"I was going to the morgue after I finished here."

"You have an ID on the victim?"

"Tentative. The house is owned by Joe and Donna Dougherty. They went out of town for Thanksgiving and hired a house sitter named Caitlin Burnette. She's the right size and age, and the car we found in the garage was registered to Roger Burnette, so for now we've assumed the body we found is Caitlin. The ME will have to make a positive ID based on dental records or DNA." She flinched at that, though the movement was barely enough to catch.

Spinnelli handed her a sheet of paper. "We printed a copy of her license from the DMV's files."

She studied the page. "She was only nineteen," she said, her voice gone low and husky. She looked up, her blue eyes now dark. "You've informed the parents?"

The thought of breaking the news to the girl's parents nauseated him. It always did. He wondered how homicide detectives hardened themselves to the task, doing it every day. "Not yet. I went by the Burnettes' twice yesterday, but nobody was home."

Spinnelli sighed. "There's more, Mia."

Reed grimaced. "If the body in the morgue is Caitlin Burnette, her father's a cop."

"I know him," Spinnelli said. "Sergeant Roger Burnette. Vice for the last five years."

"Oh shit." Mitchell rested her forehead against her palm before shoving her hand through her short hair, leaving it standing in blonde spikes. "Could it be a grudge kill?"

Reed was wondering the same thing. "I guess that's what we have to find out. The Doughertys are flying back some time today. I'll interview them when they come home."

She met his eyes for a brief instant. "We'll interview them," she corrected quietly.

The challenge was implicit. Annoyed, he nodded. "Of course."

"We'll need to get a crime scene unit out there." She frowned. "You've already been over the house, right? Shit, this rain's gonna make a mess of things."

"We were out there all day yesterday. I photographed every room and gathered samples for the lab. Luckily we tarped the roof. The rain shouldn't be a problem."

She nodded evenly. "Okay. What kind of samples?"

"Carpet, wood. I was looking for evidence of accelerants."

She tilted her head a fraction. "And?"

"My instruments say they're there and the accelerant dog picked up two different kinds. Gasoline and something else. The lab said they'd have results later today."

She shook her head. "As crime scenes go, this one's going to suck eggs. Marc."

Reed straightened. "Our procedure is to gather evidence to support arson as quickly as possible. We got a warrant. We took nothing more than we needed to establish source and cause until we knew how the girl had died. Our search is clean."

Her eyes softened a fraction. "I wasn't talking about your search, Lieutenant. 1 was talking about fire scenes in general." She glanced at Spinnelli. "Can you send a uniform to the Dougherty house? Make sure nobody touches anything until we get there."

"We've got a security guard there at the scene," Reed said stiffly. "Although if you're willing to foot the bill for round the clock surveillance, I'll send our guy back. Our budget isn't as big as yours."

"That's fine. Now that it's a homicide I'd rather have a cop on hand anyway. No offense," she added quickly. "I'll call Jack and ask him to meet us there with his CSU team."

"I've got two team members waiting for them at the house. Foster Richards and Ben Trammell. They'll be able to let them in and show them what we did yesterday." He'd already called the two men and told them to be ready to join the team he knew Homicide would be sending. He'd added a warning to Foster to play nice in the sandbox with CSU. He'd added a warning to Ben to watch Foster.

She rose. "Good. But first, let's go to the morgue to see what Caitlin can tell us."

Spinnelli stood as well. "Call me when you've notified the parents. I'll contact Burnette's captain so his precinct can send flowers or whatever."

"You'll want to update the warrant" Reed said. "Ours was specific to the arson."

Spinnelli nodded. "I'll call the state attorney's office and have your warrant by the time you get out to the scene."

Mitchell tilted her head toward Spinnelli. "Lieutenant Solliday. can you give us a few minutes alone? You can wait at my desk. It's the one next to the clean one."

"Sure." He eased the door closed, but instead of going to her desk he leaned against the wall, his head angled toward the door to maximize his eavesdropping.

"Marc, about Abe's case," she said.

It was the second time she'd mentioned Abe. He glanced over at the clean desk. That would be Abe's, he surmised.

Spinnelli's voice held a warning note. "Howard and Brooks are on it."

"Murphy says the trail is cold."

"That's true. Mia, you-"

"I know, Marc. This is my priority and you know it will be. But if I hear something, if anybody hears anything and I'm available… Dammit, Marc, I saw him." Her voice became fierce. "If I see the asshole that got Abe, I'll know him."

"He got you, too, Mia."

"A damn scratch. Marc, please." There was a pause. "I owe it to Abe. Please."

Another pause, then a sigh. "If you're available, I'll call you."

"I appreciate it." The door opened and Reed made no attempt to move. He wanted her to know he'd heard. Color flooded her cheeks, her eyes narrowing as she saw him standing there. For a few seconds she just stared up at him, annoyance in her eyes.

"Let's go to the morgue," she said flatly and turned for her desk where she grabbed the ratty jacket and hat. "Here's your umbrella."

She tossed it to him, then gingerly she shrugged into the jacket, favoring her right shoulder. Spinnelli said she was fully recovered, but Reed had his doubts. If she wasn't, he was going straight back to Spinnelli for another detective. She took the stairs two at a time which he suspected was a combination of pent anger and the desire to make him jog to keep up. He'd already worked out that morning, so he took the stairs one at time, letting her wait on the street. He put up his umbrella but she stepped away.

"I don't have my department vehicle back yet and my own car's very small," she said, not turning around when he caught up. "You wouldn't fit."

Her words held obvious double meaning. He chose to ignore the personal dig and focus on the issue of transportation. "I'll drive." Reed considered offering her a boost up into his Tahoe, but she swung up into the cab with surprising agility and only a minor grunt of pain. He slid behind the wheel and looked over at her pointedly. "You're not ready to be back yet, are you?"

She flicked him an angry glance before staring straight ahead. "I"m cleared for duty."

He started the engine, then settled back in his seat, waiting for her to meet his eyes. A minute of silence ticked by before she finally turned her head, frowning.

"Why are we still sitting here?" she demanded.

"Who is Abe?"

Her jaw clenched. "My partner."

And you're not, was the silent addendum. "What happened to him?"

"He got shot."

"I take it he'll be all right."

He wouldn't have seen her flinch had he not been looking for it. "Eventually."

"You were shot, too."

Her cheeks hollowed. "A scratch."

He sincerely doubted that. "Why were you staring at the glass this morning?"

Her eyes flashed. "None of your damn business."

It was exactly what he expected her to say. Nevertheless, he'd say his own piece. "I'm afraid I have to disagree. Like it or not, you're my partner for the foreseeable future. Anybody could have gotten the jump on you this morning, gotten your weapon, hurt you or somebody else. I need to know you're not going to be staring off into space when I need you, so I'll repeat the question. Why were you staring at the glass this morning?"