Jim stood under the showerhead, letting the hot water stream over his head, down into the tub. Going over the events of the afternoon with Alicia, he found himself returning again and again to the kiss they’d shared. Even with the steam filling the air around him, he could still smell the scent that was definitely all hers: Exotic spices, herbs, a touch of citrus and a light musky odor that had spiked during the kiss. The feel of her body close to his, tucked into all the proper places; the sound of her heart racing, the taste of her mouth…

He swore and shut off the shower as the water suddenly went ice cold. Scowling, he stepped out and dried off, wondering if it was possible for him to have zoned on a memory. Feeling a rush of pleasure coursing through his veins, Jim smiled and realized that, yes, it was possible to zone on a memory. Changing into dry clothes, he gathered up the wet garments and towel, intent on getting the items into the wash before they could ruin.

He had just returned to the loft from the laundry room, when Blair came bursting into the apartment. The young man was swearing, in several languages, and spotting his partner standing in the kitchen, tossed a manila folder down on the counter.

"You’re not going to fucking believe this, read that!"

Quirking an eyebrow at his irate friend, Jim picked up the folder and glanced over the papers within. It was a preliminary report from the Forensics lab on Steven’s gun. According to the ballistics technician, Josh Weissen, the rifle marks on slugs fired from the confiscated weapon didn’t match the ones on the bullet pulled from Jeff Claiborne’s body. It was close, but not close enough. The technician had concluded his report by adding that he was sending the spent bullets, both guns and a copy of his finding to the State Crime lab in the morning. All of which he would hand carry to Olympia.

Closing the folder, he found himself under the close scrutiny of his younger partner. "That happens sometimes, Chief. Maybe the lab rats at State can find the marks we need."

Blair curtly nodded his head. "Maybe. But in the meantime, PA Crawford is preparing to throw the murder charge out." Reaching into the refrigerator, he noticed that Jim didn’t seem as upset about this latest information as he thought he would’ve been. The man’s next words only served to confirm his theory.

"So, when we get in to the station in the morning, we make plans to hit all the pawn shops in the area, looking for a recent addition, or records that could lead us in the right direction."

The guide nearly dropped the pitcher of tea, so startled by Jim’s calm words that he could only stare at the man lounging against the counter. After a few moments of silence, Blair quipped, "So, your day off went well I take it?"

Jim recognized the question for what it was ? the start of a fishing expedition. "Yeah, it did. Thank you very much." And he slipped past his roommate to walk over towards the balcony.

Blair followed him. "Okay, so I know you weren’t home when I called about noon to invite you to lunch, so where did you go?"

"Out."

"In this weather?"

"I like the rain. Everything smells so clean afterwards."

"Jim? This is me you’re talking to? Your roommate, who knows you don’t like getting your feet wet if you can possibly avoid it?" Glancing back over his shoulder into the loft, he spotted a pair of drenched running shoes near the door. The rain had cleared off about an hour and a half ago, so Blair knew that his friend had to have been out in the downpour. Smiling slyly, he returned his attention back to the sentinel. "So, where did you and Alicia end up?"

Snapping his head around, Jim stared at his friend. "What makes you think that I went anywhere with Alicia?"

Slowly reaching up, the guide ran his fingers across his partner’s upper lip, the tips coming away lightly covered in a pale shade of lipstick. "Simple, my dear Doctor Watson…. Pink isn’t your color."

Bringing his hand up quickly to wipe away the rest of the ‘evidence’, Jim felt the heat of blood rushing to his face. "Oh, all right. I took her to lunch. Okay?"

"Uh, huh. Funny, when I ran into Mrs. Catropa downstairs, she had a different tale to tell." Ducking under the swat aimed at him, Blair moved away from Jim. "Hey! You get caught kissing a neighbor lady in the stairwell, you got to expect people to spread the word!"

Jim groaned and shook his head. Leaning against the railing, still damp from the rain, he admitted to most of what had transpired. Omitting the obvious, as his friend was already well informed by the building’s gossip lady. He also felt safe in not telling his guide about the small zoneout he’d experienced in the shower.

