Andy was neck deep in paper work. She still had to go through everything that happened with their 10.45 and the subsequent door knock. She glanced up at Sam working in the D's office, head bowed over his own work, Luke's mouth moving as he sat slumped in a similar position.

It had been a long time coming, but at least they could be normal around Luke. There was always a part of her that worried about him. Not because of anything she did, but what the man could do to himself. She supposed he was similar to Sam in that way.

The main difference being that Luke also took it out on others, Sam seemed to want to implode on himself if he ever felt guilty about something.

Now, there didn't seem to be that same level of animosity, or even tension between them. It was calmer. She didn't have to worry about the two of them like that anymore. Things weren't going to end in fisticuffs, not like when Sam almost beat the crap out of Luke during their re-training two years earlier.

Andy tapped her fingers against the desk, proof reading the document she was about to print.

"We got an ID on your John Doe from yesterday," Jerry appeared at Andy's side.

She looked up eagerly at the folder he was holding. He didn't seem too excited. If his expression was anything to go by, Andy had to assume they were looking at a simple street overdose.

"Popped up in missing persons." Jerry left the file next to her hand and made to leave her alone.

Andy opened it up, went straight to the original date he was filed missing.

"Detective Barber," she squinted at it as if she hadn't read it right.

"He was only missing for two weeks." She turned to look at him.

He had his top lip sucked between his teeth as he waited for her to explain the significance.

"I'm sorry but doesn't it take more than two weeks to rack up habitual drug use? Where would he get the money? He's got no criminal record, no signs of theft, he was an honour student," she shook her head. "I don't get it."

"McNally you have to look at the facts and make conclusions from that, not try and fit the facts around what you want to believe." Jerry explained, pinching the bridge of his nose with his eyes shut tight.

Affronted, Andy sat back in her chair and continued reading. She heard Jerry sigh.

"I'll let you know when we get the post-mortem." He tapped the top of the folder in lieu of a goodbye.

Andy was starting to notice the strain he was under. After Luke's fall from grace during the Rouge Brothers case, Jerry took on all the responsibility of the division. He was the hot shot detective now, but that didn't make solving cases any easier. Andy was sure the white shirts were on his back about the shooting, especially since Gail, only daughter of the super-Pecks, was involved.

She watched him walk away, hunched, hiding, not with his usual confident stride.

~0~

"Hey, what about this guy?" Sam holds up a mug shot, pen pointing to the name.

"Larry?" Luke's eyebrows perked in interest. "What do you like him for?"

Sam ignored the question with one of his own.

"How did you find Danny?"

Luke took a breath, lacing his hands behind his neck.

"We found him in the alley outside McNally's."

"McNally's?" Sam tried not to sound anxious, how the hell had he missed that.

"Not your McNally," he rolled his eyes, and Sam was surprised he referred to Andy as 'his McNally'. "It's an Irish bar down on Sumack."

Sam nodded, scratching his chin.

"So he's out of territory."

Luke frowned.

Sam explained, "He covered a lot of midtown and surrounding suburbs. McNally's is way out of the way, he didn't even live nearby."

Luke was trying to make the connection Sam was conveying. He was squinting now, sitting frozen as if staying inert would make it click into place.

"So?" He gave up.

"So venturing out into the middle of the city when he lived and worked elsewhere, he was there for a reason. What if they set up a meeting with an employee?"

"We don't have any proof of that. We don't have his cellphone."

"If The Morte did set up a meeting, don't you think Danny would have had back up?" Sam reasoned.

Luke dropped his hands from atop his head.

"You think Larry might be a witness." A small smile of possibility spread across his face.

"They're brothers, in business and in life, he would have had somebody there to have his back."

"And the reason he isn't dead yet..." Luke went on.

"Is because they must not have known he was there."

"I'll go check it out," Sam picked up the mug shot and wrote down his address on a post-it.

~0~

Andy was just wrapping up her paper work when she caught Sam's eye as he hopped down the steps from the D's office. She made a move to get up but he was already down the hall, back to her. She also figured Jerry would want her working Marcus's case.

Despite there being no new leads, Jerry seemed way out of sorts. She wanted to stay available in case something came up, and to keep an eye on him. Not just because she cared about everyone at 15, but he was also Sam's best friend, and she felt an obligation to Traci.

She turned back to her desk, squeezing her eyes shut hard, then opening them up wide again. Refocusing on the case file, she tried to see what she was missing. Working a dead end case was like getting writer's block. Andy stared at the words, the pictures, the facts; like if she looked long enough the answer would appear. She needed an 'aha!' moment because she knew there was more to Marcus than what appeared. At least, she needed to find out who he was, who was missing him at the moment.

He was only a kid, and although she never got to meet him, or know him, every kid she came across reminded her of Benny. Benny, who got caught up with some car-jackers and got a bullet in his brain.

These kids, whose lives are tossed aside because they slip through the cracks. Not even the system that was created to protect them could even help them. Not against the streets.

