Thursday, things weren't the same

Joss pulled the cruiser over to park in front of the luxury hotel, now surrounded by uniformed police officers and their trademark yellow tape. A dead woman had been found in a room by the housekeeping staff, so she and Fusco had been called out to the scene. Fusco stepped out of the car, then looked back at Joss when he realized she was still seated behind the steering wheel.

"You coming, Carter?"

"In a minute. I have to make a call," she replied, scrolling through her contacts before hitting the SEND button.

"Wonderboy?"

"Who else? He hasn't answered his phone since yesterday." She held the phone against her ear to listen to it ring over and over again.

"Probably because he doesn't wanna get reamed for the stunt he pulled yesterday. If I was him, I wouldn't answer either," Fusco joked with a grin.

When Joss heard the automated voice to John's messaging system, she disconnected the call with a huff of frustration. "He should still answer the phone, Fusco. Do you know how many lies I had to tell Warden Stiles to cover our asses, yesterday?"

"Enough to have IAB on our backs if this Warden Stiles lady starts poking around," Fusco grumbled.

Tell me about it, she thought. Joss stepped out of the car and followed her partner inside the hotel.

To say that Joss had a lot of John on the brain lately would be an understatement. Ever since their non-date date, he'd constantly been on her mind. Over and over she would mentally replay the moment he almost kissed her, but then the warning she gave him yesterday to not do anything stupid along with the call from Warden Stiles later that day proving that he had indeed done something incredibly stupid were like a figurative bucket of ice water cooling off her desire. Covering his ass and putting her career on the line for him again did the trick in putting her burgeoning feelings for him in perspective.

Yes, she was attracted to him and yes, they'd grown closer over the years and yes, they were in this weird place where they were more than friends yet less than lovers, but that didn't mean she had to risk everything for him again. Been there, done that. Still had the scars from the Mac truck that slammed into the SUV and the residual night terrors from everything that happened after John's release from Riker's to show for it. But the way he looked at her that night before Donnelly showed up... and the way she felt when he did... She knew she would have followed him to the moon and back, and if she were given the chance to go back in time, she'd do it all over again. God, she was in a lot of trouble.

Noticing the faraway look on his partner's face, Fusco asked, "You okay, Carter?"

Giving a brief nod of affirmation, she answered, "I'm fine, Fusco. Just getting ready for another case. You get used to scenes like these, but they don't get any easier." It was a lie. A lie wrapped in truth which was the best kind of lie. The lie that people openly accepted and swallowed easily.

"Yeah, I know what you mean." Not another word was spoken as they walked through the hotel lobby and rode the elevator in thoughtful silence.

When they walked inside the room, they were updated by one of the first officers on the scene. He informed them that one of the maids had come in to clean the room and found the victim unresponsive while sprawled on the bed in a black lace nightie with red marks around her wrists and neck.

"Has she been ID'd?" Joss asked the officer as she moved towards the body to take a closer look at the victim's neck. The woman's lifeless blue eyes stared back at her as Joss leaned in for another look and she could feel a chill run through her body.

"Not yet. Her purse and overnight bag with her possessions were here in the room, but her wallet is missing," the officer answered.

"Who rented the room?" Joss questioned. She walked away from the bed to search the room for any additional clues.

"The room was rented under the name, Jenna Samuels, but we haven't confirmed that this is her."

"Is she a working girl?" Fusco inquired, observing the opened box of condoms on the nightstand. Joss shot him a dirty look. "Hey, don't give me that look. Attractive woman with just an overnight bag found dead in an expensive hotel room in her lingerie with a box of condoms on the nightstand? Definitely a high priced call girl."

Joss rolled her eyes at her partner and continued to look around the room, going back to the bed. She knelt down to look underneath it and smiled when the shadow of a square shaped item caught her eye. "I think I found something."

She stood up straight and caught the attention of one the techs that had finally arrived. "Hand me a pair of gloves." After putting on the latex gloves, she reached for the item she found under the bed and discovered that it was a cellphone. "Jackpot. We need to see what we can get from this phone."

John carefully watched Emily Thorne's beach house while Shaw broke in to find out more about their number. Now that they knew Amanda Clarke and Emily Thorne had switched identities, they needed to know why, and needed to determine if the real Amanda Clarke was a victim or a perpetrator.

"Find anything yet, Shaw?" John asked.

