Hi guys! Thank you all so much for the kind words, the follows and just for taking the time to read my blahblahblah :3 I know I've been updating a lot, I just throw out a chapter every time I have the time. I've got enough storyline planned out for this to go for another eight or nine chapters if I keep the chapters this size. As always, review but please be gentle! (I promise one of these chapters will end in something other than a huge twist, but not this time!)

The next few days passed in a blur. A frantic Angela Rizzoli came to Jane's apartment before the sun rose the following day, to find her daughter and Maura curled up together over the covers of Jane's queen sized bed. Jo Friday raised a sleepy head at Angela as she stood in the doorway, unsure of whether to disturb them. Seeing them lying together brought a twinge in Angela's chest.

The entire group threw themselves into work. Maura did not handle sharing her morgue with Pike well. When the man had the audacity to bring Paddy's heart to her to "ask for an opinion" with a smug smile on his face, Maura was pleased that Jane and Frankie were in her office. Frankie felt a small pang of guilt knowing he'd broken an elderly mans nose. Jane felt no such guilt.

The funeral of Frost and the cadets was something Jane wished she could forget. Standing in her dress blues at his graveside was one of the most horrible moments in her life. She saw Frost's mother being almost carried down behind his casket by her weeping wife. Jane realized afterwards as they were all sitting at The Dirty Robber that his father hadn't been at Barry's funeral.

Suddenly, it was the day after the funeral and Jane found herself sitting at her desk with coffee in her hand, staring at Barry's empty desk. Cavanaugh walked in, clearing his throat loudly.

"Attention everyone. I know that this is a difficult time for everyone here, but we need to push through. For Frost, for Doctor Isles, for the Rizzolis, even for me, though I don't expect you to break your necks for that last one."

Jane was sure that was supposed to be a joke, but instead she just felt sick to her stomach.

"I truly wish I was handing out this achievement at a more cheerful time, where everyone could go grab a beer and celebrate. I was going to hold off until after the investigation was cleared, but it seems we'll need the manpower. I would like you to all give a round of applause to the newest homocide detective, Francesco Rizzoli."

Jane mustered a weak smile and a clap for her brother. She was proud of him, she truly was, but this was an awful time to be doing this. Cavanaugh knew that, everyone in the department knew that. Nevertheless, they clapped and cheered for the clearly shell-shocked Frankie.

When the handshakes and accolades died down, Frankie made his way to Jane and Korsak.

"We haven't cleaned out his – I mean, we don't have a – maybe you could..." stammered Jane, trying to skirt the issue.

"Forget about it, I don't need a desk. We'll worry about it later." said Frankie stoically as he carefully ignored the wooden elephant in the room. "Where we at?"

Korsak looked at the three whiteboards lined up, all dedicated to this one case. Pictures, arrows, names were scrawled everywhere; it was difficult to read anything at all.

The picture of Liam Doyle was dead centre, flashing a cocky half smile at them all. His rap sheet was nothing short of impressive. Burglary, arson, extortion, murder, manslaughter,racketeering, drug-trafficking, solicitation, the list went on. "How are we supposed to offer protection to a guy eight states can't find?" muttered Jane, glaring at him and trying to ignore his resemblance to Maura.

"We don't. He's got his own people, they'll keep him safe." said Korsak, flicking through his notes for the hundredth time.

"Yeah. Let's go back, to the start. This all started with Paddy." said Frankie, flipping one whiteboard over and writing Paddy's name on the fresh surface. "Who do we think killed Paddy?"

Jane raised an eyebrow. "You're going to need another whiteboard."

Frankie glared at her. "You know what I mean, who are our top picks?"

Korsak leaned against his desk, thinking. "Well, there's the heads of the other mob families, they could have done it pretty easily. Pay off a guard here and there, you could get in easily enough."

Jane put her head in her hands. "We've been through the dead guard and the missing guards financials with a tooth comb. They were barely going to make rent this month, let alone... oh my god, that's it."

Frankie and Korsak hurried to get out of the way of the hurricane that followed. Jane threw papers off her desk left and right, until she finally found the piece of paper she was looking for.

"Korsak, studio apartment downtown, how much you think that would go for a month?"

Vince scratched his head. "Maybe $600? The street the missing guy lived on was a dump though, so maybe less. Plus he shared with another two people, so probably less..."

Jane cut him off. "So why was he paying $1100 a month in rent?"

Korsak grabbed the paper from her. "That can't be right." As he checked the numbers, he realized where Jane was going as she tapped on her computer. "The rental agency name is a fake."

"Probably a front for the mob, yeah?" said Frankie, catching on.

"That's what I'm thinking. Guy gets in too deep with gambling or drinking or something like that, starts paying off the mob through his 'rental company' so everything looks on the level, mob finds out he's a prison guard, pays him to get somebody in. They kill the other guard, kill Paddy, and then our guy either chickens out or is classed as one too many witnesses and gets dragged off. We gotta find out where his money was going and fast, because that's our killer."

While the homocide department started running internet searches as fast as their fingers could go, three floors below them Pike and the crime lab techs left for lunch. Maura wasn't sure how long they had been gone before she noticed she was alone in the lab, staring at autopsy reports without actually taking in any information.

She didn't hear footsteps, and she didn't hear the back door softly click shut.

"Hey, sis."

Maura spun to find herself face to face with Liam Doyle. Before she could scream or defend herself, she felt the prick of the needle in her neck and she slumped into his arms. Whistling, Liam tossed her into a firemans carry and strolled out the back door to a waiting car, tossing her cellphone onto a bench with a gloved hand.

Maura didn't stir.