When Harry woke up the following day, the sun was already casting its warm rays through the window. She observed the ceiling for a while; she wanted to enjoy a few more seconds of quiet before facing the day ahead.

She could hear water running opposite the corridor. James had to be already in the shower of the small bathroom of the apartment Chas had found them. She got up and crossed the room. She stared through the window and it wasn't long before she spotted the car watching the entry of the building. Chas hadn't left anything to chance.

She went to the kitchen and poured two mugs of black coffee. The flat was rather small but they had everything they needed. Anyway this was only a temporary situation.

...

During the morning, the evidence arrived the one after the other like little waves breaking on the shore, bringing back lots of useless gizmos with them but coming up sometimes with little treasures brightening your day.

The police had found objects and garbage which didn't really lead them anywhere. An old chewing-gum wrapper, pens, a pizza box, newspapers... But some others discoveries opened new horizons, led to questions and got them on new tracks.

Thompson, Dempsey and Harry were discussing some of them, confronting their theories.

The sergeant was scanning one of the pictures from the scene. "We found Maggie's bag. It seems the kidnappers had searched through it, its contents were scattered all over the floor of the garage." Thompson handed them the photo and paused scratching his head.

"What?" Harry enquired.

"Well I believe they've realised their mistake. They've probably found Maggie's ID in her bag so they know she wasn't your daughter."

"Likely enough." Harry agreed then frowned. "But if they knew they had the wrong girl, why kill her?"

"Good question." Thompson stood up and refilled his cup of coffee then he sat back facing Harry. "They took Maggie on Thursday morning believing she was your daughter and got her to that garage. Maybe they killed her before realising their mistake after all."

"But you said the forensics told you they didn't kill her before the end of the afternoon" Harry countered "It gives them more time than they needed to understand she was the wrong girl. I think you're right, they knew it." She glanced sideways to search for Dempsey's opinion, but he seemed to be miles away, his eyes lost in his coffee.

"Maybe they wanted to prove they were serious." Thompson suggested.

"Well, they've made their point. Whether they knew it or not." Dempsey stood up and walked across the office. He took some papers from a shelf to give an impression of composure, but Harry knew he wasn't really watching them. She wondered if she should go and tell him to give up the case but Fry came in at that point and handed Thompson a folder.

"Preliminary report of the autopsy." He announced.

James came back and sat down, straddling the chair, his arms leaning on its back. "So?" His foot was jerking nervously. Harry knew he was refraining himself from snatching the paper from the officer.

Thompson scanned the paper quickly. "Ok so, they confirm the death was caused by a haemorrhage of the aorta. The cut was made with a small blade, probably a knife or a dagger. Fingerprints are only partial so it's going to take time to use them." He looked up.

"What? That's it?" Dempsey was dumbfounded "You got nothing more?"

"Not yet." Thompson was a bit baffled by his aggressive reaction. "The lab will send us results as soon as they got it. They're bound to find something in the fingerprints or the DNA tests."

"So what? You wanna wait till you got the results. What if there's nothing hm!" Dempsey couldn't stand the stillness; he had to do something he couldn't wait like that. He shook his head and started pacing again.

Harry ran a finger on her lips, thinking. She wanted to do more too. Then she remembered something. "You said you found a pizza box in the garage."

"Yes." Thompson couldn't see where this was going. He had already told them the fingerprints on the box were useless. "So what? They got hungry at some point and ordered a pizza."

"Precisely!"

"Harry, you're a genius." Dempsey started looking through the pictures. Then he stopped on one shot and clapped it on his hand, triumphant. "Here" he handed it to Harry.

The pizza box was lying in the corner of the dingy garage, the name of the company was visible on the lid. Harry smiled; Dempsey was already turning the pages of the phone box, then he tore away one of the pages and declared "I got the address."

"Where are you going?" Thompson was observing them with big eyes.

"I'm going to order a pizza." Dempsey answered brightly and without further ado he left the office.

"If we can find the delivery boy, maybe he will be able to give us a description." Harry explained before following the American.

...

"You sure didn't lose it Harry." He greeted her when she sat on the passenger's seat.

She smiled as he started the engine. They drove in silence for five minutes then Harry blurted out "So tell me! Who are you?"

"What?" he frowned totally nonplussed.

"Well we're going on the field again so tell me who you're gonna be this time. Sam Johnson, Dwayne Dupré…" she surmised, avoiding sensibly Johnny Lupino "or Danny Sapalutro maybe?".

"Salaputro!" he corrected with a grin. They shared a look of complicity for the first time since he had come back from his visit to New York. It felt good to be back on the same wavelength and he ran the back of his hand on her cheek before focusing on the road again.

"So?" she renewed her question.

"James Dempsey." He declared.

She frowned. "You don't want…"

"What's the use? The guys know we're looking for them! No matter what names we use, once they know it was a yank and a sexy blonde, they'll know it was us!"