Author's Note: Thank you so much for all of the reviews and story alerts. It certainly does help keep me motivated. I am trying to move this along and get to 'M' rated parts – LOL! We are slowly working our way there. I am gone for the next few days on a holiday of sorts, but will update once I get back as quick as I can. Thanks again for all the support, it is truly appreciated.

Chapter 6

Maura was sitting in her designer office reviewing the lab results for Sean Murphy to provide Jane and Frost her complete analysis. The toxicology screens had come back clean; her investigation placed the time of death an hour before the runner had stumbled upon the body on the beach. Sean Murphy's lungs were clear, ruling out all possibility that he was killed at the docks, his body dumped, and washed to the beach. Maura was certain that he was killed on that beach and the small amount of fluid in his body was simply because he had laid there for sixty minutes prior to being found. Part of the fluid was also the natural reaction of the body; the evidence was proving that Paddy Doyle didn't commit this murder. Maura looked up when her cell phone began to vibrate on her desk.

She closed the file after signing it, knowing she would shortly be journeying to Jane's desk to drop it off. Maura picked up her phone and glanced at the caller ID. The number was blocked, as it had been each time Patrick Doyle called her. She wasn't surprised given she just completed an autopsy on one of his employees; but she refused to give him any information on the case. That was information for Jane; she was on Jane's side not Paddy Doyle's.

"Dr. Maura Isles," Maura cringed, already knowing the voice she would hear on the other side. But when it turned out not to be Paddy Doyle, she blinked in shock and forced herself to concentrate on the conversation at hand.

"Dr. Isles, this is a friend of a friend."

"And what friend would that be?" Maura balanced the phone between her shoulder and ear while she gathered the file to join Jane upstairs in the Homicide bullpen.

"Your sick one," the gravely voice on the other end was clearly losing patience.

"Is he ok?"

"He passed out." Maura frowned as her mind began to process the information. There were any number of reasons why this could happen; but she would need his vitals before she would make any determination or panic that this was truly the end.

"Is Michael there? I'm sure he took his vitals."

"No, Doctor, Michael isn't here. What do we do?"

"Is he breathing?" Maura was now growing more impatient as the conversation lagged; it was as if the caller was purposely trying to aggravate her.

"Yes, but he hasn't woken up yet."

"I need to finish up here, but I'll get there as soon as I can. In the meantime, you need to take his pulse and blood pressure. There is a log with dates and times near the bed; record it there so I know what it is."

"I don't know how to do that."

"Michael does." Maura rose out of her desk chair and began to walk toward the exit of the morgue with Sean Murphy's file in her hands. "I can't just drop everything and run over there when you call."

"This could be an emergency and Michael isn't here!"

"And I would think you, of all people, would understand that I have to be discrete and I have a job to do here. Get Michael there, I'm sure he'll drop everything to tend to Mr. Doyle's needs."

The words Michael debated earlier rang through Maura's mind and the more she thought about it, the more she believed that Paddy Doyle wouldn't have killed Sean Murphy. He was, as far as Maura had witnessed, a trusted and loyal employee. One wouldn't be allowed near Paddy Doyle in his last days without a tremendous amount of trust.

Maura ended the conversation as the elevator bell sounded, announcing its arrival. She stepped into the elevator and pushed the button to Homicide's floor. She was mentally preparing herself for the debate she knew Jane would engage her in; Jane wanted nothing less than to prosecute Doyle for his crimes, perhaps to the point where it clouded her vision at times.

"Hey, Doc," Frost began to watch Jane as she paced back and forth in front of the white board that displayed all the information they knew. Granted, it was mostly bare, which explained Jane's expression when she turned to face Maura.

"Please tell me you've got something?" Jane mustered a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "Even I'm tired of hearing my own voice make up theories."

Maura placed her hand on Jane's shoulder and smiled; she knew that she could never get tired of hearing Jane's unique voice, it often washed over her and elicited responses from Maura that she wasn't quite ready to acknowledge.

"He was killed only an hour to an hour and a half before the body was found. He was killed on the beach; not the docks. The body wouldn't have been washed up so quickly and the current patterns of the water suggest that it wouldn't have washed the body up at that spot on the beach."