"Nothing yet. Just a professionally decorated and very impersonal space. No childhood pictures, no photos of her family or parents, nothing."

"Get what you need and make it quick," he said before focusing his binoculars up the beach to see Emily turning around to jog back in the direction of her house. "She's heading back towards the house. You've got maybe less than fifteen minutes."

Shaw disconnected the call, her non-verbal reply telling him to shove it and allow her to do her job. She had been snippy all morning because they didn't stop to get breakfast. John was sure Shaw was doing more searching in the fridge than anywhere else in the house.

Shaw was convinced that Emily was a perpetrator and was out to get the Grayson's to avenge her father being framed. He couldn't say she was that far off base. He'd dealt with numbers who were in danger or were a danger to someone else for more convoluted reasons. Someone getting in trouble for clearing their father's name was one of the most logical situations. Still, he felt something was amiss. If they had found out Emily's true identity within the first 24 hours of working this case, than surely someone else may know who she really is as well, putting her in danger.

John looked through the binoculars once more to see that Emily had stopped jogging to converse with a brown haired male. A man that wasn't her fiancé. Whatever they talked about he couldn't hear since he never had an opportunity to force pair her phone yesterday. However, John noticed the intense looks they gave each other. Hmmm, he thought. Just who is this mystery guy and why do they seem so familiar with each other? Their body language revealed that maybe they'd been more than just passing acquaintances.

John felt the vibration of his phone, signaling an incoming call, and checked the caller I.D. It was Joss calling him… again. He reluctantly diverted the call to voicemail once more. He knew why she'd called. He just wasn't ready to get yelled at so early in the morning. He looked back up to see Emily fast approaching her home. Damn, she's fast. He gave a quick call to Shaw's line.

"What is it?"

"Time's up. Get outta there, now." He turned towards the sound of the passenger side door opening.

"Calm your tits, John," Shaw said with a glint of humor in her eyes. "I'm here. I had enough time to place a few bugs around her house and I think I found something." She settled into the passenger seat and held a wooden box in her lap. The mysterious box had a design carved on the top that resembled a double infinity symbol.

"What is that?"

"I found this box in her living room in a hidden compartment beneath her floorboards," Shaw answered.

"And here I thought you took all this time to raid her fridge," John teased in a dry tone.

She shot him a dirty look before replying. "I managed to do that, too. She just didn't have anything I was interested in. Seriously? Wheatgrass smoothies? Yuck. She should be the perp for that reason alone."

John bit back a smile and got to business. "What's in the box?" Shaw lifted the lid so she and John could study the contents inside.

"I knew it!" Shaw exclaimed as she began to remove a few of the items one by one. She held up a picture that looked like a group of employees at Grayson Global from over a decade ago. It appeared to have been taken during a company getaway at a resort in Hawaii. The people grouped together were in casual clothing wearing leis with huge smiles on their faces. Several of the people in the picture had a hand-drawn red "X" over their faces.

"Take a look at this. It's like she's marking these people off one by one. I wonder who they are. Did she kill them? Or take them down in another way? Wheatgrass smoothies aside, I kinda dig her style."

"We don't know what this means. Let's head back to the safe house and have Finch take a look at this. If you're right about what she's doing, then someone in that photo is next and we need to find out who."

"Might as well hear her reaction when she finds out her little box of horrors is missing." Shaw opened the app on her phone so they could listen to any conversations that were picked up by the bugs she placed in her home. When they both heard a frustrated shout of Damn it! filter through the speaker of Shaw's phone, they knew they had something very important.

John started the engine and drove the car back to the Finch's vacation home.

Emily Thorne walked into her house and automatically knew something was wrong. At first glance, nothing appeared to have been disturbed, but she knew someone had been there while she was out for her morning run. She walked over to a nearby end table and removed her handgun from the drawer. She held it closely by her side as she walked around her house slowly; making sure the intruder was no longer there.

After every room had been cleared, she went back to her living room. She pushed the coffee table aside and pulled up the area rug in the center of the room. She opened the top of the hidden compartment beneath the floorboards and discovered it was empty.

"Damn it!"

She paced back and forth across the room, trying to calm her racing thoughts in her mind and focus. She had plenty of people she suspected of breaking into her home, but could not figure out how they would know where she had kept her infinity box. Knowing she didn't have much time to waste, she removed her cellphone from her pocket and dialed her closest friend and the only other person alive who'd known about the box.

