AN: This is my first fic in which I actually have a lot of Det. Carter in. First, I want to say that I hope the way I wrote her isn't too much out of character. And Second, that I love the character of Detective Carter, it gives us a strong female character who isn't a bitch and gets the job done. Anyway, I hope I was able to convey that with how I portrayed her here.

Chapter 3:

Detective Carter observed Meredith Lawson. She was a tall woman, well over six feet if she wore high enough heels and definitely exuded money and power. Long blond hair fell around her shoulders and a suit on that probably cost more than Carter made in a month.

"Is Zoe okay?" She asked a look of worry in her blue eyes. "She seemed fine when she left the bar. Otherwise, I would have made sure the doorman obtained a cab for her"

"There's some indication that Miss Morgan may have been drugged. Can you tell us anything that you remember about last night? Besides the bartender, who would have had access to your glasses?" Carter inquired.

Meredith pondered Carter's question. "As far as I remember, Zoe only had one drink. Scotch, always Scotch for Zoe. She was the one who went to the bar to order our drinks then brought it back to our table. We chatted a bit, talked about good old times. You know how it is with girlfriends."

"And what time did Miss Morgan leave?" Carter continued.

"I would say she left around ten, maybe a little before." Meredith replied. "You know, she did appear to be a bit . . . oh I don't know, anxious. She kept checking the time, as if she had some place else to be. I joked about it and asked her if she had a date. And she said no, she had to meet a client and she didn't want it to be too late when she met with him."

"So, no one got close to your drinks but yourselves?" Carter interrupted, the implication of Zoe's anxiety not sitting well. "Did Miss Morgan leave the table at any point?"

Meredith shook her head. "No, like I said, Zoe got our drinks from the bar and took them to the table herself. She didn't even excuse herself to go to the little girl's room."

Zoe was sitting in the interrogation room waiting for Detective Carter and Detective Fusco to appear. Her brain was still addled and her memory fuzzy. Having been processed, she never felt so exposed. Her blood had been drawn, her finger nails were scraped for possible skin, and her dress had been taken. Thankfully, she had been allowed to change into the clothing she had brought with her and that she didn't have to be interrogated in an orange jump suit.

Carter cast a concerned glance at Zoe as she entered the interrogation room. Zoe hadn't said anything to anyone the whole time she was being processed. Recognizing a brave front when she saw one, the detective hated the intrusive questions she was going to have to ask.

"How well did you know the David Winslow?" Carter asked. Zoe was seated at the interrogation table, her hands clasped together and resting on the surface.

"I only knew him in a professional capacity." Zoe answered.

"You did some work for him?" Carter asked, watching for any nuances or telltale signs that she was lying.

"Yes," Zoe responded, looking the detective in the eye.

"You spent quite a few nights with him, according to his secretary and his calendar." Carter hated the part of the interview where she had to make innuendoes to get her answers.

"I stayed no longer than an hour each time, Detective, not the entire night."

"What was the nature of your work for him?"

"Crisis Management . . . Risk Management."

"Can you explain that?" Carter's involvement with the Fixer was few and far between. She never fully understood what it was Zoe did, but it always seemed as if she had the answers whenever anyone needed it.

"Basically, I've been helping Winslow R&D deal with a major event that could threaten the stability of the company," Zoe explained trying to make it vague, but at the same time informative.

"Can you be more specific, what was this event?"

Sighing with regret, Zoe explained, "I'm sure you can talk to the board if you need more specifics. My contract with them specifically forbids me to discuss the nature of the consultation."

A knock came at the door interrupting Carter. Excusing herself, she stepped outside.

When she came back in, she cast a worried glance at Zoe, "Miss Morgan, the hairs they found on Mr. Winslow and the prints on the glass all belonged to you. Can you explain that?"

"It appears I may have been at his apartment and had a drink with him, but I honestly can't remember."

Carter knew how difficult her next statements were going to be to Zoe. Hesitating slightly, she finally looked Zoe in the eye with deep regret. "Miss Morgan, you were drugged."

Running her hands through her hair, Zoe asked. "What was it?"

"Gamma-hydroxybutyric acid or GHB."

"Like Rohypnol or roofies." Zoe stated face devoid of emotion.

Carter tentatively laid her hand on Zoe's, "We also found an item in Mr. Winslow's apartment . . . Do you recognize these?" Carter reached inside the evidence bag and pulled out the item. The look on Zoe's face turned to confusion as Carter brought out a red lace panty.

"Those are mine. They're part of a set a fr-friend gave me for Christmas." The faint stutter in her voice was the only give-away to Zoe's state of mind.