apart at the slightest gust of wind. It was worse now that the trial had been bumped back a week; the entire town was tense.

Lifting her chin, Lindsay gave him a steely glare. "That man has walked free for ten years. After what he did, I want to make sure we put him away. Do what you have to do."

Nodding, Greg flipped open one of the myriad files on his desk and scanned the contents. Lindsay watched him for a moment, then her eyes strayed to her bag. She wondered how things were going in New York. She should have called Danny by now, but she just couldn't. She was too much of a mess. Wincing at her own cowardice, she let her eyes come back to Greg.

He took a deep breath and began. "Miss Monroe, what do you remember about that day?"

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The plan had been nine am. Unfortunately, a new crime scene had popped up and the lab was stretched pretty thin with Lindsay's absence, so Mac had sent Danny to process the apparent burglary turned homicide. A nervous Adam had been sent along as Danny's accomplice, which had surprised Danny until Mac had pulled him aside to explain.

"With Lindsay gone, I need more hands in the field," Mac had told him, ignoring the way Danny's shoulders tensed when her name was mentioned. "I've been training Adam as a field agent off and on for a couple of years now. He's good, efficient; he can help if you let him."

Danny had nodded wordlessly and set off down the hall with the file in hand, having spotted Adam in the corner lab on the way in. Adam hadn't seemed overly excited at the prospect of another day in the field, but he'd followed Danny to the van with minimal muttering.

By the time he and Angell reached the Mueller scene, sunset was beginning to send muted colors over the sky and painted the inside of the house in an odd orange glow. Danny shined his flashlight around the baseboards of the wood paneled hall. Angell watched him from her position near the front door, trying not to distract him. The constant staring made Danny look up once and raise his eyebrow, but she just frowned and jerked her thumb over her shoulder.

"You want me to wait outside?"

He shrugged and returned his attention to the task at hand. "Whatever."

Painfully slowly, he moved along the baseboards, gradually working his way towards the doorway to the kitchen. The stench of blood was hard to remove, especially in the heat of sunlight, and he paused to take a breath before getting any closer.

The lowered sun shining through the window in the back door heated the narrow hallway and he found himself wishing he'd come back later, after the sun had sunk below the trees. The house was a good ten degrees hotter than it had been the previous afternoon.

Once he reached the back door, he turned to face the other wall and began moving back towards the living room.

"Finding anything?"

He barely controlled a start, having forgotten Angell's presence. "Nothing we didn't see yesterday."

Sighing, he clicked the flashlight off. The sun was glaring in through the window in the door. He reached up to mop the sweat off his forehead.

"What am I missing?" Danny muttered to himself, staring vacantly at the wall.

Angell came up behind him. Not bothering to glance over his shoulder, he pointed to the door. "He came in through the back, but no prints. So, he either wore gloves or cleaned up after himself."

"Imagine that. A man who cleans up after himself."

"Funny," Danny sighed. "There's no evidence that he went past the kitchen, so mother and daughter would have to have been inside. Maybe finishing breakfast."

"You said there's no evidence of him at all. How do you know he wasn't upstairs?"

"Only disturbance in the house is in the kitchen. We printed every room, got no prints that didn't match Brenda or the prints the school had on file for Abby."

Angell nodded and Danny continued with the story. "So, he comes in the back door, finds Brenda and Abby in the kitchen with an unidentified male."

"Jealousy maybe?" Angell asked as Danny poked his head into the kitchen.

"Neighbor said Brenda never brought men home. Why would she suddenly bring two?"

Angell shrugged. "Thought it was love?"

"Maybe," Danny muttered doubtfully.

"What? You never been in love, Messer?" Angell teased.

When he found that he couldn't force a smirk, Danny turned back to the wall opposite the kitchen. "I don't do love."

"There was a strange spatter pattern here on the panel," he continued without pause, pointing along the wood. "The spatter formed a diminishing pattern, indicating the killer was in the hallway near the back door when he cut Brenda's neck. But the pattern doesn't match what we'd expect from the wound," he muttered, eyeing the wall and the area the pattern pointed to.

"Couldn't it have been arterial spray?" Angell asked, following Danny's gaze to the living room.

He shook his head. "The wall's flat, so the spray wouldn't have directionality. It would have hit evenly."

