ACT II 

 A pair of eyes peeked through the curtains, carefully watching the comings and goings of the official personnel – various police officers, crime scene investigators, and technicians.

It was difficult, having to guess at the progress they might be making and resisting the urge to simply go up and ask someone. It might not set off any alarms – simply playing the role of a concerned neighbor, nothing more – but then again, it might. And there could be no risk of that, no matter what. They probably wouldn’t actually say anything anyway, even if they were asked.

 So no matter how maddening it was to keep still, there were simply no other options. Just keep quiet, don’t make any waves.

 Hide in plain sight.

 ****

“So tell us about Jeremy.”

 In a tiny office located in the building that housed P&T Advertising, Jacobi and Lindsay sat across from Darren Wang, the supposed best friend of Maya’s boyfriend, who remained unaccounted for.

 “J’s a good guy. We met freshman year of college, have been friends ever since. I lived in D.C. right after school, but moved out here six and a half years ago.”

 “What was his relationship with Maya like?” Jacobi questioned.

 A shadow of sadness crept over Darren’s face. “It’s awful, what happened to her. But I know Jeremy, he would never kill her,” he insisted.

 “Just answer the question, Darren,” Lindsay prodded gently. “What was their relationship like?”

 He ran a shaky hand through his hair and took a deep breath before responding. “They only met because of me, you know. Maya and I used to work together, before she switched companies. I was actually trying to get with her at one point myself, but Jeremy was always quite the charmer and swooped in before I could make my move.” With a sigh, he went on, “But they were good together. Sure, they each had more of a temper than was good for them, but they loved each other, no doubt about it.”

 “Were you jealous?”

 Darren looked confused for a moment, before it clicked. “What, of Jeremy, you mean? Because he got Maya and I didn’t?”

 At the inspectors’ expectant looks, the graphic designer raised his left hand, fingers spread, obviously meant to show off the ring around his finger. “I’m happily married now,” he explained simply, as if that alone made him immune to jealousy.

 “That may be, but it doesn’t answer the question,” Jacobi pointed out. “So were you jealous of Jeremy or not?”

 “No, I was not jealous of Jeremy,” Darren stated, as a hint of irritation crept into his tone at having to answer the question twice. “I liked Maya, but we never would have really worked. She was too high maintenance for me, and I’m guessing that I wasn’t ambitious enough for her.”

 “And were those issues with Maya and Jeremy as well? You say they each had too much of a temper; what did they fight about?” Lindsay wanted to know.

 “To be perfectly honest, the list of things that the two of them could argue about is too long to get into,” Darren admitted. “It seemed like every other time I talked with J, there was a new issue with him and Maya, or the re-occurrence of an old issue. They always made up, though,” he hurried to add. “They didn’t let things fester between them or anything like that, they didn’t hold grudges.”

 “What were they fighting about recently?”

 “Uh, I believe that the last thing I heard about was that they couldn’t decide whether their next vacation together should be through wine country, which is what he wanted, or to Yosemite, which is what she wanted. That was about a week ago, I think.”

 Suspecting that Darren certainly wouldn’t bring it up on his own, Lindsay bluntly asked, “Were either of them cheating on the other?”

 The graphic designer’s eyes widened, but Lindsay couldn’t decide whether it was in sincere surprise or in anxiety.

 “Cheating?” he repeated. “No, not that I knew of. Where’d you hear that?”

 Ignoring the question, Jacobi went on, “Where is Jeremy now?”

 “I honestly don’t know,” Darren replied. “Sometimes after arguments with Maya, he just goes off somewhere to cool down and doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going ahead of time. And I’ve tried calling his cell but haven’t gotten an answer.”

 Before another question could be asked, Lindsay’s phone interrupted the proceedings.

 “I’m kind of busy right now, Tom,” she stated gruffly into the phone, after having glanced down at the caller ID.

 Her annoyance at the disruption faded away, however, as Tom explained the reason behind the call.

 “We’ve found the murder weapon, Linz.”