After two rings, Nolan Ross answered. "Hey Ems. That James Wilcox guy you wanted me to look into? Not only is his so-called modeling agency a front for a call-girl service, but rumor has it—"

"Nolan, someone broke into my house. The box is missing and every single thing we've been working on, all the evidence we've collected on Conrad; everything is gone!"

The panic in her voice betrayed her usual cool demeanor, which raised his hackles. "What do you mean it's gone? Where did you hide it?"

"In a place no one should have found it unless they knew it was already there or… it may have been a professional job. Someone who knows how to find hidden safes or compartments." Emily began to pace again. "Do you think it was Victoria? Maybe she hired someone."

"Only one way to find out," Nolan answered, knowing she would hate the change of plans.

"I can't go to the polo match today. I'm meeting with Jenna in the city this afternoon."

"Looks like you'll have to cancel those plans. Sorry, Ems. You've gotta go to your fiancé's polo match and play nice with your future mother-in-law," Nolan said with a snicker. "I needed a date anyway."

Emily released an irritated sigh. "This wasn't the plan, Nolan. You were supposed to keep an eye on Wilcox and track his moves while I got the information I needed from Jenna. Damn it!" She quit pacing and flopped down on her couch.

"Right now our backs are against the wall, but we'll figure this out. Keep your head in the game."

She knew she was having a tantrum and she knew that she needed to keep a cool head about this. All of her training, all of the years of hurt and pain, and all of the waiting and gathering of information, would not be in vain. Everyone who had benefited or who had been directly involved with her father's wrongful conviction and subsequent death would pay. She took a calming breath to center herself and looked at her mantle, the small figurine of a blue whale catching her eye.

"Nolan... Do you remember the whale cam?"

"Yeah, I gave it back to you after you nearly killed me about it."

"For once, I'm glad I never got rid of it. I need you to pull the footage from this morning. We're going to find out who has that box."

"Fuck, my cover is blown. There's no way I can go back to Jack Porter's bar." Shaw exclaimed. "How did I miss the hidden camera on the mantle?" she asked herself more than either of the men in the room.

"Calm your tits, Shaw," John mocked with barely repressed glee. It was nice to see Shaw slip up for once and he took a lot more pleasure in her screwup than he should have. "You didn't want to go back to that bar anyway."

"You're right, I didn't. But I'm not trying to have any of your incompetence rub off on me. I'm not nearly as old as you yet," she cut back sharply.

Her tone didn't bother him. If anything, he was even more amused. Leaving her to her own devices of angrily pacing across the room and occasionally stopping for snacks, he turned to Finch and asked, "So what were you able to find, Finch?"

"This is incredible," Finch proclaimed as he continued to sort through the information on all of the people crossed off in the picture. "Lydia Davis, Michelle Banks, Bill Harmon, Mason Treadwell, Paul Whitley, Senator Tom Kingsley… the list goes on. Every individual crossed off on this picture has been met with some unfortunate karma.

"Lydia Davis managed to survive a 12 story fall from the balcony of her Manhattan condo. Michelle Banks was kidnapped and hidden in a storage locker owned by the Graysons. Bill Harmon's investment firm went bankrupt. Mason Treadwell's house burned down. Paul Whitley was involved in a car accident and later died... and Senator Kingsley had to drop his reelection campaign because a sex tape was released showing him with his mistress."

Shaw released a snort. "I really love this chick's style."

"But why did she target these people?" John asked, intrigued, disturbed, yet also impressed with her work.

"Each of these individuals were involved with her father's conviction in some way. Lydia Davis testified against David Clarke in court and so did Bill Harmon. Tom Kingsley was the federal prosecutor that built a political career after the conviction of David Clarke. Mason Treadwell, sold millions of copies of a book about Clarke's alleged involvement with funding the terrorist attack."

"Can you take a guess at who she's targeting next?" Shaw asked.

"Other than you?" John asked in a snarky tone.

"Bite me," she shot back with a glare.

"I am uncertain, Miss Shaw. But we have to stop her before someone else gets hurt," Finch answered, ignoring the childish antics of them both. "Or worse, someone ends up dead."

