"It's not that bad," the nurse said.

Molly continued to look darkly at the gleaming wheelchair. "How am I going to drive anywhere?"

"When your friend gets here, we'll show you how to fold it up and get it into the car. You'll hardly notice it."

Molly bit back a sharp retort. It was easy for other people to tell her what she would and wouldn't notice. In two days she had grown heartily tired of cheery nurses. And now Jen was coming to pick her up. It should have been her mother, but Molly could tell when they'd talked on the phone that her mother really hated to cut her European vacation short. So Molly had done what she always did: told her mother things weren't that bad and there was no reason for her to return to the States.

"Ok, girl, up and at 'em," the nurse said.

Molly hobbled over to the chair, silently cursing Mackie. If he'd left her hand intact she could have been on crutches instead. Or, hey, maybe he could have left her alone altogether. Sure, and while she was at it she might as well wish for a winning lottery ticket to fall out of the sky.

Molly practiced maneuvering the chair to the elevator and out to the entrance, where Jen had pulled up in her roomy SUV. Her fluffy blond hair was pulled back into a thick ponytail and she had a big grin on her face. "Hey, you look like you're a pro already!"

Molly scowled at her. "Don't go signing me up for the special Olympics. I'm going to be out of this thing before you know it."

Jen exchanged a look with the nurse. Molly made herself smile. "Anyway, thanks for picking me up," she said. "Let's see if we can get this thing in there."

The three of them eventually got the Goldberg contraption folded up and stowed away. "At least it's not as bad as Joey's stroller," Jen said.

"Now I know why I never had kids," Molly said. She settled in for the ride home. It was only a few miles, but at this time of day it could take forever.

"So," Jen said cautiously, "You look like you're feeling a little better than you did yesterday."

"Yeah, it's a wonder what twice-daily therapy sessions will do for you."

"What did the shrink say?"

"Nothing very concrete. He said I'll be moody for a while, which was an understatement. He also said I'd go through the stages of grief."

"Grief?"

"Yeah, I laughed in his face. I couldn't help it – I kept picturing having a funeral with a tiny coffin for my finger and toe, and an itsy bitsy tombstone."

Jen started laughing. "What would it say?"

"How about: The phalanges twins. They were useful."

Jen exploded, and Molly managed her first genuine smile in many days.

It was hard to smile once she was on her own at home, however. Jen had brought over some groceries and had offered to stay, but Molly wanted to get back to her normal, independent life as quickly as she could. The wheelchair was too big to maneuver around the apartment easily, but she had a cane she could use for some walking. The doctor had warned her not to put weight on her foot for too long, but the need to be up and mobile was almost overwhelming after all those days of helplessness.

She hobbled around and put loose clothes and papers away. Work had been busy the last several weeks and quite a mess had accumulated. With any luck she'd be cleared to go back to work next week. Dave and Bruce had been teaching her classes for her, which she knew was a major burden. Besides, the last thing in the world she wanted to do was sit around. Yeah, that was a good idea. She'd get the apartment straightened up, get back to work, and it would be like none of this had ever happened. All things considered, she hadn't lost any more time than if she'd had a bad case of the flu.

The intercom buzzed and Molly jumped, dropping a stack of papers on the floor. She eyed the intercom warily, then limped slowly over to it. It buzzed again.

She pressed the button. "Hello?"

She heard a couple of breaths and then the sound cut off. She stood still for a minute, staring at the speaker. Finally, she turned and went to the door, looked out the peephole. Nothing in the hallway. She checked the deadbolt and hobbled over to the dining table to get a straight chair. She dragged it back to the door and propped it under the knob.

She needed to take a shower, but the thought of being naked under the loud stream of water disturbed her. If she could get the shower over with, though, then she could head down to the LAPD administrative building. She had promised to give them a statement. When she had talked to that chief on the phone, Brenda had told her she could stop in anytime in the next couple of days. Might as well get it over with, right?

She went back around the small apartment and checked all the window locks again before retreating to the shower.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Gallego," Flynn said. "There was no necklace on her when her body was found."

"I guess the bastard took it," Rafael Gallego said quietly. He was fingering a simple gold ring. On the table in front of him was a pathetically small pile of objects: a purse, a scarf, one scuffed beige shoe. "You have to keep everything?" he asked.

"Yes, until we've got a conviction. I promise you'll get it all back, and you can sit here as long as you want. If you'll excuse me, Mr. Gallego, I need to take care of some paperwork."

Rafael nodded silently, staring at the wedding ring resting in his leathery brown palm. Flynn closed the door behind himself and walked slowly down the hall to the vending machine. He would have given anything for a shot of JD right now, or a king size chocolate bar, or even a blasted toothpick, but he'd sworn off all of them. He was stuck with stale trailmix or rubbery string cheese. Lovely.

He was gnawing on the cheese when the Chief came around the corner. "Lieutenant," she said. "I heard Mr. Gallego stopped by."

Flynn swallowed. "Yeah, Chief. He just wanted to look at his wife's stuff for a while."

"Is he okay?"

"I think so. He said he's moved in with his sister's family for a while, so at least he's not alone."

