Karen Rose - Count to Ten

"Four women are dead," Mia said. "I don't think we can afford to wait."

"I agree," Aidan said. "Besides, if they don't find him before morning, then we give them a better picture and ask them to start again."

"I'll send pictures of White and Math Boy to Atlantic City PD. Maybe somebody filed a missing person on the real Devin. Thanks for the help, Aidan. You guys go on home."

Aidan quickly complied, waving good-bye on his way out. But Reed remained, watching her. "You're coming home with me, Mia."

She looked up, eyes narrowed. "That was a dirty stunt to pull, Solliday."

He inclined his head, his own dander up. "What? That I want to keep you alive?"

She turned to her computer, her lips a thin line. "You could have asked me first."

He backed off. "Yeah. And I probably should have. I'm sorry."

"Yeah. Well, fine. Go home, Solliday. I'll meet you later. After Beth goes to sleep."

"You could come for dinner."

Her eyes were locked on her computer screen. "I promised Abe I"d have dinner with them. Besides, you need time with your daughter. Go home. I'll see you later."

He leaned against her desk, closer than was wise, but dammit, he could still feel her trembling as he'd held her. She thought she was superwoman. But she was a hell of a lot more human than she wanted to admit. "Mia, I was there the other night, remember? I saw how close you came to not having a head anymore. Doesn't that scare you?"

She looked up, eyes flat. "Yes. But that's my job and my life. I'm not going to run every time a bad guy waves a gun in my face. If I did, I'd be useless to anyone."

"If you're dead, you're useless to everyone." he shot back.

"I said I'd meet you later." Her eyes closed. "I promise. Now go home to your kid."

Mia waited until he was gone, then called the Atlantic City police department, explained what she needed, answered all the questions she could. They said they'd coordinate a search with the management of the Silver Casino. She came back from faxing the photos to find Roger Burnette standing at her desk.

He was not pleased. He may have been a little drunk. His eyes were filled with pain and a reckless wrath that made her steps slow. Instinctively she put the photos on the first desk she passed so that when she approached him, it was with empty hands. No sense in giving a grief-ravaged parent the identity of their child's killer. Especially when the parent was a cop. "Sergeant Burnette. Can I help you?"

"You can tell me you know who murdered my daughter."

"We believe we do, sir. But we don't have a legitimate identification or location."

He took rapid breaths. "In other words, you know jack shit."

"Sergeant." Carefully she came closer. "Let me call someone to take you home."

"Dammit, I don't need anybody to take me home. I need you tell me you know who killed my Caitlin." In a rage he knocked the stack of file folders from her desk. Papers flew all over the floor. "You sit here and read all damn day. Why aren't you out there looking?" He grabbed her then, gripping her shoulders like a vice and for the second time in an hour pain speared her. She'd been wrong; Burnette was very drunk. "You're no cop," he hissed. "Your father was a cop. He would have been ashamed of you."

She shoved his arms away. "Sergeant. Sit down."

He towered over her, fists clenched. "I'm burying my daughter tomorrow. Does that mean anything to you?"

She stood her ground even though she had to crane her neck to look up at him. "It means a great deal to me, Sergeant. We're close, but we don't have him yet. I'm sorry."

" Roger ." Spinnelli was out of his office and between them faster than Mia had ever seen him move. "Just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Burnette stepped back. "Getting an update on my daughter's case. Not that there's anything to update," he added in disgust.

"Detective Mitchell has been working this case nearly nonstop since Monday."

"Then she's not very good at her job, is she?" he sneered.

"Roger, you're outta line," Spinnelli barked.

Burnette turned on his heel, swatting at the air. "Go to hell, all of you."

Spinnelli searched her face. "Are you hurt?"

"I'm okay, but he's drunk," Mia murmured. "Make sure he doesn't drive himself home."

"Mia, go home." He winced. "Not home. To Reed's. With whatever her name was."

"Lauren." She pointed to Burnette who'd stopped at the bullpen doorway, his shoulders hunched. "Go help him, Marc. I'll see you tomorrow."

Thursday, November 30, 8:05 p.m.

"Dinner was great, Kristen." Mia smiled down at Kara Reagan's dirty little face as she struggled to take off a layer of spaghetti sauce without taking off a layer of the child's fair skin. "You enjoyed it, too, didn't you, Sweetpea?"

Kara bounced on Mia's lap, a sly look in her eyes. "Ice cream. Pleeease?"

Mia laughed. She loved this little girl like she was her own. Playfully she tugged one of Kara's red curls. "You have to ask Mommy about that."

"Mommy said no," Abe said. His color was better, but his face was still too thin. "But Daddy and Kara are hoping Aunt Mia being here will change Mommy's mind."

Kristen's sigh was dramatic. "Two against one. They gang up on me like this every night. I made up the spare room, Mia. You'll stay here tonight."

Kara bounced. "Stay," she demanded. She smacked a wet kiss on Mia's cheek.

Kristen lifted the baby from Mia's lap. "Bath time, baby. Then bed. Say good night to Aunt Mia." Kara kissed her other cheek noisily, then Kristen carried her off, the two singing some silly bath-time song, Kara delivering the words with a sweet lisp.

"You have sauce on your cheeks,"' Abe said wryly and Mia scrubbed it off.

"It was worth it." She smiled wistfully after them, grateful the innocent child would never have to wonder if her parents loved her. "I don't see how Kristen resists her."

"She's really a marshmallow. Don't let the tough act fool you." Abe sat back in his chair. "You're not staying here tonight, are you?"

"No, but don't tell Kristen until after I'm gone. She threatened to tie me down."

"Please tell me you're not going home."

Mia rolled her eyes. "Solliday has a duplex. I'm going to use the other side. I get my own room, my own kitchen, my own private entrance."

Abe's lips twitched. "Your own tunnel to the other side for midnight rendezvous?"

Mia sucked in a cheek. Abe was laughing now and she knew Aidan had spilled the beans about the office embrace. "Your brother has a big mouth. It was nothing."

"Aidan's always had a big mouth," Abe chuckled. "You should see your face. It's redder than Kara's covered in spaghetti sauce."

She threw a napkin at him. "And to think I've missed you."

"I'll be back soon enough. Back to curry and sushi and vegetarian delights."

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Solliday lets me choose."

"Choose what?" he asked with a grin and she felt her face flame even hotter. He leaned back, his face sobering. "You'll let me know if he… if you need help."

"What? If he's mean to me, you'll beat him up?"

"Or something."

He was serious and Mia was touched. "Other than being a little overbearing, he's a gentleman. But he does piss me off. Trying to outmaneuver me."

"Sounds like he's succeeded." He shrugged when she scowled. "You aren't in your apartment right now. I see that as a plus. Maybe he can maneuver you into moving."

Mia stared at him. "You, too? Abe, it's my place. You wouldn't sell this place. If I moved every time I made some bad guy mad, I'd be a nomad in a fucking tent."

"This is bigger than one bad guy. What is Spinnelli doing to curb Carmichael?"

"What can he do? She didn't say that was my address. She said shots were fired and that I was the target. She leaves it up to the reader to infer. She broke no laws."