Marcus had to have had more than just the half way house and a bunch of people who refused to talk about him like he'd never existed. She knew it happened sometimes, she just hated it.

Andy was open and honest with everyone, but not always herself. If she took something personal from this, she realised these kind of cases ate at her because she was afraid. If kids, if good people, people like Janice Forrester, or Katie Couperet, or Marcus, could disappear, could fade away, that it was so easy for the world to forget; that if those kind of people were easily forgotten, so easily erased, then what would Andy, when her time eventually came, leave behind? What was left to prove for the rest of us if we all inevitably ended up the same?

She tried to dispel the thoughts, to rid herself of her mid-morning existential crisis.

They weren't going to help her find out what happened to Marcus, they weren't going to make her long shift any easier. It also definitely wouldn't help when she was simultaneously wondering who shot Gail.

She tried not to worry too much about Sam being back at work. She knew he could hold his own, she just didn't want him to have to.

Andy glanced up at Nick as he came down the steps from Jerry's office.

"Hey," she got his attention. "Wanna go for a ride?"

He smiled and shrugged. He was back to happy-go-lucky Nick. She liked this version better compared to distraught aggravated Nick.

He was back to making nice with her and Sam, coming out of his phase of being worried about Gail, and back to being himself. Officer Do-Good. Officer Nice Guy.

"What's on the agenda?" He swung the squad keys around his index finger as Andy stacked up her paper work.

"I wanna go to church."

Nick opened his mouth to something, then frowned.

~0~

It was raining outside, sleet.

"Ugh," Andy groaned. "This weather."

She strode towards the squad car, not asking, but waiting for Nick to throw her the keys. She caught them and they got in.

The wipers screeched against the windshield.

"So...where are we going?" Nick asked patiently.

Andy glanced side long at him, biting her lip.

"Everybody's having a tough time right now. Everyone's under pressure, stressed. We have to do everything we can to help, okay?"

Nick suddenly became serious.

"Yes, sir."

Andy looked at him and snorted, the atmosphere dissolved back into calm.

"Shut up," she said. "We've gotta check out this church down the street from the halfway house. Remember that girl you spoke to?"

"Yeah, she said Marcus came there from the church. The pastor..." He trailed off, flipping open his notepad. "Pastor McLeish."

"Okay, so maybe we should check the system, has he got any priors?"

"He's a priest," Nick objected.

"So? First thing you learn on this job, Collins. Everybody's got skeletons."

Nick shook his head, rejecting the idea, pulling the screen towards him and typing in the information.

"I'm beginning to wonder how many 'first thing's you can learn on this job," he commented sardonically.

Andy waited.

Nick sighed.

She tried to glance at the screen but it was facing away, the glare on the screen making it impossible to read.

"Anything?"

"Maybe you should be a training officer, McNally." He blew a long breath out between his lips. "Two years in Kingston Pen; possession, possession, possession with intent..." Nick kept shaking his head, splayed his hand out in the air in disbelief.

Andy herself let out a surprise chuckle.

"This was all back in 1998, though." Nick added. "Maybe that's why he became a pastor, stop kids from getting into the same mess."

"Well he didn't do a very good job." Andy narrowed her eyes, thinking hard.

She saw Nick shrug out of the corner of her eye.

"Sometimes you think you got 'em...and then you don't. Sometimes trying to help them isn't enough."

Andy chewed on the inside of her cheek, immediately reminded of Janice Forrester. How she'd tried to help Janice, but more importantly, how she failed.

"So what happened to you?" She prodded.

Nick usually seemed like an open book, didn't seem mysterious or secretive, maybe that's why nobody pressed him for information about his past. They thought they already knew. That, and he was a soldier, people usually didn't ask about that kind of past.

Andy reckoned she knew better. There must have been a bit more to Nick than the easy going G.I Joe.

"What do you mean?" She could hear the smile in his voice, the surprise.

The rain let up, the wipers screeching loudly on the dry glass. Andy flicked them off.

"What's your story, Collins? Did somebody try to help you?"

He cleared his throat.

"Yeah. And it worked, obviously."

Andy made a face.

"That's all?"

Nick clicked his pen.

"I was young, my parents were dead, I hated the world. I almost screwed up my future. I found a really good group home that sorted me out."

He paused, but it wasn't a signal to stop asking. Nick was the kind of person that wanted to share.

Andy focused on where they were, taking the next left, and waiting for him to continue.

He seemed to loosen up.

"Her name is Maggie. She ran the group home. It was actually one of the good ones. If it weren't for her, I don't know where I'd be right now." He gave a small, shy smile.

Andy pulled the car up outside the church.

Killing the engine, she paused for a moment and looked over at Nick.

"Well, you were worth helping."

Nick smirked.

"Alright, McNally." He rolled his eyes.

Andy laughed, pushing the door open.