The Southampton Riding Club was the place to be among the wealthy elite for this afternoon's polo match. John discovered that blending in with the crowd was rather easy. He simply had to replace his standard dark suit and white shirt with a lighter gray suit and pale blue shirt. He attended the event under his John Rooney persona as a guest of Harold Wren, one of Finch's many aliases. After their arrival, he and Finch went their separate ways. Finch went to hobnob with Conrad Grayson and others, while John meandered about to find Emily Thorne.

John didn't really care to be here, but with Shaw's cover blown, she'd happily stayed behind. He had a feeling she was relaxing by the pool right now, working on her tan... or working on the perishables in the kitchen. You could never really tell with her sometimes. Mindless chatter surrounded him as groups of people engaged in empty small talk all around him. This wasn't necessarily his scene, he never did care for the pretentious and self-absorbed personalities of the affluent upper-class, but this was probably the best place to get information that wasn't available publicly. After enough glasses of champagne, he was sure to hear a bit of scandalous gossip that might actually be helpful in this case.

John scanned the area and recognized the now familiar faces from all of the research they'd done over the past 36 hours. He spotted Conrad Grayson, smug and self-assured, conversing with a group of men very much like himself. Finch had mentioned that the Grayson patriarch was thinking about getting into politics and with the way he glad-handed the group, there may be a lot of truth to that notion. Tired of the scene before him, John moved on from Conrad and found his mark, the mysterious Emily Thorne—make that the real Amanda Clarke.

She seemed to be enjoying herself, mingling with the socialites and smiling in a loving way towards the man known as her fiancé, Daniel Grayson. There was an announcement over the loudspeaker informing the spectators that the match was soon to begin. When many of the people began to find their seats, John continued to watch the couple. Daniel appeared to be asking for a good luck kiss while Emily gave a blush before a quick peck on the lips and whispering something in his ear. Daniel grinned widely and walked away to return to his horse and other teammates with an extra pep in his step.

By all appearances Emily and Daniel seemed to be the happily engaged couple everyone knew them to be. Even with how much John knew about her vendetta against the Grayson family, Emily really looked like a woman in love. A tall and slender blond man with a flamboyant style of dress walked up to Emily with a sly smile. The soft smile reserved for her lover vanished instantly to an expression that was somewhat tense and on high alert. John recognized the man as Nolan Ross and started to move closer to the two friends, until a voice filled with the hollow niceties that were common among this crowd stopped him in his tracks.

"Well, I don't believe I've ever seen you around at any of these events," the voice lilted.

John turned his head to see the infamous Victoria Grayson standing next to him. She carried herself in a way that was almost regal, as if she reveled in the knowledge of her highly ranked status among the elite society of the Hamptons. Out of all the people at this event to speak to, she had chosen him. He was curious about her decision to approach him, but when he saw a spark of interest in her eyes, he decided to play on that. This wasn't his first rodeo with wealthy housewives that were more than a little desperate for something different from the mundane.

"And you would be right about that Mrs. Grayson," John replied with a soft smile, not offering any additional information until she asked. He turned away from her to observe Nolan and Emily, only to find both of them closely watching his interaction with Victoria. He knew now that his best bet was to put on a show for them and draw Emily to him. He turned fully to Victoria with his full attention and ramped up the charm.

She raised an eyebrow and looked at John curiously. "You seem to be awfully familiar with who I am, but have yet to tell me who you are."

"My name is John. I'm here with Harold Wren," he provided, still playing his cards close to the chest.

"John..." she trailed, waiting for a last name.

"Rooney, John Rooney. I'm an investment banker and this is my first venture out into the Hamptons. Mr. Wren was nice enough to invite me here for an extended weekend." He held out his hand for her to shake.

"It's a pleasure to meet you John Rooney." She took his hand for a brief shake. "Anyone that can get the elusive Harold Wren out to the Hamptons social scene is someone I'd like to know better. Are you both here on a working vacation?"

"You could say that. Why do you ask?" John felt like she could see right through him. He put his hands in his pockets and took on a relaxed stance, hoping to appear comfortable and at ease.

"Well, I haven't seen you talking to many people and I don't see you schmoozing with my husband, which is actually a plus in my book and part of the reason I came over here." They both shared an insincere laugh.

"I guess I haven't mingled as much as I should. I really prefer to people watch," John answered carefully. He had a feeling that he was about to lose control of the conversation.