 ****

 

Jill was the last to arrive at Papa Joe’s, sliding into their regular booth next to Claire.

 “Welcome,” Claire handed the blonde a martini they’d already ordered for her. “We’re talking about guns,” the M.E. explained casually. She was always amused by what went for “normal” conversation topics within their group.

 Lindsay and Cindy each smiled at the blonde before Lindsay continued where she’d left off. “So, the revolver was found stashed in some bushes, a good ten blocks away from the apartment.”

 “Meaning he leaves the building on foot,” Jill jumped right in, not missing a beat.

 Cindy interrupted, “Or drives away, but then pulls over to dump the murder weapon.”

 “And he just ditches the gun when he feels he’s far enough away from the crime scene,” Jill finished speculating. “You can say for sure that it’s the right gun?” She looked questioningly at Lindsay.

 Lindsay nodded, taking a sip of her drink. “Yep, we got enough for experts to verify that it was the gun that was used to shoot Maya. And to make matters nice and tidy for us, the gun is registered to Jeremy Grayson.”

 “So Jeremy has motive, presuming the last argument they had was bad enough, a weapon, he was seen at the apartment that morning, at least... All we need now is the man himself,” Cindy concluded.

 “What did you get from talking to the best friend?” Claire asked Lindsay.

 “Nothing much,” the inspector admitted. “There was something kind of twitchy about him, though.” She paused. “It’s possible that Maya was cheating on Jeremy with him. That would put him cheating on his wife, too. Or maybe that’s totally wrong, and it’s as simple him thinking or even knowing that Jeremy killed Maya, and he’s trying to protect the guy.”

 “Meaning we may or may not have a second suspect?” Claire chimed in. “Maybe Maya was going to either tell about her affair with the best friend or break things off, so he kills her. And hey, maybe the reason Jeremy hasn’t shown up is because this Darren guy killed him too, for some reason – jealousy, self-defense after Jeremy found out about the affair; when you think about it, we’ve got motive for him, too.”

 “He didn’t strike me as the murdering type,” added Lindsay, “but I guess you really never know.”

 Silence took over as each woman considered the case, before Jill spoke up again. “Well enough about murder anyway, a girl can only think about death for so long in a day. So what about you lovebirds,” she gestured to her friends across the table. “You found a new place to stay yet, or you both still shacking up at Cindy’s?”

 “We’re looking at some places later this week, but still ‘shacking up’ for now,” Cindy responded. “I’ve found some places that I think look good, Lindsay’s found some more that she likes... So we’ll check them out, see if we can find one together.”

 “I can’t believe you guys are moving in together!” Jill exclaimed. “I mean, I can, because you’re perfect. And you’re already living together anyway. But still! You two better not go all ‘old married couple’ on me. No offense, Claire, but I really need to know that there will still be some friends around where there’s at least the possibility of convincing them to come out with me.”

 “Why? You thinking you’re going to be single again sometime soon?” Lindsay asked hopefully. “Are you and Hollywood having problems?”

 Jill sighed. “No, we’re fine. Sorry to disappoint you all.”

 “You deserve more than ‘fine,’ Jill.” Cindy smiled gently. “And this isn’t even about our disliking Maggie.” At Jill’s disbelieving look, Cindy shrugged and admitted, “Okay, it kind of is about that. But still! It just seems like there are so many other people out there who’d be better suited for you. I mean, even Denise, of all people, has been warming up to you, and if you can make her like you, then you can make anyone like you!”

Jill almost choked on her drink and her face flushed quickly, due to both the sting of the alcohol and her surprise at just how close Cindy had unknowingly come to her little secret.

 Unable to hold back a small laugh of amusement, Claire tried to cover it with a cough, as she then patted Jill on the back.

 Lindsay looked suspiciously back and forth between the two women across from her. “What was that all about?” the inspector questioned.

 “Nothing. Nothing at all,” Jill hurried to respond.

 Cindy had picked up on her friends’ odd reactions as well. “Ooh, secrets. And you know something!” she accused Claire. “That’s not fair!”

 Claire remained silent, choosing to merely look pointedly towards the attorney.

