One look at Steve Austin's face and Malenko knew the other man was the bearer of bad news. Austin slumped down in a chair across from Malenko's desk and snarled, "Damn!"

"What's the bad news?" Malenko sighed.

"The court appointed psychiatrist who evaluated Flair agrees he's not competent to stand trial," Austin growled. "Son of a bitch is gonna wind up in a comfortable psych hospital instead of a prison cell!"

Malenko leaned back in his chair. "So that's it? He doesn't stand trial for Friedman's murder?"

"The prosecutor has filed motions to get copies of the court psychiatrist's reports," Austin answered. "She'll probably get them because the defense psychiatrists reports were given to us under discovery."

"You think the court psychiatrist was bought off?"

Austin shrugged. "It's a possibility. But, for now, Flair doesn't stand trial for anything." He studied Malenko's face for a few moments. "Want me to go with you to tell Friedman's family?"

"The memorial service for Friedman is this evening," Malenko sighed. "From what I've heard, his mother is barely hanging on and his father isn't in much better shape. I'll talk to their daughter tonight." He studied Austin for a few moments. "You heading back to DC? Or is it New York?"

Austin coldly smiled. "Nah, I'll be here for a little while. I think those two FBI agents were telling the truth. I still wanna work on that for a bit."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Black stared at the neighborhood that surrounded the building Marko had recently vacated. "I wonder how many of these buildings are in as bad shape as this one?"

"There's a research project," Jericho grinned as he straightened his tie. "Once we find that out, we can work out a proposal to give to Roman to buy the buildings and renovate them for low-income housing."

Black raised a sardonic eyebrow. "We?"

Jericho cheerfully nodded as they got out of the car and gently swung the briefcase at his side. "We can split the work between you, me, and Marko. Now, let's go put the fear of God into this bitch."

'Or the fear of something.' Black silently followed Jericho into the building. As Jericho knocked on the door of the landlord, he studied the interior. "I doubt this place can be renovated. More likely demolition and rebuild," he muttered.

Jericho nodded in silent agreement as the apartment door opened. "Hello," he cheerfully greeted as he pushed his way into the apartment, Black on his heels.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Black took control of the door and gently closed it. "Stop screaming. It…offends me," he coldly spoke, an icy look in his blue eyes.

Jericho smiled when the woman started to mouth off to Black, then stopped as she saw the look in his eyes. Instead, she turned to Jericho and hissed, "Get out. Now."

"Now Flora…or should I say Stella Grant or Maggie Owens or Constance Evans?" He set his briefcase down on the kitchen table and resigned himself to losing it. While her apartment was cleaner than the rest of the building, he wasn't inclined to bring germs back with the briefcase.

Flora's eyes widened. "I don't know those people," she finally blurted out.

"Don't waste your time lying to us," Black coldly warned.

"Since the name on the deed to this building is Flora Robinson, I guess we'll use that one," Jericho decided. "Have a seat." He waved to a chair at the table.

When Flora didn't move, Black roughly pulled the chair out from the table and loomed over her. "He said for you to have a seat. He said it nicely." He leaned his head down and added, "I'm not nice."

Flora quickly sat, trying to keep her eyes on both Jericho and Black.

"This is a proposal to purchase this building," Jericho explained as he put some papers in front of her. "Current market value for this neighborhood is $30,000. We're offering you $45,000. One-time offer. Take it or leave it."

"And if I leave it?" Flora sneered.

Black leaned down and whispered in her ear, "That would be a…mistake."

Flora jerked away from Black who made sure she didn't stand up. She glared up at Jericho. "This is all that fucking little nerd's fault. He…" She stopped talking when Black's hand touched her throat.

"Never speak of him again," Black quietly warned. "In any way."

"All you need to do is sign this agreement to sell the building. Now or the deal's off." Jericho put a pen beside the papers.

"I want cash," Flora demanded.

Jericho turned the open briefcase around so she could see the money neatly stacked inside of it. He almost laughed out loud at the greed in her eyes as she quickly took the pen and signed 'Flora Robinson'.

Jericho took the paper, folded it and put it into his jacket pocket.

As Flora reached for the briefcase, Black tossed a bus schedule onto the table. Despite herself, she glanced up at him.