"So he was killed there, but we found no blood on the sand?"

"He could have been killed in the water and it washed back out with the tide?" Korsak offered, biting down on a messy jelly donut.

"Would he have gone there quietly? There were no signs of a struggle." Jane bit the end of her pen and she continued to pace, voicing aloud any theory that popped into her head.

It amazed Maura how well her three friends worked together; easily building off of one another's thoughts, like building blocks or pieces to a puzzle that eventually all fit together to form a glorious picture.

"Unless Doyle asked him to meet him there?"

"Good point, Jane." Frost scribbled some notes down while intently listening to Jane's theories.

"The evidence shows that Paddy Doyle didn't kill this man. It wasn't the same M.O." Maura braced herself for the argument that was bound to come, but when Jane remained silent she became worried. Instantly, her brain began to react and her mouth opened, unable to stop the progression of words. "Despite the fact that there was an ice pick in his chest, which we do know is Doyle's style, the attack was frantic; it was messy and disorganized in nature which we know is not his style."

"I don't think Doyle would be killing off his own men," Jane agreed as Maura opened her mouth to debate another point. It was shocking and Maura sat perched on the corner of Jane's desk with her mouth opening and closing, but no sound coming out, for longer than she cared to admit. "What's the tie, other than Doyle, between Murphy and Byrne?"

"Wait," Maura looked puzzled causing Jane to stop pacing and smile at her. It was so rare that the good doctor wasn't composed. "Who?"

"Michael Byrne." Jane moved aside so Maura could see Michael's picture hanging on the evidence board. "Frost was able to do some geeky technology thing to lift his picture off of the photo paper pinned to Murphy's chest. It's a message, but what the message is we don't know."

Maura felt her heart begin to race as she stared at a picture of Michael Byrne leaving what she recognized as Patrick Doyle's home in South Boston. It was the same Michael whom she had tasked with taking Doyle's vitals. Her palms began to sweat and she focused on her breathing to calm herself before she spoke again.

"Rizzoli," Jane's phone broke Maura's train of thought as she watched an unreadable expression cross Jane's face. "Where?" She used her long legs to cross the bullpen in record time and reached across Maura to grab her keys. "We'll be right there."

Jane grabbed her blazer off the back of her chair as she clipped her phone back in its place on her belt.

"That was dispatch," Jane motioned for Frost to stand and he followed suit; putting his coat on and straightening his tie while Jane spoke. "We've got another body, in South Boston this time."

Maura stood and smoothed out her skirt, following close behind Jane.

"My bag is in the car," Maura announced as Jane hit the down button on the elevator. "I can drive myself." It was an easy excuse for her to drive separately, allowing her to process the crime scene and then go check on Patrick Doyle in route back to the station.

Keeping up with Jane, her stride long and confident, wasn't an easy task. Maura knew that she would arrive after Jane at the scene; she hadn't even gotten to her car before Jane had started hers and drove away.

So Maura took her time, driving the speed limit, obeying all traffic signs, rubbing her temples at every light to ward off her pending headache. The stress that Maura was feeling certainly was manifesting itself in classic ways.

Maura parked her car near Jane's and grabbed her bag, making her way over to the crime scene. Frost was already typing frantically on his iPad and nodded at her as she approached.

"Doc." Frost looked at her with an expression that Maura hadn't seen in a long time. The last time was when she was performing the autopsy on James Stern and realized it was Hoyt's work.

"What's wrong, Barry?"

"It's uh…" Frost saw Jane making her way over to where they stood. She also wore a tense look and Maura began to push past Frost to talk to her.

"What's going on?"

"It's another ice pick," Jane sighed.

Maura looked past Jane's shoulder to see Michael Byrne lying in a pool of blood. There was an ice pick sticking prominently out of his chest.

"Was there another message?" Maura was out of breath as she walked toward the body; her breathing erratic from the news she just heard.

"Not this time, but this isn't a coincidence, Maura."

Maura walked toward the body and leaned over it, fighting back the tears she felt welling in her eyes. Her head swiveled, taking in the entire crime scene around her, not seeing anything out of place in the park where the body was found.

"Why wasn't there a message on this body?"