 Knowing that her friends wouldn’t let this go until she spilled the details, Jill rolled her eyes and gave up the pretense. “Okay, okay, fine. Denise may have kissed me a little while ago.”

 It was Lindsay’s turn to choke on her drink, her eyes widening in surprise.

 “Denise did what?”

 Figuring she might as well get it all out there, Jill ignored Lindsay and continued, “And I may have kissed her at some point after that.”

 Claire looked down into her Cosmo as she murmured, “Not to mention the sex dream.” It really wasn’t her place to say anything, but in Claire’s opinion, it was about time everyone else got in on the secret.

 Cindy grinned gleefully. “Who had a sex dream? You? About Denise?” she asked Jill. “This is so exciting!”

 Jill could feel her anxiety increasing as the conversation went on. “No,” she pronounced. “This is not ‘exciting.’ She’s my boss! And I’m dating someone else! And... Christ, she’s Denise!”

 Claire reached over, placed her palm over the back of Jill’s hand, and squeezed. “So?” she asked soothingly. “You know, I can’t say I saw it coming, but you two could actually be good for each other.”

 Jill took a deep breath and closed her eyes, her mind suddenly flooded with the still-vivid memories – the feel of Denise’s warm body pressed against her, the taste of wine-soaked lips, the scent of Denise’s perfume that lingered in the air after the Acting District Attorney silently left Jill’s office.

 “I don’t suppose Maggie knows about you and Denise, though, does she?” Cindy inquired, now more subdued in the face of her friend’s obvious confusion.

 Jill’s eyes opened again at the mention of her girlfriend. “No, she doesn’t, and I don’t care how much you all don’t like Maggie, if one of you lets this slip to her, I’ll... I don’t know, I’ll egg your cars.” She paused, before adding, “There is no ‘me and Denise’ anyway. She treated me like shit today, like nothing’s changed.”

 Lindsay, Claire, and Cindy exchanged a look at the noticeable sound of regret in Jill’s voice.

 “Don’t forget that this is Denise that we’re talking about, Jill,” Claire said lightly. “The woman certainly isn’t used to appearing vulnerable, especially not to you, so it only makes sense that she’d try to build up those walls again. You can’t expect her to turn all warm and fuzzy overnight.”

 Jill frowned. She had to admit, the thought of a “warm and fuzzy” Denise just felt strange.

 Lindsay was still having trouble wrapping her mind around this new bit of information. “Can I just check that I heard things right? Denise kissed you? And you kissed her?”

 Her three friends simply rolled their eyes in amusement and ignored her.

 “But I’m sure that if you put in the effort, you could definitely tear those walls down,” Cindy added with an encouraging smile.

 “You’re all just biased because you don’t like Maggie,” Jill protested. Though she couldn’t deny the effect Denise had on her, Jill nevertheless had honest feelings for Maggie as well. “If you just gave her a chance, I bet you’d actually like her. So she made a mistake. A big one. But none of us are exactly perfect either, are we?”

 The resulting silence was answer enough.

 After several moments without anyone speaking, Claire raised her glass. “Now don’t think this means that I’m happy about your current choice in dating partner. Because I’m not. But still, you know we love you no matter what, and always will. So here’s to imperfection, then.”

 Jill smiled gratefully, happy for the sound of four glasses clinking together.

 ****

 

Cindy walked up the steps to the Hall of Justice, when she suddenly felt a burning pain explode from her chest. It was enough to make her stumble and then immediately stop her forward movement, able only to hold out one hand in front of her, as though she might fall, as the other reached to clutch at the center of her chest, her fingers splayed as widely as possible as she tried to push the pain back inside.

 Then, suddenly, she was falling, falling backwards, as if in slow motion. It felt like she’d never stop falling until, just as suddenly as before, she did.

 Claire and Lindsay hovered hazily above her, with Jill appearing moments later over Lindsay’s shoulder. They were saying something – well, their mouths were moving, at least – but Cindy couldn’t make out the words.