It was a lot more brisk outside than earlier. The rain refreshing the air. Andy pulled her jacket closer around her, wanting to shove her hands in her pockets. But she had to keep her hands free when they were on the streets.

The water had darkened the concrete, a layer of moisture, but not enough to leave puddles.

Their boots scraped up the worn paved steps and onto the stoop. Two young women passed them on the way down, accidentally nudging Andy's shoulder in their passage.

"Sorry." the first girl muttered.

The girl, Andy recognised as the brunette from the halfway house.

"No problem." Andy quickly replied, furrowed as she watched them stride away.

The other girl had a hoodie on, obscuring her face. Strands of what appeared to be dark hair peeked into view.

Large wooden doors, heavy looking with an ornate metal door knocker. Nick paused with his fist poised, looked to Andy for permission.

She rolled her eyes.

"It's a church, Collins. You don't need to knock." She pushed the door forward.

It creaked with its age; with its use and wear over the years. Darker and colder inside, Andy felt a shudder run through her. Compared to outside though, it was as dry as anything. So dry it left her feeling parched, the cold moisture-less air absorbed. They stepped into what looked like a lobby, another set of doors straight ahead. Sconces lined the walls containing unlit, dusty red candles.

There was a side table to their right, dark wood, a bouquet of fake flowers atop it, centred on a faded doily.

The pungent smell of stone and old wood assaulted her senses. They moved to the second set of doors and pushed. It opened out into the main area of the church, rows of uncomfortable wooden pews spread before them.

The pastor, dressed in black pants, a white shirt and a blue tie appeared through a small door in the far right corner.

"Pastor?" Andy called out, voice echoing through the cavernous space.

His head perked up, as if he hadn't noticed them until then. He rubbed his hands together as they approached.

"I'm Officer McNally, this is Officer Collins." She jerked her thumb towards her partner.

Nick brought his hands together in front of him, stopping at Andy's flank.

"I'm Pastor McMillan." He reached his hand out for Andy to shake, then to Nick. "How can I help you today, Officers?" He stopped at the second pew, grasping the back rest to lean on.

"We're here to ask you some questions about a young man that lived at the halfway house down the street. His name was Marcus?" Andy watched the pastor's expression settle into a frown.

"I heard about the kid, so young, such a waste. Everybody called him "Marco", I think." He smiled sadly, folding his arms across his chest.

Andy dug into her pocket to retrieve her note pad.

"When's the last time you saw him?" Nick asked.

The pastor looked to him to answer, shoulders rising with a breath of thoughtfulness.

"Maybe about a week and a half ago. A boy, Nathan, came here, looking for somewhere to lay his head for the night, I guess. They see church, our doors always unlocked..." He shrugged.

"That happen a lot?" Andy squinted, trying to gauge the man before her, much like she imagined Nick was doing at the same time.

The pastor took a deep breath, his chin pulling back, looking over Andy's left shoulder in the distance.

"Occasionally," his bottom lip pouted as he let the same breath go.

Blue eyes floated around Andy's face, never pinning down in a particular spot. Andy waited for elaboration. Nick pressed before he could.

"How often?"

Andy heard his pen scratch against his note pad.

The pastor shook his head, casual.

"I'd say we get a new one every month or so. A kid looking for somewhere to stay."

"So you were saying about Marcus," Andy lead him back to the original subject.

"I brought Nathan down the street to the halfway house. It may be a safe haven here, but it ain't near comfortable to sleep, especially in the cold." He lifted his hand out to gesture.

"We got there and Marcus opened the door, took him in like an old friend. I don't know who would have had the drive to kill him, such a nice young man."

"This is still an ongoing investigation, Pastor. We are yet to consider this a homicide." Nick provided as Andy watched the man closely.

His eyebrows rose, eyelids fluttered.

"Apologies, I just assumed because you were asking questions..."

"Where were you on Tuesday night, sir?" Andy poked her pen to the paper but kept her eyes hard on McMillan.

"I was here. I had a service on Tuesday, you can check with my assistant," he closed his eyes.

"Lord have mercy." He shook his head, looked up to them again. "I'm afraid I have to get back to work, was there anything else?"

"Yes," Andy took a step forward to which the pastor seemed extremely conscious of, looking her up and down.

Not in a leering way, but to gauge her as a threat.

"So what lead you into the profession?" She asked with a hard smile. "Wrap sheet like yours is a bit disconcerting for a church leader. What does your co gregarious have to say about it?"

A resolve blossomed in his eyes, understanding, anger.

"That was a long time ago." He sucked in a breath and closed his lips tightly. "It's the reason I became a pastor. The same reason I help those kids."

Andy watched him for a moment longer, then nodded.

"Okay," she said easily, a sweet smile.

Being intimidating and then suddenly cavalier unnerved people, loosened suspects, made them feel unsafe. If this pastor was involved in getting these kids into drugs, supplying them, buying them, Andy wanted him to feel shaken, afraid.

"We'll be in touch." She clicked her pen, turning around to leave.