"She was crawling," Angell offered then made a face. "Not moving fast enough."

"Not unless she crawled backwards at about fifteen miles an hour."

Angell sighed. "So unless this wall has changed position since the murder, the killer was standing in front of the door to the porch when he cut her."

Danny froze and turned to look at her. She furrowed her brow at his intense expression. "What?"

Ignoring her, Danny crouched and began examining the panel, flashlight trained along its edges. When he got to the left edge, he stopped and lowered the flashlight.

"Something wrong?" Angell asked.

Danny's voice was grim. "Call Hawkes."

Taking out her phone, Angell frowned as she dialed. "Why?" When he didn't answer, she put the phone to her ear and moved back down the hall towards the living room.

Gently, Danny pushed on the left side of the panel and watched it inch forward. Pushing slightly harder, he got it open a few more inches before he spotted the tiny sock-clad foot.

"Damn it," he cursed under his breath, letting his head drop to hang between his shoulders.

"He found something," he heard Angell telling Hawkes. "He didn't exactly share," she added wryly after a pause.

"Angell," he called.

"Just a sec. What, Messer?"

"Get the ME down here, too."

She stayed frozen for a moment then became a flurry of motion. "Hawkes, get your ass down here. I gotta call the ME. We don't know yet."

"Damn it," Danny repeated, unable to tear his eyes away from the one visible foot.

"Messer. Hey, Messer."

Finally, Danny looked up and saw her at the end of the hallway, hands on her hips. Standing, he started to walk towards her. "I think we found Abby."

Angell hid her wince admirably well, but Danny turned his face away, unable to offer much sympathy. All he could picture was the lace edging on the tiny sock, stained with red. It made him sick to his stomach.

"I'm gonna wait outside," Angell whispered, already moving towards the front door.

Danny watched her run away, part of him wanting to do the same, part wanting to comfort her somehow. But his determination to catch the son of a bitch who did it won, and he picked up his kit.

By the time Hawkes and the ME arrived, Danny had reprinted the entire panel and was rapping his knuckles on the wall.

Hawkes stepped up beside him, and Danny started explaining without any urging. "It's a small room, just about the size of this panel and the next. It looks like a crawl space that led to the basement before that was closed off."

"How can you tell?" Hawkes asked, picking up an electric handsaw.

Glancing at him, Danny shrugged. "She's lying on solid floor, not stairs. And these old places all had basements originally."

"How far from the wall is she?" Hawkes asked, sliding his goggles into place.

"Maybe six inches."

"Stand back."

Nodding, Danny slid his own goggles down onto his nose and stepped backwards toward the porch door. Hawkes flipped the switch and the saw spun to life, cutting through the wood panel easily. He had it off its hinges in less than a minute.

When Hawkes shut off the saw, Danny hurried over to help move the panel out of its socket. The ME swooped in immediately, partially blocking their view of the child, who—aside from the copious amounts of blood on her clothes and the floor—appeared to be sleeping.

Danny felt his fists clench when the panel was taken from him by one of the lab techs Hawkes had brought along to help, presumably on route back to the lab. Her face was peaceful in the fading light of twilight. But he knew what she'd experienced; the nightmare she hadn't survived.

He could only hope that wherever she was now, she truly was at peace.

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The prints he'd found on the panel were matched to Abby before Danny and Hawkes left the scene. There wasn't much else they could do until the ME processed the body, so they decided to meet back at the lab after dinner and catch Sid before he left. When they stepped out of the house, Angell still looked a bit sick, and Danny felt a strong dose of guilt when he remembered the way he'd broken the news.

"You need a ride home?" he muttered as Hawkes drifted off towards the other lab vehicle.

She nodded wordlessly and followed him to the van. "Thanks," she murmured, turning to stare out the window as they buckled their seatbelts.

He nodded brusquely and pulled out. When he looked askance at her, she quickly gave him directions and went back to staring out the window. The rest of the drive was spent in silence, which was fine with him, it gave him plenty of time for tortured thoughts.

When Danny pulled into a twenty minute zone halfway down the block from her building, he was almost surprised that she turned to look at him. He was sure he wore a matching shell-shocked expression on his face, but she tried to smirk at him. "You look like hell," she told him with a bit of her usual snap.

"Thanks. You, too." He was pretty sure she understood that he appreciated the attempt.

