I look up from the hefty stack of file folders I'm sorting through at my desk to find Bryce standing near with a cup of coffee that smells fresh and strong; steam rising from the top. He hands it over while I stare at his attention getting new hairstyle and smile without comment.

"Here ya go boss, I thought you might be ready for this."

I sip the black brew and resist the urge to hum with pleasure. "Bryce, thank you, but stop reading my mind okay. Your timing is mildly unsettling. This is just what I wanted."

"That's what I'm here for." He watches me flip through folders in mild irritation. "Boss, what are you looking for?"

Frustrated with myself and with the mess on my desk, I sigh. "The file on the Thompson autopsy. I can't find it Bryce. I've looked three times. I need to sign off on it. His funeral is the day after tomorrow." I lay my palms flat on the stack of file folders directly in front of me and notice that he's squinting at me. "What?"

"Richard Thompson?"

"Yes."

"You finished his autopsy yesterday morning Dr. Scarpetta."

I feel irritation rise and hold it back. "I know that, Bryce."

"Then you skipped lunch to sign off on the case. You put the folder in my box to file last night on your way out to that homicide scene. You know, the one you posted before breakfast today?"

I rest my right elbow on the desk and push my fingers through my hair. "I did?"

"Umm hmm, you did. I've already filed it away. You're done."

I laugh wryly. "Bryce, I'm never done."

He waves the comment aside with flair. "You know what I mean boss. At this moment you have absolutely nothing here that requires your immediate attention."

"That's not possible."

"I know it's shocking, I don't imagine I'll get to say it again in this lifetime."

"What about Mrs. Jensen?"

"Done."

"The kid with no bicycle helmet?"

Bryce frowns for an instant. "Also done, and filed away as well."

I stare out my window and feel slightly adrift.

"What's the matter now?"

"This is unprecedented. I have no idea what to do with myself."

"So you'll go for a pedicure."

I raise an eyebrow, and he declares, "Okay new idea...Drop by Dr. Wesley's office and take him out for a late lunch. If he works half as hard as you do, then he hasn't stopped all day either."

I smile and tilt my head slightly to one side picturing the look of surprise I'd find in my husband's eyes if I just dropped by as Bryce suggests. Then, I'm tempted to shake my head no. I'm sure Benton is busy, and I'm certain I could find something that needs doing here; but Bryce intercepts.

"Stop that boss. Stop thinking. Stop talking yourself out of it. Go. Before somebody stabs somebody else." He pulls me out of my chair and turns me around, "Before somebody has a stroke, or bludgeons their ex-lover to death." He eases my lab coat down off my shoulders and spins me around with firm but gentle hands on my shoulders. "Before there's a bus crash on the Interstate." He thrusts my bag into my arms. "Go."

"Okay, Okay Bryce. I'll go. You can stop pushing now, but if you need anyth..."

"Yeah yeah; I got the number. Just go!"

I walk out the door looping my bag over my shoulder. Caught up in Bryce's exuberance I sprint for the elevator.