Alicia had sat down hours earlier to try to finish reading the files that Roberto had sent over on Ellison, and Sandburg. Her phone rang just as she was completing the part of Blair’s file where he had reportedly admitted to having submitted a fraudulent thesis paper to his doctoral committee. Reaching over, she absently picked up the receiver. "Hello?"

"Two hours out."

Slapping the file down onto the low coffee table, Alicia stood up. "Thank you, Wilhelm. Going to Sat-phone." Hanging up the phone, she grabbed up her company blazer, thankful that she had thought to shower and change earlier. With barely a glance backward, she left her apartment, tripping over a black, fuzzy, speeding object as Saint Gee streaked back into his home as he raced from a tenacious Pomeranian. Slamming the door shut, she managed to separate the two animals, and reached over to scoop up the little dog.

"And just who do you belong to, Little One?" The dog was growling in frustration, but making no effort to wriggle out of her grasp or snap her fingers off as she reached out to the tag hanging off its collar. Reading the address on the tag, Alicia shook her head. "Oh, great! That figures." Tucking the tan and white ‘bedroom slipper’ under her arm, she headed over to apartment 204, to return Mrs. Catropa’s pet to the elderly woman.

Greeting the man who ran Hallstatt Trust International with an iron fist, Alicia was surprised when he personally handed her a large, bound, document. "Hallo, Fräulein Andreson. I had this delivered to me while we held over in Washington DC. Thought you might find it interesting reading."

"Director, welcome to Cascade. And thank you, I think." She couldn’t tell what the older man had just handed her, the airport lights just weren’t strong enough for her to make out anything beyond it’s apparently being a book.

The Director let out a chuckle, obviously pleased with himself. "Ah, Alicia! Don’t worry, it’s just more research on the young man that you had Roberto and Wilhelm working on."

"Ellison?"

"No, no. The other one."

"Oh?" She waved him and the rest of the entourage towards a stretch limousine that was parked near the company plane. "This way, sir. I’ve had the team at the hotel alerted to your arrival, everything checks out fine." Alicia made sure that she and Wilhelm were the last ones to enter the vehicle, letting Roberto and Hiram get in first, followed by the Director. Turning in her seat to inform the driver that they were ready, she finally greeted the rest of the entourage.

Hiram reached up and turned on a small reading lamp, illuminating the interior of the limousine. "Just how is it that you’ve come into researching one of the company’s grant recipients?"

Her head snapped around, and she stared at Hiram. "What?"

The Director chuckled again as Hiram explained, "Mr. Sandburg was a promising Anthropologist. After our ‘experts’ read his Master’s thesis ? that document that your holding in your lap ? they decided to help fund his research. You two share a common interest in ‘outdated’ and controversial theories."

Pulling her eyes away from his face, she looked down at the ‘book’ in her lap. Thankful for the better lighting in the passenger compartment of the limo, she opened the cover to read the introduction, trusting the driver, Wilhelm and Roberto to keep watch over their mutual charge.

‘His interest in Burton’s book… Well, well.’ Closing the cover, she looked back up at the Director. "Sir? Just how much do you know about this ‘theory’ of Sandburg and Burton's?"

"Enough. Please, Alicia, we’ll talk about it later. Privately."

"Yes, sir." Inside, she wondered if she’d be able to sleep tonight. The more she dug up, or rather the people that she trusted dug up, on Ellison and subsequently Sandburg, the more interested she became in the two men.

Jim had awakened at his normal time, gone through his ‘morning routine’, then woken up his partner. They had a long day ahead of them. After checking in with Simon, by phone, they headed out to begin canvassing all the various pawn stores, gun shops and getting with the many informants they had cultivated over the years.

Blair estimated that he and Jim had talked with about 30 people so far this morning, gathering paper trails when possible on sales of 9mm Berettas over the past three months, or tracking down new gun owners that had avoided going through ‘normal’ channels. In other words, people who had bought the guns off the streets: Gang members, couriers, nervous businessmen, and concerned housewives. While most of the people had been put off by Jim’s attitude, they normally opened up to the former grad student. After reassuring the new owners that they weren’t after them for purchasing a handgun, that if at all possible, their cooperation could come up for consideration in any cases pending against them in court ? and there were a few of these ? the two detectives were able to confiscate fifteen guns that matched the one that Blair had taken into custody when he had arrested Stuart Phelps.