She sighed and rubbed a hand over her forehead. "You want some coffee? You're going back to the lab, right?"

"Yeah. Coffee would be great."

He silently followed her out of the car, up the block, into the building and into the elevator before either of them spoke a word. "I thought this would be easier."

He glanced at her. "What?"

"I thought it would be like any other body," she said, still staring at the dinged metal of the elevator doors.

"Never had a kid before?" he asked, more as something to say since she seemed to want a response. He was pretty sure she'd already given him the answer.

"No." She stepped out of the elevator and moved down the hall, pulling out her keys with bone weary movements. "You?" she asked as she unlocked her door.

Pushing it open, she walked into the darkness of the apartment without bothering to see if he'd follow without an explicit invitation. He shut the door behind him and shoved his hands in his pockets, waiting for her to turn on the lights before answering.

"Yeah. A couple." He swallowed and tried for a wry smile. "It never gets any easier."

She gazed at him vacantly. He wished there was something he could say to make it easier for her, but there really wasn't. Comfort was empty at times when you suddenly found yourself facing the raw evil of the world.

"Kids love secret passages," Angell murmured absently. "It must have been her favorite hiding place."

Staring at Angell's exhausted face, Danny couldn't think of anything to say. He wished he could feel anything aside from the rage and desperation churning in his gut. When her eyes finally came into focus and met his, he saw those same feelings reflected in her.

His hands were cupping her face before he could even make the decision to move. Her eyes widened in surprise as his head dropped the scant inches between them and his lips captured hers. It wasn't gentle. It was harsh and demanding, almost punishing really, as if he was trying to draw any sort of feeling from her. Desperate to bury the images burned into his brain.

He felt her responding in kind, seamlessly melding with him. But there was no satisfaction in it. He kept going until he felt her arms wind around his neck. Then he jerked back, wrapping his fingers around her wrists and firmly pressing her arms down towards her chest.

"I can't do this," he murmured, looking anywhere but at her. "I have to go. I'm sorry."

"Danny," she called after him as he strode to the door. Her New York accent on his name made him grimace. This wasn't what he wanted.

Pausing at the door, his hand on the knob, he lowered his head for a moment in shame. He knew it was a shitty move. Something he hadn't done since he'd left behind his asinine teenage self. But everything about her screamed that she wasn't Lindsay, and he just couldn't take the reminder. Not after everything else.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, more to the doorknob than to her, and yanked the door open. He was down the hall at the elevator before he heard the door click shut behind him.

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Letting his elbows rest on his knees, he cradled the phone in his hands and stared down at the screen. The backlight had shut off minutes ago, but he still stared as if he thought he could make her call by force of will alone.

The autopsy had revealed that Abby died of blood loss at the same time as her mother. The cold of the hidden alcove had preserved the body and delayed decomposition, though rigor was in full effect. Abby seemed to have received much less attention from the killer than her mother, which could indicate that Abby was collateral damage.

Danny ran a hand through his hair in frustration. If Lindsay were around, he could talk it through with her, and she'd have more to say than "Couldn't it have been arterial spray?"

He winced at the reminder of Angell. His mind flashed back to the moment he'd grabbed her. He'd been searching for some kind of feeling and he'd found it, but it hadn't been what he was expecting or even hoping for. Instead of losing himself in mindless pleasure, he'd found supreme disappointment.

He couldn't help it. He'd tried to stay away from her since she'd asked him to back off. He'd stayed distant and professional, even when she started to fall apart. He wanted to help somehow, but she didn't want that, didn't need him to play the superhero or white knight. Which was just fine and dandy since he wasn't sure he could pull off either role.

Angell had fit nicely against him, like any woman would he supposed. But Lindsay had fit neatly into the crook of his neck as she hid her face there. His cheek had come to rest on her head naturally. But unlike Angell, who'd been a willing party, Lindsay had only let him hold her when she'd been too scared to resist.

It was this thought that made him frown. Could she be forcing herself not to rely on him? Maybe she was trying not to rely on him because she didn't want to burden him.

All that crap was wishful thinking. He knew it and raised a hand to scrub over his face. Kissing Angell had just reinforced what he already knew: that he wasn't ready to give up on Lindsay.

