Martinez visibly clenched his jaw as a printout of an old news article he'd hope to forget was slapped on his desk right under his nose.

"Did you know about this?" Jane demanded, shoving the clipping forward with her forefinger.

He sighed and sat back in his chair, looking up at her with a sad smirk. "What do you want me to say, Rizzoli? My CI had his daughter smuggling drugs across the border, and he came to me because she died on the way. Things went wrong. They always do with drugs. You used to be DCU. You know these things."

"Oh I know," she snarled, snatching the paper up. "I know what happens with drugs. But what I want to know, is why in the hell you didn't think to say anything until now? It's been weeks and we've all been floundering around for leads on this…this ghost…and you've been sitting on this," she held up the paper, "the entire time?"

"Rizzoli, I…"

Jane yanked a chair from an empty desk behind her and sat down across from him. "You're going to tell me everything. Right now."

He leaned forward, his voice low, expression subdued. "I really think you know most of what there is to tell. The only thing I can add is that when I found this out," he pointed to the article now in Jane's lap, "I confronted him about it. I couldn't trust a man who had only just recently been using his child to move drugs across the border. Not when he failed to tell me that from the start. He got angry and ran out on me." He ran a hand across the top of his bald head. "He disappeared. Even I couldn't find him. And believe me, I tried." He shrugged. "I know you're disappointed, Rizzoli, but really that's all I have for you."

Jane shoved to her feet, the wheels of the chair she'd been sitting in scraping loudly across the floor.

"Now that I think about it," Martinez interjected, holding up a finger, his gaze distant, "he did say something. In the heat of the moment. He said…something about…that people who bought from him needed to know they were purchasing the deaths of children and families."

Jane scowled, her mind whirring. Children. Kids. Families. Brothers. Sisters. Friends. Schoolmates. "Kids. School. High school. Charlestown High! I knew that sounded familiar!" With that, she bolted.

"Shawn Felton taught at Charlestown High!"

Frankie looked bemusedly at Korsak before turning to his sister, who had just come striding into their midst. "This…isn't exactly news, Janie."

"No, but…look." She strode over to the glass board plastered with the photographs of all persons relevant to the case. "If Ruiz was caught dealing over by the high school, that could've been how he met the Felton brothers. Or at least Drew. Remember, Shawn was the only family member Drew had any sort of contact with after becoming an addict. What if the three encountered each other there one night?"

"That sounds like kind of a long shot, Jane," Korsak replied.

Jane stared at Ruiz's mug shot as if she could burn a hole through his face with her pupils. She shook her head. "I know I'm reaching…but my gut says this is as strong a lead as we've had in too long."

Korsak's desk phone rang. "Sergeant Detective Korsak. Oh hello, Mrs. Kuziemski! Yes, of course. I understand." He glanced up at Jane. "Would you mind if I brought Detective Rizzoli along? Okay. I appreciate you calling. Talk to you soon." He hung up. "Jane, grab a notepad and something to write with. We're going to pay Mrs. Kuziemski another visit, and I have a feeling we'll be very interested in what she has to say."

Jane grinned and grabbed her blazer of the back of her chair.

Frankie through his arms out, silently demanding to be included.

She pointed firmly at the ground. "You stay, rub elbows with the drug unit. Learn what you can learn. We'll trade notes when Korsak and I get back."

"I want to apologize again for being too afraid to tell you the whole truth from the beginning, detectives," Mrs. Kuziemski sighed once they were all settled in her living room with coffee and fresh cookies.

Jane gave the elderly woman a soft, reassuring smile. "We appreciate that. We also appreciate that you're willing to level with us now. Facts – true facts – are what's most important to us. More than anything we just…just wanna get things right the first time."

Korsak gave her a brief, knowing look before flipping open his notepad. "What can you tell us about the Felton brothers?"

Age-spotted hands straightened the edges of the lightweight lavender cardigan Mrs. Kuziemski wore. "Well, as you know, Shawn student taught under me before I retired. I think he was my favorite student teacher. It was clear he loved the kids, loved sharing what he knew, loved watching them grow and learn. I don't think anything made him happier. He was…most alive, I think, when he was in the classroom. And the kids really loved him, too. He got them excited about reading and writing. He made it about expressing themselves effectively rather than just satisfying criteria and meeting curriculum standards. I believe everyone has their calling, and those that find theirs are the lucky ones. Shawn was one of them." Her eyes grew distant.

Jane cleared her throat after a swallow of coffee and leaned forward slightly, keeping her voice low. "Did he…did he ever talk to you about his personal life?"