After detouring to the police labs to drop off the weapons for testing, making sure that they had kept the ‘owner’s’ list with the serial numbers to the guns in question, they headed over to try to get in to talk with PA Crawford. Luckily, she was in.

Deborah Crawford looked up at the two men walking into her office after she had yelled out ‘come in.’ Smiling up at them from her position on the floor she warned them, "Watch your step," gesturing to the newspapers spread about the floor space, protecting the carpet. A couple of whines accompanied her warning.

Taking in the scene before them, the most ferocious PA the city had ever seen, surrounded by scattered newsprint and holding two squirming puppies, Jim felt a grin growing on his face. " More ‘rescued’ pups, Madam Prosecutor?"

She managed to coax the puppies off her lap and rose to her feet. "Yes, unfortunately. One of the paralegals found them this morning on the roadside. Momma and one other pup had been hit by a car, how these two avoided the same fate is nothing short of a miracle."

Folding himself into a lotus position, Blair joined the two playful bulldog pups on the floor, was immediately dubbed ‘fair game’ and found himself quite busy trying to keep the puppies from chewing on his clothing, his hair, or anything thing else they could get their teeth into. "Jim…"

"No, Sandburg. I know where you’re going, and before you ask, no."

Catching onto the conversation, Deborah stepped in. "Sorry, but I already have found homes for them. If you’d stopped by earlier, maybe." Walking back around her desk, she sat down in her chair and glanced up at Jim. "So, Ellison, please tell me you’re here with ‘good’ news in the Phelps case."

Seeing that his partner was too occupied with the puppies, Jim brought her up to speed on their progress so far in their investigation.

"You have the list of the ‘illegal’ gun owners?"

"Yes, and it’s staying right where it’s at."

Deborah nailed the detective with a cast iron look. "You are not giving those guns back. They were purchased illegally, therefore forfeit under current federal laws, Ellison."

"They won’t be getting the guns back, nor will I allow the people that purchased them get prosecuted for wanting to protect themselves or their families."

"Detective, you realize that by withholding that information you, yourself, and your partner could be brought up on charges?"

Jim nodded tersely, but it was Blair who answered for them both. "We’ll work something out with them. Maybe even help the ‘honest’ owners to obtain new guns and a license, while working something else out with the gang bangers and drug dealers." He managed to stand up without stepping on a puppy, "I was kinda hoping to work with you on that issue."

Deborah leaned back in her chair, arms crossing her chest. "Let me guess, in exchange for their cooperation, they get a lesser charge or a ‘get out of jail - free’ card?"

Jim nodded as he agreed with her, partially. "Something along those lines. The ones that willingly gave up their guns, knowing full well they wouldn’t be getting them back, and have cases pending before the court, should have their cooperation taken into consideration when sentencing recommendations are made." It was the old game of ‘you scratch my back, I’ll scratch yours’ that had been played out for as long as written law had existed, going all the way back to the time of Henry the First of England, the man that gave the concept of ‘one law for all’ to his country, then the world as England expanded her rule.

"Okay." Deborah unfolded her arms and leaned forward again, her body language matching her words. "I’ll take it under advisement. You’ll let me know when these cases come up?"

"Yes."

"Good. And good work on the investigation so far. I’m rather impressed. With any kind of luck, we’ll get the evidence we need to nail Phelps with the murder charge." She looked up at the two men standing across from her. "That is, if you can get any of your ‘informants’ to testify that they had personally exchanged barrels with him in court."

Blair nodded, understanding why the PA would possibly need such testimony. "We’ll see what we can do, should we get a match."

With all parties satisfied, Jim and Blair excused themselves from the PA’s office, and left the courts building in search of lunch. They still had about 17 more stores to cover before calling it a day, and they had to put in an appearance at the Precinct at some point today.

