When Alex opened her eyes, Bobby was already awake. Resting on his side, facing her, he watched her as she slept. "How long have you been up?" she asked sleepily.

With a smile, he shrugged. "I don't know. Bergman already made his rounds and gave me the green light to get out of here. He said I was okay to go in to work today, but he doesn't want me to chase down any more suspects."

She reached up and ran her fingers along his jawline. "How do you feel about that?"

He shrugged. "I don't know. Give me a little time to let it sink in."

"He's not pulling the plug on the job."

"Not yet, not entirely. Just...halfway."

"What about us?"

His brow furrowed. "What about us?"

"Are we okay...to play with one another?"

His expression brightened. "Sex? Yes. We still have a green light on that, at least."

She smiled. "Does that make it a little easier to swallow that work pill?"

"A little."

She stretched, and he skimmed his hand over her side and her hip, down along her thigh. She let out a soft groan. "So," she whispered. "Work or home?"

"Work, then home," he answered, kissing her jaw, wishing it could be home, just home. "I wish we could go straight home. There's nothing I would like better than...spending time with you. But...Mike's on his way. We have a suspect to grill be-before we have to street him. He dropped Maggie and Harry off at school, and Denise is going to watch Tom and Molly. Once we have this interrogation out of the way...then...then we can go home, while Mike gets the kids."

"You already have it all figured out."

"I want...I, uh, I need time with you."

She laughed. "I know what you want," she teased.

He kissed her. "Yep," he murmured against her mouth. "You do."

He covered her mouth again, slid his hand against her skin as he eased it under her shirt. She laughed and squirmed, and he felt good.

The door opened and Mike came into the room. "Hey, hey, hey," he said with a laugh. "Feeling better, I see," he joked.

"I'm feeling good," Bobby answered.

"Yeah? What did they put in that IV before they took it out?"

"I didn't ask. Uh, I just have to get dressed."

"Take your time. Ol' George isn't goin' anywhere."

Twenty minutes later, the three detectives left the hospital. Mike drove them to 1PP, where Albright was waiting for his partner. Mike and Bobby sat at their desks, and Bobby immediately immersed himself in the files Mike had left on his desk for him.

Alex watched him, smiling affectionately. "And...he's gone," she joked, turning her attention to Albright. "Okay, Cutter, what's on our plate today?"

George Walters paced restlessly in the interrogation room. No one had said much of anything to him after they brought him in, and he hadn't seen the two detectives he'd held at bay with his gun. Well, not his gun, technically... He wondered if the cops would care.

He turned toward the door when it opened and the two cops from the alley came into the room. He didn't remember them as being such big men. He felt a bit intimidated and he backed away from the table, pressing his back against the wall.

"Something wrong, George?" Goren asked.

"N-N-Nothing...I...I just think I'm more comfortable here."

"Really? Nonsense! Come on over here and sit down. We want to ask you some questions."

George hesitated before he moved closer to the table and finally sat in the chair that was furthest from the two detectives. Bobby placed his elbows on top of the file folder he'd laid on the table in front of him and folded his hands in front of his mouth. He studied their victim's office assistant.

"It's no secret that you didn't like your boss," Bobby said.

"So? Lots of people didn't like him. Lots. His own wife didn't like him much."

Bobby looked at Mike and said, "He's right about that. If we were gonna drag in everyone who didn't like Harrison Pritchard, we'd have a full house here for days."

Mike scratched his ear. "But, ya know...everyone who didn't like the guy wasn't inclined to kill him. The others...well, no motive, no opportunity, no murder."

Bobby shook his head and pushed his hand through his hair. "That's true. Only one person who didn't like him took that final step. Only one person killed him."

"We've narrowed it down some," Mike added. "A lot in fact. We're down to...how many suspects?"

Bobby leaned back in his chair, stretching his back. "Two. We've narrowed it down to two...and you're one of them, George."

"Yeah, two," Mike said as George silently opened and closed his mouth, not knowing what to say. "The ADA we work with has a saying he's fond of using, doesn't he, Goren?"

"That's right, Logan. He tells people that the dominoes are about to start falling and you're gonna want to get ahead of them. Think about that. One of you is gonna go down for this murder. One of you is responsible. Whether the guy who did the crime goes to jail or not may not matter as much to us as it does to you. As long as someone goes to jail for it, we're happy."

"Is that gonna be you, George? Are you going down for this murder?"

Finally finding his voice, George cried out, "I didn't kill anyone!"

Bobby leaned forward over the table toward George. "So give us something to work with here. You're the one we have in here right now. We can exclude you by process of elimination or we can get the other guy in here and talk to both of you until someone confesses."

Mike leaned back in his chair. "It doesn't matter to us either way. My partner here, he's really good at getting confessions. May as well cut to the chase if you did do it."

George was sweating profusely and starting to panic. "But I didn't!"