"You're leaving. Pack and be gone within an hour," Black ordered.

"A piece of advice," Jericho offered with a pleasant smile. "Don't take a plane. You'll have to go through security and those machines are awfully good about detecting things people don't want found. You'll be arrested and the money confiscated. And, within 24 hours, the authorities will find out all the places Stella Grant, Maggie Owens, and Constance Evans have arrest warrants."

"Take a cab or Uber to the bus station," Black ordered. "You have time to get on one of the three buses still leaving today. If you're not, there would be…difficulties for you."

"I'll rent a car," Flora decided.

Jericho chuckled. "Good luck with that. Your ID is in the name of Flora Robinson. And Flora Robinson is on the car rental black list."

"That's impossible!"

Jericho shrugged. "Your former tenant isn't the only one capable with computers." He lowered his voice. "Do as you're told and move on. Today." He nodded to Black and they turned to walk to the door. As Jericho opened it and walked out, Black turned and coldly stared at her. "You're fortunate you didn't strike your former tenant. You would have nothing if you had done so. Personally, I hope you disobey so I can pay you another visit." Then he left the apartment, not bothering to shut the door behind him.

Jericho was already in the car when Black joined him. He glanced at the other man and grinned. "Put more fear into her?"

Black calmly nodded. "Is everything arranged to follow her?"

Jericho started the car as Black fastened his seatbelt. "We'll have a couple of people on whatever bus she takes. They'll stick with her until she lands somewhere. Then we'll have some of our locals take over surveillance."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Cole looked at his investigators and wondered which of them would explode first. He mentally high-fived himself when Bobby Fish's fish slammed down on the conference room table.

"When do we arrest the son of a bitch?" Bobby demanded.

"When we identify at least one of these girls and confirm she's underaged," Cole brusquely answered. He slid a piece of paper across the desk to each of them.

"I've divided the list by dates," he explained. "Kyle, you have the oldest. Bobby, you have the most recent. Roderick, you've got the middle group."

Roderick sighed. "Gunn's got a lot of highly placed friends," he pointed out, glancing at the silent Chief of Police who sat next to Cole.

Cole nodded. "And that's why we need this tied up as tightly as possible."

"We can start with arrest records," Kyle mused. "With this many underaged girls, I'd guess most of them were runaways and working the streets."

"You'll have my full cooperation," Malenko promised. "Once you get a warrant, any files we have on them will be pulled. I'll set aside a conference room for you to review them."

"No digital records?" Bobby asked.

"On the wish list," Malenko grunted.

"Make this a priority," Cole ordered. "As soon as I clear some stuff off my desk and calendar, I can give you a hand." He nodded to Malenko. "We'll work as fast as we can, but I want to make sure there's no way he can wiggle out of this on a technicality."

"I agree."

xxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Malenko saw Jamie Noble and his wife leaving the Stone Funeral Home. Noble spotted him and raised a hand in silent greeting. Malenko returned the gesture, then shook his head as he walked up the steps.

Inside, he followed the discrete signs to the correct viewing room. He signed the visitors' book and glanced around. It looked like the people who were present were most likely friends or family of the Friedmans.

He waited in the viewing line, slowly moving forward. As expected, there was no coffin, only a montage of pictures showing Friedman from infancy to adulthood. The few quietly spoken words he heard from those around him were mostly sympathetic towards Friedman's parents, although some were speculative.

Finally, he reached the front of the line. Friedman's mother, Alice, sat looking at one of the montage of pictures, a fond smile on her face. Her eyes, though, were somewhat vacant as though her thoughts were elsewhere. Her husband, George, sat on one side of her, gently holding her hand. An unknown older woman sat on Alice's other side, and their daughter, Beth, stood at the head of the receiving line.

"Capt. Malenko. Thank you for coming," Beth quietly spoke. "This is my aunt, Dr. Felicia Coffman. Aunt Felicia, this is Chief of Police Malenko."

Felicia nodded to him, giving him a silent warning look. Malenko nodded in return.

"Chief Malenko, is there…" George eagerly spoke only to be silenced by Malenko's quick shake of the head and meaningful glance at Alice. George grimaced but didn't say anything else.

Alice glanced up and smiled. "Are you a friend of Max's? He'll be so sorry to have missed you." She frowned. "It's not like Max to miss a party."