Sudden determination filled him. Quickly, he hit speed dial 4 and send. Montana appeared on the screen and he felt his stomach twist nervously. Putting the phone to his ear, he listened intently. After five rings, his eyes fell shut with disappointment, and when her voicemail picked up, he hung his head.

"Hi, you've reached Lindsay Monroe. Leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as I can." BEEP.

Danny swallowed. "Hey, Lindsay. It's Danny. I was just callin to say hi." His pride was ruined; he might as well go for it all. Double or nothing. "I hope…things are okay." He paused and took a deep breath he was sure she'd hear on the other end. "I miss you."

Pressing end, he tossed the phone onto the cushions beside him and covered his face with his hands. Why had he done that? She asks him to give her space, and he basically pours his heart out on her voicemail?

Blowing out his breath, he stood and headed towards his fridge. He'd done it and he couldn't take it back. But he could get a beer.

Grabbing a bottle off the top shelf, he twisted off the cap and chugged half the bottle before the fridge even swung shut behind him. He contemplated the various take-out menus attached to his fridge, wondering if he'd be able to keep anything down tonight.

The sudden sound of his ring tone breaking the silence froze him in place for a moment, staring at the back of the couch. Slowly at first, as if underwater, he walked over and picked up the cell.

"Montana" flashed at him, making him fumble with the phone a little before he managed to press send. "Hello?"

"Danny. It's Lindsay."

Her voice was calm and quiet, reaching in and silencing the raging in his mind left over from the case. "Hey, Montana. I see you got my message."

For some reason he couldn't quite pinpoint, he sounded winded, like he was out of breath.

"Yeah, I did," she murmured. "Thanks for calling."

"Don't mention it," he said casually, easing himself back down onto the couch. Now that he had her on the phone, he wasn't quite sure what to say. There was a moment of silence between them that felt tense and he shifted uncomfortably.

"I'm sorry I didn't call earlier," she suddenly blurted out. "Things have been…hectic since I got back. I feel like I haven't had a chance to breathe since I stepped off the plane." She paused. "What time is it there?" she asked, sounding nervous.

A small smile ticked up the corner of his mouth. It hadn't been him. It hadn't been a brush off. "Midnight. Twelve thirty. Somethin like that."

"You just getting back from the lab?"

He sank down into the cushions and let his head rest against the back of the couch. "Yeah, sorta."

"Tough case?" she asked quietly.

"Yeah," he muttered, letting his eyes drift closed against the white of his ceiling.

He tried to picture where she might be. In bed? It was ten o'clock there, he now realized. Too late for a coworker to be calling. But they were more than coworkers damn it, and she never went to bed before eleven in New York. He remembered her saying she watched the ten o'clock news whenever she got home in time.

"You wanna talk about it?"

He could hear the worry in her tone, though she tried to disguise it as curiosity. He almost groaned. Here she was trying to deal with her issues, and he rears his head to tell her about a possibly triple homicide involving a kid that there didn't seem to be a chance at resolving.

"Nah," he said, trying to sound casual.

"You sure?"

"Montana, trust me. You don't need to hear about this one right now," he told her gently. "How are things over there?"

He heard her take a deep breath over the telephone line. "About as well as can be expected, I guess."

He paused to see if she'd say more, but her voice had been suspiciously shaky. "You okay?" he murmured, his brow furrowing as his eyes slid open again.

She coughed a little bit, and his eyes narrowed to slits. "Yeah. I'll be okay. Look, I should go, Danny. I have a meeting at eight."

Worry was beginning to eat at his defenses. "Yeah, sure."

"Thanks again for calling."

"Don't mention it. Call me if you need anything," he added, grimmacing at the nearly audible vulnerability.

"I will."

He straightened on the couch and moved the phone away from his mouth for a moment. Helplessly, he eased his fingers under the nosepiece on his glasses to rub his eyes. "Okay, well. Have a good night."

"Danny," she said seriously.

His hand fell back to his lap. "Yeah?"

"I miss you, too."

Her voice was almost matter-of-fact, as if she'd been on the verge of chickening out and was trying to cover. His smile was uncontrollable. "Yeah."

Silence hung heavily over the phone line for a minute, then she hurriedly said, "Night."

"Night." Before he was finished, the line was dead in his ear. Dropping the phone on the cushion next to him, he smiled incredulously and shook his head.