Alex POV

I hung up with Bobby and felt marginally better.

Not because he'd said anything in particular, but just because.

I had a few minutes before I needed to head downstairs, but before I could get started on anything, my phone rang.

"Eames," I answered.

"Hi, honey."

"Dad?"

"Surprised to hear from me?" he countered.

"Well, yeah," I admitted. "Are you and Mom still in Boston?"

"We got back late last night. Her sister is doing much better, and I think we were starting to get on her nerves," he said. Then he chuckled and added, "Or at least I was getting on her nerves."

I checked my watch and then leaned back in my chair.

I could talk for two minutes.

"That sounds about right. She never did care much for you, did she?"

"Now that just hurts, Alex," he joked. "But you're right. She tried to talk your mom out of marrying me, but lucky for me your mom is hardheaded."

"All good Eames women are," I replied, since I knew that was going to be his next statement.

"Yes, they are. So tell me what I've been missing out on. We haven't spoken in weeks, and I'm trying not to take that too personally."

"I've just been really busy and…"

"Too busy for your father?"

I sighed and looked at my watch again.

"Of course not. But I'm actually on my way out of the office now, so…how about we try for dinner on Saturday night?"

Saturday.

By then, I could be unemployed.

Or married.

Or possibly both, because I had a feeling that if things went south on Friday, I wouldn't be able to stop myself from whisking Bobby away to the no-wait state of Connecticut.

I could see it now…

No, I didn't get fired, Dad, but I quit along with thirty-three other members of the NYPD. Oh, and I got married, too.

Wouldn't that make for interesting dinner conversation?

"It's a date," he said happily, oblivious of my predicament. "Bobby, too, right?"

"You really like him, don't you?" I asked, unable to keep from smiling.

"He makes my baby girl happy. What's not to like?" he replied. "So tell me what's new with you? What kind of cases do you have going on?"

"Dad, are you seriously going to tell me that you don't know?"

"Don't know what?"

"Haven't you been watching the news?"

"You know your aunt," he said on a groan. "It's that damn game show network twenty-four-seven. I haven't seen the news since I left town two weeks ago."

"Oh," I said as I glanced at my watch again. "Well, tune into Channel 7 for their noon broadcast. You'll get a kick out of it."

"Why?"

"You'll see. I really need to run, Dad. I'll talk to you again soon."

Ten minutes later, I was in front of the cameras.

I was slightly nervous about what Theresa was going to throw at me because even though we'd had a nice enough chat this morning, that didn't mean she wouldn't bury me alive if she got the chance.

Reporters could make their career by busting open a big story and since I was currently hiding a huge secret by the name of Bobby, it stood to reason that the possibility existed that someone might find out.

Just before I started to speak, I got a text from Bobby.

We caught one of the killers and he wants to talk. This might be that break we've been waiting for. On our way to 1PP now.

I wasn't going to make any kind of announcement about that now, but it sounded like maybe it would all come to a head soon. I smiled and tucked my phone back into my pocket and then braced myself for the first question.

"Captain, yesterday it was suggested that you have ties to the Italian mafia due to an incident involving Enzo Lettiere."

"Is that a question?"

"No, but this is. Isn't the fact that charges against him were dropped further evidence of those ties?"

"No, it's actually evidence that the justice system in this country is still in proper, working order."

"Because he's innocent?" the mouse asked skeptically.

"That's right. And it's a travesty that it was assumed otherwise simply because of his affiliation with Toscano. Mr. Lettiere has never been convicted of any murder, and until Sunday, he'd never even been charged with one."

"But wasn't it actually because of the fact that his knife was sticking out of the chest of the victim?"

"Yes, but if the investigation had been handled properly, charges never would've been filed. After examination of the victim by the ME, it's been shown that Mr. Lettiere is physically incapable of having committed the crime."

"So now you're saying that the detectives at the 7th precinct are incompetent?"

"I'm not saying that at all. I'm saying..."

"That they were screwing up," the mouse interrupted. "Until you stepped in and saved the day, right?"

"Are you calling me a super hero, Herb?" I asked with heavy sarcasm.

Several reporters laughed and the mouse closed his mouth.

Theresa stood patiently off to one side with her hand raised slightly in an effort to get my attention.

And like I said, even after our conversation this morning, I was still unsure of her motive as far as I'm concerned.

She was either going to go for the throat or pitch me a grapefruit.

I was hopeful about it, since she wasn't just shouting out damning interrogatives, so I bit the bullet.

"Theresa," I said with a nod in her direction.

"I was just going to say that I find it refreshing that someone of your position is so dedicated to making sure that the proper person is behind bars. We see it a lot with officers fresh out of the academy, but usually by the time someone hits captain, it's all about numbers."

Wow.

Not just a grapefruit, but an out and out compliment.

I guess I made a good impression on her after all.

"Thank you," I said.

"No need to thank me. I spoke with a high-level member of your department earlier today, and he shared with me some of the highlights of your career, and I have to say that I'm very impressed. You don't take short cuts. Ever."

"Is there a question in there?" another reporter called out jokingly.

