A/N: Wow, thank you so much for the reviews for the last chapter! I was persuaded to update a little faster this time. If you add some more reviews, I might be persuaded to update again before I leave for five days on Wednesday (hint, hint). As always, leave me a little lovin' at the end of this chapter, let me know if ya'll are still interested. By the way, the addresses in this fic are made up... I live in Texas, and I have no idea if they're real places or not.

Chapter 2

Precinct 16

Back at the 1-6, Casey allowed herself to sink onto Olivia's desk. She'd been up for nearly eighteen hours, and the alcohol she'd had at the bar wasn't helping her exhaustion. She didn't even want to think about Jack. She couldn't afford to be distracted at this point.

Elliot hung up his phone and leaned back in his chair. "Boston P.D. is sending down the file on their case. It'll be here in the morning."

Across the squad room, Detective John Munch hung up his own phone. "Warner just confirmed COD. Single stab wound to the chest punctured the aorta, probably with a six-inch serrated blade. Rape kit came back positive for spermicide but not for semen. Also confirmed time of death at around six tonight."

Casey nodded. "So he definitely knew what he was doing. Used a condom."

A chair scratched across the floor as Munch pushed it back to walk over to their case board. In three swift motions, he tacked pictures of three very familiar victims on the board. "The Harrises," he said, stepping back and crossing his arms. "Three months ago they were murdered in Central Park. We arrested this man—" he pointed to another photo on the board—"But obviously he didn't do it."

Detective Odafin "Fin" Tutuola leaned back in his own chair. "The M.O. was the exact same in the Harris case, down to the single stab wound in the chest and lack of sperm in the rape kit. An Irish coin was also found at the scene."

Olivia swiftly tacked up three more pictures on the board next to the photos of the Harrises. "Michael Callahan, Jane Doe—presumably his wife—and John Doe, Jr., presumably his son. Address on the license is in Yonkers."

"Great," Elliot said, grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair. "Let's hit it."

"You go ahead, El," Olivia said, staring at Casey, who was sitting on Olivia's desk with her head in her hands. "I'm gonna take Casey home."

That got her attention. "Liv, I swear I'm okay," Casey protested. But her body betrayed her with a yawn.

"You're not okay." Olivia grabbed her friend's arm for emphasis. "You've got court in the morning, and you need to get rest."

Casey slid off the desk, grumbling about how she was fine and didn't need to go home. Olivia grabbed her coat off her chair and turned to Elliot. "I'll meet you there."

Twenty minutes later, Olivia glanced over at the younger woman in the passenger seat of her car. Casey's head was resting against the headrest, and her eyes were closed as if she was sleeping. "So," Olivia said, breaking the silence of the car. She knew Casey enough to know she really wasn't asleep.

Her gut feeling was confirmed when Casey let out a soft "Hmmm?"

"Tell me more about this mystery guy."

Casey groaned again. "So this is why you volunteered to take me home, huh?"

"I'm a detective. I'm naturally curious."

"Bull." Casey opened one green eye to stare at Olivia. "What do you wanna know?"

"What's he like? What's his name?"

The red-head sighed wistfully and looked out the window as the building lights sped by. "His name is Jack."

Olivia nodded. "Good Irish name."

Casey chuckled. "He's definitely Irish. Brown hair, blue eyes, mid-thirties…"

"Very nice. I'm guessing he's cute?" Olivia raised her eyebrows at her friend, who laughed.

"Yeah. Definitely cute." Casey sighed again. "I'm attracted to him, Liv, but…"

"The job."

"Yeah. We see so many attractive men that turn out to be scumbags."

Olivia sighed as she pulled up next to Casey's apartment building. "Just be careful, Case. I don't want to see you get hurt."

Casey shot her a grateful smile. "I know." She opened the passenger door, grabbed her briefcase, and slid out of the car. "Thanks for the ride. And the talk. Call me tomorrow and update me."

"Will do." Olivia returned her smile before Casey shut the door and walked toward her building. She watched the young attorney unlock the door and disappear into the building before she drove away.

802 W. 37th Street
Apartment of Jack O'Brian

When Jack opened the door to his apartment three blocks from the bar, he definitely didn't expect it to be unlocked. And he certainly didn't expect to see his boss, Philip Sullivan, making himself at home on his couch.

Sullivan grinned at Jack's surprised expression. "Don't look so surprised, boyo," he said quietly with a barely-there Irish accent.

