A/N: Thank you for your warm review Marisa (Anon) and thank you to everyone else for their encouraging reviews, hope I didn't make you wait too long for the update.

Let's go hunting...

Chapter 2: Car Ride

Peter headed over to the basin and scanned his face; he didn't look too tired- good. He shook his head, his mind still on the movie.

"Stupid movie," he muttered.

"You know," said a familiar voice behind him, "it's based on a true story."

Peter froze hands below the tap watching the water run. He hit the handle switching the water off and turned meeting the blue twinkling eyes of Neal Caffrey who was leaning against a stall hands in pockets looking entirely too casual for a stalker.

Ordinarily Peter would inwardly cheer; yet another chance to catch Neal out, to learn more about the elusive thief, forger and fraudster, but this was his date night. Peter looked away, grabbed a paper towel and wiped his hands dry.

"Any other night Neal," Peter spoke more casually than he felt, "tonight, I'm busy."

Neal nodded, "I know Peter; it's your Date Night." Neal took a deep breath and murmured sympathetically, "and you know I'd do anything to respect that; you and Elizabeth deserve it."

Peter narrowed his eyes and looked back at Neal suspiciously, "but?"

Neal moved off the stall and smiled, "but I may have some information about a crime that's about to be perpetrated, I figured I'd help you stop it."

"In other words," Peter stated leaving no room for misinterpretation, "you need my help."

Neal stared at Peter for a second- what was this? Peter never used to be that perceptive. Then again, maybe he was, Neal realised he'd have to reassess his impression of the Agent.

"Maybe," he admitted smiling broadly.

"Well," Peter headed for the door, "no can do Neal, not tonight. Call the Police if you want to report a crime."

Neal stepped forward protesting, "Peter, it's the Met."

Peter paused for a second considering Neal's protest. Then he remembered his wife, "Call the FBI then."

This was probably just another attempt to manipulate Peter anyway, or more games to play at the expense of the FBI. Peter wasn't interested in Neal's games tonight.

Neal rolled his eyes and followed the Agent out ignoring the heavy traffic of people who had just finished watching a movie in another theatre. He raised his voice over the din, "the guy is a murderer Peter."

Peter inwardly cringed; he could justify allowing someone else to handle a case if it was a simple theft but he couldn't ignore a case that involved a killer. It was his conscious; Peter knew he would feel guilty for the rest of his days if someone died when there was a chance that he could have done something to prevent it. And if Neal was just looking to play him again- well, that was a risk Peter would have to take.

Neal watched as the agent paused and knew he'd caught his attention- willingly or not.

The flow of people had thinned out now so Peter turned and walked back to Neal, "when?"

Neal looked at the Agent tersely, "nine twenty tonight."

"Damn it, Neal," Peter spoke glancing at his watch, "that's in less than an hour!"

Neal nodded apologetically.

Peter sighed, "Wait for me out front, I'll be back. I need to tell Elizabeth."

When Peter left the building and looked around, he couldn't help thinking for one second that Neal had pulled a fast one, but then he spotted Neal talking to a woman dressed in a short yellow dress. Peter exhaled in an unsurprised sigh of exasperation. The man interrupts his date night with his wife then goes on a flirting spree; typical Caffrey.

He elevated his head when Neal looked over. Peter watched as the elegantly presented con man more or less bowed out of his flirtation with few smooth honeyed words and tip of an imaginary hat.

"You done?" Peter asked sarcastically when Neal reached him, "Because I don't mind if you want to spend my time flirting; I'm sure there's a woman across town you haven't conned yet."

"Aw, Peter," Neal crooned, "I don't con- what kind of man do you think I am?"

Peter rolled his eyes, "we need to get a cab- you can tell me what's happening on the way to the Met."

"A cab?" Neal repeated following Peter as he headed to the road away from the shops surrounding the Cinema, "we don't need a cab, I have car."

Peter stopped surprised, "you have a car?"

Neal nodded and veered down the street to where he'd parked his car.

"Under what name?" Peter questioned excited; maybe he could get a licence plate and maybe even see Neal's licence; he was perfectly justified in asking to see it after all. Peter felt the warm glow of hope as he thought about all the details he could find on Neal's licence; addresses; birth dates, and if it was under an alias, he'd have cause to arrest Caffrey; although it would be a hollow victory considering the vast number of white collar crimes Caffrey was suspected of each a thousand times more serious than a simple licence forgery. Maybe he could link Neal to some of the crimes using the alias.

Neal seemed to know everything that Peter was thinking; he smirked pulling out his wallet, "here."

Peter caught the wallet Neal had tossed him in surprise; he had expected more of a fight. He narrowed his eyes suspiciously but couldn't think of a way Neal could deny him any of what he'd thought about. Neal could not drive without a licence.

He opened the wallet; it contained a few cards; Amex, Visa, and Diners club, along with a current drivers licence for one Neal Caffrey and a wad of twenty dollar bills. Peter pulled out each card knowing he was pushing the envelope but Neal didn't seem bothered. Each of the cards were in his name. Disappointed, Peter returned the cards and pulled out the licence. It was also under 'Neal Caffrey' but Peter was staring at something else.

"Is this real?"

Neal snorted, "Peter, how many times do I have to tell you, I'm an innocent man. Why wouldn't my licence be real?"

Peter ignored Neal's patented reply, "Seriously Neal, is this real?"

Neal sighed and slowed to a stop next to a small silver Mercedes, "Yeah Peter, it is real."

