'So, don't you feel better now?' Ryan asked in a sing-song voice. 'You got to hear from your boys, you sort-of made things right with Lanie, and lookie-here, the world didn't explode.'

Beckett wrinkled her nose as she pulled into the underground parking lot. It was decidedly convenient the CSU lab was located in the same building-block as their precinct. 'How does Jenny handle it?'

'Handle what?'

'Loving and living with such a wise-ass know-it-all.'

'Same way Castle has handled loving and living with you.'

Beckett laughed, felt her world set a little more right. When she'd turned off the engine, she sat and sighed, thumped her head against the headrest. 'It's hard to talk about it when the case is still on going. Even my husband will tell you that. Because I know if I talk about it, about...about my mother, it makes it hurt far more to get up and do the job because those feelings just bubble out with no way to control them.'

'I have an inkling,' Ryan said, thinking of the way he got when pregnant women were in jeopardy. No one in heaven or earth could talk him down until the rat-bastard scaring her, hurting her, making her feel worried or sick or scared had paid. 'Kate, if you broke, do you think we'd baby you? That we'd pat you on the head and take this over when everyone knows what this is to you?'

'The possibility you would scares me.'

'There's that damned German blood again, no wonder you are so rockheaded,' he said casually and Beckett chuckled.

'I'd say it was more my dad's Irish blood, all het up for a fight.' She looked at him. 'Thank you Kevin.'

'Squish squish squish.'

'Then let's go find the Cheese Whiz, he's always earned an ass-kicking for one reason or another.'

After picking up a completed report from Ballistics, they found Riley Fontina, the Cheese Whiz himself, on his cellphone in his AV lab, surrounded by screens and monitors. The room was frigidly cold, yet Riley was wearing his usual sweater vest and short-sleeved Oxford shirt. They hung back a moment as they listened to him on the phone, clearly with his fiancee.

'I know, sweetie, but the doctor said you're still supposed to rest. You can do some knitting or some reading.' He glanced up as Ryan cleared his throat. 'I gotta run, Beckett's here. Love you too Susie-boo.'

'Susie-boo?' Ryan asked dryly.

'You want I should call her Lab Technician Susan Erica Andrews?'

'No, just never heard you use her first name. Pearlmutter sent us, said you have two SIM cards to run from John Raglan?'

'Yeah.' Riley wheeled himself over to one of his many many desks, picked up a disturbingly thick file. 'My prelim.'

'That's for both of the cellphones?'

'The first one, the one registered to his name. He had no landline so literally every text and call he made is here, whether it was ordering pizza, making a dentist appointment or calling his girlfriend for phone sex.'

'Espo is going to kill you,' Ryan murmured to Beckett, 'and Adam will take the leftovers.'

'Not when they see what else I found.' Riley held up a second file, thinner but not by much. 'This is from the second phone, the burner. I traced the serial number from the card and it was purchased at the Chatterbox, on Fifty-First and Second, about six years ago.'

'Awfully long time to keep a burner,' Beckett commented but her wheels were clicking. Six years ago was around the same time Mike Doran had been incarcerated. She made a mental note to check out the number against the records Adam and Esposito were burning through.

'Yeah, well, figuring out the why is your job, not mine. The burner didn't have photo capability, too cheap a model, but the cellphone is a recent upgrade and has video and photo which is currently downloading and pixilating for better quality.'

'Call Ryan when you have the results,' Beckett ordered him and Riley sneered.

'You're not the only one with a priority case, Detective.'

'Then I'll make it my priority to come here and stand you on your head until the photo prints and video discs are in my hot little hands.'

'You don't want that, bro,' Ryan informed him before Riley could retort. 'I've seen her do it, and had it done to me. Trust me, it's not pretty.'

Riley rolled his eyes, looked at his computer agenda. 'Fine, I can fit you in between Camden and Roberts.'

'Excellent.'

Beckett waited until they were in the elevator on their way up to the Homicide bullpen before sliding her eyes to Ryan. 'When have I ever stood you on your head?'

'You were five months pregnant with Jojo when you were pissed off with us for touching your yogurt.'

'I was pregnant, that doesn't count.'

'Yes it does,' Ryan muttered; the elevator doors opened and they were greeted with the sight of Esposito rushing out of the conference room towards Montgomery's office. In an instant, they were running to catch up to him. 'What's the deal, bro,' he asked.

'Just come with me.'

Esposito didn't bother knocking on Montgomery's closed door, just shoved it open and sneered when he saw Captain Blake Holmes of Internal Affairs just about to sit down in the guest chair across from the captain.

'Sir, I need to speak with you, we all do,' he said urgently, not even bothering to give Blake a passing glance. 'Regarding the Raglan case.'

'It will have to wait, Detective.' Prissy and prim in his perceived superiority Blake unfastened the button of his stylishly tailored jacket. 'The captain and I need to discuss a few things.'

'We are on a priority investigation.'

'As I can guess it is about the deceased officer, then we are of a like mind. John Raglan was obviously killed by a stray bullet meant for Christine Doran, and there are several people who have spoken to me saying you are concerned more with investigating a fallen officer than wrapping his death up as an accident.'

'Who are these people,' Ryan demanded, and Blake curled his thin upper lip into a hard sneer.

'I'm not required to reveal my sources.'

'Sources my ass-'

'Detective Esposito.' Beckett's voice was quiet and controlled as she stared at Blake. She'd never liked him, but it went beyond the usual distrust any cop had of Internal Affairs. There was something about him that always said he seemed to hold back so he could make others look like fools. She tugged off her leather gloves, slapped them against her palms. 'Captain Holmes, I am not required to report to IA when a retired officer is gunned down.'

'You have no proof of that. Clearly someone was trying to get rid of Christine. Being the wife of a dirty cop would have that effect on some people.'

'Then why did they wait so long into Mike's incarceration to get at her? If they'd been trying to hit her, why wouldn't they do it after the initial crash? Why wait until she was loaded into an ambulance? And why would a stray bullet hit John Raglan square in the chest if they were aiming for someone else?'

Beckett held up the Ballistic report. 'That shot came from an army-issue sniper rifle, and calculating the angle of the shot, it was from the northeast corner building of the intersection where the accident happened, from the eighteenth floor. An angle like that with that many people and given the crappy weather forecast from yesterday? That isn't some crackpot on a revenge mission against Mike, that is a military-trained gunman who would no more miss a shot than a heroin addict misses his morning fix.'

'Let me see that report, it might-'

'Captain Holmes.' Montgomery used the power of his quietly authoritative voice to quell any potential bickering. 'The detectives aren't looking to make trouble, they want to figure out why someone wanted John Raglan silenced, and Christine Doran incapacitated.'

'Then they should be looking into potential suspects.'

'You know the best way to know the killer is to find is motives, which lies within the victim. Given the circumstances, I'd say my detectives homicide investigation is spot on with looking into links between Christine, Mike and John.'

Holmes sniffed, rose. 'If you find anything I would like to be informed.'

He turned and left stiffly, not bothering with the politeness of closing the door, making Montgomery look at his detectives.

'Now that's curious, isn't it?'

'Why is IA worried about the death of a long-retired cop revealing too much dirty laundry,' Beckett said aloud and the others nodded. 'They know something we don't and obviously should, if they're that nervous.'

'Then let's find it.' Montgomery put on his reading glasses, took out a fresh pen for updating his notes on Raglan's death. 'Esposito what have you got?'