 Couldn’t hear anything beyond the pounding of her heart and the blood rushing through her ears.

 She looked down at herself, sprawled across the steps. Blood pouring out of her body.

 Then someone pressed the rewind button, and it happened all over again. This time she looked up before she fell, just in time to see Charlie Gifford standing at the top of the steps, gun raised in front of him and pointing directly toward her.

 Then, suddenly, she was falling, falling backwards into the abyss.

 Hazy faces, unheard voices. Blood rushing out of her body.

 Rewind.

 This time Pete Raynor stood at the top of the steps, a large grin spreading across his face.  He pointed a bouquet of white roses towards her, and a bullet shot out from within the too-perfect petals.

 For the first time, she could actually hear someone speak.

 “You’ll never be rid of me,” he said. “Neither one of you will be. Not completely. Never.”

 His grin only widened as he turned to hand the roses to Lindsay, who stood beside him, smiling, dressed in her wedding gown.

 There was a scream. Cindy thought it might have come from her own lips.

 Then, suddenly, she was falling, falling backwards, always falling backwards.

 She blinked, slowly, and when she opened her eyes, she was still falling, but Lindsay was gone from her view.

 Cindy felt a burst of panic, Lindsay’s disappearance causing more worry than the near-blinding pain in her chest.

 But then the series of events shifted yet again, this time for the better; this time, someone broke her fall, as Cindy felt a warm body reach around her, instead of the cold, hard steps.

 That comfortable warmth, familiar smell; Cindy finally felt herself relax back into Lindsay’s arms.

 She wasn’t bleeding anymore as she regained her feet, and Cindy turned to find her lover, who was no longer wearing the wedding dress but was instead clothed in her favorite combination of jeans and leather jacket. Lindsay smiled reassuringly. Even without words, the message of ‘you’re safe now’ came perfectly across loud and clear. Unable to help herself, Cindy simply took a step forward, wrapping her arms tightly around Lindsay’s body and burying her face in the soft folds of Lindsay’s jacket.

 When she pulled back, Lindsay’s expression had shifted from comforting to concerned.

 Cindy was about to ask what was wrong, when Lindsay began to speak first, reaching out to lightly shake the redhead by the shoulders. “Cindy? Cindy, baby, can you hear me? Are you okay?”

 The reporter blinked in confusion. What was going on?

 Before Cindy’s very eyes, Lindsay started to fade away, along with all the additional people and surroundings around her.

 Brown eyes blinked open, and Cindy found herself lying in her own bed, an anxious-looking Lindsay at her side.

 “What happened?” she asked uncertainly. Images flashed through her head, but she couldn’t quite make sense of any of it.

 “You were having a bad dream,” Lindsay explained, an element of relief in her eyes, now that Cindy was awake. Her hand brushed some hair out of Cindy’s face, and then ran soothingly up and down her lover’s arm.

 Then it all came back, and Cindy felt her breath hitch at the memory.

 The pain. The panic...

 Pete. Cindy couldn’t stop the shudder that ran through her body at the image of Pete and that bouquet of roses, a single bullet emerging and hurtling straight towards her.

 Something about this latest gunshot victim must have stirred up some old emotions related to her own experience, with all the Pete-related-trauma added in for good measure.

 The end of Pete’s upcoming trial couldn’t come soon enough, in Cindy’s opinion. In spite of dream-Pete’s warning, maybe then they could finally be rid of him and his hold on their lives.

 “It was awful,” Cindy whispered. “But I’m okay now,” she reassured Lindsay with a smile. “Even in my dreams, you always make sure that I’m okay.”

 ****

 

“Yeah, so I’m thinking a definite ‘no’ on that one,” Lindsay declared, as she and Cindy headed back to Lindsay’s jeep after another apartment viewing.

 “And I wholeheartedly concur,” Cindy agreed. “I mean, I’m certainly on the smaller side of people sizes, but even I thought that was too small.

 What had been described as a “cozy” downtown apartment turned out to be so small that Lindsay felt like she could barely extend her arms fully when standing in the kitchen, and there was only enough room in the bedroom for a twin bed and a small dresser. Cindy had jokingly suggested they get bunk beds again, like in the cabin.