Bobby was getting the feeling that he was being honest with them. "Best thing you can have to convince us of that is a solid alibi," he said gently.

"Uhm, exactly how do I get one of those?"

Mike laughed; he couldn't help it. "An alibi is proof that you were someplace else, doing something else, when Pritchard was murdered."

"What kind of proof?"

The two detectives exchanged looks. "If you were somewhere else," Bobby said, leaning in closer. "You tell us where you were and we'll try to confirm it."

Mike let Bobby play up to the suspect. Stupid might not be contagious, but it amused Bobby more than it did him. "Worst possible alibi," Mike said. "'I was home alone.'"

Bobby nodded. "Your cat isn't the most reliable witness to confirm your alibi."

George laughed nervously. "How'd you know I have a cat?"

Bobby waved a hand at him. "Your sweater...uh, cat hair. I'm allergic to cats, and my little girl has one, so I know."

The expression on George's face changed. "You let your kid have a cat, even though you're allergic?"

Bobby looked at Mike, then back at George. His brow furrowed a little. "I, uh, yes. I do."

"Why?"

Mike interrupted. "That's not what matters, George. Do you have an alibi or not?"

George ignored him, his attention focused on Goren. "Why?" he repeated.

"Because she wanted the kitten," Bobby answered simply.

George seemed to consider that. "How old is she?"

"Six. Look, George, this isn't about me..."

"In a way, it is. She your only kid?"

"No. I have four children."

"And you're close to them?"

"I am."

George looked down at his hands. "You're a family man...and I held a gun on you. My father died when I was a kid, and that was something I never got over." He looked up, meeting Bobby's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said with sincerity. "You're a cop, and I was scared, and it never occurred to me that you had kids."

Bobby gave him a nod, filing the information away for later reference. "Last Tuesday, George. Between 11:30 am and 1:00 pm. Where were you?"

"Tuesday...that was the...the...17th, right?"

Bobby nodded and George closed his eyes, trying to remember. "Oh...Oh...oooh!" he exclaimed. "The office staff had a Christmas party that day, at lunchtime. It was at Turtle Soup, that South American restaurant a couple of blocks from the office. Mr Pritchard wasn't there but Mr. Muldoon was. Everyone got a little sauced, but that was okay. They gave us the booze, after all."

Mike was getting irritated at the guy's tendency to ramble, but Bobby was attentive to every word. "So everyone was there, except Mr. Pritchard?"

"Hold on...uhm, no. Mr. Muldoon left at about quarter to twelve, and we noticed that his assistant, Lucy...she wasn't around, either. But they were back at about twenty after."

"Together?"

"About five minutes apart. He said he had to make a phone call and she claimed she was in the restroom, doing her hair."

Mike snorted. "Right. We'll look into that."

"And Ralph, the office manager," George added. "Ralph was missing, too."

"Did he come back?" Bobby asked.

"He was never there. He was supposed to be, but he wasn't. But I was there, the whole time. I swear, I was."

Bobby nodded slowly. "Okay, George. We're going to check into what you told us. An officer will take you back to your holding cell, and we'll talk later."

He and Mike left the room, joining Ross in the adjacent observation room. "What do you think?" Ross asked.

"We'll check into his story and let you know," Bobby answered.

The captain turned to him and met his eyes. "No, detective, I meant what do you think? Is this guy good for it?"

Bobby slowly shook his head, somewhat surprised that Ross was placing any faith in his opinion. "I don't think so. I mean he'll have to answer for running from us and for holding a gun on us, but I don't think he killed his boss. We'll check his alibi."

Ross looked at Mike. "Logan? Do you agree?"

"Yes, I do. I think his alibi will hold up. I'm more interested in finding out what Muldoon and his assistant were up to."

Bobby laughed softly and started for the door. "Goren," Ross called to him.

Bobby turned. "Yes, sir?"

"How are you feeling? Are you up to this?"

"I feel fine, thank you, sir."

"And yesterday?"

"Yesterday was a fluke, captain. I just overdid it. I'm fine."

Ross glanced at Logan, who nodded. He'd watch over his partner. "Keep me in the loop," he said.

Bobby nodded curtly, not really intending to discuss his health with the captain unless he absolutely had to. Alex was pretty good at keeping the man informed.

He and Mike left to gather their things. Bobby crossed over to the desks Alex and Albright used. He leaned over and spoke softly into his wife's ear. She smiled. He said something else, then placed a kiss on her temple and left with Mike, who waved at her.

"Everything okay?" Albright asked.

She looked at him, her smile still in place. "Yes. Now where were we?"

They returned to their work, but Alex's mind kept straying to Bobby's whispered words. After so many years of being so reserved in the company of other cops, he finally decided that it didn't matter. He got past his reticence. She was his wife. Before his tender kiss, he'd told her that he would see her at home later, that he didn't expect them to return to the squad room. And he told her that he loved her.