Alicia was really starting to hate her Director. After dropping him off at the Marriott Essex late last night, early this morning, she had been hoping that jet lag would keep him hotel bound at least until later this afternoon. But no, he had other plans in mind, sight seeing, shopping, and trying to convince her that she must have a new ensemble for the upcoming Grand Opening Gala for the Cascade office of Hallstatt Trust International. So she had found herself, along with Robert ? acting as chauffeur, and Wilhelm ? acting as bodyguard, going from store to store in the more affluent shopping districts of the city. The man had already plunked down over $2000 on a couple of new suits for himself, another $1000 or so on suits for Roberto and Wilhelm, and now the group had found themselves in a exclusive Women’s Clothier, where everything that Alicia deemed ‘suitable’ he objected to, and vice versa. The latest dress that the Director has chosen for her to ‘try on’ was the worst so far. It made her look more like a High School student, getting ready for Senior Prom night, than a woman in her mid thirties.

Stepping out of the changing room to model the dress for the Director, she heard Roberto struggle to swallow a chuckle and nailed him with her best glare. "This is ridiculous." The thought crossed her mind that it was probably a good thing that Jim, or Blair, would never see her like this, which caused her to blush as she picked up on the noise coming from her boss.

The Director sighed, hoping his security agent hadn’t picked up on his own stifled laughter. "Ah, Fraulein, it is hopeless. You assure me that the dress you have chosen will prove acceptable to local standards?"

Hopeful, she nodded. "Yes, sir. It shall. And allow me to move freely if needed."

He waved her on. "Go and change then. We should be getting back to the hotel to see if Hiram has recovered yet from his malaise." They had left the consultant behind since the man had obviously been suffering from jet lag. And while the Director didn’t want to admit to such a weakness, he was feeling a bit tired himself and knew that he needed to rest. But putting the serious Andreson through the torture of dress shopping and tour guide had been enlightening. She had only been in the city for a short time, but had already learned much about it. He was heartily satisfied with his choice of managers for the new office.

Alicia darted back into the cubicle, stripped out of the mauve taffeta dress and gratefully changed back into her slacks and dress shirt, strapping her gun back onto her waistband before concealing it under her blazer once again. Seeing that the Director was ready to leave, she sent Roberto to pull the car up to the storefront. Once she spotted the company’s car, a modified black Mercedes-Benz 600E at the curbside, she stepped outside to perform a routine ‘threat assessment.’ Carefully scanning the immediate area, she spotted nothing out of the ordinary, and signaled to Wilhelm and the Director to proceed out to the Mercedes. Opening the driver’s side back door for the two men, she watched in gratification as the often rehearsed routine moved along. Wilhelm entered the back seat first, effectively putting himself between the street and the Director who quickly followed the body guard into the vehicle.

She wasn’t, then, sure what had drawn her attention to the motorcycle that had come around the corner, a block ahead of their location. But two things did register in her brain: Two riders, and the passenger was handing off a weapon to the driver as the passenger then took over control of the bike. When she spotted the weapon, her hand went for her gun as she shoved the Director into the car.

"DOWN!"

The shooter on the motorcycle started his deadly rain, spraying the area around his target with rounds. Alicia had ducked under the meager cover afforded her by the Mercedes as she finished clearing her Glock model 29 from it’s holster, activated the targeting laser and came up looking for her targets. A burning sensation in her upper left arm caused her to hiss, but she kept her objective in mind. Pinpointing the cyclists as they passed her position, she aimed and fired two rounds. The bike went down in an uncontrollable slide, piling into a building not far from where she stood. She ran over to the assailants as Roberto, following procedures, gunned the powerful engine and drove off in a squeal of tires.

Detective Brian Rafe couldn’t believe what he was seeing. He’d seen the strange group of four, a older man with two younger men and a young lady, in the shopping district ? going from shop to shop ? ever since he’d arrived to pick up his rented tux for his cousin’s wedding. He was just leaving the shop when a motorcycle came around the corner and all hell broke loose. Dropping his garment bag, he pulled out his cell phone, called the situation in, and raced towards the scene, just as the black Mercedes pulled away at a break neck speed, leaving behind the small, dark blonde, woman. Before he could reach her, she took off after the shooters, who had crashed, and watched in horror as she calmly shot both of the downed men, in broad daylight, in front of several witnesses, himself included. He pulled out his shield and his service weapon as he continued to run towards the woman.

Sliding to a stop, Rafe took aim on the woman. "Police! Drop the gun!"

Deactivating the laser sight on the Glock Alicia complied with the order. The gun dropped from her hands, which she then raised in surrender.