Jack closed the door behind him and leaned against it, his arms crossed in front of his muscular chest. "My boss shows up in the middle of the night, in my apartment that is supposed to be locked, and I'm not supposed to be surprised?"

A deep laugh rumbled through the older man's chest. "Good to know you've still got your sense of humor, Jack." He stood and stretched his back. "Got anything good in those cabinets?"

He let a slow smile spread across his face, and he crossed the living room to the kitchen. "Beer. Is that okay?"

"It's always okay with me."

Jack pulled a bottle from the refrigerator and handed it to Sullivan, along with a bottle opener. Sullivan flipped the cap off the bottle and took a long swig. Jack bit his lip as his boss drank, his mind whirling. "So," he began, running his hand through his hair. "How exactly did you get in?"

"Me da taught me many things when I was a lad," Sullivan replied as he leaned on the counter.

"And one of them was how to pick locks," Jack finished. He shook his head and flopped onto the couch. "I don't suppose you're going to tell me why you're here?"

"Now, you don't want to be gettin' into that now, do you?" Sullivan took one look at Jack's stone-cold face and sighed. "I heard you talked to Connor this evening."

"He complained to you about me?" Jack asked incredulously.

"You talked to him in public, Jack."

"No details were actually discussed."

"And what happens when the cops come lookin' around, askin' questions?" Sullivan set his bottle on the counter, his dark eyes flashing. "What then, huh?"

"It was in the middle of a bar! No one's actually paying attention, Phil." Jack leaned forward and put his elbows on his knees. "But that's not really what he complained about, was it?"

Sullivan smiled and hopped onto the counter. He leaned forward slightly. "Sometimes, Jack, I think you're too smart for your own good."

"Phil, he did the kid! You know as well as I do that when a kid's involved, for the cops it's personal. I just wanted to make sure they couldn't trace it back to us."

"Connor's as sharp as they come. He's good."

"I don't doubt that, but as your security guy, it's my job to make sure you're protected."

"It's nice to know you care so much, lad." Sullivan shot him a quick grin, and Jack had to chuckle. "Don't ya go worryin' your little head about me, boyo. I know you've got my ass. And I know that if the time comes, you'll take the heat. Right?"

The question caught Jack off guard, and he couldn't help but show it. But he recovered quickly. "Absolutely," he said with as much conviction as he could muster.

Sullivan smiled and spread his hands. "That's all I wanted to know." He gulped down the rest of his beer and hopped off the cabinet. "It's late. Get some shut-eye." Jack made a move to get up, but Sullivan stopped him with a wave of his hand. "No need. I'll show meself out."

As the door slammed behind his boss, Jack finally let himself relax. His head hit the back of the couch as he sighed. He had to play the next few days very carefully. Particularly if he ever wanted to stay alive long enough to see Casey again.

730 Brook Street
Yonkers, NY

Olivia parked her car right behind Elliot's when she pulled up to the brownstone in Yonkers. In the deepening night, she could make out Elliot's silhouette next to the door. He glanced up as she got out of her car. "Hey," he called out.

"Hey yourself." She quickly joined them on the Callahans' front stoop. "Find out anything?"

"Haven't gone in. I was waiting for you. But I did talk to the neighbor. He identified the vics as Michael Callahan, his wife Rachel, and his son James."

"I don't suppose he mentioned any trouble?"

Elliot shook his head. "No. But I'm hoping we'll find something in the house." He took out the keys that the M.E. had gotten from the body and unlocked the front door. He turned left into what looked like a living room, while Olivia continued down the hall.

"Hey, Elliot?"

He exited the living room and continued down the hall until he came to what looked like a study. Olivia held up a piece of paper. "Bank statement. They were in the red. So was their home-run business."

"Awfully nice house for being over ten thousand dollars in debt." Elliot skimmed the statement. "Maybe we should take a look at where all that money went."

"Found something else." She held up a newspaper clipping. "It's an article on the Harris case."

"How would they be connected to the Harrises?"

"Yonkers isn't that big. Maybe they knew each other somehow."

Elliot furrowed his brow. "You know, if I remember right, the Harrises were in the red too. And they had their own business."

Olivia straightened and narrowed her eyes in thought. "About ten thousand dollars in debt. But there wasn't anything suspicious."

"How much you wanna bet that they were both involved in something a little more illegal than just running their own business?"

A/N: So... are ya'll still interested? Or should I just delete the whole thing and pretend like I never wrote it? Review please!