"Here's my question," Theresa said. "Why in the world would Mayor Holt consider, even for only one second, moving you out of Major Case? It would be the biggest mistake of his career."

Oh my God.

Did she really just say that?

She was insinuating that he'd be an idiot to make the change, and even though these media sessions were only sometimes picked up by the national networks, they were definitely a regular part of the local news, and local was all Holt cared about.

His constituency was only local.

It seemed like everything around me slowed down as I stared at her in open-mouthed shock, and then suddenly things went back to normal speed as questions flooded in.

"Is Mayor Holt still considering replacing you with former Captain Danny Ross?"

"When will he make the announcement?"

"Will you be taking another position within the NYPD?"

"Does the shake-up have anything to do with your alleged affair with Detective Logan?"

I did my best to answer all of the questions.

"It's a possibility, yes."

"Friday."

"It's very unlikely."

"I'm not even going to dignify that with a response."

While I provided the answers, my mind scrambled to figure out what I'd done to win her over.

And who had she talked with about me?

Moran?

Or Stanley?

Whoever it was, she must have called him as soon as she finished with me.

I finished the press conference and, after sharing a quick, appreciative look with Theresa, I went inside the building,

And I still don't completely trust her, but damn…her statement went a long way towards turning the tide for me.

As usual, my phone rang while I was still in the back hall.

"Eames."

"Once a week," Zaring said.

"I'm sorry?"

"If you stay on as captain, I'd like you to do a weekly press conference. Would you agree to that?"

"Are we negotiating terms? What does Holt say about it?"

"After what Theresa said on camera today? I think we both know what he's going to say. He was ready to go with you yesterday, after that little resignation letter stunt, until the mafia thing popped up."

"I had nothing to do with those resignation letters."

"I never thought for a second that you did. I'm just saying…you cleared up the Italian stumbling block and his intelligence was called into question should he make the change. It's practically a done deal. If you can pull one more rabbit out of your hat…"

"You mean like catching the FBK?"

"Are you kidding me?" he boomed. "That would be Ross' only remaining viable argument, that your detectives can't find this guy. So how's it coming? Are you close to catching him?"

"Goren and Logan are closing in on him, yes. I'm going up now to watch the interrogation of one of the killers."

"Hot damn, Captain. This battle's turned into a good old-fashioned ass-whipping," he said on a laugh. "So…weekly press briefings? You're my girl, right?"

I bit back the retort that was on the tip of my tongue because I knew he was trying.

"Once a week, time permitting," I conceded.

"Excellent."

"And you really have to stop calling me your girl," I added, unable to stop myself.

He was quiet for a moment and then he laughed loudly.

"Kenny keeps telling me I need to learn how to appreciate your honesty," he replied. "And maybe he's right. Okay, Alex. It's a deal. And if your boys come through on FBK, I'll even add my letter to the stack if Holt tries to move you."

He didn't wait for my response, but instead just hung up the phone, so I stood in the hallway listening to dial tone for a moment as the realization seeped in.

Zaring's behind me now, too?

How the hell did that happen?

My phone rang again before I could put it back into my pocket.

This time, it was Stanley.

"You know you could've told me," I said when I answered.

"Told you…wait, how did you know?"

"Who else could it have been?"

"Good point. Yeah, I'm sorry about that."

"Sorry?" I asked in confusion. "Why? It must have been the final push she needed."

"What?"

I paused for a moment as I realized that he and I were talking about two completely different things.

"Let's start this again. Did you talk to Theresa about me?"

"I haven't spoken with her since last night."

"Oh," I replied. So…Moran? "Okay, so then what are you talking about? What are you sorry for?"

"I…um…sort of broke one of your lamps."

"In the apartment?"

"Well, yeah. Traci came over late last night, and we…"

"Got it," I interrupted. "And don't worry about it. It's your place now."

"I know, but it's still got some of your stuff."

"That I left behind by choice. If it held any kind of sentimental value for me, I would've taken it."

"Okay," he agreed. "So what happened with Theresa? Someone talked to her about you?"

"You didn't catch the live feed?" I asked, because even though the networks had mostly stopped running the conferences live, choosing instead to air them during their noon broadcast, the police network still ran it live every day.

"No, I was in a meeting with Paulson."

"From the 7th?"

"Yeah," he answered, but then he didn't elaborate.

"Oh. Okay, so Theresa came through for me. And now Zaring's pretty much on my side, too."

I filled him in on the conversation I'd had with the commissioner.

"It's going to be a good week, Captain," he said when I finished, and I could tell from the sound of his voice that he was smiling.

"I hope so."

"FBK?"

"I'm going upstairs now. Mike and Bobby caught the latest killer and he's supposedly ready to talk."

"Let me know."

I hung up with Maas and went upstairs, and as soon as I got off the elevator, Yuille and Wyatt came hurrying over to me.

"Nice briefing, Captain," Wyatt said. "But I think you need this FBK bust to seal the deal."

"That pretty much sums it up," I agreed.

"Let us help," Yuille said. "We just finished the paperwork on Angela. It's ready to go to the DA as soon as you sign off on it. We can do Goren and Logan's scut work to save them some time."

"You're offering to go blind looking through Facebook printouts?" I questioned skeptically.