 They were gradually learning the lingo and euphemisms for apartment hunting, though. “Cozy” meant really small. “Above average condition” was an indication that, although the place might look like it was in pretty good shape, it probably was in desperate need of a new paint job and new carpets. “Bayside view” implied that there was one window where a sliver of water could barely be seen between two other buildings that otherwise blocked most of the view. “Vintage décor” was code for tacky retro furniture and lamps. And “low maintenance front yard” meant that the grass was paved over with concrete.

 Needless to say, apartment hunting was not going too well.

 “Okay, so how about one more today?” Cindy suggested. “Then we’ll resume our search for the missing boyfriend.”

 Lindsay smiled in amusement. “You make us sound like Sherlock Holmes, or an Agatha Christie story – The Search for the Missing Boyfriend.”

 “Well, you’ll crack the case, no question. I have no doubt that you could outwit old Sherlock or Miss Marple any day,” Cindy joked as they climbed out of the car to view their next prospect.

 Surprisingly, they found it to be much better than the others; although expectations had certainly lowered over the course of the previous showings, this one actually seemed to be a lot closer to matching their criteria.

 “I could set up a little office for myself in here,” Cindy called out, envisioning where she’d put her desk, and figuring there’d still be enough room right next to it for her filing cabinet.

 Lindsay strolled slowly through the empty rooms, simply taking in the layout of the place. There actually was a nice view from this one; no false advertising for once. There was plenty of space, too. As much as they loved each other, they both knew that stuffing two strong, independent women, plus a dog, inside a cramped apartment wasn’t too good of an idea.

 It was located relatively close to both the Hall and the Register, but still far enough away that they wouldn’t have to spend all their time, both living and working, in the same part of the city.

 Of the two of them, Cindy always had the more vivid imagination, but Lindsay could definitely see them there; see this space becoming something that would represent them both.

 For Lindsay, “home” was wherever Cindy was. Even before the explosion forced her hand and necessitated her move, Lindsay’s old apartment had already stopped feeling like a home. Too many bad things had happened there. Too many complicated memories. But still, Cindy’s apartment wasn’t fully “home,” either; Lindsay knew that Cindy didn’t see it that way, but Lindsay couldn’t help but feel like an intruder most of the time. Lindsay couldn’t help but feel like it was still very much Cindy’s own space, and Lindsay just happened to be there too.

 While she hadn’t been too excited about the actual task of finding a new place for them to live, Lindsay suddenly found herself feeling almost giddy at the prospect of an impending fresh start for the two of them. It felt more real, now. Now that they’d found a place that actually seemed like it might work.

 Lindsay found Cindy standing in front of a large window in what would probably be considered as the living room. The inspector slid up behind her lover, wrapping her arms around Cindy’s waist, and smiled at the way the redhead instantly relaxed back into her body.

 They made eye contact in the reflection in the window. “Martha would like it here too,” Cindy declared knowingly. “She could sit all day by this window and watch all the squirrels in that tree.”

 Lindsay laughed. “You’re right, she would enjoy that.”

 “Plus...” Cindy began, before twisting her head to glance back at the realtor. A blush began to creep across Cindy’s face, and she bit off the rest of her sentence.

 “Plus what?” Lindsay asked, lightly poking the reporter in the side.

 Cindy squirmed away from the poke, before adding quietly, “Plus, they have a really big shower here.”

 The statement could have easily been seen as entirely innocent, if it weren’t for Cindy’s rapidly spreading blush.

 Lindsay grinned wolfishly. “Oh yeah?” Her voice dropped to a deep, sexy rasp, and her grin only widened when Cindy shivered slightly in her arms. “Well, that’s something we could certainly get some use out of.”

 Cindy could only swallow audibly in response.

 Lindsay merely smiled again and leaned down to place a light kiss on Cindy’s flushed cheek.