"Speaking of people watching, I couldn't help but to notice that you've taken a bit of an interest in Emily Thorne. You haven't taken your eyes off her since I spotted you."

Time to play dumb. "Emily Thorne? I can't say I'm very familiar with that name. Who is she?"

Victoria smiled enigmatically. "No need to play coy John Rooney. She is a young wealthy socialite marrying into one of the most wealthy and powerful families in the Hamptons. As an investment banker, I'm sure you love to have her as a client of yours."

She'd given him an out, but John wasn't sure if he should take it. He didn't. "You've got me there. Having her as a client would be great for the firm, but that isn't why I was looking at her."

"Oh? Do tell..." John noted that Victoria Grayson was a woman with many different smiles. The one she was wearing now was very disconcerting. What was the deal between Emily and Victoria other than the typical strained relationship of future in-laws?

"She reminds me of an old friend I used to know long ago. That's all really."

"Hmm... I'd only say that you should be careful, John. Emily Thorne isn't at all what she seems."

"Care to elaborate, Mrs. Grayson?"

"Please, call me Victoria. And for now, that's all I'm going to tell you." There was another announcement over the loudspeaker. "I think we should find our seats. It looks like the match will begin at any moment."

"May I escort you to your seat, Victoria?" He gave her his most charming smile and held out his arm for her to take.

Placing her hand gently on his elbow, she accepted. "That would actually be lovely." They began to walk slowly towards their seats. "I'd like to introduce you to a few potential clients, but I only ask for one thing in return."

"What's that?"

"I want to be formally introduced to Harold Wren. He's one of several mysteries I'm dying to solve."

John had a few mysteries of his own to solve and he had a nagging feeling that the woman beside him knew exactly who Emily was and he may have found their perpetrator.

"So who's the tall, dark, and handsome guy with Victoria?" Nolan asked in his usual playful tone.

"I'm not sure, but I've seen him before. I just can't place him." Emily replied, watching Victoria closely as she conversed with the unknown man.

"He seems to have a keen interest in you," Nolan observed.

"I've noticed. You think he has something to do with the woman in my house?"

"I don't know Ems. I've ran her face against all the facial recognition systems I have access to, and I haven't pulled up anything. It's like she's a ghost. Have you heard back from Jenna?"

"Radio silence right now, but I left a few messages." She checked her phone again. Still no calls or texts from Jenna. Emily knew Jenna was flaky, so she hadn't started to worry...yet.

Nolan held up his phone in a way that looked like he was taking a selfie with his friend, while he was really taking a picture of the man with Victoria. "Got him. I'll run his pic as well, and see what I can find."

Emily watched Victoria lead him to several influential people in the Hamptons, one which made her blood boil. "No need. It looks like Victoria just introduced him to James Wilcox. I'll just have to introduce myself."

James Wilcox was the next stop on her long journey towards revenge. He didn't have a hand in sending her father to jail, but he had profited from it. He was one of the many money-hungry parasites that gained wealth and fame from sullying her father's name. Shortly after her father's sentencing, he had a made for TV miniseries in the works about her father's life and the lead up to his arrest. There was critical acclaim after its release, but it was really just a hit piece riddled with inaccuracies and flat out lies all made to make her father look like a monster.

The movie was Wilcox's big break into Hollywood and without a large financial backing from a shell corporation owned by Conrad Grayson, the movie would have never been made and Wilcox would not be the successful businessman he is today. With multiple movie and television production companies, studios, talent agencies, and modeling agencies, Wilcox quickly became a rising star not only among the Hollywood elite, but the Hamptons elite as well. There was only one thing... some of his business ventures were not as transparent as they seemed on the surface. Jenna Samuels, a model and aspiring actress, worked with his modeling agency. Jenna was privy to the unethical and illegal activities done within the modeling agency and in order to slip the next to last puzzle piece in place, she needed the inside access that Jenna could provide.

"You're veering away from the plan. We should try to find Jenna and get what we need from her to make a move on Wilcox," Nolan pleaded. Emily was always adamant about sticking to the plan.

"We're sticking to the plan. I'm just taking a detour." She squared her shoulders, put on her best false smile, and made her way over to Victoria and the men who were her targets.