Brenda nodded. "Alright, when you get a chance, please start filing the Mackie materials away. We need to clear the murder board."

"Did I miss something? There's a deranged murderer still on the loose."

"I'm aware of that, Lieutenant. The FBI is going to help with the search for him – that's what they do best. Besides it could take weeks or months to find him, and we've got a new case to deal with. Three arsons around West Hollywood, the last one with fatalities."

"But we've still got to get down to the hospital to get Professor Hughes' statement. She's the best source of information that might help us find Mackie."

"She's been released from the hospital and she's-"

"What? Is she in protective custody?"

"The uniformed patrol in her neighborhood is stopping by her apartment several times a day."

"No, she needs a safehouse or at least surveillance. That guy wasn't finished with her."

"Chief Pope wouldn't authorize anything more. You know how he is about the budget."

"Screw the money! Chief Pope is a-"

Brenda put her hand up. "Lieutenant, Molly told me herself that she didn't want more protection. She felt comfortable going home."

"That's because she's in denial. In her little ivory tower world, things like this just don't happen."

"Well, what I was trying to say before is that she's coming in to give her statement in the next couple of days. If you're here when she drops by, I'd like you to take the statement. If you want to try to convince her to take some precautions, be my guest." Brenda turned and left, heels clicking down the hallway to her office. Flynn heard her door close sharply.

He tossed his cheese wrapper into the trashcan and wandered out to the quiet murder room. Most everyone was taking a couple of days off after the intense search for their last victim. As he walked toward his desk he caught sight of an unfamiliar figure sitting off to the side, facing the murder board. He saw her dark brown hair pulled back in a braid, and the gleam of silver handles behind her shoulders. It took him a second to realize he was looking at a person sitting in a wheelchair, and another half second to realize who the person was. "Tao!" he hissed. Tao looked up from his desk. Flynn frantically made the flapping hand gesture they had all started using to indicate the murder board needed to be covered up, fast. While Tao reached for the remote on Provenza's desk, Flynn walked quickly to the visitor.

"Professor Hughes," he said. "I didn't know you were…" he stopped. She had not moved. She was staring at the photos of Gallego and Bristol. He stepped in front of her, blocking her view. "…uh…I mean, I didn't realize you were coming in right now," he finished. He held his hand out to her.

Her dark eyes shifted away from the board and toward his face. She ignored his outstretched hand. "He killed them, didn't he?" she said angrily.

He dropped his hand and put it in his pocket. "Yeah, didn't you know?"

"How the hell was I supposed to know that?"

"Well, you could try opening a newspaper once in a while."

"Oh sure, it's really easy to get ahold of a paper when you're tied up in some sadist's bedroom or semi-conscious in the hospital."

"Well, let me give you the news flash, then. He carved 'em up and dumped 'em in the trash. Is that what you wanted to-"

"Everything okay, here?" Tao interrupted. "Professor Hughes, thank you for stopping in. I'll set you up in a conference room." He had already spun her wheelchair smoothly around and was rolling it down the hallway. Flynn followed, muttering under his breath.

As they were passing the interview rooms, a door opened and a brown face streaked with tears emerged. He spotted Flynn and gave him a watery smile. "Thank you. I'm done now," he said.

"Mr. Gallego, there's someone I'd like you to meet."

Tao had stopped the wheelchair and turned his head to look questioningly at Flynn. Flynn took Mr. Gallego's elbow and led him around the chair. "Professor Hughes?" he said. "This is Mr. Gallego. His wife was Mackie's first victim. Mr. Gallego, this is Molly Hughes. She's the one who led us to Mackie."

Flynn stood back and watched them shake hands, neither speaking. Finally, Molly swallowed and said, "I'm so sorry about your wife, Mr. Gallego." Her voice was shaking slightly.

More tears were trickling down Rafael's face. He slowly released her hand. "You are a very brave woman," he said. "They told me how you sent your messages. God willing, they will be able to catch him soon and he won't do this to anyone else."

Molly nodded silently.

"I just remembered," Rafael said. "My family is meeting with the Bristol family for a memorial service. We met at their daughter's funeral and we wanted to get together for something less formal where we can remember both women. I would like it very much if you could come, Mrs. Hughes. And you as well, Detectives," he said, looking up at Tao and Flynn.

"I'd be honored," Tao said. Flynn and Molly echoed him. By the time Rafael had given them the information and told them about all the different foods he had specially ordered, his tears had dried and he was smiling. Tao patted him on the back and started walking him out, steering him away from the murder room.

Flynn grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and pushed it to the conference room. When he had the chair pushed up to the table, he said, "I'm going to get some coffee. You want some?"

She nodded.

He brought back two cups of coffee from the break room and plunked one down in front of her. He sat on the other side of the table, pulled his tablet toward himself, and said, "Okay, let's get this over with."

She was using a napkin to soak up the puddle of coffee around her cup. Her eyes raised to his. "You did that on purpose, didn't you?"

Flynn rolled his eyes. "You want me to call in the custodial staff?"

"I'm not talking about the coffee! I mean introducing me to Mr. Gallego."

"Yeah, well I thought you could use a reality check."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

Flynn sighed. "Nothing. Forget it. Let's just get this statement done."