Peter swallowed, he couldn't be absolutely sure that this was real but he saw no sign that Neal was be lying. They had requested that the DMV notify the FBI if Neal ever applied for a licence but clearly Neal had found a way around that. That wasn't what surprised Peter however.

"You're twenty-four?"

Neal gave Peter a quizzical expression.

Peter reassessed the information they had on Caffrey. They'd profiled him as having been a spoiled kid who never took up a mantle of responsibility and thus as an adult thrived on moving from scheme to scheme as a way to avoid the monotony of an honest life rife with responsibility and consequences. But at twenty-four Neal was little more than a kid; he'd been of age only for three years. No wonder he behaved like a kid, flirting the way he did and dancing with danger, teasing the FBI, and flitting from place to place with boundless energy.

Neal was smirking, "how old did the FBI think I was?"

Peter gritted his teeth, "based on your aliases; around thirty."

Neal chuckled and opened the front driver door of the Mercedes, "alleged aliases, Peter."

Peter took note of the address in the licence and the licence number so that he could confirm its authenticity then passed the wallet back to Neal- grudgingly.

Peter moved around to the passenger seat at Neal's gesture. As he entered the car he looked around appreciatively, "Nice car, I didn't think you'd have one- you're always travelling."

"It's a rental," Neal answered inserting the key into the ignition, "I had to tail someone; kind of hard to do on a subway Peter."

Peter conceded that Neal had a point. He checked the time; it was now eight forty-five.

Peter took a deep breath wondering again if helping Neal was a mistake, "Just so you know Caffrey; just because I'm helping you doesn't mean I won't arrest you."

Neal frowned, "what makes you think you'll be able to arrest me? I haven't done anything Peter; I told you, I'm just reporting a future crime."

"You're reporting a crime that you just happen to know about?" Peter huffed annoyed, "come on Neal; what do you take me for?"

"I swear to you Peter," Neal ignored his engine and looked intently at Peter, "I have nothing to do with this crime."

"Then why the personal interest?" Peter questioned, "Since when do you report crimes?"

Neal nodded satisfied they had moved on to the important part. He moved the car out of the parking spot and smoothly wound his way through the traffic. At first it seemed like Neal wasn't going to answer; from what Peter could see, the alleged thief was lost in thought. He was about to clear his throat when Neal turned the car off the main road, "The man we're after; his name is Philip Lake."

Neal didn't continue but Peter knew there was more; he watched as Neal thought again and he realised why Neal was taking his time. Most likely Neal was trying to find the right wording; an explanation that wouldn't implicate him in anything.

"I thought you said you had nothing to do with it?" Peter accused Neal sharply.

Neal glanced at the Agent, "I don't," Neal sighed, "Lake came to me for help about a month ago."

"With what?" Peter asked surprisingly nervous.

Neal shook his head as he turned a corner, moving smoothly out of the way of four oncoming bikers. Peter absently noted that Neal was a good driver.

"That's not important," Neal replied.

Peter scowled, "Neal I need to know what he was doing if you want me to catch the guy."

Neal shook his head, "It was unrelated Peter; a different job."

"Did you work with him?" Peter asked in a surprisingly quiet voice; maybe he thought Neal would be honest if he was quiet- like he was trying to avoid spooking a deer.

Neal pretended to concentrate on his driving for a few streets; Peter took this to mean Neal did indeed work with Lake.

Peter gave an exasperated huff, "Neal, have you possibly considered the benefits of confessing since we last spoke?"

Neal might have smirked as he always did when Peter raised the option of confessing but he had barely noticed Peter's latest attempt.

"I didn't work with him," Neal finally answered, "a friend of mine did."

"And you're trying to protect him," Peter frowned, "Neal-"

"He's dead Peter."

Peter closed his eyes then looked at Neal who had gritted his jaw. Neal steadfastly refused to look at Peter. He concentrated on watching the road.

"Neal," Peter spoke softly, "I'm sorry."

Neal nodded accepting Peter's condolences.

"Was it Lake?"

Neal nodded again but darkly; his eyes had clouded over and his knuckles had gone white. Peter was grateful they weren't in heavy traffic.

"How did Elizabeth take to you leaving in the middle of Date Night?" Neal hadn't wanted to bring that up but right then any subject was better than that one.

Peter winced, "she wasn't impressed; I don't think she likes you very much anymore."

Neal grimaced guiltily, "tell her I'll mail her my Strangozzi recipe."

"Is that the pasta you sent to us the night the Italian Restaurant mixed up our bookings?" Peter asked remembering back four months previously when he and El had been told their table had been given away despite a month's advance booking.

"Yeah," Neal replied innocently, "I heard she liked it."

Peter bit his lip, "yeah, very much- she told me to ask you for the chef's name... you cooked that?"

Neal smiled but didn't answer. Peter followed his example and soon the quiet of the deserted road settled around them.

Peter checked his watch again. It was nearly nine o'clock. Neal also checked the time, he didn't seem worried though. He drove in silence for a few minutes before promptly pulling over. Peter gave a querying look.

Neal turned in his seat after switching off the engine, "we're just a few streets away. Peter there's three of them; as much as I don't want more Agents giving me shifty glances; you're going to need some back up."

"Me?" Peter frowned, "what about you?"

"We'll get to that," Neal waved assuredly, "make your calls Peter."

Peter went over Neal's words; no- that wouldn't do. He couldn't have Neal holding back secrets, not tonight, not if Neal wanted him to catch his friend's killer.