Alex POV

"How close are you to having a suspect?"

"Was this a personal attack on Senator O'Hara?"

"There's a rumor going around that the victim was involved in drugs – can you confirm that she was, in fact, a heroin addict?"

I looked out over the array of still-camera flashes and news camera lights and boom microphones, and I nearly had a panic attack.

I fought it off by taking a deep breath and thinking of everything I was going to do to Commissioner Zaring as payback for this tortuous assignment.

Electric shock.

Water boarding.

Or maybe I'd make him just spend a day in my shoes.

"She's in the wind, Cap."

"Are you kidding me?" I'd asked earlier while I stared in disbelief at Wyatt and Yuille as they stood in my doorway with their heads hung low.

"No, ma'am," Wyatt said, scuffing at the floor with his shoes. "The house was locked up tight, and the neighbors say they haven't seen anyone home since Sunday morning."

"Sixty-two year old widows do not run," I said forcefully as I got up from my desk and walked around to the front.

"I guess they do when they're murderers," Yuille replied, clearly as frustrated as me.

"Do we have any idea where she went? Have you checked the usage on her passport? Airports? Train stations? Bus stations? Bicycle rental kiosks? Come on, Detectives. I really need you to find this woman."

"We just got back, ma'am. We're getting on it right now."

"Call the DA and get a search warrant for her house. Maybe she left something behind that'll give you a clue."

"Yes, ma'am," they said in unison as they left my office.

And it's possible that I pushed them a little too hard.

Because I wasn't really mad at them.

I was just having a bitch of a day, and the last thing I needed was for the suspect - who it took us nearly two weeks to sniff out, and even then mostly at the direction of Bobby's intuition - to take off for destinations unknown right as we were getting ready to make the arrest.

Because earlier, I'd been called up to the commissioner's office, and he had informed me that not only would I need to be prepared for questions about the O'Hara case during the press events, but I also had to be on top of every other current case in my department because he'd offered carte blanche to the reporters in an effort to uplift the NYPD's image in the eyes of the community.

That's what he'd said.

"So this case has turned into a PR project?" I asked him.

"We take it where we can get it, Captain. I didn't ask for some nut job to kill that girl, but the fact of the matter is that it happened, and if we can polish up our image while we're catching the killer, then let's do it."

"Those girls," I corrected.

"I'm sorry?"

"The killer murdered three girls, not just Sally O'Hara."

"Right. Of course. So…did you see my press conference?"

"Yes, sir."

"Did you take notes? Because that's how you handle those blood-thirsty predators."

"Well, for starters, it's probably not a good idea to refer to them as blood thirsty," I retorted smartly. He glared at me for a moment, and so I added, "Sir."

"And stick with civvies, okay, Eames? The dress blues are nice, but I want the atmosphere to project that we're professional, yet human…approachable and amenable…you know what I'm saying?"

I knew exactly what he was saying.

He was trying to pimp me out.

"Yes, sir," I answered, deciding that it was better to go with the standard reply than what I really wanted to say.

Twenty minutes after returning from the commissioner's office, I'd gotten the news from Wyatt and Yuille that Mrs. Schuler had gone on the lamb.

Unbelievable.

And then I took a call from the captain at the 2-4.

"Eames, my officers just responded to a 9-1-1 call that I think might interest you."

"I'm listening."

"Dead girl, upper teens to early twenties, found dead in a parked car on West 101st."

"And?"

"Acid-burned fingertips and her teeth look like they got knocked out with a hammer."

I closed my eyes and blindly reached in my drawer for the bottle of Excedrin.

"What's been done?" I asked him.

"Nothing. As soon as the officer saw the teeth and fingers, he called me. The scene is secure, but no one's touched anything."

"Okay, good. Thank you. I'll send my detectives up there right away."

I hung up with him and swallowed my second dose of aspirin for the day.

And at that point, it was barely noon.

Then I called Bobby to let him know about the latest victim, after which I called Liz.