 “Come on,” she began regretfully. “We should get back to the real world. As much as I’d love to just stay and plan our house together...or give that large shower a try,” Lindsay added in a whisper, unable to stop herself.

 With a regretful sigh, Cindy turned around within Lindsay’s arms. “But there are suspects to find and crimes to solve. I know.” She reached up to kiss Lindsay soundly, and then pulled away, taking another quick look around the place before going to speak to the realtor.

 They wouldn’t decide on a place in one day, but things were definitely looking up. Soon, Lindsay knew, she’d have a real home again, and this one was already guaranteed to be so much better than the last.

 ****

 

I really must be crazy, the blonde D.D.A. thought to herself.

 Maggie had come by her office to ask her out to dinner that night, and Jill had been happy to accept, but she’d felt guilty about being caught daydreaming. Maggie had no idea that, just before she’d entered the other woman’s office, Jill’s thoughts hadn’t been occupied by her, but rather a certain Asian lawyer instead.

 The brunette was everything that Jill should want – at times sweet and kind, at times adventurous and something of a bad-ass, not to mention sexy and beautiful. And to add icing on the cake, she seemed to really like Jill and genuinely care for her.

 Aside from the whole accusing-Lindsay fiasco, Maggie was doing everything right; just like Luke had done.

 Luke and Hanson before, now Maggie and Denise. Certainly she and Maggie were nowhere close to as far along as she and Luke had been, and she and Denise hadn’t actually slept together or anything, but other than those two exceptions, the similarities were somewhat disconcerting. Maybe Jill could never simply be satisfied with committing fully to just one person; maybe she always needed someone off to the side, someone outside the relationship to fantasize about.

 Then again, maybe it was all in her head, and Jill could be normal like everyone else, if she only tried harder.

 Or maybe Jill should just find some nice shrink to date for a while. Get some free therapy out of it, and maybe even find some real answers along the way.

All of this passed through the blonde’s head quickly, as she simultaneously worked out plans with Maggie.

 They were interrupted, however, by a quick knock at the door, and Cindy walked in before waiting for an answer.

 The reporter opened her mouth to speak, only to come up short when she noticed that Jill wasn’t alone.

 “You know,” Jill began conversationally, “you should really learn to actually wait for an answer when you knock on a door, Cindy. You never know what you might walk in on. It might not be open for public viewing.” She glanced suggestively at Maggie before turning to wink at the obviously flustered redhead.

 “Right,” Cindy muttered, a blush rapidly spreading across her face at Jill’s insinuation. “I’ll leave you two to...whatever, then.”

 It might make her a bad friend, but Jill had to admit that teasing Cindy always amused her to no end.

 She waited a beat before calling out to the retreating reporter, “We’ve been perfectly decent, Cindy, you have nothing to worry about. So come on, what’s up?”

 Somewhat warily, Cindy turned back and once again approached her friend, with barely a glance towards Maggie, who sat perched on the corner of Jill’s desk.

 “Sorry to bother you. I was just wondering if I could snag you for a ride, actually,” Cindy explained. “I need to get back home, but Lindsay’s busy doing inspector-y things and Maggie’s in the shop getting inspected.”

 “Maggie’s what?” For the first time since Cindy had entered the room, Inspector Snow spoke up. Jill couldn’t help but crack up at the understandably confused look on her girlfriend’s face.

 “Oh no, not you,” Cindy hastened to clarify, awkwardly waving her hand in front of her and finally making actual eye contact with the inspector. “I’m talking about my car. My car’s name is Maggie.” She paused, but felt the need to add, “I named her way before I ever met you.”

 “Right. Okay then, good to know,” Maggie responded with an arched eyebrow.

 Turning back to Jill, Cindy repeated her request. “So do you have a bit of time to spare, or are you busy?”

 “If you can wait until after 5, then I’m your girl,” Jill replied. “Before that, I’m really sorry, but I have this deposition I need to get through, and I can’t really afford to take off from here until I’m done.”

 “No problem, I totally understand. Just thought I’d give it a shot,” responded Cindy. “I’ll just take a cab or something.”