The thing they never tell you before you become a cop or even before you move up to Detective, is how many lulls there are when working a case. The "exciting" part of searching for clues at a crime scene are usually followed up by tons of paperwork, research, phone calls, and waiting. Waiting for the run on any prints you managed to pickup on the scene. Waiting for results of DNA testing from the techs in the lab. Follow up calls to potential witnesses. It's not really as glamorous as it seems on TV, but Joss wouldn't trade it for the world. Especially not after getting her Detective shield back six months ago.

"Detective Carter," Joss answered after the third ring of her desk phone.

"Hey Carter, it's Terri." Terri Williamson was one of the CSI techs that worked on phones and computers confiscated as evidence from various crime scenes. Because they were the only black females in their positions, they'd bonded over shared experiences through the years. Joss knew she could always rely on Terri, and for Terri, the feeling was mutual.

"Hey Terri, whatcha got for me?" Joss asked, eager for any information she could get on their latest case.

"That cellphone you got from the crime scene? We were able to unlock it. There wasn't much on it, but the most recent calls came from an unlisted number. There were a couple voicemails that came from that same number, most of them from today. I just emailed the messages to you along with screenshots of the texts she's received."

"Were you able to pull any numbers from her contacts so that we can find a next of kin to identify her body? You know, to confirm that it's really Jenna Samuels?"

"Not really. Looks like the phone was cleaned out and reset to the original factory settings. Nothing beyond what occurred after it was wiped clean is on the phone," Terri answered with a somber tone.

Joss sighed. They'd have to match up dental records which usually took longer and required even more paperwork. "Alright. I'll check my email and give the messages a listen. Thanks Terri, I appreciate you moving that up for me. I know your caseload is pretty heavy right now."

"Anything for you, Joss. Just know that the next round of drinks are on you," Terri countered with a small chuckle.

"With your preference for top shelf spirits, my wallet hasn't forgiven me from the last time I owed you," Joss joked. "Thanks again and I'll see you later."

She ended the call with a smile and opened the latest message in her inbox from Terri. Plugging in her earphones, she adjusted the volume and listed carefully to the voicemails from Jenna's cell.

Hey Jenna, it's Emily. Just calling to confirm our lunch tomorrow. Give me a call back or text me.

The second message was similar to the first, but with the same Emily calling to reschedule.

Hi, it's Emily again. I haven't heard back from you, but I'm calling to see if we can meet at a later time. Maybe dinner instead of lunch. It looks like a few plans of mine have changed. Call me back.

The third and final message was still from the same woman, but much more pressing.

Jenna, it's me. I'm not sure what's going on with you, but what I need from you is too important for you to flake on me now. Call me back. If it's a financial issue, I can make any necessary arrangements you need. Call me ASAP.

Joss hoped this was just a coincidence, but there was this feeling in her gut that told her that the Emily from the voicemails could be the same Emily that John asked her to look up. She had no evidence of this, only a gut feeling. She wondered if Finch would be able to work his magic and find out what the unlisted number was and track down this "Emily". She'd stuck her neck out for them, so the least they could do was to return the favor.

She picked up her cell and called John.

Per Victoria's introduction, James Wilcox was a famous show runner and producer, with a new focus on reality television. He seemed pretty smarmy to John, as he nearly begged Victoria to be a cast member of his latest series titled Hamptons Housewives. Victoria, as gracious as ever, politely declined. It was shortly after their brief introduction that Emily appeared to join them.

John nearly had to bite back a laugh. His plan of taking advantage of Emily's pettiness worked. Making nice with Victoria Grayson had caught the attention of Emily Thorne and like clockwork, she'd made her way over to introduce herself. John quickly cloned Emily's phone while she was distracted and smiled politely as he watched Victoria and Emily exchange verbal barbs cloaked in the niceties of polite society. They were pleasant enough towards each other, but the underlying tension between them was palpable.

He could also sense some sort of tension emanating from Emily towards Wilcox. For him, he only felt a curiosity from Emily as she tried to pin him down and figure him out. After a while, he grew bored with the conversation and was about to make up an excuse to leave when his phone rang. He checked the caller ID.

Joss

"I'm sorry, but I need to take this," John excused himself. Feeling two sets of eyes on his back, he walked as far away as possible and reluctantly answered the phone.

"Hello, Detective."

"Don't you 'Hello, Detective' me, John. You've been avoiding me," came the testy reply.