"I know you're swamped, but I'd love to have you on this, since you're looking the others over, too."

"Use me and abuse me, Captain," she replied good-naturedly.

"You sure?"

"Hey, if I don't do it now, you'll just ask me to do it again later, right?"

"But I'm asking in the nicest possible way."

"Yes, you are," she said on a chuckle. "And I'm going. I'll let you know what I find. Goren and Logan are headed that way, too?"

"I just called them. They're at another crime scene, but they'll get up there as soon as they can."

After I hung up with Liz, my desk phone rang.

"Captain Eames."

"This is Commissioner Zaring's office. He'd like a word with you," the secretary stated.

Another word?

I hadn't even been back in my office for an hour yet.

"Sure," I agreed, since I had no choice.

"Eames," his voice boomed after a moment of listening to elevator music. I pulled the phone away from my ear, temporarily deafened by his exuberance.

"Yes, sir."

"You know how I said the press conference could wait until tomorrow?"

"Um…yes."

"It can't. I got a call from the mayor and he wants you out in front of this thing. Four-thirty on the courthouse steps. They make a better backdrop, you know. You've got time to go home and change if you want."

"I have time?" I repeated incredulously. "You want me to go home and change clothes when my department is in the middle of three dozen active cases?"

As I said the words, I saw that Wyatt and Jacobs and Meeks were all loitering outside of my office.

"Don't you have detectives working on those cases?" he asked.

"Of course, but…"

"Then let them work. I need you on this, Eames. You're my go-to girl, right?" he said, and then he added pointedly, "Unless Moran was wrong about you."

So that's how I found myself, dressed in my lone power suit, standing at the top of the courthouse steps with countless microphones in front of me.

"I'll answer your questions," I said firmly. "But you need to ask them one at a time."

And then I gestured at the Channel 7 reporter who up to this point had remained quiet, so I figured this was her reward.

"Thank you," she said. "We've just received word that two of your detectives took the wrong woman into custody today. Can you give us a statement about that, and can you tell us if this kind of error is commonplace with the NYPD?"

I held her gaze for a moment longer, silently sending daggers in her direction and then I grabbed onto the podium with both hands.

"The detectives had a valid arrest warrant, and went to the home of the suspect. Initially, it was determined that she was attempting to flee, so they then proceeded to obtain a search warrant. When they went back to the residence, it appeared as though the suspect had returned. It was unknown to them at that time that the suspect actually has an identical twin."

Because yes, that's what happened.

Wyatt and Yuille went back with the search warrant, and found Marion Black, whose appearance is identical to that of Martha Black Schuler. Not only that, but Marion didn't disclose her true identity until she was sitting in an interrogation room at 1PP.

That snafu had prompted aspirin dose number three, especially since once we were able to confirm Marion's claim, she promptly began talking lawsuit.

I should've known someone in the press would jump on that, considering the fact that Zaring hadn't put any limits on the session.

Murmurs flew around the crowd after my statement.

I kept my cool as I turned away from the Channel 7 wolverine doubling as a reporter, but she called out to me again.

"I'm sorry. Captain Eames, you didn't answer the second part of my question."

"Do we routinely make mistakes such as this? No, we do not. Next question."

"Who were the detectives involved in the mix-up?" someone called out.

"Major Case is filled with the best detectives in the department, and this type of thing is highly unusual. There's no way they could've predicted the outcome of the arrest, especially considering Ms. Black never once attested to the contrary until she was at the precinct."

And personally, I think she did it on purpose.

She was buying her sister time.

"So you're blaming the victim, Captain?"

"No, of course not. I'm saying it was an extremely rare occurrence. Next question."

"According to the DA's office, the arrest warrant was applied for by a Detective Nick Yuille," another reporter shouted out.

I closed my eyes briefly, annoyed with their thoroughness.

Zaring must really hate me, I thought.

"Is there a question in there somewhere?" I asked when nothing more was said.

"I was hoping for a confirmation or denial."

