Her chin lifted. "Is that so wrong?"

"No. Not if you don't plan to walk away. He'll have enough people walk away in the years ahead. The kid's got a long row to hoe."

Her gaze swept the area and seeing nothing, returned to Reed. "I wish I could take him home with me. But he's not a cat. I can't take him. I don't even have a home."

"So you gave him to Dana. It's the next best choice. You did good, Mia." He resettled himself in the seat, grimacing. "Where did Spinnelli get this car? Yugoslavia?"

She chuckled. "We couldn't use yours. Kates's seen it."

"And five minutes in your car would put me in traction."

"Hey, it's a classic. I can't help that you're too big."

"I don't get it, Mia. You wait to buy a coat until you get paid, and it's a nice coat by the way, much better than the old one, but you have enough cash for a sports car?"

"Most of my money goes to Kelsey's lawyer. Every time we get close to parole, his billable hours go up, so I've been cash strapped this month. Besides, the car wasn't that expensive. David got me a deal on a fixer-upper. I'd broken up with Guy and wanted something to lift my spirits, so I splurged. David fixed it up, keeps the engine happy."

He frowned. "Mia." He hesitated. "About Hunter."

"Friends. Just friends. Always have been, never will be more."

He looked unconvinced and she sighed. "Look, I've told you all my secrets, but I won't tell you his. It would have been easier if we had wanted each other, but we didn't."

"You were with him last night."

She lifted a shoulder. "I guess I wanted to be with someone else who couldn't have who they wanted." She smiled. "But things change."

He smiled back. "Yes, they do."

"I never asked, did Beth win the slam poetry competition last night?"

"First in her age group."

"Did you hear her poem?"

He shook his head. "We haven't made up quite that much."

"You should ask her to… slam it for you, or whatever the right word is. It was good."

He frowned and looked out the window at shadows. "Christine was a poet."

She thought about the poetry book she'd found. This is my heart. "Really?"

"We met in college. I was taking a lit class and poetry was like ancient Greek to me. She saw me scowling, told me if I bought her a cup of coffee, she'd explain it all."

"And she did."

"She did. Then she read me her poems and it was like… listening to a ballet. She brought beauty into my life. I'd made myself disciplined through the army, gave myself a career with my degree. Made myself into a son the Sollidays were proud of. But I couldn't make beauty. Christine did that for me."

Mia swallowed hard. "I can't do that for you, Reed. I don't have that gift."

"Not for ribbons and bows, no. But last night I realized you make me happy." He turned his head. Met her eyes. "And what's more beautiful than that?"

Moved, she had no words to give him back. "Reed."

His lips quirked up as he settled back into the seat. "Plus you've got really nice breasts. So when I'm feeling lonely for ribbons and bows, I'll just look at those."

She laughed. "You're a bad man. Who makes bad rhymes."

"I never claimed to be a poet."

But he has the soul of one. Christine had been his soul mate. She wondered if each person truly only got one. And hoped not.

After a few minutes he sighed. "Mia, listening to Young had me wondering something. It's going to come out sounding bad, but I don't mean it that way. I just don't know how else to ask."

She frowned. "So just ask."

"You grew up around cops. Why didn't you ever tell one of them about your father?"

"If you only knew how many times I've asked myself that same question, especially after Kelsey went to prison. When I was little, I was too afraid. Then when I was older, in high school, I didn't think anyone would believe me. He was a respected police officer. Then later, when I became a cop, I was… ashamed. I felt people would pity me if they knew, that I'd look weak and I'd lose respect. Then when Kelsey finally told me the truth, it was guilt. And now he's dead, so it doesn't seem to make much sense to tell now."

"You told Olivia," he said and she winced.

"And that went well, didn't it? I didn't want her to feel rejected. I should have just kept my mouth shut. When this is over, I'm going to Minneapolis to talk to her."

"Do you want me to go with you?"

She studied his face. There was no pity there. Only support. "Yes, I'd like that."

He smiled. "You accepted my help. Progress. Now, let's talk about your shoes."

She grinned. "Watch it, Solliday." The grin faded. "And thank you."

His eyes became intense. "You're welcome. I think we need to change the subject because it's becoming increasingly difficult not to touch you." He shifted again and looked out the window. "I wish the sonofabitch would come. I want this over with."

Monday, December 4, 7:55 A.M.

Mia sat at her desk. "I can't believe this."

Reed yawned. "He either didn't see Wheaton, or he made us."

Kates hadn't taken the bait. "Shit," Mia grumbled. "Now what?"

"We regroup. Then after morning meeting, we go back to the hotel and get some sleep. There's no way we'll find him if we're not sharp."

"Maybe he's gone after Tim Young."

"Santa Fe PD is watching," he said, then sat up straighten "That's interesting."

Mia twisted to look then shook her head. Lynn Pope from Chicago on the Town was walking her way, a distinctly hurt look on her face. Crap. "Lynn," Mia said.

"Mia. I'll be brief. You met with Holly Wheaton yesterday. Then last night Wheaton gets this great scoop. Why? You hate Wheaton."

Mia met Pope's eyes. "Yes, I do." Head tilted, she continued to hold Pope's gaze until the woman drew in a breath and cognition dawned.

"Oh. And it didn't work, did it?"

"Nope. Look, Lynn, when this is over, I'll call you." One of her neurons fired unexpectedly, and the idea made her smile. "Wait." She walked to Solliday and whispered in his ear and he nodded. "Lynn, check out a guy named Bixby. Runs an outfit called Hope Center. It's juvie. You might need to dig a little."

Pope brightened. "I will. Call me when this is over. And watch your neck."

"I will." Mia leaned on Solliday's desk. "She'll do it right."

But he wasn't listening. "Now serving number two," he said and again she twisted.

Margaret and Mark Hill must have passed Lynn Pope in the elevator. The brother and sister wore twin looks of grim resolve. "Mr. Hill, Miss Hill. How are you?"

"Have you caught him?" Margaret asked.

"No, but we're close. Why are you here?" It felt strange to be the one saying it.

Mark Hill drew an envelope from his coat pocket. "Our mother's lawyer read her will on Saturday. He gave us this. We agonized yesterday over whether or not to give this to you. But we want our mother's murderer found and punished. So here."

Mia took the envelope, read the letter inside. "Oh boy." She passed it to Reed who shook his head silently. "We'll try to keep your mother's name out of it. Thank you. I'll call you as soon as we catch him." The Hills walked away, Mark putting his arm around his sister's shoulders. Margaret leaned against him. "I guess they cleared the air."

Reed stood. "So it would seem. Come on, Mia. Let's get to morning meeting."

Murphy and Aidan was already there. Spinnelli frowned when they came. "You're late." Mia gave him the letter and reading it, he sat down. "Oh boy."

"What is it?" Murphy asked.

"A letter from Penny Hill," Mia said, "documenting what happened when she returned from disability, nine years ago. She went through her files, found Shane's buried at the bottom of some other records. No one had been assigned the boys. She then found Shane was dead and Andrew had been placed in another home. She went to her supervisor who told her to destroy the file. She threatened to go higher, he convinced her she'd be fired if she did. She had medical bills, so she stayed silent."