Mrs. Kuziemski looked her straight in the eye. "Did he ever mention his brother, you mean." It wasn't a question. "You don't have to beat around the bush with me, detectives. I'm not as fragile as I look."

Jane couldn't help but smile at the fire in the old woman's eyes and hope that she was as sharp at that age.

Korsak chuckled. "Fair enough."

Mrs. Kuziemski sat back in her armchair. "Shawn rarely said very much about his family. I think, even though he had his father's favor, he didn't appreciate how his parents responded to his brother. He only opened up to me about Drew on a couple of occasions, but those moments – let me tell you – they were very telling." She nodded, reaching for her mug on the coffee table between them.

"How do you mean?" Korsak prompted.

"He knew Drew was into drugs, and a couple of times he expressed his frustration to me: 'Drew is back in rehab again,' things like that. When I asked when the last time he'd talked to Drew was, he'd just shrug and say, 'I told him I'd only talk to him when he's clean.' He said he really didn't know what else to do, but he didn't want to reinforce behavior that was killing him."

"Sounds like he was really conflicted," Jane said.

"Shawn had such a big heart. I could tell it was hard for him to decide what the best thing to do was when it came to his brother."

Jane nodded. "Did Shawn seem like the type who would confront someone who he thought might be…enabling his brother's drug habits?"

Mrs. Kuziemski shook her head. "Shawn was a peacekeeper. He hated conflict. He wouldn't avoid it, but he also would never seek it out, and if he came across any disagreement, he'd try to help resolve it as peaceably as possible."

"He sounds like a real stand-up guy," Korsak said.

"He was. It was hard for him to talk to his brother about addiction because he hated conflict so much. But in his spare time he armed himself with research, looking for ways to help Drew, or how Drew could help himself. So when I found out that the high school was going to be providing use of the building to an Addicts Anonymous group two nights a week, I told Shawn immediately. I assume he told his brother, because the next thing I heard about Drew was that he was getting rides from Shawn to the school the same two nights a week.

"I retired that summer – though I'm sure some of the faculty thought that was something that should've happened years ago," she continued with a dry chuckle. "Shawn promised to keep in touch throughout the school year, and he was a man of his word. He mostly wanted feedback on lesson plans or had a story to tell about a student in his class. I heard very little about Drew, so again, I assumed things were mostly fine. Then he turned up dead. Shawn was heartbroken, of course. But he kept teaching. He threw himself into working with the kids because they were his primary reason for going on." She took another long sip of coffee. I think it was two or three weeks after that…a strange man came into the building during school hours, claiming to have a child in Mr. Felton's class. He apparently had no way of proving he was the father or legal guardian of any student enrolled at the school, so he was sent away without further ado. Someone from the office told Shawn and Shawn emailed me about it. He didn't sound too concerned, but then it was hard to tell from the message." Another sip of coffee. "And before you ask, he didn't provide any description that he might have been given from the front office, so I can be of no help to you there."

Jane sat riveted while Korsak finished frantically scribbling on his legal pad. "That's alright, Mrs. Kuziemski. You've already given us quite a lot. I think we've got a decent idea where to go from here," Jane said.

The retired teacher smiled and rose from her armchair. "Glad I could be of help at last. And again, I am sorry I let my paranoid son talk me out of talking to you before."

"You're talking to us now, and that's all we care about." Korsak stood, straightening his blazer and extending his hand. "Thank you so much for calling and inviting us into your home, Mrs. Kuziemski." He headed for the door.

The old woman shook Jane's hand as well once they were all standing. She waited until Korsak was out of earshot. "It was really you who convinced me to call the sergeant back." Jane couldn't quite keep the puzzlement from her expression. Mrs. Kuziemski squeezed her hand. "Forgive me if I'm making you uncomfortable." Jane shook her head, genuinely curious. "When you all arrived at the crime scene, I couldn't help but notice your body language…even from a distance it appeared you had a personal connection to this case. And when you had to step away for a moment…I couldn't get that image from my mind. Seeing your struggle reminded me of Shawn. I had to call to help him get justice."

Jane reciprocated the squeeze to her hand, struggling for words. She was embarrassed that this woman had witnessed her breakdown, but also relieved in a way. This woman was so perceptive. She was like Maura in a lot of ways: her love of knowledge, the drive to educate others…but most importantly, her deep empathy for suppressed emotion. "I understand. And…thank you for sharing that with me. It means more than you know."

Mrs. Kuziemski patted her shoulder as they made their way out. "Best of luck, detectives."