"If you've got a source at the DA's office, then I guess you've got what you need."

"No, what I want to know is how'd Detective Yuille get assigned to Major Case? The word on the street is that he was involved in an intimate relationship with his former captain. Aren't inter-departmental affairs a breach of regulations?"

"Yes, I believe they are. I'm not aware of any violation of such policy by Detective Yuille."

"So he wasn't living with Captain Alonzo of the 6-8, his former precinct?"

I was dying a slow death.

I didn't want to talk about Yuille or inter-departmental affairs or mistakes my detectives had made.

"I can't answer that, but I can tell you that Captain Alonzo is no longer with the department."

"Because of Nick Yuille?"

"No," I said in frustration. "Now does anyone want to talk about the fact that four teenage girls have been found murdered over the course of the past week? Or should we spend our time talking about the personal relationships of the hard-working detectives who spend countless hours trying to get killers off the streets?"

I very nearly yelled that last part, and I realized that I was gripping onto the podium as if my life depended on it.

Well, this was one way to get out of media duty.

Tank it on the first day.

Way to go, Eames.

"Captain, has the fourth victim been identified?" a mousy-looking reporter on the second row asked me.

And he was suddenly my new favorite.

"At this time, no she hasn't, but as we speak, detectives are working together with the medical examiner in an effort to put a name with the face, and rest assured, they won't stop until all three unknown victims have been identified, and justice has been found for these senseless killings."

A little over an hour later, I slammed the door on my office.

I whipped off my blazer and threw it in the general direction of the coat rack and then I flopped into one of the visitors' chairs.

Oh my God.

Things had gone much better once I was able to talk about the current case, because even though Bobby and Logan hadn't positively ID'd anyone yet, they were amassing evidence and they'd come a long way since this morning.

But what was all of that crap about Yuille?

I mean, I know they screwed up, but honestly, it could've happened to anyone. And like I said, I think the sister deliberately tried to mislead them, and if I could prove it, I'd have them arrest her for obstruction and aiding and abetting.

I looked up when I heard a light knock on my door.

It was Maas.

I waved him in and then put my head in my hand.

"So I'm off media duty now, right?"

"Are you kidding me? Have you seen the networks? The camera loves you, Alex, and the reporters love talking about you. Keep this up and you're going to take Moran's job away from him."

He sat down in the other chair and looked at me expectantly.

"But I blew my cool. They kept talking about Yuille, and…"

"You didn't blow anything. Getting mad and showing a backbone doesn't equate to screwing up. You kept on point, and you even though you were frustrated, you didn't say anything stupid or damaging. You did really good. I'm telling you – you could give Faith Yancy a run for her money."

I rolled my eyes at him, but he just grinned.

"Face it. You're full-blown brass now."

"Just shoot me now and put me out of my misery," I joked. My phone started buzzing, so I pulled it out and checked the message.

"Goren and Logan are done at the morgue for tonight, but still no ID," I told Maas after I read the text.

"Are they calling it quits for today?"

"Looks like it. Or at least until after dinner."

"How's it coming with the sneaky Mrs. Schuler?"

"Are you asking as my boss or as a friend?"

"Right now? As a friend."

"Then I'd really rather not talk about it," I admitted.

"You know what you need?" he asked as he got up from his chair.

"A week in Cabo?"

He laughed and shook his head, and said, "Probably. But how about dinner at Pete's with friends? Are you up for it?"

"I've still got a lot of work to do. Actually, that's where …others are heading," I said, being non-specific just because we were still in the office. "But I'm not sure if I can get away just yet."

"You can," he said firmly. "Come on. Send a text and let them know you're on the way."

When I hesitated a moment longer, he added, "Boss' orders."

"I'm pretty sure that's a misuse of power," I teased as I quickly typed out a message and then picked up my jacket from where it had fallen on the floor near the coat rack.

He flashed me a smile and opened the door, gesturing for me to walk out ahead of him.

"Sue me."

TBC...