"We had several things come up this evening," Malenko smoothly answered. "He probably didn't have time to call and tell you he'd be late."

"Yes…of course…" Alice's eyes drifted back to the montage of pictures.

"My condolences, Mr. Friedman. Dr. Coffman." Malenko leaned closer to Beth. "Can we talk for a few minutes?"

Beth briefly closed her eyes and nodded. "Dad, Aunt Felicia, I'm going to walk Chief Malenko out. I need some air."

As the two walked outside, Beth took several deep breaths of air before speaking. "Mom and Dad are going home with Aunt Felicia…to St. Paul. She's a mental health counselor and will see about getting her some professional help…grief counseling maybe. Right now, she just walks around the house, looking for Max until we get her distracted. A few days ago, she asked where Max had gone. She'd just seen him lounging on the couch watching TV." She looked up at Malenko. "The TV wasn't on."

Malenko sighed. "I'm very sorry."

"The house is in Dad's name," Beth continued. "He signed it over to me as my 'inheritance' as he called it. He and Aunt Felicia think it's not doing Mom any good to stay there. Aunt Felicia's husband came from a wealthy family. Her house has a huge back yard with a small guest house. Dad will stay there. Mom's going into a facility for evaluation." Beth shuddered. "Maybe she can stay with Dad when she gets better."

"Don't you live in St. Louis?" Malenko gently asked.

Beth nodded. "I did. I explained the situation to my landlord and got out of my lease. The place was furnished so all I had to do was drive down and get my things and bring them back here. My cousins from St. Paul are coming down in a few days to get the furniture Dad wants to take along with things from the kitchen. He and Mom are going back to St. Paul tomorrow with Aunt Felicia."

She let out a sharp bark of laughter. "I don't have a clue as to what to do with the rest of the furniture. I just want it gone. I'll repaint the walls and get something as I can afford it."

"What about your job?" Malenko asked as he reached into a pocket.

"My boss has let me work remotely and said it wasn't a problem for me to keep doing that," Beth answered. "I'll have to go into St. Louis periodically, but that won't be a problem either." She watched Malenko write something on the back of a business card.

"This is the number for Father Philip at St. Catherine's Church," Malenko explained, giving her the card. "They run several domestic violence shelters. They take donations of clothing, furniture, pretty much anything that will help DV victims get set up in a home. Tell him I told you to give him a call." Malenko suddenly smiled. "Not only will he have people there to take the furniture and deliver it to their storage facility, with as much as you can give him, he'll probably rain down blessings on your head."

"Thank you." Beth slipped the card into her jacket pocket. "Now that you've been kind enough to listen to my story of woe, what's the bad news?"

Malenko sighed. "The judge in New York has ruled the man who murdered your brother is not mentally competent to stand trial."

"Is he faking?"

Malenko shrugged. "Honestly, it wouldn't surprise me. The DOJ prosecutor thinks so. She's planning to appeal the ruling. But the current ruling means no trial at this point."

"I don't know if that's a good thing or not," Beth admitted after several moments. "I don't think I can tell Dad about this. Right now, he's barely holding on."

Malenko nodded. "I'll keep you informed of any new developments," he promised. When Beth nodded in return, he gently squeezed her arm and walked away.

Forcing back a sob, Beth walked to the far end of the porch and leaned against one of the white columns. She ignored people who were coming and going, tired of both the genuine and fake sympathy in their eyes and voices. She tried to take a deep breath, but it caught in her throat and she coughed. She angrily brushed back the tears in her eyes and tried again to breathe. Then she felt arms wrapping around her and stiffened.

"Try to calm down…then breathe."

Beth glanced up in confusion. "Capt. Corbin?"

"Baron."

Beth felt hands slowly rubbing her back.

"Easy…just relax…I've got you."

Beth was grateful that his tall body was shielding her from any curious looks. "I…I…don't know how…I can't cry now…"

"Sure you can." Corbin stared over her head into the darkness. "Get it out, Beth. Get it out before it strangles you."

He wasn't surprised when she bitterly began cursing her brother for his arrogance…his greed…for putting their parents into this position. He supported her when she went limp and drenched his shirt with her tears….and stared into the darkness at something only he could see.