Chapter Four

"Damn it, Neal...where are you?"

Sitting at his desk Peter put down the initial police report on the Sapphire Waterfall heist. The scene was classic Neal, no forced entry, no fingerprints, not even a glimpse of him on the security cameras, and no one was hurt. It was as if he had just stepped into the Metropolitan and someone had just handed it to him. The only thing that was out of place were the three human hairs left behind. It would take some time to get back the DNA results, but the length and color matched Neal's perfectly.

Peter reached up and pinched the bridge of his nose and sighed heavily. Exhausted from the long day which had started at two am and had stretched on until nearly ten pm he was having trouble thinking straight. His boss had been absolutely frothing at the mouth by the time he'd gotten back into the office. Apparently the press had somehow caught wind of the fact that the Feds had lost track of the 'notorious' Neal Caffrey and had already put two and two together with the heist.

"Notorious my ass." Peter growled.

Peter picked up the newspaper that his boss had thrown on his desk. Neal's mug shot stared up at him from the page, a mischievous smile slung on his face even as he was being booked. Around the office the boys had teased Peter telling him the fish he'd caught had the best mug shot since Robert Downy Junior.

"No one ran a story the first time I caught him, no one felt the streets of New York were any safer then. Now he's 'armed and dangerous'? Give me a break."

Tossing the paper in the trash Peter leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was debating on what to do next when he heard delicate foot step approaching. Keeping his eyes closed he hoped that the intruder would go away. She didn't.

"Go home, Peter." Diana said softly. "We aren't going to catch him tonight."

"I know." Peter admitted.

"Then go get some sleep."

"Alright." Peter nodded in surrender. "Diana..."

"Yes?" Diana asked when he didn't continue.

"Do you think there is a possibility that Neal is in trouble?"

"He has half the F.B.I and several U.S Marshals hunting him down, I'd say that's trouble."

"I don't mean it like that." Peter corrected. "I mean serious trouble."

"Peter, you know I like Neal. He's a good guy...for the most part. But how many times have you caught him scheming, lying, and generally being underhanded in the past two years? Or even just in the past two months?"

"Occam's Razor, eh?" Peter sighed.

"I'm sorry, Peter, but in life the simplest solution is most likely the correct one. You can't let a fox into the hen house and expect him to behave."

"You're right. You should go home too. Good night."

"We'll find him, Peter."

Peter forced a mirthless smile before collecting his jacket to go home. Diana stood her ground and watched to make sure that he actually left. When Peter got to his front door he paused with his hand on the door knob. Part of him was expecting to step inside and find Neal sitting at his dinning room table, enjoying a cup of coffee with Elizabeth with an elaborate story behind his sudden exodus.

When Peter stepped inside he did find that his wife was sharing a cup of coffee with a guest. However he groaned when he saw that the guest was Mozzie. The pair instantly stopped talking. Elizabeth looked up at her husband and flashed him a warm apologetic smile. Mozzie got to his feet and came up to Peter with his shoulders pulled back in an attempt to make himself look as tall and imposing as possible.

"Peter..."

"Go away." Peter interrupted. "I can't do this with you right now."

"Neal didn't run." Mozzie said firmly.

"Why kidnap someone and stage it to look like a flight?"

"I don't know, you're the criminal profiler here. Maybe to keep you for looking for him."

"We were going to look for him either way."

"Yes, but this way you'd start with a misdirect. It's a classic."

"No it isn't." Peter countered. "Mozzie, the simplest solution is most likely the correct one..."

"Peter you are abusing Occam's razor and it offends me...deeply." Mozzie interrupted. "It is not that the simplest solution that is usually correct, the razor states that when faced with competing hypotheses that are equal in other respects that selecting the one that makes the fewest new assumptions is recommended."

"And the difference is?" Peter asked with little interest.

"I don't have time to explain it to you." Mozzie said matter-of-factly. "However I will ask you this: since when has anything having to do with Neal *ever* been simple?"

"Mozz..."

"Answer me, Suit." Mozzie said seriously.

"Never." Peter sighed.

"Exactly. As novelist Edna Ferber once said 'a closed mind is a dying mind'."

"You've made your point, now get out of my house."

Mozzie looked back to Elizabeth for support but she just gave him a slight head shake. Mozzie suddenly looked defeated.

"Very well." Mozzie said miserably. "Just try to fight your Suit Brainwashing Training and keep an open mind."

"Leave."

Mozzie knew that Peter was barely keeping his temper and after thanking Elizabeth for the coffee he left. Elizabeth came up and offered her husband quiet support in the form of a brief kiss. Peter managed a genuine smile, but it faded fast. He reached up and affectionately brushed his hand against her cheek.

"I'm sorry if Mozzie was bothering you."

"No, not really. He's just worried sick about Neal."

"He should be. If Neal doesn't come back on his own soon I am not going to be able to help him. It might already be too late. The press is having a field day and the Bureau look like idiots."

"Don't worry about the press, they'll be on to something else by tomorrow. They have a surprisingly short attention span. There will be fresher blood in the waters by tomorrow for them to feed on."

"Yeah." Peter agreed half heartedly.

"Mozzie does have a point about keeping an open mind though."

"Dear Lord, he got to you..."

"All he's saying is that it wouldn't hurt to look at things from both angles. What would change if this was a kidnapping? How would you look at the case if someone had forcibly taken Neal?"

Peter didn't answer right away. Elizabeth saw the stress in his eyes and it broke her heart. She stepped in closer so she could press against him. Peter wrapped his arms around her and held her gently. Elizabeth could fell how exhausted he was through his touch. Something was bothering him, he was keeping something a secret, she could always tell.

"Talk to me." Elizabeth encouraged.

"I don't want to think about it." Peter whispered nervously.

"Why not?"

"It's been almost twenty four hours and there has been no contact for a ransom, no demands made. Even if they had the F.B.I doesn't make deals. If Neal was taken by force I fear that there is only one thing that would help me find him."

"What's that?"

"A cadaver dog."