"I don't think anyone removed it," Jane said as she knelt down next to Maura. "There are no foot prints in the grass or mulch and the park is nearly deserted at this time of the day when school is in session."

"Who found him?"

"Another runner," Jane stood to talk to Korsak. "Frost, go talk to him and see what he knows. Check on whether this is his normal route that he runs or if he deviated."

"This isn't Doyle," Maura mumbled as she pulled the ice pick out of Michael's chest. Her own chest ached; Michael had been caught up in something bigger than him, only brought into it to provide a better life for himself and not live on the street. "There'd be a message and the wound messy like Sean Murphy's. He struggled; there's already bruising around his forearms to indicate someone was holding his arms back."

"Mob war?"

"God I hope not, Korsak," Jane jumped when her phone vibrated on her belt; a sign of an incoming call. She didn't bother to look at it; she was captivated by the moment and her desire to catch anything out of place in the park.

"Rizzoli." Jane stopped walking as she pulled the phone away from her ear to check the number. She placed it back, walking away from the scene without a word. She put her other finger to her ear to block out the commotion of those who were processing the scene.

Maura looked around, taking careful note of her surroundings. She bagged the ice pick, collected samples of the mulch and grass near the body, and instructed her team to gather the grass that had blood stains on it. She knew she would test to ensure it was Michael's blood and not that of his assailant given he had fought. The idea that he fought back, that he was likely scared and hurt when he was stabbed, continued to bring tears to Maura's eyes. She blinked them back; desperate not to fall apart at the scene.

Maura quickly instructed her team to bag his body and expedite it back to the morgue for her to begin working on him. The thought of cutting into his body produced shivers in hers.

"I'll start the autopsy once I get back." Maura stood near Frost searching the scene for any sign of Jane. "I have to make a quick stop so I'll be there shortly."

Frost nodded as he made a few more notes on his iPad and then closed it, signaling to Korsak that he was prepared to leave the scene and go back to the station.

"Where's Jane?"

"She left," Frost said as Korsak joined them and took Maura's arm to assist her walking on the uneven terrain. Maura smiled; chivalry certainly wasn't dead yet. "Got a call and took off. She said she'd be back at the station though, so she's probably already there. We can meet up back there, let us know when you get back and we'll see you at the autopsy."

Maura was barely cognizant of her labored breathing as she started her BMW and headed the short distance to Patrick Doyle's house. This time, she didn't obey any of the traffic rules; she ran two stop signs in the neighborhood before bringing her BMW to a screeching halt in front of Patrick Doyle's house. She slammed the door; running up the walkway and entering the house without even knocking. She hardly paused as the thought crossed her mind that Patrick Doyle shouldn't be leaving his front door open.

Maura pushed past one of Paddy Doyle's men; not that he had even tried to stop her progression into the house.

"Where is he?"

Maura rounded the corner and stopped dead in her tracks as she noticed the hospital bed that usually contained Paddy Doyle was empty. The sheets were ruffled, magazines were being neatly stacked once more on the table near Paddy's bed, and the empty water cup with a straw in it was being thrown out.

"Oh my god," Maura's hand went to her mouth as she gasped.

"He's outside, with a visitor."

"What's he doing out of bed?" Maura made her way, for the first time, further into the house rounding corners, finding her way to the back of the house to where she could hear Doyle speaking in a hushed tone.

It never dawned on Maura that she shouldn't be interrupting her father with his visitor. She had no level of fear regardless of the fact that Paddy Doyle was a known killer, a successful one who had always eluded the police. Maura knew that based on Paddy Doyle's line of work whatever visitor he would have come to the house must be important and likely a felon themselves.

Maura threw open the screened door and stepped outside, making eye contact first with her father. He had a strange combination of emotions reflecting in his face. Maura could easily, through her research, identify each one of them and mentally began to catalog them for herself. Paddy was angry, sad, his blood pressure was obviously escalated, but more so than anything he looked afraid.

Maura followed Paddy Doyle's gaze to his visitor and instantly Maura reached out to steady herself, using the door jam to provide support. Standing there, with the wind gently blowing her hair, was Detective Jane Rizzoli.

"Jane," Maura's voice was barely a whisper as she saw Jane remove her Ray-Ban sunglasses to gaze at Maura, a look she knew she would never forget.