John cringed. He had been avoiding her, for a multitude of reasons. The main reason being that he didn't want to hear her disappointment with him. There was a time, in the earlier days of their relationship, where he may not have cared as much. But now? How she felt about him mattered. Her opinion of him mattered. Her approval mattered. He only wanted to please her and make her happy. Make her proud... Make her his.

"I have and I'm sorry, Joss." There was silence on the other end and the longer it went on, the worse he felt.

"Detective Stills, John? Really? We're going to have a very long talk about that when you get back."

"And I promise to tell you everything then." A beat of silence. Then two... "Not to be a brush off, but if that's all you wanted to talk about, we have to do it later."

"No, that isn't why I called this time. I called because I have a hunch about a connection to your number and a new case I'm working on. I have no proof, but it's a gut feeling."

"If you were Lionel, I'd tell you it was indigestion." He heard her sigh of exasperation over the phone and could picture her rolling her eyes before trying to hold back a smile. It had only been a day and a half since he last saw her and he already missed her. He had it bad. "But seriously, who's the victim?"

"The name is Jenna Samuels. She was murdered last night, but she's been receiving calls, voicemails, and texts from an unlisted number from a woman who calls herself Emily."

"Send what you have to Finch and we'll look into it." He turned to see Victoria waving for his attention. He held up a finger, indicating he needed another minute. "Listen, Joss, I gotta go, but when I return we have a lot to talk about."

"John... I—"

"Joss we can't keep ignoring the elephant in the room."

He could hear muffled voices on the other end and could only make out bits of the conversation. There was clearly someone at her desk. "Okay, that's great. Send it to me and I'll take a look at it." That was the last thing he heard before the call dropped.

John walked back to Victoria and found her alone. "Did I run everyone off?" he asked playfully.

"If you did, I'd only thank you," she responded in kind. "Emily had some sort of 'emergency' and James went to harass someone else to be on his dreadful reality show. Is there anyone else you'd like to meet."

"I think I'm all partied out, Victoria. I'll escort you back to your seat and before the match is over, I'll be sure to introduce you to Mr. Wren," John promised.

"Handsome and keeps promises. Hmmm... If you decide to stick around for longer than an extended weekend, we'll have to keep in touch."

"I believe that can be arranged."

He'd said he was sorry. And he'd sounded sincere when he apologized. Joss figured he'd done what he had to do to solve this new case and gain critical intel on the number. But just like their disagreement over how he gave up the location of the safe house to save baby Leila, she knew that there was another way. The right way where she didn't have to risk her badge so soon after getting it back.

"Detective Stills, John? Really? We're going to have a very long talk about that when you get back." And that was something that she was definitely going to stick with. Come hell or high water, they needed to be on the same page and the only way to do that was through open and honest communication.

She'd told him about her theory of a connection between her victim and their number. And just as he began to shift the conversation towards a topic she didn't want to address at all, Special Agent Brian Moss and another agent she didn't recognize approached her desk.

"Detective Carter, I hope we haven't caught you at a bad time," Agent Moss said, foregoing a more formal greeting.

Saved by the Feds, she thought. Covering the mic of her phone with her hand, she replied, "Hang on just a moment, I need to end this call." She put the phone against her ear and spoke to John, the man that for the past two days had invaded her thoughts to distraction, as if he were just a colleague. "Okay, that's great. Send it to me and I'll take a look at it."

She promptly disconnected the call and gave the FBI agents her full attention. "So what can I do for you gentlemen that is so important it warranted a visit instead of a phone call?" she asked.

"Is there somewhere more private for us to discuss this? It's a sensitive matter and it ties to one of your cases," Moss informed.

"Which case are you talking about?" Joss asked, more than a little intrigued, and genuinely welcoming the distraction.

"A star witness for a case we've been building turned up dead this morning and fortunately for us, you've been assigned the case."

Joss internally sighed. "Let me guess. Your star witness was Jenna Samuels."

"The one and only."

"Well, by all means, follow me and we can talk in one of the empty interrogation rooms." Joss lead the way, wondering how deep this Jenna Samuels rabbit hole was going to be.

Author's note: Sorry it took so long to update this story. My goal is to try to complete at least one of my in-progress stories before the end of summer and I hope this story will be one of them.

Special thanks to Bug Evans for the very quick read over/beta. Any additional errors you see are mine and I apologize. I hope you all have enjoyed this update and trust me, there will be more Careese to come.