 “I’ve got some time, so I’ll drive you,” Maggie spoke up again.

 “You’ll what?” Both Cindy and Jill asked in unison, turning to stare at the brunette in surprise.

 Maggie chuckled at the twin reactions. “I’ll drive you,” she repeated. “Don’t worry, I’m perfectly harmless. I may have horrible cop instincts, as you like to imply, Cindy, but I think I can manage to give you a ride. If you can handle being in my presence for more than a few minutes, that is.”

 “Um, thanks. You really don’t have to do that, though,” Cindy finally replied after a long pause. “A cab is fine, really.”

 Maggie shrugged. “I can get you where you’re going quicker and cheaper, but if you decide that you want to waste your time and money just because you can’t stand me, then be my guest.”

 Cindy sighed and glanced at Jill, who mouthed “Don’t be stupid” at her.

 Practically sulking, Cindy finally agreed. “Fine. Thanks for offering,” she said grudgingly.

 “Great!” Jill smiled, clapping her hands together. “Now you two can bond!” In spite of her statement, Jill placed the likelihood of that happening right around 2%.

 Cindy and Maggie looked at each other guardedly, and then spoke simultaneously.

 “I don’t think so.”

 “Don’t count on it.”

 ****

 

“Tox screen came back,” Claire declared, as soon as Lindsay walked into the M.E.’s office.

 “Anything interesting?”

 “Potentially, but not necessarily,” Claire answered somewhat cryptically. At Lindsay’s questioning look, she continued, “Maya had a lot of alcohol in her system. Way above the legal limit.”

 A puzzled expression came over Lindsay’s face. “That’s weird. We didn’t find any empty bottles or cans at her apartment.”

 “Yeah, I wasn’t sure, but didn’t think that you had,” Claire nodded.

 Lindsay remained quiet for a moment, gears turning. “You’re positive about those results?” she inquired.

 “Tox screen doesn’t lie. Your girl Maya was drunk as a skunk.”

 Beginning to slowly pace, Lindsay went through her thought process aloud. “So what does that mean? It’s possible that she was out drinking before coming home and getting killed. But a neighbor says he saw her enter the building around 4pm. That’s enough time to get drunk at home, but not much time to leave and drink elsewhere, then come back and be dead by 6. Second possibility is that someone got her drunk and took the bottles with him for some reason.”

 She paused for a bit before continuing. “If the killer did that, though, that doesn’t fit our theory. If we’re dealing with a jealous and angry boyfriend who kills his girlfriend as a ‘crime of passion’ kind of thing, why would he get her drunk beforehand, and then dispose of the bottles?”

 Claire had no answer for Lindsay, and she had a feeling the question was rhetorical anyway.

 “It might not actually mean anything that she was drunk,” Lindsay went on. “But it’s odd, right?”

 “Definitely odd,” Claire confirmed.

 Before Lindsay could continue to piece the puzzle together, her phone rang and she quickly glanced at its display.

 “Jacobi, I want to talk something through with you,” Lindsay began.

 “Linz, we can talk about whatever it is later, but right now, I think you should come on back up to your desk,” responded Jacobi.

 “What? Why?”

 There was a pause at the other end. “Just come on up. You’ll understand when you get here.”

 Frowning, Lindsay hung up, and then turned back to Claire. “Something’s happened. I need to get back to my desk.”

 “Go ahead. We’re not going to figure this out right now anyway.”

 With a nod of thanks to Claire, Lindsay hurried out of her friend’s office and back up to the bullpen.

 When she got there, she found Jacobi sitting with a man, probably in his early thirties. He looked vaguely familiar, but Lindsay couldn’t quite place him. He stood shifting back and forth on the balls of his feet, hands stuffed nervously into his pockets.

 He looked up as Lindsay approached. “Inspector Boxer?” he inquired.

 “Yeah,” she drawled out slowly, still trying to figure out what was going on. “How can I help you?”

 The man cleared his throat, glancing over at Jacobi and then back at Lindsay.

 “My name’s Jeremy Grayson.”

 ****

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