I know they're good guys, but still…no detective likes doing that kind of work, especially not only that kind of work.

"We're a team, Captain," Yuille stated. "Isn't this how it works?"

"Well, as long as he can do scut work and still get off in time for his date tonight," Wyatt joked.

Yuille glared at Wyatt and then looked at me and said, "It doesn't matter. I can postpone if I need to."

"Where are Goren and Logan?" I asked.

"Interrogation," Wyatt said with a nod toward Interrogation Three.

"I wouldn't know where to tell you to start," I admitted. "I don't know exactly where they are on this."

"Well, I know they wanted to call all of the female friends on Delaney's list to see if they can ID the Jane Doe, right? And the file is here, the one from Paramus. We can start looking through that, too."

"Okay," I agreed with a nod. "Get to it, and let me know what you find. I'm going to listen in on the interrogation, and when they're done, the five of us will do a rundown."

"Yes, ma'am," Wyatt said. He and Yuille both turned and started towards the conference room where Mike and Bobby still had the evidence spread out for easier access.

"Oh, and Yuille," I called out. He stopped and turned around and I said, "Date?"

And I was only partly teasing. Because even though it's not really my business, if he said Christy, I was going to lose a lot of respect for him.

"Yeah, it's um…Sarah Wolfe," he answered. "You thought I was going to say Christy, didn't you?"

"No, but you can't blame me for asking."

Well, he probably could, but he didn't. He just nodded and smiled at me and then joined Wyatt in the conference room.

I went into the observation room and watched for a moment without clicking on the intercom.

Sometimes the body language is easier to read when there aren't any voices to taint perspective.

Bobby had the chair turned around backwards and was sitting with his legs wide and his forearms propped on the back of the chair. It was an open and conversation-inviting position.

Mike was sitting on the edge of the table, with his back to the glass and his body angled towards the suspect.

They were both close to the young man, who had tears streaming down his face.

I reached up and hit the button.

"…so you can understand," the man was saying.

"Because you think your life is more important than the life of Melissa," Mike replied.

"I didn't say that."

"Maybe not, but you killed her in an effort to save yourself," Bobby reasoned. "You took her life on the off chance that it might help you out of this mess you've gotten yourself into."

"I should've just killed myself."

"You want me to argue with you?" Mike asked him.

Ellis brought his eyes up and stared at Mike for a minute and then Bobby.

"I wanted to. But I'm a coward."

"Don't be one now," Bobby encouraged. "Be the hero. Tell us who's behind this."

"I don't know. I saw it in a chat room. The guy's anonymous."

"How was the payment going to be made?"

"The money's sitting in an offshore account. He said he'd text the winner the account access information."

"And the losers?"

"The losers get the information on when the next round starts."

"The next round?" Bobby asked, echoing my thoughts.

"It's not just a one-time thing."

One more reason why we need to catch this guy sooner rather than later.

"So how do you know this money even exists?"

"I saw it."

"You saw the money?"

"He made a screenshot of the account balance. Exactly a million dollars."

"A screenshot. And he posted it to the Automator file?"

"That's right."

"Bullshit. We've been in the Automator account. It only has pictures of dead girls."

"So then he took it back out. I don't know. But I saved it."

I perked up at his statement, and I noticed that Mike and Bobby shared a look, too.

"You saved it?"

"You'll find it when you go through my laptop," he insisted. "I kept looking at it, trying to get my nerve up to go through with it. It's the only reason why I did it."

"Okay," Bobby said as he got up. "Sit tight. We'll be back."

The two of them left the room and I met them out in the hall.

"Did you catch all of that?" Mike asked me in disgust. "He's into a loan shark for half a mil, so he decides to kill to get it. And we're supposed to feel sorry for him?"

"No," Bobby answered. "But I can see why he did it more than any of the others."

"Where's the laptop?"

"Scott's going through it now," Mike answered as he pulled out his phone. "I'll give him a call."

"You think he'll be able to get something off of a screenshot?" I asked Bobby as Mike wandered a few feet away to make the call. "Maybe backtrack the account?"

"I hope so," he said, and as he stood there, I noticed that he ran his hand over his leg a few times.

"Are you okay?"

"What? Oh…yeah, I'm fine."

"You keep rubbing your leg. Did you get hurt when you picked up Ellis?"

"No."

I stared at him for a moment, but then he said suddenly, "I need to see those photos again."

"Which ones?"

"The other girls. The ones we didn't know about. Which one was first?"

"I don't know if Scott could tell."

"We need to know," he said as he headed for the conference room.

"Oh, hey, I've got Wyatt and Yuille lending a hand," I said as I followed him down the hall.

"Good. They can help me put them on a timeline."

"Timeline?" Mike asked as he caught up to us. "And Scott found the screenshot. He's emailing it now, and he's going to see what he can get from it."

"Okay. We need to work on that, and we need to focus on those other girls. We keep running after the new ones, but we haven't asked why this whole thing got started."

"A competition," Mike stated. "Right?"

"Yeah, but why?" I posed, picking up on Bobby's train of thought.

"Exactly. Because it's almost always about the first one, right?"

TBC...